#posting this now bc i haven't yet on its own

[emmbrr]

feeling the spring & the flowers & the moon, in a graveyard hangout

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[vivwritesfics]

hi! I know I'm being very selfish and specific here, so would it be ok if you did a max verstappen x equestrian reader or a lando x equestrian reader, as I requested this from norrisleclercf1, and said that you were the person to go to as you were and equestrian too! I definitely won't be offended if you choose to not do this request as it is very specific and only a very small amount of people may actually understand what is going on, but I would really love it if you could!

Thanks xxxxx

I went Max bc I haven't done a horse girl fic for him yet lol.

"What has you most excited for the weekend?" The interviewer asked Max.

Normally he hated things like this. He had his hand rubbing the back of his neck before he pointlessly adjusted his Red Bull cap and answered. "Well its always nice to drive here, the car is well suited to the circuit. And for once my girlfriend is here."

Max wasn't private with his relationship. He posted her on his Instagram from time to time. But, she had never been to a Grand Prix.

They'd been together for three years now, nearly four, and she'd never been to a race. She'd watched them on TV, supporting Max from a distance.

The thing was, she was a horse girl. She had her three warm bloods, all of them insanely expensive competition horses. But, most importantly, they were her babies and she didn't trust anybody to look after them.

This was the first time Max had convinced her to let one of her stable friends look after the horses so that she could go with him.

Max looked past the camera, at the phone. For the third time in half an hour, she was on the phone, calling to check in on Prim, Circe, and Scooby.

As soon as the interviewer let him go, Max walked over to her. She couldn't help but look embarrassed as she ended the call abd slipped her phone into her pocket. "I know, I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Try and relax," Max said, his pretty eyes staring into her own. "They'll survive two days without you."

She took his hand and squeezed. "I know they're gonna be fine," she said. "But I can't help it."

Max kissed the top of her head. "You're the best," he said, leading her to the garage. Of course he didn't see as she sent one last text message.

[wileys-russo]

as you would assume all alessia x reader 😭

getting into a fight with alessia, would she be stubborn or very apologetic

alessia not being able to sleep without physical touch, but you can't sleep because you're too hot

being up late studying but alessia is tired from training and just wants to cuddle up but you really can't yet

taking care of her after a rough day

you don't need to post this one, just a couple ideas :]

couldn't fit all of these into one blurb but did a lil clingy gf less moment bc we love a touch starved blondie

touch starved II a.russo

"i can clean up later baby you look shattered, please go to bed." you tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind your girlfriends ear, no denying you were positively infatuated with the striker.

"only if you come with me." alessia demanded with a pout, balling your top in her fists and tugging your body closer, your arms wrapping around her and playing with the baby hairs on the back of her neck, the italian a good half a foot taller than you.

"i'll be in later i have to finish this paper, its due by midnight." you bit your lip guiltily, admittedly having procrastinated your uni assignment just a little too long. "are you gonna be in the living room?" the blonde asked hopefully, assuming she could then at least lay down beside you as you worked.

"office, i need the scanner and printer." you shook your head, stomach lurching with guilt as the girls face visibly dropped at the answer she had hoped against hearing. "tomorrows my rest day i'll just stay up and wait for you, watch some more of my show." alessia decided, unwrapping herself from you and heading for the lounge.

"less you've been up since like four in the morning, just go to bed." you smiled at the stubborn nature of the older girl who shook her head, curling up into a ball on the lounge and flicking on the tv.

"i can't sleep without you there." alessia frowned and your heart melted at her words. "yes you can, you manage it on away games and camps." you smiled, cupping her face and tracing the frown lines on her forehead, smoothing them out with your thumbs.

"that's different!" alessia protested, though she visibly struggled in trying to explain how.

"fine but don't fall asleep in here, you'll hurt your neck again!" you cut in to save her further struggle and warned seriously as the striker rolled her eyes. you bent down to peck her lips before padding off to your office, which was really just the third bedroom of your shared flat. alessia often needing a quiet neutral space to do her media duties you'd both deemed it a more appropriate use of the space since you already had a guest bedroom set up.

around an hour and a half later you were tracking along well, you had another two hours until your paper was due and you were already halfway done.

craving something sweet to help your motivation levels you made your way toward the kitchen, though glancing over at the lounge you sighed noting the now dead asleep mop of blonde hair still curled up in a ball.

switching routes you made a beeline for your girlfriend, squatting down beside her and gently poking at the blonde who groaned and turned around to her other side as you turned off the tv.

"babe please go to bed!" you requested while shaking her as her bright blue eyes sleepily fluttered open and she stretched, the slight wince on her face as she moved her neck not going unnoticed by you.

"told you your neck would hurt you idiot." you remanded with a shake of your head, standing and offering her a hand up, a mistake on your behalf as the girl interlocked your fingers but instead pulled you to fall on top of her, long limbs wrapping tightly around you.

"alessia!" you laughed trying to squirm out of her grip but with the taller girls build much more muscular than your own, there really wasn't a point. "don't leave me i miss you, i haven't seen you all day." she mumbled into your shoulder as you rolled your eyes playfully.

"you were only at training for a few hours, we just had dinner together and i'm right here!" you rewarded her neediness with a kiss, alessia's large hands making their way under your top and caressing your bare back. her perfectly manicured nails gently scratched against your skin and your eyes fluttered closed in relief, a sense of calm settling over you, you could happily melt into the girl and never get up again.

but unfortunately you knew this was an option not available for the taking.

"do you not love me?" you asked rhetorically, snapping the half asleep girl to attention as she scoffed. "of course i do what sort of a question is that?" she accused only hugging you tighter as she pushed her legs to slot inbetween your own, your body now well and truly trapped in her iron clad grip.

"loving partners let their girlfriends do their assignments and further their education, do you not want to be able to brag that your girlfriends a fully qualified physiotherapist?" you challenged, admittedly now becoming quite uncomfortable in her grip, it was peak summer and without the luxury of air conditioning you were beginning to get quite hot tucked in so close together.

"actually no because then everyone's going to want your hands on them. don't pretend like you haven't already promised half the girls free massages and adjustments once you graduate!" alessia quipped, though the pride and adoration in her eyes betrayed the playful sarcasm of her statement.

"yeah these magic healers will sadly no longer only belong to you!" you grinned wiggling your hands in her face as she rolled her eyes and playfully bit the tip of your index finger, you flicking at her nose in retaliation.

"but seriously i need to finish my paper and though you are the hottest girl on the planet right now you are actually the hottest girl on the planet, i'm melting!" you whined, alessia allowing you to pull her hands off and untangling her legs from yours.

"go to bed my love, i'll be there in like an hour once i finish." you assured, alessia nodding with a defeated sigh as the two of you stood, exchanging a lingering hug and a goodnight kiss before you parted ways.

alessia headed off to the bathroom to get ready for bed and you back to the office, though not before a quick detour to the kitchen for something sweet.

"if you're not beside me in an hour i'm coming to get you!" alessia yelled from the bedroom before you heard a loud squeak and a thud which would have been the blonde belly flopping onto the mattress as she did every night, normally on top of you.

smiling at her words you zoned back into your paper, eyes flicking between your computer screen and your pile of messily scribbled notes which were spread everywhere all over the desk around you.

true to her word and being unable to fully fall asleep without you beside her in bed, alessia leant against the doorway exactly an hour later, clearing her throat as you spun around in your chair to face her.

giving her a brief look of both guilt and nerves you didn't have to say much more for alessia to catch on you still weren't finished. "i'll be back again in twenty minutes, and if you're still not done then i'll be back every ten minutes after that for a kiss." the blonde pouted as you couldn't help but smile at her clingy nature, this nothing new as the harder the striker was pushed in training the more she sought out your affections when she returned home, nodding in agreement.

"i'm trying." you assured seriously and your girlfriends face softened. "i know, and i want you to get it done so we can spend the day together tomorrow stress free. i've got plans!" alessia tilted up your chin, pecking your lips as you gave her a curious look.

"plans?" "for me to know, for you to eventually find out." "that's not a terrifying thought." "are you accusing me of being a bad planner?" "well...you did forget our-" "for the one hundreth time i didn't forget our anniversary, i just simply got the dates mixed up."

"do your paper, i love you." alessia stole another kiss, running a hand fondly through your hair before padding back off to the bedroom.

what felt like only minutes later, though you knew had been much longer due to your girlfriend popping in repeatedly to steal a kiss and try to hurry you into bed with her, you bit down on your bottom lip as your eyes glanced down at the time, seeing you suddenly had only five more minutes to finish your references index.

muttering to yourself your fingers flew curiously across the keyboard, and with what was surely seconds to spare you clicked submit, exhaling deeply and leaning back in your chair, burying your face tiredly in your hands.

closing your computer you darted quickly around the flat, locking up and flicking off lights and lamps, eventually stepping into your bedroom with a small sigh of relief, checking the window was cracked open to try and diffuse the heat of the sticky summer night.

alessia sent you a toothy smile as she scrolled through her phone, eyes occasionally flicking up to stare at you as you changed into an oversized shirt, tossing your shorts and bra into a corner to be dealt with tomorrow.

