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serpentandlily · 2 months

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Untouchable IX - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst, physical torture, violence

a/n: guys, I’m so sorry this part took a long time to come out. I hope this chapter is worth the wait! Part 10 will be the final chapter/epilogue :)

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part IX

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Days might’ve gone by…days…months…years. Time was an elusive being to you. Had been since the moment the mating bond had snapped between you and Azriel. Since that one last second you got to have with him—your mate.

Koschei kept you strung up in chains, your wrist shackled above your head, your feet barely touching the floor. Your entire body ached with pain. Blood crusted on the white slip he had you put in.

When he had shadowed you back to his small cabin on the lake, you had assumed he would turn you into one of the swans, like he had with the other girls. But apparently, none of you had ever learned the full story.

Vassa had certainly never mentioned this part. Not that you blamed her. You wouldn’t want to talk about it either. How he liked to beat the girls he captured, break them in, before transforming them into one of his pets—forever tied to this lake.

You didn’t want to give up but it was getting harder and harder each day. But you had to. You couldn’t let that day in the clearing be the last time you got to see Azriel…to see your mate.

A few tears leaked from the corner of your eyes at the thought of him, of how he must be feeling with you gone. Everything you both had wished for had come true only to last for a mere second in time before the universe tore you apart once more. It was cruel. It was… no word could come close to describing it. It couldn’t be the end of your story. You couldn’t let it be.

The door to the room you were confined in opened and you whimpered at the sight of the sorcerer.

“Oh, little pet,” he purred, “Are you not happy to see me? And here I thought we were finally making progress.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, swaying on your shackles as you tried to distance yourself from him.

He gave you a serpentine smile. “The stubborn ones are so much more fun to break.”

You glared at him as he stalked over to you, a cup of water in his hands. You had kicked and bucked the first few times but after all of the torture he put you through the past hours, you had no energy left to do anything but dangle there.

“Now, are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?” He held up the water to your mouth but you twisted your head away, slamming your lips shut. “Ah, the hard way it is.”

Excitement filled his eyes as he landed a punch straight in your gut, knocking the air right out of your lungs. You gasped and he grabbed your chin roughly, squeezing the sides of your mouth and making it impossible to snap your jaw shut.

He poured the water into your mouth but you spit it back up, right on his face. You knew it was full of faebane because this was the third time he had come in here to give it to you.

He growled as he wiped away your spit before slapping your cheek hard enough that your head whipped to the side and blood swelled in your mouth. You heaved, letting it trickle down your jaw and onto the floor.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to face him again, hooking his fingers over your bottom teeth and yanking your jaw open once again. This time when he poured the water into your mouth, he quickly slammed it shut and plugged your nose.

“Drink it,” he ordered.

You glared at him defiantly but it did nothing to help you as you ran out of air and choked the water down. He let go of you and you greedily sucked in air.

“Good girl,” he grinned. “See how much easier it is when you listen to me?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t. Not as the faebane coursed through your body, extinguishing all the magic that had started to replenish as the last batch wore off. Not as your wounds and bruises stopped healing and pain slammed into your body.

The faebane he liked to give you was partially diluted. Just enough to let it wear off quicker so you had time to heal in between his sessions but not enough to fully heal or get your magic back. He liked working with a clean canvas but didn’t let your magic linger enough to rid you of pain entirely.

Koschei circled around your hanging body and you heard him fiddling behind you. The sound of leather in his palm had you squirming.

“Now, where were we?”

The crack of the whip against your back rippled through your body and you couldn’t fight the scream that erupted from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push your consciousness into the deepest crevices of your mind, where you might find the tiniest bit of solace as one name constantly repeated in your thoughts.

Azriel.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.

“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.

He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her.

And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.

It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day.

He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare.

“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.

“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!”

“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—”

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!”

The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy.

“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?”

He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her.

And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together.

“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around.

“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”

Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms.

Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.”

“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.

“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.”

“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”

“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.”

“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.”

“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked.

Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time.

He’d need to have faith in her.

“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”

“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”

“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out. Maybe it was unfair, but he was not ready to accept any apologies from Rhys. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

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If their plan worked, Azriel would have his mate back in his arms, back in Velaris, safe and sound by tonight. It had to work. It had to work because there was no way he could go through another sleepless night in an empty bed. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs; he simply could not live without her. He would either be back in Velaris tonight with his mate or six feet under because he wasn’t leaving this damn lake without her.

The Valkyries are ready, Az.

Rhysand’s voice in his head caused his fists to clench. He was not any closer to forgiving him than he was yesterday but that was a problem for a different day. Right now they’d have to work together to get his mate back and nothing would stand in his way, certainly not his own pride.

The plan was simple in theory. They had decided to use Koschei’s weakness against him—females. Some of the Valkyries were willing to help and he trusted their training. If things went correctly, they wouldn’t even need to fight.

Azriel was crouched, hiding and waiting for the mating bond to begin singing again. He hated that he couldn’t just rush in and take her. Hated that she was likely being tortured as they sat out here waiting for the right moment to begin their plan. Azriel was used to having to wait around like this. It was a part of his job, after all. But right now, it was excruciating.

But finally… finally he felt it. That tiny spark. That gold thread reforming.

It’s time, Rhys.

Okay, wait for the signal.

They had to lure Koschei out. He couldn’t see though because he was waiting behind the cabin on the other side of the lake, ready to fly to one of the landings so he could sneak his way inside.

Alright, we’ve got his attention. Good luck, Azriel. Bring my sister home but make sure you come home too.

He couldn’t promise his brother that. He wasn’t leaving here without her, no matter what happened.

I will.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A noise caused you to look up despite the pain the movement caused. Your eyes widened in surprise as a shadowed figure stood in the doorway, blue light emitting from their form. Your vision was going in and out of focus, blurring everything. You blinked one…twice…

The person finally stepped into the light.

“Az?” You wheezed out.

Azriel swore and rushed forward until he was right in front of you, holding your face in his hands. He was speaking but you couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears. You must be hallucinating. There was no way Azriel was really here in front of you. It was not possible…

“—can you hear me, baby? Fuck, we’ve got to get you out of these chains.”

“Az,” you rasped again, “Is…is this real? Are you real?”

His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, the emotion swimming in them threatening to tear your heart right out of your chest. Pain, rage, desperation, guilt. Your eyes flooded with tears of relief.

“I’m real. I’m here with you, baby,” he said, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m going to get you out of these chains, okay? And then I’m going to get you out of here.”

“H-how?” you stuttered out because you had no idea how he was standing here in this cabin when it seemed like an impossible feat.

“Later. I'll explain later. Do you think you can start trying to take down the wards around this place?”

"I'll try," you whispered but your magic had barely started regenerating. The wounds on your back weren't even beginning to heal yet.

The sound of a door slamming open rang through the house. You let out a whimper and Azriel’s eyes widened in fear as he looked at you but not fear for himself…fear for you.