"hiii." alessia grinned and opened her arms as you finally made your way toward the bed, the girl laying on top of the covers due to the heat. "hello." you smiled tiredly and collapsed into her, reaching over to flick off the bedside lamp, engulfing the room into darkness as alessia placed her phone on charge.

sincere words of endearment whispered inbetween tender kisses and soft giggles, the two of you slowly began to doze off, though no sooner had alessias body relaxed did yours tense up, the combined body heat of the two of you making your brow line bead with sweat.

checking the italian was soundly sleeping you carefully shuffled away, placing a bit of distance between the two of you as your eyes shut, finally starting to drift off.

"c'mere." alessia mumbled tiredly, reaching blindly back out for you eventually grasping at your top, pulling you back toward her.

"baby i'm sweating its so hot, can we just have a little bit of space? we can still hold hands?" you tried to bargain softly, gently removing her hands from where they clenched tightly to your top and interlinking your fingers, alessia mumbling something incoherent but not making any move to argue as you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

though it couldn't have even been a few seconds later before there was rustling beside you and alessias body flopped on top of yours, the taller blonde burying her face in your neck and grabbing your arms, tiredly wrapping them around herself as she tangled her legs with yours and muttered something you again couldn't quite understand.

sighing in defeat you slid a hand up her top and began to absentmindedly trace patterns on her back, moving your other hand to tangle in her golden locks and scratching your nails against her scalp like you knew she loved, pressing a kiss to her warm forehead and accepting you simply weren't going to sleep well tonight.

but for the seemingly touch starved blonde sleeping soundly on top of you, it would always be worth it.

[marc-spectorr]

come alive

pairing: poe dameron x reader

kiss prompt: #22 …in a rush of adrenaline

warnings: 2.0k wc. mentions of violence, shooting, weapons. curse words.

notes: thank you to the lovely anon for submitting this prompt! i decided to make this its own post bc i wrote quite a lot. also i haven't watched star wars/written for poe in a hot minute so pls be nice to me lol. hope you like it!

—

“What’s the escape plan?”

At the question, Poe shoots you an odd look that is quite concerning. “Escape plan?”

“Yeah, the escape pla—oh my god,” you say in a hushed whisper, blinking at him. “You don’t have one.”

“I don’t have one yet. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something quick and then—”

“—and then we get captured, locked up behind bars to rot or until they decide to—”

Your ramblings are cut short when Poe puts a hand over your mouth, gently shushing you. Three stormtroopers approach the stack of oversized crates, shrouded in darkness due to the absence of sun at this late hour.

You freeze and hold your breath, waiting for them to pass. Fortunately, they march right by without problem, oblivious to the fact that you two are hiding behind them.

As happy and relieved as you were when Poe first showed up to free you, you’re now back to thinking that you will die at the hands of the First Order. It’ll only be a matter of time until someone realizes their imprisoned Resistance spy has escaped. You’ll never get out of here, especially without a plan. You’re doomed.

You swallow thickly and try to distract yourself from the dread and panic clawing inside of you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating. Glancing around wildly, you need to focus on something else. Anything.

Eventually, you have no choice but to settle on having your attention on the pilot’s stupidly handsome face. You keep your eyes on him, inhaling and exhaling deeply to gather your composure. All the while, you wonder— has he always been this good-looking up close? You have never realized how pretty of a shade his dark eyes are or how much they sparkle in the low light. You’ve never seen such thick and curly hair like his, and you have the biggest urge to card your fingers through it.

“Sweetheart, hey—relax,” Poe murmurs when you grow quiet on him, his watchful gaze flickering every now and then to check your surroundings. “Breathe. We got this.”

Poe has long dropped his hand from your mouth, but it remains on your face, cupping your cheek as he assesses you for any injuries. You feel your pulse pick up a beat. You’re sure it’s mainly from the threat of danger you’ve found yourself in. Certainly not because of Poe, your good friend, and crush ever since the day you joined the Resistance.

No, it definitely cannot be that.

“Okay,” you sigh out, nodding. You take a quick glance at the perimeter yourself this time, mostly to hide away from his gaze. “Now what? We can’t stay and hide here forever.”

“You’re right,” Poe agrees. He steps closer to you, his chest brushing against your back as he scans the area with you. “My ship’s past the tree line. Best course of action is to sneak out without alerting anyone. But if things don’t go our way, we use these.”

Slipped into your hand is a blaster. You take a deep breath and tighten your fingers around the grip. You hope it doesn’t come down to a shootout between you, Poe, and the dozens of armed guards patrolling the place. Violence isn’t really your strong suit. That’s why you preferred missions that involved laying low and gathering intel. Too bad your cover got blown on this assignment.

(And yes, you are still sore about that).

“I’m a shit shot, just a heads up,” you warn Poe. You turn around and bump into him, forgetting that there’s barely any space between you. He doesn’t make an effort to step away, and surprisingly, you don’t either.

Poe’s lips curl into a smug grin. He holds up his own weapon in his hand. “And I’m very much not. See, we’re a perfect match. On a scale of 1 to 10, how’d you rate my spur-of-the-moment escape plan?”

You bite back a chuckle and shake your head. Leave it to Poe to distract you from your worries, even if it only lasts a minute. In all seriousness, you have faith in him. He can be overly cocky sometimes, but he’s smart and skillful. You’ve seen and heard what he’s capable of. There’s a reason why you and plenty of others admire the hell out of him.

“I’d give it a 7.5, mainly ’cause I trust in your confidence too much. Plus, it’s not like we have other options.”

“That’s the spirit,” Poe beams. “Sorry if I worried you about not really thinking this through earlier. Once I found out you were being held out here, I kinda just... went for it, y’know? I didn’t have time to waste. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You smile at him, ignoring how your cheeks are warming up against the crisp nighttime air. You’re touched by Poe’s statement. Grateful that you’ve crossed paths with someone like him. Who else would be this reckless and determined to dive into an impromptu rescue—or insane enough to risk their life to save yours?

The thought has your heart feeling tender, but you can’t get caught up in it at this moment. You and Poe need to make it out alive first. Fuck, now the nerves are starting to creep back in.

“Thank you. If we come back to the base both in one piece, dinner’s on me.”

“You mean when we get back,” he corrects. He holds his hand out for yours. “Deal. It’s a date. Alright, you ready?”

Poe’s question almost doesn’t register in your head after he refers to your dinner offer as a date. He doesn’t seem to be joking around. He sounds serious, and you don’t question it. You find yourself more than okay with calling it that.

Clearing your throat, you give Poe a slight nod, ready as you’ll ever be. Both of you have to get out of here alive. Your date depends on it.

Staying undetected as you move through the shadows was easy in the beginning. Few are out on patrol this evening, and when you do encounter someone, Poe manages to evade them. Surely this isn’t his first go-around at something like this.

You do your best not to allow your anxiety of getting caught to cause you to lose focus. The warmth of Poe’s hand in yours helps soothe you, an assurance that if anything goes wrong, you’re not alone.

When you spot your way out, relief floods over you. You tell yourself you’ll be home soon. That you’ll be back in your bed in no time, tucked under the covers, safe and sound. No longer would you be fearing for your life in the way you are right now.

You’re nearly there— the clearing is just within sight. Less than a hundred yards away more and…

Sirens suddenly blare. So loud that they ring in your ears and leave you disoriented for several seconds. The quiet of the night quickly descends into chaos as guards pour out from every which way. The radioed orders your ears pick up are clear and bone-chilling: they are searching for you, and if found, they want you gone permanently. 

“There you are, scum,” a trooper snarls from behind, weapon pointed at you. They’re about to pull down on the trigger, but Poe reacts much quicker. The blaster in his hand fires, and the man instantly drops to the ground.

You barely have time to process what happened when Poe grasps your hand tightly, holding onto it uncomfortably tight, but his touch is grounding. The two of you share a knowing look as the sound of distant voices and heavy footsteps grow closer.

“We gotta keep moving. Shoot anyone who’s chasing after us, got it?” He says, his voice a blur over the erratic pounding of your heart.

Poe doesn’t wait for your acknowledgment. He makes a mad dash towards the gate leading out of the compound. He wasn’t lying when he said he was not a shit shot, taking down a few men with such ease— they were no match for him.

Luck seems to be on your side tonight. The moment Poe tugs you past the gate, you run across the field and into the woodlands as fast as possible, the fastest you’ve ever moved. Your muscles are sore, and your head is dizzy. It feels like you can’t get enough air in your lungs.

Still, you run. You run and run, even if you’re starting to think that your legs will give out at any moment. You have to get as far away as you can from the place that has kept you captive. It’s your best bet if you want to survive.