“Fuck, we’ve got to go. Now,” he said, frantically.

The fear in his eyes faded to cold, hard rage and he grabbed the chains above your head and yanked them apart with his bare hands. You collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain, your legs unable to hold you. Azriel caught you on the way down, kneeling with you.

“I’ve got you, babygirl,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You could still feel the wounds on your back bleeding, some ripping open as you curled in towards Azriel. Your head was still pounding, your body still in agony. Azriel wrapped his arms around you and helped you stand up, letting you lean your entire weight against him. Stomping footsteps were coming down the hallway, almost to the room you were being kept in.

“We need to get out of here,” he was frantically whispering, his hands holding you by the upper arms, your wrists still in cuffs with a bit of the chain attached.

You stood on shaky legs, raising your head to see Koschei standing in the doorway, his face twisted into a grin that sent chills down your spine.

“Az!”

Azriel twisted around, his wings flaring out protectively to block you just as Koschei sent a blast of dark magic careening your way. It came at the two of you so fast, Azriel was unable to throw up a shield.

You were able to yank Azriel behind a stack of crates just as the wave of darkness clipped his wing. He let out a cry of pain, his entire body tensing as the darkness ripped through tendon and bone. You nearly cried out with him as the wing that was hit fell limp.

“Did you think you could fool me with your little plan, shadowsinger?” Koschei purred out as the two of you hid behind the crates. “Did you think I’d let you steal my pet? You’re a fool!”

Despite the agony he was in, Azriel twisted the two of you around, covering your whole body with his. Another blast of darkness caused the crates in front of you to explode to pieces, sending splinters of wood flying that pierced through any exposed skin and you let out a tiny scream of fear.

Azriel pulled you up and helped you run further back in the room, unable to leave with Koschei blocking the door. Another blast of magic hit the both of you just as you ducked behind a rack of the weapons and tools Koschei had been using to torture you with.

You cried out in pain, your jaw smacking against the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood filled your mouth as you pushed yourself up, your whole body aching, turning to make sure Azriel was okay.

But Azriel had taken the brunt of the hit, shielding your body as much as he could. A deep laceration cut across his torso, blood seeping over his leathers. His body was tense, his wing still limp on the floor. You knew he was holding back his cries of pain for your sake.

The sorcerer strided into the room, leisurely, as if this was at most a minor inconvenience to him. Darkness seeped from his figure, tendrils running along the floor towards the two of you.

“I’m going to distract him,” Azriel whispered to you. “You need to make a run for it. The Valkyries will be waiting for you, okay? They’ll help get you home.”

“No,” you cried out, clinging to the front of his leathers. “I’m not leaving you behind, Azriel!”

Azriel stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to have to, princess. I need you to get out of here, do you hear me? Get out of here and go as far away as you possibly can. The others will find you, I promise.”

Tears filled your eyes as he held your face with such care and tenderness. His own eyes were filled with that same cold rage and a heavy resolve. You shook your head rapidly.

“I’m not leaving you, Azriel,” you repeated.

“Why don’t you come on out, shadowsinger?” Koschei called out, his voice filled with amusement. “You can fight me for the girl. I’ll even let you make the first move.”

Azriel was the most powerful warrior you knew but even he would be no match for a Death God. Facing Koschei would mean certain death and by the way Azriel was staring at you, he knew that. His eyes traced over your entire face as if he were committing it to his memory.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispered to you, his thumbs stroking away your tears. “I’m sorry for ever making that bargain that kept me away from you but I want you to know that even after all those years, it has always—will always—be you that I love. You were my first and only love and I’m so sorry that I can’t give you the life you deserve. I will find you in the next one, I promise, even if I have to crawl my way out of hell to get back to you. Even if I have to tear apart the universe, I will find you. You are my mate and even death can’t take that away from us. I love you. I will always love you.”

“Azriel,” you choked out, your fingers tightening on his leathers, but he simply placed his hands over yours and lightly tore them from him. “Az, you can’t—”

Azriel cut you off, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. A kiss full of love and despair. You tasted your salty tears through it, tears that kept pouring at the realization that this was the very first kiss the two of you shared that didn’t cause him any pain.

And it would be your last.

Azriel stood up as much as he could, his right wing still dragging along the floor. Bruises were appearing on his jaw, blood still poured from the wound on his chest.

“Azriel, no!”

You reached out for him, to yank him back, but he stepped away, exposing himself to Koschei.

“Look at you,” Koschei said with a grin, “So ready to die for your love. I’m going to enjoy killing you in front of your mate.”

“Fuck you,” Azriel snarled as he spat out some blood. “If I’m dying here then I’m dragging you to hell with me.”

Shadows exploded from Azriel in a swirl of never ending darkness that launched itself towards Koschei. But Koschei’s own darkness seemed to absorb it and grow in size before he sent it careening back to Azriel. It burned through the blue shield Azriel had thrown up and knocked straight into him, sending him flying through the room until he collided with the back wall which nearly buckled under the force.

You screamed out for him, trying to stand but falling once again. You were dehydrated, starved, and beaten within an inch of your life but you pushed your body as much as you could, using the edge of the table to help you stand as Koschei stalked towards your mate.

Azriel had wanted you to disable the wards....If you could do that, if you could tear them down, you could try winnowing to Azriel so the both of you could winnow away before Koschei killed either of you. You were wheezing as you forced yourself to stand and concentrate. You had to do this. You had to get Azriel out of here.

Koschei descended on him once again and they began a battle of shadows and darkness. You could hardly keep track of either of them as they began to disappear and reappear in other places with their shadows, each taking shots at each other. You winced at every noise of their magic colliding, winced at every brutal hit Azriel took from the Death God.

You could feel more of your magic renewing itself, the open wounds on your back finally starting to heal. As more and more pain wore off, you focused your energy into tearing down the wards, trying to drown out the sound of the fighting in the room for now.

It was like an intricate spider web of silver light. One you'd have to disentangle carefully to not trigger. You had no idea what sorts of traps lay in the magic around this place. So strand by strand, piece by piece, you worked on taking it apart. It just had to be enough, enough to give you a small window of opportunity.

You heard Azriel cry out and your focus slipped for a second. You frantically looked over your shoulder and screamed his name as Koschei slammed him into the ground a few yards away. His condition had worsened, his face had gone pale from all the bloodloss, less shadows seemed to be swirling around him as his magic weakened from all the use. You had to hurry.

“Go,” he rasped out, glancing your way. “Y/n, go—run!”

But you wouldn’t…couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him to face this alone.

You tried to remember everything from your lessons with Helion on spellcleaving. Tried to remember how to spot what strand to pull and when, as if the ward was a symphony of sorts and you were playing its violin. One after the other. Twisting and pulling each and every way until finally… finally, you were able to carve out a small hole. But it needed to be bigger. Big enough to winnow through.