Finally, Poe’s ship comes into view. He glances behind you, and you mirror his action, seeing that the guards have lost track of you in the dark. The relieved smile on your face remains for only a split-second, however. As soon as you turn your head back, you see the stormtrooper emerge from the thick bushes, aiming to shoot at an unsuspecting Poe.

It’s like everything is in slow motion. From you realizing that Poe is in imminent danger to the way you forcefully push him out of the line of fire and draw your blaster.

Adrenaline buzzes through your veins. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You steady your hand even as it fights to tremble. Without thinking twice, you fire your weapon. The first shot narrowly misses the enemy, but the following two blasts hit them fatally, and they slump to the ground, unmoving.

Luck truly is on your side tonight.

You gasp a breath in surprise when a pair of solid arms suddenly wrap around you, your nerve endings still on high alert after all that has transpired. 

Poe’s gentle voice saying your name cuts through your foggy mind, and you meet his gaze. Your heartbeat continues to drum sharply against your ribcage as you stare at him for several moments, tracing the deep, worried lines etched on his face.

You don’t know what comes over you after. You’re unaware of what you’re doing until you’re right in the middle of it.

One second, you’re holding onto Poe—feeling some of the tension in your body seep out upon seeing that he’s okay, he’s unharmed— and the next, your lips are on his, soft and warm. Exactly the way you had imagined they would feel.

Poe doesn’t kiss you back right away; it is the only thing that snaps you out of this haze. Have you misread him all this time? He’s a major flirt, but you thought he was genuine with you. A knot of confusion and embarrassment forms in your stomach. How could you be so wrong? How could you have fucked things up?

You immediately pull away, taking a few stumbling steps back. Poe looks at you wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, but he doesn’t say a word. You glance down at your feet, not wanting to see his expression as you fumble out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Poe. I don’t know… I was just—”

You are interrupted when Poe lets out a breathless chuckle. He closes the short distance you had put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face, fingers stroking your cheeks ever so gently.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that. It did feel very nice, though.”

Poe’s breath fanning warm over your skin causes yours to hitch. Before you can respond, he slowly leans in and recaptures your lips in a sweet kiss. Your heart stutters and skips for a whole new reason now. Something more electrifying replaces the fight or flight sensation surging within you, making you light-headed in the best possible way.

The kiss abruptly ends at the sound of dried leaves rustling and branches snapping from different directions. You notice faraway lights becoming brighter, no doubt more stormtroopers closing in on you and Poe.

“I’d like to keep kissing you, but we gotta go,” he laughs, nodding towards the ship. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can go on our date.”

You grin in agreement and place your hand into Poe’s hand. Being with him makes you feel alive, like you can handle almost anything the universe throws at you. You could get used to this.

“Take me home, flyboy.”

[n3onwraith]

I forgot to post that I drew Needles! You can't tell, I haven't made the HC doodles comprehensive yet, but hisbneedles hide under his skin and eject when needed, like those spike traps but millions of needles!

I'm gonna put all my HCs below the cut just to spare yall

He's def a natural redhead to me, but bleached it a lot before becoming an avatar

Technically, this would only be his human disguise thing. Full eldritch is reserved for attacking ppl and defense, which is rarer than attacking people, and in that form he's all lanky with all his needles out all the time like a fucked up longhorse and pincushion had a baby and it got possessed

He just has no sense of pain most of the time, at least related to intrinsic issues. Getting stabbed or shot hurts, but when his bones constantly break as Eldritch Needles or when his limbs fall off (like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas) he doesn't feel all the pain, just a tinge or a pinch

Can remove his needles from his skin, but their 'slot' stays open until he puts them back or replaces them (like shark teeth, he grows them but can also swap them out for found ones) and he uses that to sew himself back together as needed

Lots of piercings, most home-done. Really only his lobe and one of three cartilage rings is professional, he did the rest as an angsty teen for fun

Was turned as a late teen/in his early twenties, and therefore his disguise stays looking that age because that's the only way he really remembers who he is and what he looked like. Eldritch Needles is just a fucked up skinsuit really, a puppet for what he needs to do, and Needles himself can't remember or guess what he would look like by now (bones, probably, with his luck, but he was taken as an avatar/eldritch in the 90s/early 2000s so realistically only around 40-50 or so)

Got in a ton of accidents as a kid, always was and always is banged up somehow

Flashes his needles and puffs up on instinct when things piss him off, has to stop himself from doing it around people

A gifted kid for the institute who ended up being neglected outside of schoolwork and what he could do (projection?)

Glitters in the sunlight even with the needles put away. Its just bcs he's got so much metal in him and the sunlight catches the slots weird enough to glint briefly

The jacket reacts the same way his hair and needles do, like an external organ, but it's only due to it being part of his avatar influence shit and its not actually a part of him. It goes dormant when removed or unwanted

Like a hedgehog hair-wise, it's harmless and like regular hair until it's Needle Time (TM)

Easily offended/angered, as seen in the 911 call, and likes to fuck with people. I'd guess older sibling if he had any, but the kind where you matured too fast and then slowed your roll so late you were the immature one (projecting)

Likes to be colorful but in a dull way. Washed out colors just suit him better in his opinion and let him express himself without drawing attention to himself and the fact he's not quite human anymore

Gap teeth <3 Wanted to get braces as a teen but didn't, still pissed about it because now he can't and it doesn't matter since hes not human anymore anyways. slowly learning to like the gap when his angel fangs don't get stuck in em

Didn't draw it but he has snake bites too, just rarely wears them. It's either angel fangs or snake bites but never both because they tend to snag for him

A parallel of both Nikola and Michael, kind of. He's got little bits that Norris, Chester and Augustus would recognize if they ever met him, like his speech pattern and penchant for never giving straight answers, but he's got his own thing going on more than the parallels ever could be.

Rip off Cheshire Cat. Alice in Wonderland, the animated one, was his favorite movie growing up for the colors, and when he got older for the story

[comradekatara]

i am very curious about your thoughts on various utena/atla character parallels… every once in a while i see you offhandedly compare like.. korrasami and utenanthy and i’m like HOLD ON this is so true! if you have any further ideas about that i would LOVE to hear them. i honestly don’t know how big the audience is for rgu/atla analysis but i am definitely part of that audience. 😭

yesss i can't believe you're literally the first person to ask me this lately i've been making rgu references on like, every single post i'm shameless!!!!! over the summer i even wrote (like 95% of) an essay comparing sokka and nanami (tldr; they are meat) and i have yet to revisit it (bc i'm scared tbh) but i will post is eventually that is a PROMISE (for an audience of 5 people). also before we go any further my utena blog is @saionjeans and we have fun there. also, i have some utena/atla crossover art here and here, so check that out if you haven't already. the rest of this post will be scattered thoughts because my nanami-sokka essay will be doing a lot of the in-depth analytical work and i don't need to rehash that all now. but also, because i have never not once in my life heard of brevity, i did write a bunch of mini essays anyway, because of course i did.

korrasami and utenanthy: love and abuse

i compared utenanthy to korrasami a couple times, most notably in this post where i talk about how meaningful their relationship is despite being (arguably) underdeveloped, and then in the tags i still have to acknowledge that utena and anthy nonetheless did it better 17 years prior. but i do think that there is so much to be said for utena-korra and anthy-asami as two young women who are both set up to be "special" but in a way that denies and restricts them from their own humanity, cloistering them away from the outside world and making them more vulnerable to abuse. i talked pretty recently about how asami's abuse is really shrugged under the carpet in a way that pisses me off if i think about it for too long. rgu does such an incredible job of gradually exposing that abuse and its effects on society, not as a deviation from the norm (of the nuclear family, of the romance, of the school, etc.) but in fact a common symptom of it. lok does not critique the nuclear family in any meaningful way despite setting up so many different areas through which such a critique could be facilitated (made worse by the fact that atla sets such a fantastic precedent). but anyway, enough about lok (and how she disappoints me).