Suddenly, something sharp struck within your chest and you fell to your knees in pain, losing your concentration. You clutched at your chest, your heart feeling like it was tearing itself into two. A feeling of dread and terror washed over you when you realized the mating bond that was beginning to fray as life was being sucked from Azriel. Another stab of agony made you crumble all the way to the ground, crying out.

You looked up to see Azriel on his knees in the center of the room. His breathing was heavy and slow, he was covered in his own blood, his leather armor torn to pieces and bruises decorated his beautiful face. His wings were slumped on the ground, the right one still nearly shredded. And above him stood the Death God, his darkness wrapped around your mate's throat, ready to squeeze the remaining life out of him.

Time seemed to pause in that minute—like the whole world was about to collapse in on itself. The breath was sucked right from your lungs. The very fiber of your being was crying at the sight of your mate on death's door, ripping itself apart as you felt his pain like it was your own. Your hand inched on the ground towards Azriel as you weakly called out his name.

His head turned slightly, his eyes widening as he realized you hadn’t ran away like he had hoped you did. That you were still here with him. He shook his head at you, unable to speak, trying to will you to get up and make a run for it before it was too late. But you would die here with him, because no part of you wanted to live without him.

They always say your life flashes before your eyes when you're on the brink of death.

But that is not what happened.

Instead, a life you never lived did.

A private mating ceremony with Azriel, declaring your love for each other as a priestess tied a ribbon around both your hands, linking you forever. Azriel painstakingly building a small cottage for you on the edge of Velaris with his own hands just because the ones you toured weren’t like the one you had dreamt of. A life where you and Azriel were together, mated and married, living in that cottage on the outskirts of Velaris. You and Azriel on a balcony watching starfall as he gently placed a hand on your round belly. Azriel with his arms wrapped around you, pressing kisses to your neck as you watched two children who resembled the two of you running through the tall grass in the meadow behind your home.

A whole life that they two of you could've had. A life that was stolen from you because of a bargain made three hundred years ago. A life you would never get to live because this would be your ending. Two lovers torn apart for centuries, finally able to be together as they wished only to met their demise before their life together even began.

No.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, crawling on your hands and knees towards your mate.

No.

This would not be your ending. You wouldn't allow it. No, too much had been stolen from the two of you and this...this was not how your story together would end.

You channeled all your magic, pulling from the depths of your soul, pulling from parts of yourself you didn't even know existed, all the way down to the core of your being. You were the Princess of Night—a child of night and shadow, for Gods’ sake. A child born with the darkside of the moon in her. A child blessed with magic. You pulled and pulled at your darkness until it was pouring out of you, seeping from your skin and bones.

It lurched forward and slammed into the Death God, pushing him away from Azriel—away from your mate.

Death would not have him today because he was yours.

Azriel fell forward onto his hands, gasping for air. You stood up, limping over to Azriel and standing in front of him, glaring at Koschei. You didn’t have any armor on, still in the tattered night gown with your wrists shackled together, didn’t even have a weapon, but you had your magic back and it would have to be enough.

Koschei chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. Although he had brought Azriel to his knees, the Death God hadn’t escaped without injuries of his own, a testiment to Azriel’s power.

“You know,” Koschei said, striding towards you. “I thought we’d have more time together—you and I. But it seems like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, child. So now, I shall end you and your mate. Hm, two mates dying together, how romantic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, your darkness curling around your form. Azriel was weakly calling out your name from behind you, his hand reaching to grab you so he could push you away but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this is the most excitement I’ve had in a long time. I’m feeling rather charitable so I’ll offer you this—become one of my swans and I’ll let your mate go.”

Azriel let out a growl from behind you that nearly shook the room but you stepped forward, as if considering it. Koschei’s body relaxed, thinking the fight was over, like you hoped he would.

But the darkness that was curling around you shot forward like a chain and wrapped itself around his neck before he could deflect it. You yanked on it, causing him to choke as he fell to his knees—in the same exact position he had Azriel in before.

His hands clawed at the darkness but you didn’t let up, not for a second. Not as that life you dreamed about replayed in your mind over and over again. Not as you thought of Azriel, your mate. No, you wouldn’t let up. You sent all your hatred, all of your anger into that darkness.

Your darkness spread around the Death God and started shoving its way into him from all orifices, his ears, his mouth. Everywhere until he was being consumed by it.

“You should’ve never laid a hand on my mate,” you growled at the Death God who was gasping for air and then you yanked your rope of darkness tighter and tighter—ignoring the agony you felt as your magic burned through you until your well was drained entirely.

Koschei’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped over finally—crashing to the floor. He…he wasn’t dead. You could still hear his faint heartbeat but he was out cold. You let out a breath of relief.

“P-princess…”

You whirled around as Azriel rasped your name. His hazel eyes met yours for a second, blinking lazily before they closed and he fell to the ground. You let out a cry of alarm and rushed for him, falling to the ground next to him. You wrapped your arms around his limp body, pulling him into your lap. His breathing was labored, heavy. His heartbeat barely audible.

“Azriel,” you cried, brushing some hair from his face. “Come on, baby. Don’t—you can’t…you can’t do this to me. Wake up, please!”

His eyes blinked open for a second and some of your tears fell on his cheeks. You pressed a hand to the deepest wound on his torso, trying to stop some of the bleeding.

“H-hey, princess,” Azriel choked out, a soft smile on his lips, still in a haze.

“Hey, shadowsinger,” you whispered, smiling at him weakly.

“You’re…,” he coughed, a bit of blood dribbling from his lips. He was in bad shape. You needed to get him to a healer. Now. “You’re touching me.”

“I am,” you choked on your own sobs, running your hand down his face. You tried to reach out to your brother through your mind. You didn’t have enough magic left to winnow the both of you out of here.

Rhys…Rhys, please, I need you!

“Y-you’re touching me,” Azriel repeated, his eyes closing. “And i-it feels like…heaven.”

You couldn’t help the bittersweet laugh that escaped as you wiped at the tears still pouring down your cheeks.

Dove, I’m here! Are you okay? Where is Azriel?

“Az, I need you to stay awake, okay? Can you open your eyes for me? Please, baby, just for a little longer.”

He’s here with me but he’s in bad shape, Rhys. I don’t have any magic left. I can’t get us out of here. Please…I don’t know what to do.

“Mm…‘mm so tired,” Azriel slurred out.

“I know, baby, but you’ve got to stay awake. Just for a bit and then you can rest as long as you want to, okay?”

I’m coming, dove. Hold on.

You let out a sob as Azriel’s eyes shut again and his breathing slowed. “No, you can’t do this! You can’t leave me, Az. Not when I finally have you. Come on, baby, wake up!”

Darkness swirled around the cabin and for a second, you thought Koschei had woken up but you sobbed even harder as your brother finally emerged from it. Rhys glanced at the passed out Death God before he saw you holding Azriel on the floor.

“Rhys, please! Please, he needs a healer,” you cried.

Your brother’s eyes widened at the sight of his shadowsinger. He rushed forward, falling to his knees beside you.

“Let me take him,” your brother whispered. You didn’t want to let your mate go but you knew you couldn’t lift him. “It’s okay, dove. Let me help him.”

You passed Azriel over to him, watching your brother take your mate into his arms and lift him off the floor. You stood on shaky legs, your own vision beginning to blacken as the exhaustion of all the magic use finally caught up to you. The last thing you remembered was Rhys winnowing the two of you to some makeshift camp away from the lake and crying out for Azriel before darkness consumed you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

One week later

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The sound of the door opening stirred you from your slumber. You sat up with a groan, your back aching because of the way you had fallen asleep—hunched over in a chair, next to Azriel’s bed where he still lied unconscious, as he had been since the day he’d help you escape from Koschei’s grasp.

You blinked the sleep from your eyes, taking notice of your brother in the doorway. He hesitantly stepped inside the room, closing the door shut behind him softly. You hadn’t spoken to him since you had woken up a week ago. Not when he was part of the reason for all of this, for ever making Azriel stay away from you.

And he knew he deserved your resentment and had kept away for the most part. But you noticed how sometimes after falling asleep you’d wake up with a blanket thrown around your shoulders that smelled like him or there’d be food waiting for you on the bedside table that you knew came from him.

You grabbed Azriel’s hand, squeezing it lightly. You felt comforted by his warmth. Madja wasn’t able to tell how long it would take for Azriel to heal. He had taken a lot of damage, all of it mostly internal because of Koschei’s magic, and that was taking far longer to heal.

You were so scared he’d never wake up. So scared that you never left his bedside. You'd sit here for the rest of your life if you had to.

Rhysand was staring down at Azriel’s limp body, his eyes swimming with tears. You could see the guilt he felt written all over him. He’d almost lost someone he’d considered his brother because of that stupid bargain he’d made him make.

He came around the side of the bed until he was standing beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Part of you wanted to cringe away from his touch but another part also just really needed him as a brother right now.

“I am so sorry, dove,” he whispered. “Making Azriel make that bargain with me is something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry I kept you away from your mate. I’m so sorry for ever thinking it was my right to control who you loved. I understand if you never want to talk to me again—if you hate me now.”

A moment of silence passed before you stood and looked at him. “Rhys, you fucked up. You really did. I know you were traumatized after mother died—after I almost did, too. What you did has caused me and Azriel so much pain and maybe I’ll be mad at you for it for the rest of our lives but I Rhys, you’re my brother. I could never hate you.”

A small sob escaped from his lips before Rhys pulled you into a warm embrace. You crumbled into your brother’s arms, seeking a type of comfort only he could provide. Your own tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, dove. I’ll keep apologizing until I can’t speak. When Azriel wakes up, whatever you guys want, it’s yours—all of it.”

“I’m so scared, Rhysie,” you cried, burying your face in his chest. “I’m so scared he’s not going to wake up. I’m so scared I’ll never get to talk to him again…”

“Azriel is the strongest person I know,” Rhys whispered into your hair. “He’s going to wake up, dove. As long as you’re here, he will fight his way through whatever is keeping him from you. He’s going to wake up.”

“I never even got to tell him how much he means to me. I never told him how much I love him or how ready I am to accept the mating bond. I never…I never—”

You fell into a fit of sobs again, unable to even speak. Rhys held you tightly, stroking your back.

“He knows, dove. He knows how much you love him. And you’ll get the chance to tell him, okay? You will.”

But all you could do was pray to the Gods that you would get that chance.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A few more agonizing days passed by. Days that seemed longer than the span of your entire life. Days spent next to Azriel’s bedside, praying each and every morning that this would be the day he finally woke. You didn’t lose hope, you couldn’t because just the thought of him never waking up would send you into a spiral so deep, there’d be no pulling you out of it.

You let out a sigh and dropped your head into your hands.

Is this how he felt while you’d been chained in Koschei’s cabin?

You still felt so guilty…guilty that you hadn’t trusted Azriel’s reassurances that there was nothing between him and Elain, guilty that you had fallen for the Prince’s cruel trap. If you had just trusted your mate, he wouldn’t be lying here after nearly dying for you.

“P-prin…p-princess?”

Your heart leaped to your throat and you looked up so rapidly, you almost cracked your neck. Azriel blinked at you in a daze. His eyes held confusion as he glanced around, realizing he was in his room back at the House of Wind. His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, glowing gold in the soft faelight.

“Azriel,” you breathed out, reaching forward to grab his hand. “You’re…you’re awake.”

“I-I think I am,” he said, his words still slurring a bit. “But you’re touching me and I’m not in pain and normally this usually only happens in my dreams.”

You smiled through the tears sliding down your face, tenderly cupping his cheek.

“You’re awake,” you replied. “You’re awake and I’m here, touching you and it doesn’t hurt because the bargain has been broken. You are my mate, Azriel.”

A dopey smile took over Azriel’s face. “I’m your mate.”

You nodded with a small laugh. “You’re my mate, Azriel. And I am yours.”

“You are mine,” he repeated softly, then lurched forward like all of his memories finally came back. You jumped into action, helping him sit up.

“Careful,” you said. “You’re still healing. You’ve been asleep for a little over a week now.”

“What! W-what happened?”

You brushed some of his hair from his forehand, running your fingers through it. Now that you could touch each other without causing him pain, you weren’t ever going to stop. He leaned into your touch, looking up at you with such reverence and love, it caused your cheeks to turn pink.

“I kind of…lost it when Koschei was about to kill you,” you finally answered, your voice a mere whisper. “My magic erupted and I choked him out. I didn’t kill him but it gave us enough time to get out of there. I broke the wards like you told me to and my brother came for us.”

“Are you telling me that my mate choked out a Death God?” He grinned at you and you lightly smacked his shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Az. You nearly died! Do you know how awful this past week has been? I…I thought I might never talk to you again. I thought you might never wake up!”

Azriel lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I know, babygirl. How do you think I felt all those days you were trapped with Koschei? I wanted to get you the minute he shadowed you away but Rhysand wouldn’t let me go.”

Well, Azriel using your brother’s full name told you exactly how he was feeling towards his High Lord at the moment.

“I’m glad he didn’t,” you said, sternly. “You would’ve died and I would’ve given up. The only thing that kept me going in there was the thought of you, Azriel. The thought that maybe, maybe I could find my way back to you.”

Azriel wiped at the tears falling from your eyes, gently. “I’m so sorry, princess. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that the mating bond finally snapped between us…if it meant that I could have you now.”

“I’m yours in any way you want me, princess,” Azriel reaffirmed, yanking you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you despite your protests because of his injuries. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m yours from now until always.”