2. miki & kozue and katara & sokka: siblings and memory

in my sokka-nanami essay i talk about how various characters can be read to embody various analogues, but how my focus in that essay is primarily to draw a parallel between sokka and nanami by using the framework for gender/patriarchal logic rgu establishes. however, i also talk about how azula can be read as a nanami (or even an anthy) figure, as well as how katara and sokka can be read as miki and kozue (katara = miki and sokka = kozue, obviously) (and note that kozue and nanami are significant foils/mirrors too). i mean, they even have a similar light blue (to signify naïveté, innocence, childlike wonder) versus dark blue (to signify cynicism, jadedness, resigned subsumption into harmful norms) color scheme going on. the Special sibling and the afterthought. (although before going forward i do want to be clear that i am in no way alluding to any incestuous undertones wrt katara and sokka, and i would even argue that the allusions to incestuous desire between miki and kozue are more complex and nuanced than simply reducing it to mere perversion. but that's beyond the scope of this ask lol)

i know that some people might bristle at my comparing katara to miki (baby misogynist, little freak) but miki really exemplifies the trope of the "sunlit garden" in the same way that katara exemplifies that trope in atla. miki isn't the narrator of course (akio is), but the central motif of desire staked to an illusory formative memory since lost that defines a character's motivations and self-becoming is first properly introduced (not including the utena meeting dios intro) and defined through his obsession. in the same way, we are introduced to the world of atla through katara's formative memories, her desire that motivates her self-becoming also being an illusory formative memory, as well as a tale she longs to replicate ("the four nations living together in harmony"). katara, like miki, is defined by her naïveté and childlike innocence, her somewhat reductive desire to be noble and heroic, and her need to flatten everything into a clear-cut narrative wherein she is always its heroine. like miki, she resents her sibling for being transformed into a more cynical version of themselves in accordance with society's pressures (in kozue's case, it's the inescapability of patriarchy, whereas in sokka's case, it's... a lot of things), and longs for a time when they were "truly happy" and playing together (playing piano, playing in the snow, you get it).

both kozue and sokka heavily subscribe to patriarchal logic and comport and reduce themselves in accordance with the dictums of a world they consider truly inescapable. kozue seeks power within her limited frame, whereas sokka only seeks power insofar as it allows him to assume his very narrow role of protector, but they both assume those limitations to be ontological and fixed in a way that does not allow them to see past it. however, the lack of empathy both miki and katara refuse to attempt in understanding their worldviews, in no way making an effort to broach that misunderstanding instead of simply letting the chasm between them fester, nonetheless implicates them equally. after all, they too both adhere to their own limited worldviews, only in their worldviews they are fundamentally special and thus beyond reproach. sokka and kozue are both integral aspects of katara and miki's sunlit gardens, and their idealized return to a picturesque nostalgia involves a transformation (or regression) of sokka and kozue into their more innocent former selves. and sokka and kozue are in turn obsessed with katara and miki, the central figure around which their identity and actions revolve.

through this framework, aang thus becomes katara's anthy (aangthy, hehe), as the embodiment of katara's hopeful/nostalgic ideal of heroism, companionship, and the idealized promise of a distant irretrievable past. like anthy with kozue, aang "replaces" katara's longing for the softer, more innocent version of her brother with aang's friendship. like miki with anthy, katara possesses romantic feelings for aang despite his functioning as a replacement for sokka before he became a shell of his former self (or kozue before she became... sexually active). this is because katara, like miki, idealizes the patriarchal narratives that dictate that all significant relationships be either romantic or familial (or both). she wholeheartedly subscribes to this notion, hence why she attempts to subsume everyone who can meaningfully fit into her narrative framework as either a lover (aang, haru, jet, zuko for all of 2 seconds) or a pseudo family member (aunt wu, hama, pakku, toph, etc etc.), replicating those dynamics as many times as she needs to to make them fit within her two dimensional tapestry. and crucially, coming face to face with yon rha subverts that, because she recognizes the messy humanity spilling forth from the neat boxes she puts people in, and must thus contend with her own role in her narrative. of course miki, being a side character and not the narrator, certainly not the hero, does not get this luxury. and he must find a way to grow up anyway.

3. akio and ozai: patriarchy

there's something truly incredible about how both akio and ozai manage to inflict psychological harm upon every single character in their respective shows, even if they never interact with those characters directly. their reach is vast and spindly; it cannot be overestimated. and yet, ozai has only reigned for about six years. akio is only acting chairman of ohtori academy. they are not patriarchy itself, but merely its signifier. and obviously their modes of embodying patriarchy differ in many respects: a school is not a nation (despite the similarities), and a father is not a brother (despite akio being father-like). ozai is defeated by by being stripped of his technology of violence, whereas akio is not "defeated" in a literal sense (although i suppose anthy driving a car through his ghost and exploding him into a cloud of roses does make quite the statement), anthy merely leaves. and yet, in both instances, they are both forced to succumb to their own limited ideology regarding what constitutes power. if ozai lacks firepower, he lacks control over his subjects and the right to sovereignty. if akio's control is challenged, if people realize that they can just leave, that the ends of his world are entirely arbitrary, he no longer has the power to abuse and exploit and use others for his own ends.

the metonymic signification of patriarchy figured through both ozai and akio in dual ways further emphasizes their respective roles. ozai is both king and father, akio is both (acting) chairman and (acting) father. patriarchy dictates every aspect of [a patriarchal] society: from interpersonal dynamics to the nuclear family to the school to the state to the world. what makes both akio and ozai so brilliant in this regard is the fact that their influence is reflected in all these facets. ozai abuses every member of his family individually; controls them as a system; inflicts his (family's) propaganda onto the fn education system, rewriting history with (almost) no one to disprove him; inflicts his imperialist agenda both within the fire nation (ruining local economies through industrialization, forcing citizens to conform to restrictive roles, inflicting violence through occupation) and beyond it; he refers to the world as "my world," as if he is its creator, its owner, or its god. and in many ways, he is. akio similarly abuses everyone interpersonally (most notably anthy, touga, and utena); subsumes utena into his nuclear family system so that she cannot leave; uses the academy as a site of control in which adolescents are forced to comply with socially codified norms and thus made more vulnerable to the influence of adult authority figures (especially those who emphasize their individuality or inherent specialness when compared with the rest of the student body); operates ohtori as a sort of nation wherein patriotism is reified through the use of uniforms, affiliations, sociopolitical hierarchies, and an acting government (the student council); and defines himself as the creator/owner/god of his world. to be end of the world. to embody not an apocalypse, but a cage.

ozai and akio both fashion themselves the entire world, but it also makes them more vulnerable to resistance, to any mode of critique that points out the obvious: no, you're just one person, and the logic you use to dominate others is deeply, noticeably flawed. it's a logic that they exploit but that in turns exploits them, as they have so deeply internalized it that they can no longer immunize themselves against any kind of resistance. ozai claims that there is no room for an air nomad in his world, which is why aang defeating ozai through the pacifist values of his people and not through his greater power (which would nonetheless be subscribing to ozai's logic, and thus letting him win ideologically if not physically) is so crucial in shattering ozai's paradigm. just as utena, as someone who refuses to conform to the strict, arbitrary, and violently enforced norms of patriarchy, can so thoroughly disrupt akio's control by resisting him. just as anthy can by leaving. akio remains in his cozy little coffin, exerting meaningless control to uphold the hollow puppet of his ego.

people sometimes joke about how long it takes for zuko to recognize that the burning off of half his face was "cruel" and "wrong," but it's not that zuko didn't find it painful, it's not that zuko didn't fear his father, it's not that zuko idolized his father beyond reproach. he questioned his cruelty, in fact he did so constantly. he simply saw no other way to live. he had no conception of a world beyond ozai's defined limits, had no choice but to believe ozai's dogma and loathe himself for not sufficiently adhering to it. similarly, people often ask "if anthy could leave all along, then why didn't she?" because she, too, was trapped in a coffin of her own self-loathing. to leave an abuser is not as simple as simply stepping beyond the threshold and never looking back. first, you must locate the threshold. then, you must find the courage to look beyond it. i briefly touched on azula being an anthy figure before. well, i think that she is. just because she has yet to see beyond the threshold does not mean she does not find her limits. and yes, its not triumphant, and yes, her facade that masks her pain and fear is shattered, but ultimately, that breakdown is a good thing for her. because that's her first step to freedom.

4. the sunlit garden as mythmaking events

i talk previously in this post about the motif of "the sunlit garden" in rgu vs what i like to call "a mythmaking event" in atla, and i do want to elaborate on that slightly. i provided a link to a post on my utena blog going into what the sunlit garden "is" for each principal character, and atla has a similar mode of communicating these nostalgic desires and idealizations that motivate self-becoming, largely through flashbacks. for aang, it is quite obvious, as his memories of a before and after are (temporally, although not psychologically) fragmented by an entire century. that disconnect severs the two versions of himself quite neatly. those memories with gyatso and the other air nomads (as well as with child bumi, and with the mysterious kuzon) are his idealized past, his "sunlit garden," whereas the storm is his mythmaking event, the point in his life where his choices collide with his telos. there is no going back.

katara and sokka have a similar sunlit garden, their snowball fight being the last truly happy memory they have before the black snow falls and their childhood innocence is severed from them forever. kya's sacrifice and murder is katara's mythmaking event as she then chooses to assume the mantle of her mother who took her place, decides to become the greatest waterbender possible to compensate for surviving the genocide, and chooses to be a hero so that the collective memory and sacrifices of her people will not be in vain. like utena, she witnesses pain and suffering at a very young aged and is moved to become a hero so as to mitigate that suffering, even if her own formative tragedy can never be rectified. also like utena, she idealizes a seemingly utopian past wherein violence was more covert and thus presented itself as more ideal (the time of princes vs the time of harmony). her naïveté and persistent idealism are both her downfall and her greatest virtue. she refuses to accept the true state of the world to the point of blindness, but it is also that refusal to accept it that allows her to force the world into a kinder shape.