You pulled away to look him in the eyes, your heart pulsing at everything you found in them.

“And I am yours, Azriel,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He smiled, fully smiled. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

And then he pressed a passionate kiss against your lips. A kiss free of pain. A kiss that was full of every single emotion he felt towards you—admiration, craving, devotion, but above all else, love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #rhysand's sister #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

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ktsumu · 3 months

Text

FIFTH TIME’S A CHARM

cw: suggestive content, nudity happy valentine's day ᡣ𐭩

This year, for the first time ever, Tooru doesn’t buy flowers for his valentine. You are the only witness to the crime.

His first girlfriend, back in junior high, got roses. She got him roses, too, with a chocolate bar he ended up giving to his sweet tooth sister. They were real, shockingly, smelt good too.

They were discounted, and it’s a basic gift, but he was twelve and had only been seeing her for three weeks.

(And they broke up two weeks later, so he has no regrets about the roses that cost his mom less than fifteen bucks.)

The second girlfriend was a little more serious.

Tooru thinks he might’ve been fourteen for that one. He liked her—she was kind, pretty, had a nice laugh. He remembers holding hands in the hallway at school and their first kiss (well, peck) was surrounded by a bunch of classmates, screaming like it mattered more to them than it did to him.

He forgets how long they lasted, but he’s sure they started dating in November and made it to Valentine’s Day. He bought her tulips, her favourite, and a stuffed bear, because it was right beside it in the store. With his own money, too.

His second girlfriend—he really, really feels bad about not knowing her name anymore—got him chocolate. He gave it to his sister again, but he kept the card she wrote him, saying she loved him three months in like either of them knew what that meant.

And to be fair, he said he loved her, too. Just not to her face. Many, many times to Hajime, though.

Tooru and Girlfriend #2 broke up in May. He wasn’t even planning on it, either. She just moved to a different country and he wasn’t looking for a penpal, and she said she didn’t wanna cheat on him.

The third girlfriend is where his small list gets serious.

He gave romance a break after the one that got away. He just flirted with people up until his first year of high school, the big leagues, which is when he actually got too much attention.

It’s a huge deal when you’re sixteen and your girlfriend is seventeen. He was crowned royalty of his class, the chosen one. The only one that could possibly score an older girl and act like it’s no big deal, and then proceed to blow her off to watch a game taping or something. On top of the world, and yet so below the standard.

She was pretty good to him. Makki always said he was a moron and she was gonna dump his ass, and Tooru probably knew that, too. Hajime said he was wasting his time, and every time he’d deny it, he’d think about how right he was.

He and the third girlfriend—Hana, he remembers—had one Valentine’s Day together, but it was so close to two that he almost wants to count it as such for the hell of it.

He got her wildflowers because she always said she hated roses and tulips. Basic flowers mean they don’t care, or something like that. He didn’t understand it fully, but he was happy when she leapt into his arms, that was for sure. It felt pretty good when she kissed him stupid and said he was the best, but that high didn’t survive the Spring Tournament the next year.

That’s how close he was to two Valentine’s Days—January. Fucking brutal.

She dumped him and he swore off girlfriends in senior year; probably even blamed it on something stupid like ‘bad omens.’ He graduated with D1 offers, though, so he counts it as a win.

That tallies up to three successful Valentine’s Days, so far right? Yeah, right—all with flowers.

The fourth bouquet wasn’t a bouquet at all, it was actually orchids in a pot, left on the kitchen table of the apartment he lived in when he moved. He was twenty, her name was Riko, his first almost everything. First I love you, first time—name it, basically.

He did make it to two Valentine’s Days with Riko, which is something so impressive for him that confetti emojis were everywhere in the groupchat he kept with his friends from high school. Hearts, confetti, eggplants, whatever else.

The first one was admittedly better than the second, though. The second one, he got a really serious offer overseas, and he didn’t even ask about it. He just told her that he loved her, and that he’d be in Argentina by August.

(Safe to say that he was the only one packing for that.)

That was the last time he bought flowers on Valentine’s Day, because it was the last time he consciously celebrated with someone. He sent his friends funny clips or pictures just to tease, taunted them whenever they could keep a girlfriend to celebrate with, but he gave up himself.

(It’s just so much easier to relax—he’d have no problem getting a girlfriend if he wanted one. His issue is keeping them.)

He’s twenty-seven and solo.

Mostly solo, he should say. You come around a lot, stay the nights with him. You typically collect your clothes and leave the next morning with a wave and maybe a ‘text me if you wanna do this again Friday,’ but he hates how he’s lying when he grins and says he just might.

Tooru is so used to being the one to leave, or to sabotage himself until someone else does, that he’s forgotten that it actually sucks when you don’t wanna be left alone.

The whole point of you and him is to keep it casual, but Tooru can barely keep it cool.

He likes to consider himself experienced. It’s why he gets so fucked up when he kisses you for longer than he realizes, or how he finds himself holding back words he thinks might be too much for casual sex.

You two are functional together, at least. He just puts the system at risk a lot.

When he wakes up today, February fourteenth, he doesn’t even know what day it is. He’s naked, in his own bed at the very least, and he can see his jeans on the floor through the light of the bathroom dripping through the door left open. Dawn peeks through the curtains.

The room is quiet, the window’s open so the birds can talk to him, and to his left, you’re still here.

“Hey,” he says, yawning.

“Good morning,” you say back, a small smile on your face as you stretch. He can’t help but smile back, with his grin and smile lines, eyes drifting to the hem of the sheets that try and cover you up. Okay, naked too. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Woah.

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he replies in a hurry, leaning up on his elbow as he grabs his phone. Yes, very much so.

You raise your brows. “What? Got a wife you forgot about?”

“Very funny.”

“I know, I’ve been waiting,” you say. It’s your turn to yawn now, moving to lay your head on his chest, hand pushing him back down into the bed. “What’s the panic, then?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just … forgot. It's weird.”

“Hm. So where are my roses, huh?”

Tooru scoffs, glancing down at you as he rests a hand on your waist. “They’re being delivered, obviously.”

“I figured.” You cock your head. “What’s up with Valentine’s Day, huh?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never not gotten flowers for someone when I’ve had them.”

“Are you talking about me?”

“What, I can’t get friendly flowers?” he asks, raised brows and attitude waking up with him. “You’re naked in my bed, that must constitute something.”

The way you pout your lip in thought makes him wanna reach out for your hand. Is it weird to do that? Can I do that?

(You do it first, but he holds you tighter.)

“No, this is fine.”

“Fine?”

“Better,” you quickly correct. “I’d rather just stay in bed and say it once. I prefer acts of service, anyway.”

Looking at you, laying on his bare chest, the sun creeping in over yours, he doesn’t care all that much about how he’s breaking tradition anymore. Maybe it’s not even tradition, maybe it’s just a cycle he’s breaking; a vicious one, at that.