as for sokka, his mother's death was also a formative trauma, but his true mythmaking event is when hakoda leaves for war with all the other men of his tribe. hakoda tells him that "being a man is knowing where you're needed the most, and right now, that's here, protecting your sister." it's not a rose crest ring, but it may as well be. from that moment onward, sokka officially comports his identity into being his sister's protector, which is how he thus defines his manhood. and of course, being his sister's protector means being a martyr, because the precedent for "protecting katara" that has already been established is, well, dying for her. like aang being the avatar and the last airbender and katara being the last southern waterbender, sokka is thus defined by his necessity (ie, usefulness to others) as well as his isolation – not only the "last warrior/man" of the swt, but also via his own process of depersonalization and self-dehumanization as he attempts to fully embody his role as an eventual martyr.

zuko's mythmaking event is, of course, branded onto his face. in fact, zuko essentially assumes both katara and sokka's mythmaking events by first being irrevocably altered by his mother's sacrifice, and then being all the more transformed by his father's decree as he attempts to dictate what kind of man zuko needs to be. his "sunlit garden" is also shown to us in flashes: memories of a (literal!) sunlit garden, of turtleducks, of his mother's gentle guidance, of happier times on ember island, on his father's hand resting on his shoulder with pride instead of malice. it is unclear just how truthful these nostalgic memories are. obviously, his family was never actually happy. ozai had always been exerting control over them, even if his violence was once more obscured. we never see azula's sunlit garden, for instance (although i'd argue that she and zuko possess the same mythmaking events), and i cannot help but wonder whether it's because, like touga, she never actually had one.

finally, some honorable mentions must go to the following: toph, whose sunlit garden is also her mythmaking event, as she learns from badgermoles how to hone her gift and reject the rigid societal impositions that seek to limit, repress, and control her. hama, who never attempts to return to her sunlit garden in the swt with kanna, despite her freedom as established in her mythmaking event of teaching herself to bloodbend; she knows that she is irrevocably altered, and thus she can never go home again. appa, whose sunlit garden, of playing with the other bison at the southern air temple, occurs in conjunction with his mythmaking event of meeting aang and becoming the avatar's animal companion.

all of these events are depicted through flashbacks wherein the consecutive shots between flashback and present day mirror the character who is having the memory in the past and present, overlaying their younger face onto their current face with identical framing. i'm too lazy to compile a bunch of screenshots here, and i couldn't find the post i'd seen previously that had done so, but if you're as familiar with atla as i am, then you already know exactly what i'm talking about. this device is so effective particularly because it exercises restraint. every flashback in atla is crucial because it signifies either a sunlit garden or a mythmaking event that motivates the character its focalizing in the present day. atla is economical with its flashbacks, but not withholding. like with rgu, flashbacks in atla are used with a specificity of purpose, and illustrate their points in clear, precise ways. just because atla is not as overtly metatextual with its central themes of narrativization, nostalgia, idealization, bias, and storytelling, does not mean it is not present, and in fact, overt. ranging from katara's role as narrator to the fire nation propaganda aang attempts to correct in school, the use of memory and illusion is crucial in illustrating how atla functions as a narrative about heroism, legacy, and challenging dominant myths through preserving cultural memory under an imperialist regime.

5. final thoughts

obviously, i could go on forever. there is simply no limit to my ability to unpack and dissect these two shows (hence, my sideblogs dedicated to doing so). i haven't even talked about zuko as an analogue to saionji with regard to their latent homosexuality, misogyny, violence, and struggle to conform to a patriarchal ideal. and i barely touch on katara as an analogue to utena with regard to their naïveté, heroism, myopia, persistence, and somewhat misguided desire for justice (through her terms specifically), although like kozue and nanami as mirrors wrt sokka, her traits that i describe when comparing her to miki also map onto utena in many ways – except of course, utena, unlike miki, is also the "hero," and thus has the same destabilizing revelation regarding the banality of evil that katara undergoes in "the southern raiders." moreover, i only discuss one central motif in utena, because i think the sunlit garden is the trope that maps best onto the thematic work atla is doing, but i'm sure that there are many more frameworks i could compare. and yet, i only have so much time, and only so much space in which to ramble. so hopefully, for now, this suffices. however, if there any specific areas in which you would like me to elaborate, you know that i shall always be happy to do so.

[mxltifxnd0m]

𝙄𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙

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Summary: You get injured and Steve is a fussy babysitter (mother)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, The Party x platonic fem! reader

Words: 1.8K

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Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, and gore. fluff and a little spice are thrown in there. Set in season 2 

A/N: wow look at me posting a fic. Haven't done that since July lmao

tbh this fic only came to fruition bc of my dear friend Addie and I’ve been meaning to write more for Stranger Things but I have yet to write for any of the other fandoms on my masterlist lol

and as always all my thanks to my wife and beta reader @songofpatrochilless

𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

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Okay, maybe you should have listened to Steve when he told you to get back on the bus with Lucas, Max, and Dustin. By the looks of it, Steve looked like he needed help with the number of demodogs surrounding him, so you disobeyed his order and jumped out of the bus. You would protect these kids with everything you had since you'd been babysitting Lucas and Dustin since they were 10 and you quickly bonded with Max since you noticed that the two of you were similar in attitude.  

You were able to hold your own until you tripped on a piece of scrap metal, making you stumble to the ground. You noticed that Steve was starting to head back to the bus, so you got up and started to sprint to the bus. You hadn't noticed that one of the demodogs was behind you and managed to scratch your leg, which made you stumble again, but you just turned around, slashed at it with your axe, leaped into the bus, and closed the doors as hard as you could. Getting up fast, you shoved a piece of metal in front of the door and held it there for a moment until the bus shook from something hitting it from the other side. It distracted you for a second, allowing the demodog to swipe at the metal and get its claws into the bus. Quickly, you grab the bat that was in Steve's hands and start hitting it as hard as you can while Steve is trying his best behind you to help.

Faintly in the background, you hear Dustin calling for help until it manages to move up to the roof. You try to get up to go after it but feel a twinge of pain in your leg. But you ignored it and managed to get up anyway. But it seemed that Steve had a different idea. He had grabbed the bat from your hands and got in front of Max to protect her, and the others from the demodog peeking from the hole on top of the bus. Then everything stopped. It seems that the demodogs were running away. You sigh in relief and follow the others out of the bus to see where the demodogs were going.

“What happened?” Lucas asked. 

“I don’t know,” Max responded. 

“Steve and y/n scared ‘em off?” Dustin suggests. 

“No. No way. They're going somewhere.” Steve said grimly, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Well, I guess it’s time for another adventure.” You say, trying to get their minds off of what just happened. But it fails as you wince in pain, the adrenaline that was pumping through your veins is now gone and you're feeling the pain in your leg. You stumble as you try to take a step forward and Dustin notices your leg.

“Shit, your leg is bleeding,” Dustin points out. 

“Watch your language.” You say reflexively. 

Dustin shoots you a look of are you serious right now?

Steve whips his head towards you and his eyes, full of worry, dart down to the leg that was bleeding.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone your leg was bleeding!” 

“Well Steve, I didn't think that mentioning that my leg was bleeding, while we were trying to not die was high on my list of priorities right now.” You tell him sarcastically. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, “Well, we need to treat that before it gets infected.” 

“I don’t think that the boys or Max-,” you gesture to tweens, “-have a first aid kit on them. So I’ll suck it up until all of this is over or until we get to somewhere where we can treat it. Okay, Steve?” 

By the look on Steve’s face, he does not like the idea but doesn’t object since he knows you’re right. 

“Right, now that we have acknowledged that, we should probably go so we can see where the monsters are heading before we lose them.” Everyone nods their head and trek in the direction where the demodogs left. Steve makes you wrap an arm around him so he can help you put less pressure on your leg. 

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It took a while until you were able to treat your leg. You had to trudge through the woods to the Lab, encountering Jonathan and Nancy once you got there, then Hopper came out of nowhere, and you had to sit on Steve’s lap since there was no more room in the back of the truck. 

You are exhausted, the adrenaline wore off in the car and you almost fell asleep on Steve, but he kept you awake by talking to you quietly until the truck had stopped in front of the Byers’ house. Getting out of the truck, you stumbled a bit before Steve got out and slung your arm around his shoulder again, and led you into the Byers’ house.

As soon as you stepped foot into the threshold, Steve whisked you away to the bathroom, sat you down on the counter, and started opening cabinets to find the first aid kit. All the while he was sorting out the supplies he needed to clean the wounds, he was mumbling incoherent words under his breath. 

Once he found the supplies he needed, Steve started to clean the wound on your leg. Minutes passed and the only sounds you could hear were your and Steve's breathing and the occasional groan of pain when Steve would put too much pressure on your leg. Steve would apologize profusely but his face was stoic but his eyes still had concern and warmth. After Steve finished cleaning your wound, he started to wrap your leg up. 

“So, it’s a nice day out isn’t it?” You joked, breaking the silence. Steve jerked his head up from your wound to glare at you. 

“Okay, got it, not the time for jokes.” 

Getting the hint that Steve didn’t want to talk, you zoned out. You could hear the rustling of the feet through the walls of the bathroom. And you could listen to the kids' voices trying to figure out what the hell was going on with Will. What had brought your mind back to the bathroom was a jolt of pain going through your leg and you let out a low groan. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Did I tie it a little tight?” Steve asked. 

“It’s a little tight Steve, but I’m fine.” 

A tense silence fell over the two of you until Steve decided to break it. 

“What the hell were you thinking back at the junkyard, I told you I had it handled.” Steve started to scold you. 

“Okay, Mom, calm down for just a second.”

“Calm down! Don’t tell me to calm down, you almost lost your leg!” Steve exclaimed. 

“That’s an exaggeration, I just got my leg scratched, and as you can see my leg is still attached.” You gestured to your now bandaged leg. 

Steve rolls his eyes, “Still if you had listened to me and stayed on the bus you wouldn’t be here right now.” Steve says while running his hands through his hair frustratedly. 

“I don’t understand why you care about me getting hurt, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” You tell Steve. 

“I’m sorry. So caring for my best friend isn’t a big deal now?” 

You wince at the use of “best friend” but Steve just thought it was because of your leg. You’ve always had a small crush on Steve but it was squashed when he started to express interest in Nancy last year. 

“I didn’t think you cared that much about me, you didn’t hesitate to leave me for Nancy anytime we hung out when the two of you were together.” You say nonchalantly as you shrug one of your shoulders. 

Steve’s eyes seem to soften at your words. You were avoiding his gaze and looking everywhere but him. He notices that, so to get your attention, Steve grabs your chin softly between his thumb and pointer finger to make eye contact with you. 

“Hey, you know I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I would have stopped leaving you if I knew it bothered you so much.” Steve tells you. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m over it now.” You dismiss Steve still trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“Look at me,” Steve asks you softly. And you can’t help but listen to him. So you turn to meet his gaze. This makes you realize how close Steve was to your face. You see him study your face so intently, that you felt his breath on your lips. Steve presses his forehead to yours and stays silent.

Unknowingly both of you have been inching closer to one another. Your lips briefly brushed over his, and you threw caution into the wind and fully pushed your lips against Steve’s. Steve immediately responds by deepening the kiss. He moved one of his hands to cup your cheek and on your waist, while your hands made their way into his hair, tugging on the hairs on the nape of his neck. Both of you didn’t know how long you stayed there kissing in the bathroom, it felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a few minutes. 

“Hey guys, if you’re done, come out to the living room.” Dustin interrupted the two of you, his voice making the two of you break apart. You and Steve hear his footsteps fade away from the doorway, before breaking out in small chuckles. 

“That kid is something else,” Steve says with a small smile on his face.

“He can be a pain in the ass, but you can’t help but love him.” You say which makes Steve nod in agreement. 

“We should get out there before they start getting suspicious or Dustin will throw a fit” 

“Yeah we should. Here let me.” Steve helps you get off the counter and wraps your arm around his shoulder, using Steve as a human crutch. 

You thank Steve and in return, he dips his head down to give you a peck on the lips, which makes your eyes widen slightly in surprise since you weren’t expecting him to do that.

You guys made it out to the bathroom after a couple of minutes of trying to hobble down the hall and Steve making you go as slow as you can. 

“What took you guys so long?” Dustin questions you. 

“My human crutch didn’t want me to go fast.” You gestured to Steve, who just shook his head. 

“I could let go of you if I wanted to.” Steve threatens 

“Ah you could, but you wouldn’t because you would feel bad for letting me stand on my bad leg.” You say with a teasing smile on your face. 

Completely forgetting everyone else that was in the room, Steve pulls you a little tighter to him, “Yeah you’re right.” Steve agrees. You guys just stare at each other for a little until Dustin claps his hands to get your attention. 

“Okay now that the lovebirds are done…” 

[theminecraftbee]

One Piece au!!!! i didn’t see you were reading One Piece, that’s so exciting, how are you liking it??

mcyt maps so well to One Piece aus, the flexibility of mcyt canon works fantastically well with the expansiveness of the One Piece world. there’s a lot of really fun ways to fit mcyt into One Piece, which is so so fun. i’ve made up my own One Piece au before and come to totally different answers to you with yours, which makes yours super fun to read

i love your character and DF concepts for everyone! all your assignments are so clever. i don’t even really have anything to add, i just fucking love One Piece so i was So excited to see another One Piece au—i love One Piece so much and think you’re such a fantastic writer, so i just had to tell you immediately how thrilled i am about it

hope you’re having fun reading and i’d be very excited to see you revisit some of these thoughts post timeskip (especially since one or two of your devil fruits aren’t too far off from fruits you haven’t seen yet!)

- liloinkoink, signing bc my mcyt blog is a sideblog

I HADN'T BROUGHT IT UP YET but i am loving it, it turns out one piece is exactly as good as everyone says one piece is (it is extremely good). i am still pre-marineford (although i DO know that one major spoiler about it, can't wait for THAT to kill me dead), but like, only JUST pre-marineford i am in impel down right now. and man its SO GOOD. i think the thing that is getting me most is that its so... funny? i had always heard of one piece being pitched as like, one of the big shonen battle manga, and it IS sort of that, but it's also really funny and has a lot of just REALLY strong character writing and worldbuilding even more than any of the fight scenes i think.

anyway yeah, i totally agree, one piece in general is a FUN WAY TO DO AUS. its really flexible and because both mcyt and one piece are so wide i imagine no two people would do the same assignments or concepts for everyone because it's just... so many possibilities!

also oooh the idea that i managed to accidentally hit some ideas that i haven't encountered yet... exciting...

but yes ONE PIECE IS GOOD I'M ENJOYING IT A LOT!

[toastywatchesstevenuniverse]

S1 E43

Maximum Capacity

Okay so this entire episode just made me feel like....uncomfortable? Like the entire time I just kept feeling so off. Like my brain was going "okay this is way too weird, why do I feel like there's gonna be some horrifying plot twist?"

Then it fucking happened & I felt like a psychic. Like holy shit it wasn't just me, this episode was purposely uncomfortable on purpose & idk how the fuck they did that but WOW the entire episode made me feel so uneasy & it was legit for a reason.

Also ngl Amethyst....kinda just super fucked up to do that- Like I haven't LOVED Greg as a character so far (he's there but I mean him lying about his leg, good intentions or not, was a pretty shitty move & also he's just kinda not that great of a dad but I also understand that's literally the point so I'm not gonna just toss aside his character because I'm assuming he's supposed to get better as the show goes on. For now: I just kinda feel nothing strong towards him character wise), but oh my God this episode just made me feel so bad for the guy. Holy shit like this dude just misses his wife. Fuck. I'm surprised how much he kept his cool here. Like he didn't blow up at Amethyst or anything he was like super quick to forgive her despite the fact that he kinda would have been super justified in being upset for this. But I like that this was how it was done. No scene of them fighting or yelling, Amethyst just chooses to do something to make up for it without Greg having to lecture her. In that regard: it actually made her seem way more sincere. Like she had to make that choice via her own genuine remorse. I'm wording this badly I think but like I think that it made her seem like she really was trying to attone for it & that she really did regret what she did.

And honeslty after On The Run? With the knowledge that, knowing how severely fucked up Amethyst is mental health wise, yeah her lashing out at people like this? And saying/doing extremely shitty things because she's upset & she doesn't have the capacity to hold herself back & only realizes how badly she fucked up until its too late? Yeah as someone who has that kinda mental health shit as I said in my post about that episode?....yeah, that's pretty accurate tbh. In my experience that's something I can confirm does happen. So yeah it actually makes sense why she did something so extreme out of fucking nowhere.

I have said a lot of really regrettable shit to people that I'm friends with (Sometimes idk how I'm still friends with them after bc I still feel bad about it yet they seem to insist I'm forgiven) during times where I was really fucking upset. And it's only until RIGHT after it happens that I fully go "oh shit that was a really bad thing to say & I made the situation significantly worse" Yet just like irl, they forgive. *cries*

Really well done character focused episode. They did fucking stellar character writing here.

OH WHAT YOU THOUGHT I WASNT GONNA GO INSANE GOBLIN MODE ABOUT PEARL????? TOO BAD PEARL TIME

OH MY GOD SHES IN A SWEATER AND SHES DOING HER BEST YES PEARL YOUR VOLUME IS PERFECT YOURE DOING AMAZING AAAAAAAA SHES SO CUTE AND HUGGABLE LOOK AT HER SHES THE CHARACTER OF ALL TIME !!!!!!