You’re an unconventional valentine in the sense that you’re not even his, but maybe when the day’s passed and he doesn’t feel it looming over him, he might bring it up again.

“Acts of service, you say?”

You snicker, being pushed onto your back as he looms over you. He’s looking at you like Cupid hit him; bullseye.

“You wouldn’t happen to know of those, would you?”

“Just tell me what you want, already. Let me make up for the flowers.”

You take him by the back of the neck, pulling him down to kiss you like he means it. Tooru speaks in tongues the two of you best understand.

For the first time in four official Valentine’s Days, Tooru doesn’t buy his valentine flowers. But, for the first time in four official Valentine’s Days, it feels so right that it doesn’t even matter he’s doing it ‘wrong.’

(Next time, when you’re hopefully here again, he doesn’t think he’ll get flowers, either. This'll do.)

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu!! x reader #kit writes

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adiproseprose · 1 year

Text

‘God, I can’t wait for you to explode’

‘Just imagine this helpless piggy too big to walk’

‘No doubt she’ll be immobile soon…’

The addicting tight rush of fullness settles in my bloated gut. My third straight pitcher of weight gain shake collapses to the floor, and I struggle to shake the numbness out of my toes. If I could see them I’d know they were swollen and startlingly red, but I can’t see shit past my massive tits, hanging low to the center of my belly. I sink back into the couch and rub myself off, sausage fingers snaking into my underwear. My chins serve as a resting place for my exhausted head.

I’ve always been something of an extremist. There was a time where I would count the calories on a baggy of baby carrots. I was a whore in every sense of the word, skinny as a pencil and duller than an eraser. I didn’t need anybody, I had the attention of every boy I made eye contact with. Skipped college and became a model, traveled all over the world. If you want, you can get my before and after shots. 45 bucks a piece, 112 vrs. 675.

Nobody pays attention to you when you’re fat.

I kicked the ball down the hill when my agency fired me, parents claiming I was giving their kids bulimia or some bullshit. The ball began to collect years of sugar, fat, salt and grease, hardly able to get out of bed without a mouthful of fresh endorphins. My veins swelled with lard, stomach overstretched and doubled over onto my fat padded knees.

It was all very discouraging at first. I heard the gossip as I toddled along to my convenience store for my nightly dinner of mars bars and oven fries, about how tiny I used to be, if I was really the same girl. ‘Nobody wants to rub out a fat girl’.

I drank a lot. Partied a lot. Had a lot of shitty, desperate sex that ended after 4 minutes with a sigh and a cigarette. Then I met this guy. He grabbed my belly and afterwards told me I could make a killing if I kept gaining weight. I told him to fuck off but I looked into it. Feedism is a deep, dark, somewhat fucked up world. But money is green, so I did some analysis. What did they like about these women, big asses, big tits, double chins? These women are making thousands of dollars just to eat.

I piled on fat like batter in a cake tin. I’m round up top, double belly and huge boobs. Thickness in my face that I don’t love, but my ass is rounder than the moon.

“Ohhhh…fuck *HIC*...fuck me. I might’ve had too much, guys.” I whine to the camera. I rub and shake my belly.

“BURRPPP!”

I like to read the comments while I masturbate. I scroll, an endless stream of aroused fans.

‘700 bucks if you do a fourth!!111’

‘7 HUNDO!!!!!’

Over and over again this bitch. I roll my eyes. “500 dollars for another one Mr…Pigfarmer?”

‘YES!!!’

He donates. And I fix the shake on my coffee table, bringing it to my lips. I wince. I really do not wanna throw up.

“Gonna do this for you, Pigfarmer. Whoooo boy..”

I down the shake in maybe 2 minutes and let the empty pitcher land on the floor with the others. “So *huff* fucking…fat. Can barely get… off the couch anymore..ughhhh…”

‘I will feed you until your fucking feet fall off’

‘I can help you off the couch!!!’

‘I’ll feed you and fuck you until you can’t move baby’

This isn’t enough. I need to be fat enough to where anything is monetizable. Walking out to the car. Going up stairs. I’ve made a few sets of my rolling out bed, when my joints are aching and my waddle is exaggerated the most.

I don’t get much out of this besides the money. If anything, it makes me feel gross. But I blend in effortlessly, I’ve gone so deep. I’m not a feedee. I am a fat fucking whale who happens to be fat because it makes me ridiculous amounts of money. It makes it a lot easier to smile.

“Alright, guys, I’m gonna hop off. See you guys next time!! Love you!”

I click. 1700 dollars from an hour stream. Not too bad. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and drum my belly. I’m numb. I’m covered in grease, shake powder and cum. I can barely make it through my day without that tight fullness now. I wheeze deeply as I contemplate what to eat for dinner.

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beababoobies · 2 months

Note

this is an embarrassing ask but can u write sir pentious x succubus reader headcanons, sorry if this lacks any detail im gathering dust from sir pentious x reader stuff 😪 its okay if u dont wanna and/or aren't comfortable with it.

giggles maliciously. why yes. yes I can, lovey. SIR PENT X SUCCUBUS!READER HCS

the normal warnings you’ll find under a succubus-centric post. minors dni, cvm eating, cvm-centric (LOLLL)

✖️You had decided… finally, to become a better person. You couldn’t stay down here forever, and you honestly… had a guilty conscience from how many sinners thought you were in love with them after using them. So this.. hotel it was.

✖️In fact - you might’ve even liked it here. The people were so sweet, some even kind of.. hot, thought you brushed that out of your mind. Life was easier in here.

✖️Or so you thought. See, a succubus can only go so long without a fresh batch of food. And after a week? You were starving. You couldn’t sleep that night, curled up in on yourself, whining softly as your body begged and writhed for someone to milk dry. Slick ran down your thighs, you were drooling so much, so painfully ready to pray on a tired honey sinner.

✖️So that’s why; when a certain snake boy you had been not-so-secretly crushing on came to your door in the middle of the night quietly asking you to let him help you, despite your protests, you pushed away your pride and pounced on him.

✖️There wasn’t a single moment spent wasted on foreplay, or teasing, he was already hard, both of his cocks were - at the sight of you shaking and whining, trying not to drool all over the floor. So when his cocks spring out, you wasted no time going to work on them with your mouth.

✖️Lucky for you, double the cocks meant double the cum. As soon as he whined and grabbed a fistful of your hair, you knew you had him. Swallowing everything his first cock gave you graciously, feeling that pleasureful and warm sensation in your gut of finally being fed, you let out a satisfied sigh as you pulled your mouth from his cock, now dripping with drool, and went straight for the other before he could protest.

✖️As soon as you were done pulling cum from him with your mouth, you practically pounced on top of him. Whines of “I-i’m still ssssensitive, my dear-“ made you practically delirious. Like a starved man who has finally gotten his first take of a five-star meal, you used your hand to push his cocks together, and dropped down on them with an obscene squelch. ✖️And god, the stretch was something you had been craving since you first got down here. It was almost embarrasing how quickly you came, slick practically pouring down his bases as he whined beneath you, biting his lip like he might draw blood.