[theneighborhoodwatch]

Found this welcome theory video that i found interesting: https://youtu.be/9Lz6OcILeSc?si=tcPnCX3QC4JmAyC-

Thoughts :3?

(functional link to video)

i tend to avoid youtube coverage of welcome home because i'm petty, but fuck it, it's a new year and i've never actually heard of this youtuber before. i'll give it a shake. liveblog under the cut:

"y'know if it wasn't for the unsettling mysteries, the feeling that somebody is always watching you, and the mold.... i'd wanna live in the neighborhood" that's exactly why the mold and paranoia's so scary babeyyyy

"update number two" Tch.

i'm less inclined to call the writing in this update character development so much as it is just character establishment. especially since before the july 22nd update (bc that's what this video is about) all we knew about the other neighbors was what the WHRP was willing to tell us. i feel like i'm preaching to the choir though.

ok i laughed at the grindset alpha male howdy joke

"now i wanna move onto eddie bc i wanna make a connection between [eddie and howdy]" :D OH DO YOU NOW.

i do love the energy in this video, very infectious. i too have recommended people welcome home solely on the basis that they would have the hots for eddie and y'know what i haven't been wrong yet.

I WAS GONNA SAY SOMETHING ABOUT HOW LIKE. almost all of the characters have that backstory element of having coming from somewhere else before settling down in home, but i see the point about howdy and eddie specifically dealing with stuff that comes from someplace else as like, an actual job. putting a pin in it.

i'm not Sure how i feel about the idea that the world of home/the world in which home exists is Within our world? pretty much from the beginning i assumed it was running on re:creators/deltarune dark world rules (i.e. it is a world that was born from human thought and its existence is dependent on/influenced by our world, but at the end of the day it does exist on like a separate plane of reality) and i still stand by that. barbieland in barbie 2023 is a more apt comparison though.

"possession route" Tch.

ok actually i can't tch at that because i have talked about it in my own posts. TL;DR: i think possession/haunting theory could work but only if it's anything other than actual literal ghosts. as soon as you try to make it FNAF 2 i sleep.

don't have much to say about Real Poppy Lover Hours except emphatic smiling and nodding. although i will say i have seen people use "oh she's more like a mom/aunt/etc.!" as an excuse to sideline her in fanwork bc for some reason some folks think that her having a motherly personality means that she can't be shipped with anyone? even though all of home's residents are adults who aren't even related to each other? that's a gripe for another post, though.

THE CONCEPT OF SALLY BEING AS BIG AS POPPY IS KILLING ME. I PROMISE SHE'S SMALL SHE JUST HAS A BIGASS HEAD. she would want to be big though wouldn't she.

...actually now i want big sally. note to self to draw that later.

i do like the examination of whether or not sally referring to the audience is meant to mean anything. personally i think it's just a bit of wordplay/red herring action but You Never Know!

i misheard "girlboss bossgirl slay" as "girlboss boygirl slay" for like a split second. still fits tbh.

IT'S FUNNY THAT THEY MENTION THINKING THAT THE WHRP IS A SINGLE PERSON bc i do have an ask about that right after this. i'll save my thoughts for that response though.

it's funny that "was the majority of the gang being some form of queer/disabled/nd/etc. planned in-universe" is a question at all bc at the risk of sounding like an asshole it feels so obvious to me that it very much was not. the interview is definitely playing into those themes though.

"them <3" yeah

again. extremely refreshing to see a welcome home video from someone who actually likes welcome home instead of the clicks that covering it will give them.

BARNABY-SANS COMPARISON IS... DISTRESSINGLY APPROPRIATE.

he always knows when to show up, huh.... huh.... i've been trying to break away from being so self-referential ever since welcome home and consequently this blog blew up but. huh...

do i think he's a service dog? i think to answer that question we would first have to answer the question of whether or not he's even a Dog or just Shaped Like A Dog. the laws of his reality say he is a dog, but we can at least guess that even even those can't be trusted. i think it's possible that he may see himself as in service to wally, that he worries about what will happen if he doesn't butt in, but i don't know if this is an objective truth.

"[wally] being so mysterious i don't think is like, him wanting to be mysterious. [...] there just may not be that much about him." and then relating that to how typically protagonists in puppet shows have more subdued personalities than their co-stars so they can be more relatable to the audience. Teehee. (this is positive)

oh there's something kind of poetic about the idea that each bug video ends bc wally's snapped out of his dissociation by one of his friends calling his name when paired with the idea that he's disassociating in part due to his connection with the audience isn't there. being reminded of one's own personhood through your connections with others, and how that has the potential to become more bittersweet the more wally continues to risk it in the process of regaining a sense of purpose as The Audience Surrogate. oogh. that's just me waxing poetic though.

oooh that whole passage about the idea of remembrance and the pursuit of a "correct" story and tying that back into how welcome home in-universe has been almost universally forgotten and the themes of living as a disabled or mentally ill or queer person. beautiful connection.

"hmmm, how much agency do you have in your life actually" AHEHEHE. HEHEHEHE. HEHE.

conclusion: Good Video. thank you for sending it.

[kyopmi]

sakusa kiyoomi likes sundays — it's his cleaning day.

sure, he'll vacuum the floors daily, always make sure there are no dishes in the sink, wipe down the bathroom counter and mirror after every shower — but sunday mornings are for deep cleaning. he'll dust every shelf and scrub every surface, take the time to actually sweep and mop the floor (it always feel cleaner than the vacuum), restore all the misplaced knick knacks to its original spots.

and kiyoomi doesn't mind if you don't participate — this has become his own little ritual that he's developed — though he can't say doesn't enjoy the feeling of shared accomplishment if you do. and afterwards, when all the cleaning is done and you're both freshly showered, he loves nothing more than to flop back onto the freshly changed sheets and cuddle for a while, properly relaxing after a long week.

it's his safe haven.

in the summer when it's sweltering hot outside, you and kiyoomi are wearing your thinnest layer of clothing (sometimes he forgoes a top altogether) and you lie side by side, usually with your carefully-crafted shared playlist is playing in the background. one of kiyoomi's arms is outstretched to the side and he lets you use it as a pillow, your hair tickling his skin. most of the time, you're both staring at the ceiling with the sunlight filtering in through the windows, sometimes talking about everything and nothing at the same time, other times simply basking in each other's presence.

during the colder days, both you and kiyoomi are wearing something of his. kiyoomi can grumble and protest all he wants about you being a sweater thief but you know he secretly loves it when you wear his clothes, he just doesn't want to admit it yet. (whenever he's clothes-shopping, he would often visualize what you'd look like in the garment, and if he thinks it's not something you would "steal" then he's more likely to put it back in its place.) the both of you are huddled much closer when the temperature decreases, sharing your body warmth under the thick blankets with arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled together. your conversations become more hushed now that you're closer together, as though you're sharing a secret that's meant only for the two of you, even if you're only talking about what to eat for dinner.

sakusa kiyoomi holds these moments dearly in his heart. he thinks — he knows — he doesn't always need big celebrations, fancy date nights or expensive gifts to be able to cherish you. for him, your weekly routine of just being with each other is more than enough.

so, yeah — sakusa kiyoomi loves sundays.

i was going to post ch4 of the suna series today but i got distracted and my brain said i haven't been thinking of kiyoomi enough lately, so here it is! have a lovely day/night from sakusa kiyoomi (he told me you have to, bcs he says so)

[kdval]

Welcome, stranger!

I'm Val, a virtual photographer. Here's my CP portrait and general info:

I post templates and other useful design stuff on my Boosty page - subscribe so you don't miss anything.

All my posts are queued. If you tagged/dm me and I don't respond for some time and keep posting – know that I'm not an arse, I'm simply not online.

I don't talk much in tags under my own posts bc I'm afraid of Tumblr and its filtering system xD But I do like to talk in reblog tags. Know that your comments and tags are highly appreciated so don't hesitate! I also started to post my stuff on Twitter (or whatever it's called now) so if you follow me here concider to support me there too. No pressure though.

I rarely post/reblog NSFW content but it can happen so be warned.

I can take commissions: shoot your CP2077 OCs / certain characters in RDR2 / Elden Ring fandoms. Feel free to DM me.

⚠ Do not repost my stuff anywhere - or credit/provide the link at least. I have Twitter, and Pinterest, I'm basically everywhere and I see you. And I will beat your ass, be sure. ⚠

NAVIGATION:

① All CP2077 stuff | ② My OCs

③ Faces of Night City series | ④ Dream team AU: movie series

All my current OCs:

You will see them a lot.

@imaginarycyberpunk2023 is my muse. You will see her OCs a lot too. I also take photos of others OCs - and if I haven't come for you and your V yet - I will.

Original posts go under #cp2077 kdval tag.