✖️”feels ‘s good baby, thank you for letting me milk you..” you drawled out as he whined and nodded frantically, hips bucking up into yours as you rode him, feeling your walls clench around his cocks was something he wouldn’t have imagined ever happening. He hadn’t even been with anyone since he’d gotten down here. So to watch a pretty succubus that he’d been obsessed with since the moment he’d seen her walk into the hotel bounce so greedily on him had him cumming almost immediately after you.

✖️Needless to say, he passed out under you. After five rounds, he was nearly shooting blanks inside of you, and you were deliriously full, tummy bulging ever so slightly at the amount of cum that has been shot inside you, ten big loads not or mention the ones you’d pulled from him with your mouth.. even just thinking about it made you feel hungry again. But you had been fed, and so you collapsed on top of him, cocks still nestled inside you, gently falling victim to slumber as his arms wrapped around you.

A/N: kekekekeke.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin sir pentious #sir pentious #sir pentious x you #sir pentious x reader #snake man supremacy #AHHHHH #succubi #:3 heehee

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bigboywtheskullface · 5 months

Text

Big Guy

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plussize!civilian!reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, non-serious injury, m!body image issues, and allusion to smut but none to be found here (yet). Angsty behind the veil of fluff.

Word Count: 1,772

Reading time: ≈ 6 mins.

A/N: Hi friends!! This is my first writing for Ghost and I’m so happy to be a part of the COD fandom. Looking at Simon Riley… love at first sight man. I’m a big girl who loves big boys. I will often be writing with a plus-sized reader in mind, but will make sure I always include that in the description OR warnings if body size is a large part of the narrative.

Hope you all enjoy the read and feel free to send in requests <3 Always been one of my favorite parts of writing fics on Tumblr.org.

Anywho— happy reading!!!

Ghost liked being a big guy. After the awkward teen phase, after he’d truly grown into himself, he’d never had a single issue with how he was built. Thick, muscle and fat, broad frame, imposing figure. It served him well as a soldier. Out in the real world, things weren’t always sized to fit him, but on a military base, everything felt just right. Big friends, big clothes, big guns, big cars, big wars. He was a legend of sorts. It was hard not to love how enemies knew his name. Hard not to love how they feared the legend of the giant in all black, a mask obscuring his face. Ghost loved that. Ghost was more than happy to be a machine, a legend, an armored weapon that few had ever managed to crack the shell of.

But Simon… Simon was cursing himself right now. As tears welled up in your eyes you did your best to blink them back, attempting to keep a smile on your face for him, though anyone could see plain as day that it was more of a grimace.

You two had just been joking around. He’d been lying face down on the mattress, buried in the pillows, playfully dodging your kisses. You were lying on top of him, wandering hands looking for his only ticklish spot that you swore moved every day. It didn’t, you were just normally bad at finding it. But today, you’d managed to find it immediately. He’d jerked in surprise and you bucked on top of him, the back of his head met the front of your face. It had all happened so fast. He’d just reacted too quickly. He’d lost his cool.

“Shit, shit, shit…” He swore under his breath, his hand cupping the back of your neck as you held one hand over your nose, blood leaking through your fingers. “Fuck, Love, I’m so sorry—“ He jumped up, the bead creaking as it was released from his weight, causing you to bounce a bit, your hand bumping your nose not too gently due to the surprise movement causing you to let out a little whimper. “Fuck—“ He swears once more, “Sorry, I just…” He dashes to the bathroom, grabbing one of the white towels so you could easily bleach away the stains later.

As he came back into the bedroom you took in a deep breath and pleaded, “Si, relax. It’s just a nosebleed—“

“We don’t know that… I might’ve broken your nose.” He objects, walking over and demanding, “Move your hand n’ tilt your head up for a minute. Lemme’ see.”

Only after he’s positioned the towel beneath your nose do you move your hand away, holding it to your side, attempting to keep blood off the comforter. Simon grimaces and as gently as possible brings the rag to your face, “Not broken, just… just keep your head down like that for me. We’ll check again in a few minutes and go to the ER if it ain’t stopped.” He gives a frustrated sort of huff and drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, watching a tear slide down your cheek. He wipes it away gently with his free hand as he lets loose another, “Fuck…”

Clumsy fuckin’ oaf he was. Too big for his own damn good… certainly too big for your own good. You’d only been together a little over six months now, but sometimes he wondered how you dealt with it. His looming presence in the smaller quarters of your apartment. In this place, he was damn near useless. Hell, he could hardly turn around in your little kitchenette. There have been many instances of spilled drinks and shattered dishes because of it. Forget any romantic evenings in the bathtub or shower that you so often tried to sway him into. Those facilities were barely big enough for him alone. He didn’t want to crush you or cause some stupid accident like this. Even watching a movie comfortably on the couch seemed to be a monumental task. It always took you ages to settle yourself around him comfortably.

He winced at the thought. He wanted you to be comfortable around him.

You place your hand over his own and look up at him softly, and with a congested voice do your best to reassure him, “Simon, I am okay.”

“S’not okay.” He grumbles, anger laced into his words. While it’s a rough tone, you know it’s not directed at you. “Fuckin’ idiot. I wasn’t paying attention and you got hurt…” Worry washes over his face, replacing the anger once more as he wipes away another tear, “Shit, I’m so sorry, Lovie. Y’know I never wanna’ hurt ya’. I’d never do it on purpose.”

You nod and soothe, “I know, Simon. I know. It was just an accident, that’s all. It’s okay, I swear. I’m okay.”

“I-“ He looks around your small room, suddenly feeling like the walls are closing in. He drops his forehead to your knee and nods against it, closing his eyes and murmuring an, “Alrigh’.”

He places a kiss against your knee and several on your thigh before resting his head against the plush skin. You look down at him and frown slightly. Poor baby looked like a dejected dog. The kind that bites its owner when startled and then immediately regrets it. You know he doesn’t believe you, doesn’t believe it’s okay. You know he feels awful about it. He shouldn’t, not at all. Like you said, it was an accident.

You add on, “It was my fault anyways, you know. You always warn me not to start with the tickling.” You give a pleased-sounding hum, “Found your spot pretty quick that time, kinda’ impressed with myself. Wonder what other fun spots I could find.” You try to flirt, though you doubt the attempt is successful given the stuffy voice, rag up your nose, and brooding boyfriend.

He gives something between and laugh and a scoff and glares up at you through deep brown eyes, “S’not funny.”

“I think it’s a little funny.” You shrug

“You’re the only one.”

You stick out your bottom lip in a pout, “C’mon, Simon. It’s really not bad. I can already feel it letting up.”