① All Elden Ring stuff | ② Cinematic bossfights

③ Vertical wallpapers | ④ Characters posters

Sometimes I can make gifs all of a sudden.

✦ All Lies of P stuff ✦

① Character portraits series | ② Sceneries (coming soon)

① Character portraits series | ② Gifs

✦ All AW2 stuff ✦

✦ All Sekiro stuff ✦

You can also find here:

✦ Resident Evil 4: Remake

✦ A Plague Tale: Requiem

✦ Hollow Knight gifs

[bioexorcizm]

HI DEX I hope you've been well!! I see you've been Jack posting a lot and I haven't seen the movie yet but I need info about your s/i or your shop lore. Or just anything!!

♡ @eternally-smitten

thank you nat! i know i havent gone into much detail but it was because i was still trying to think through things. will put it under a readmore as well bc its fairly lengthy for an ask!

my s/i is named harley! they are an artist (and i use general artist bc they often dip into a lot of different mediums for their art), and use their platform to push for social change; they gained notoriety from a very hefty anti war effort in the 60s & well into the 70s through various public demonstrations and art projects -- it's why they initially were interviewed impromptu via phone by jack sometime during '68, though back then he was still doing radio in chicago.

fast forward a few years, night owls airs for the first time in '71. within the first year or so of running, jack (who has only heard of harley's recent projects, being an ny resident themselves) asks harley back for a proper interview, this time on the show.

it goes fairly well, with high ratings solely because before this, harley mostly kept out of the public eye, their art and its messages being the centerpiece of public consumption (think banksy), and jack really only having the means to contact them at all because of that mostly-unnoticed interview a few years prior. harley agrees, hoping to get their message out to a wider audience, but beyond that, harley and him just mesh well in personality and humor, and quickly become friends.

from there, they keep in contact as casual friends, with harls helping him with some writing once in a while until after a couple years (i imagine we're into '74-75 at this point) they quietly resign to a creative co-partnership after the us pulls out of vietnam (read: harley decides to take a step back from the big outspoken antiwar efforts and focus on philanthropy for affected parties, leaving them with a lot of downtime and a lot of creative constipation) of some sort, with harls splitting their time between their own art and being around to help with jack's show.

obviously harley at this point is absolutely in love with jack, but wholly respects his marriage and never breaks those boundaries, leaving it as a one sided, unreciprocated (?) crush for quite some time. after jack's wife gets sick and dies, though, harley presents themselves as a shoulder for jack to cry on, and maybe he realizes he was always a little in love with them too, and that it wouldn't be so bad to go through the next few stages of the grieving process alone...?

so. yeah! friends to lovers, with a lot of slowburn and quite a bit of angst thrown in 🫶 theres some fun hcs i have for them (like jack calls harley "ziggy" after ziggy stardust, since their fashion sense and gender freakiness is VERY similar to bowie's act...or maybe bowie got it from them...? 👁️) but that's the basis!!

sorry it is so long i just have been thinking abouy them nonstop for quite a few days now ❤️ i would LOVE to talk more abt harley and/or their relationship though so please feel free to ask anything else !!

[yonemurishiroku]

So I was gonna just post this myself but then I thought: nah it's s mermaid au so it has to come via yone's ask. that's the law

Nico is a prince, Jason is his deeply devoted naval captain. One day Nico is sailing out on the seas and he disappears. Jason obviously is distraught, and goes to look for him. (Idk why he wasn't with him in the first place maybe he had a cold or smth) After many months he finds the spot Nico's ship was last seen and he is lulled beneath the waves by the voice of a siren. This siren (Percy) had taken Nico and was keeping him in his underwater palace, and Nico had fallen in love with him. To twist things further, Jason realises Siren!Percy is actually his first love whom he lost at sea 15 years ago.

Idk if it ends with tragedy or polyamory or both. Do they break the spell on Percy or do they all become fish people ever after? I don't know but I thought you might enjoy <3

From Feb 6 to May 20 because it's Mermay!!!

No that's just a lie I'm so sorry I got carried away. adksadkasda pls know that my love's present even when I'm not. 😭😭😭

Firstly just let me say a million thank yous because I indeed love this. Well I've always loved Perjasico. Moreso when it's just a mess and none of them is requited---- I love you too so there's that

This prompt hides so many things. I'm delusional just looking at it.

I like the way you make it that Percico, compared to Jasico, appears very fabricated - idk if it's your intention but just let me explain.

As it is, I'm assuming Nico and Percy come together because Percy uses his siren magic (sinking his ship, luring him to the palace, etc...), which implies that the feelings might not be completely willing from Nico's side. There's the interference of magic - and I'm all for magical but untruthful love (hello Jason and Piper----)

On the other hand, let's just say that I prefer more complicated feelings, I think it should be that Percy only keeps Nico because he feels lonely. As in: his requirement for Nico's presence stems from loneliness, not fascination/infatuation. This implies that Percy isn't technically interested in Nico as a person - he's only using him to abate his painful isolation. That's why he's actively using his magic to bind him.

Now, to complicate things further (because I've always been in love with emotional baggage), I think Percy should become a siren because of the heartbreak over Jason.

Now, here's the fun part. What if Percy was a merman who - in a typical The Little Mermaid fashion - came to the land for Jason? Their story was of that Disney movie - a merman overcoming difficulties, signing a contract to reach his love. And they did have their happy ending!

But then that happy ending all broke up because of some reason. I have yet to come up with one but I just need it. Idk maybe there was a strife/ a misunderstanding/ idk! and Percy fell into the ocean, subsequently suffering the curse of heartbreak and becoming a siren - as the witch's way for the sea to reclaim its child. to say that the people on land are nothing good. only the sea would love you.

And now, 15 years later, it all came back to Jason, now with his new love in danger.

I'm vibrating with joy and I'm not even ashamed (I'm so sorry Jason).

But wait. All of this just makes Percy the antagonized antagonist of a Jasico story. Eh. Where's the fun in that? So anyway. I say we put Nico in as the reason for Jercy's breakup.

Yes, I'm having too much fun with this.

Anw. I have yet to come up with one logical reason.

I have some dramatic ones though - like maybe Nico had a crush on Percy when the two were together and something happened that made him the indirect catalyst to a fighting (bc here I'm assuming Jason has his own duties of serving the prince (or the royal family at least) which means Nico has some semblance of power over him)).

Jesus Christ this is all a mess and I'm still cackling. I haven't even touched the ending yet. I just want them all in pain and in blood. jasdhadka

Anyway this is everything I can come up with in the mean time LMAO Your idea never fails to enrapture me 😭🥺🥺🥺 I'm just too incompetent to reply on time askdjakdaajdsahk i love u with everything in me

[mortalityplays]

answering this in its own post @skullamity bc it could probably help a bunch of people. I use Sweepy, which has no joke turned me from a person living in a fortress of fast food containers and dirty sweaters to someone who can invite company over any time without a second thought.

You start by adding each room in your house, and then you assign tasks to each room. For every task you can set how frequently it needs to be done (including one-time / daily / as needed / certain times of year only), and how much effort it takes. It will then track each chore with a progress bar that goes from green (did this task recently) through yellow (not urgent yet) to red (this task is due). This visual indicator has been insanely helpful for me, bc it turns a negative reminder (task failed by default until you do it) into a positive one (you can turn the red into green!!! you can turn...the YELLOW into green!!!)

The effort rating is used to generate a balanced daily to-do list (this is a premium feature but I highly recommend it, it's the best part of the app and I haven't regretted it for a second). If you live with other people, you can add everyone to the same schedule and individually set the energy people can spend per day. The app then assigns each person chores up to their daily limit, based on what most needs doing. All my life people have assured me that if you do 'a few things' every day, the house stays clean. Madness, witchcraft. It actually works.

Other nice QoL things that have helped my difficult brain stick to this effortlessly for 6 months now:

there is a streak counter, but every 10 days you earn a 'wildcard' that will be automatically used up if you skip a day, maintaining your streak. good for busy or bad mental health days, and effective at making you do the calculus on whether getting up to sweep the bathroom is REALLY hard enough to warrant burning a whole cheat day.

if you can't do a specific task that day (you can see I've been putting off mopping for a while bc I need to pick up a new mophead) you can reroll your schedule or just manually pick a different task from your task library to make up points.

it has a few simple achievements that helped motivate me over the first few weeks - things like 'do every task in a room in one day' or 'have every room in the green at once'. cunning, bc once you've done these, daily maintenance gets way easier.

being able to put in tasks that only need to be done once a year or so weirdly keeps me interested. instead of walking around thinking 'ughhh I need to get around to clearing out that storage cupboard' I'm thinking 'ooh, one of these weekends I get to clear out the storage cupboard, I wonder when it will come up in the rotation'

tl;dr: I have depression and anaemic fatigue, Sweepy did tricks on my mind and now my kitchen counters are always clear and I vacuum daily.