To prove your point you withdraw the rag from your nose and fold it to get a clean part. The smallest bit of blood trickles out of your nose and you quickly wipe it away, holding the rag in place once more. He gives an unimpressed grunt, his hands moving up to rub the outside of your thighs, his form hunched over to make himself smaller in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” He says once more.

“Simon…” You sigh out exasperated.

“No, not just—“ He huffs, “Not just for the nosebleed. Just for bein’… bein’ so bloody brutish. M’too big for your space, Love, too big for your world. Feel like I come in here when I’ve got time off and muck everything up. Breakin’ shit and takin’ up too much space.” He glances up at you apologetically, “Now’m hurtin’ ya’ too? I don’t like it.” He shakes his head, “Sometimes… sometimes I think maybe you’d be better off with a normal man… for plenty of reasons, but this one too. Shouldn’t have some monster loomin’ over ya’ all the time. Want you to feel safe and comfortable in your own space.”

Your heart breaks a little as you listen to your boyfriend nervously ramble. His cheeks turn a faint shade of pink as he makes his little speech, stumbling over a few words. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Have I made you feel like that, Si?” You ask, lowering the rag from your nose, “Have I said or done something to make you think that’s how I feel?”

“What? No. ‘Course not. Just somethin’ I think about every now and again s’all.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, his large arm bumping against your knee.

“Baby…” You whisper softly, reaching your clean hand out to take his face, tilting his head upward so his eyes are forced to meet yours. “I don’t feel that way at all. I— well, I love how big you are.” You run your thumbs over his cheeks gently and say, “I feel so safe with you, Simon. I’ve always been the biggest person in the room, always been the biggest person in the relationship. I’ve always felt like I have to protect everyone else.” You smile, “And I would protect you, if I had to, of course. The best I could. But I don’t feel like I have to. You do so well taking care of both of us. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

“I do my best.” He mumbles

“And you do so well, Simon.” You reassure, “There is no one— and I mean no one— that I would rather have taking up space in my life.” He gives a faint smile and you give a little giggle, stuffing the corner of the rag up your nose as best you can before wiggling off the side of the bed and down into his lap. You throw your arms around his shoulders and he presses his forehead to your own. “Not to mention…” You murmur, shifting on his lap to get closer to his ear, “I love the way your body feels on mine.” You kiss below his ear and smile as a slight shiver racks his body, “Love feeling your weight on top of me… and beneath me. Behind me is pretty damn good too—“

“Alrigh’, alrigh’’…” He mumbles, his tone slightly amused, “Settle, Lovie.”

You giggle and nuzzle against his neck, “Mm… can’t help it, you got me thinkin’ now, Si.”

He gives a low hum in his throat and nudges your head away from his own carefully, “You’re in no condition for that mess right now.”

“I am too.” You pout

“No…” He chuckles, pointing to your nose, “You aren’t. Give it at least a few hours for me.”

“Scared of a little blood, soldier?” You tease, running your hands up and down his biceps.

“Y’know damn well m’not.” He huffs out, “Just want to give that pretty little head o’yours some rest. Make sure the bleedin’ doesn’t start again.”

“Mm… one hour?”

“Three.”

“Two.” You bargain back.

He rolls his eyes and gives the offer some consideration before agreeing, “Two. N’not a minute sooner. Understood?”

“Heard loud and clear, LT.” You agree, earning a sharp glare. You force down a giggle and remedy, “Understood, Si.”

“‘Atta girl.”

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vmpiires · 5 months

Note

ok i got one. gojo fucking y/n until her brain doesn’t practically work / until her brain goes to mush 💯💯💪🏾💪🏾

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

„𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄”

: ̗̀➛ 18+ CONTENT!!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, light sex, praising, proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 936

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; wrote this up in class. i hope ya likeeee. reblog to support meeeee and if you want more :D

destiny’s child’s song “say my name” was playing loudly off your spotify playlist on your tv as you brushed your hair. your hair was dry after you washed it and did your hair care routine. you’d put some oil in your hair for extra moisture and continue to brush it from the ends going up to your scalp.

“heyyyy, i love this song.” you heard gojo say as he entered your room. you could hear him singing along with the song. his goofiness made you smile and it always made your day when you were upset.

you turn around to him, “i didn’t know you liked this song,” you giggle. gojo nodded, having a big goofy grin on his face.

“yeahh, i love your music taste…uh..some of it,” he chuckled. it was true, gojo loved the songs you played. whether it was some violent gang banging music or something soft like chris brown or any 80s-90s rnb songs, he was always down to test the waters of your music.

“hey, hurry up and finish your hair, i wanna cuddle.” gojo stated as he began taking off his shirt. the male was out with his best friend, geto, doing some work and fighting off any spirits they might’ve encountered during that time. you couldn’t blame him for being tired.

you finish with your hair and put a bonnet on your head so it could be protected while you relaxed with gojo in bed and turned off your music, putting on a random movie to play on netflix. you lie down beside your icy haired boyfriend and he immediately puts his arms around you, holding you tightly.

gojo starts kissing your shoulder, slightly distracting you from the movie that you were watching. you didn’t know what was happening but you were interested in the film sort of. it wasn’t long until gojo was on top of you, kissing you all over.

“i thought you said you wanted to cuddle,” you interject, making gojo stop and smirk at you. when he made that face, you knew what he was up to and you weren’t opposed to his actions so you let him continue.

sexual interaction with gojo was sort of funny because he was always making jokes with you while he was forcing his dick in your guts, which made you stop laughing at him. you had a feeling he’d do that again.

tonight was different. gojo was prepping you, sticking his face in your wetness. you could feel the tip of his nose tickling your cunt while his tongue circled your folds then plunged down into you, sucking and slurping your fluids.

you put your hand down on his head and gripped his snow white hair. your hips bucked into his face before gojo would push his hands down against your hips, forcing you to stop your movement.

your moans were motivating him to move faster. he’d lift his head only to spit on your womanhood and continue to lick you until you were clean and ready for him, just so he could ruin you all over again. once he finished with that, he’d remove his boxers and stuff his length inside you without warning, making you yelp.

gojo laughed, “did i surprise you? or did it hurt?” he asked, still having that smile on his face even though his face was covered in your fluids. he didn’t even bother wiping it off. he liked the feeling of your mess coating his skin like a face mask. now he wanted to feel everything. and he wanted you to feel it too.

you shake your head, “you just didn’t give me a warning, that’s all.” you managed to get out between all of your moaning and groaning. trying your hardest to not turn into a moaning mess. but he’d do it to you anyway.

while the unknown movie played on your tv, gojo was pounding into you, showing no signs of stopping. he put his head down into the crook of your neck, kissing it. his kisses turned into bites while simultaneously sucking your skin to create a hickey.

“what’s my name, princess?” you heard gojo ask. you were so drunk off pleasure that you completely forgot what was going on. you forgot where you were. your mind completely blank. the only thing on your mind was gojo and how he was making you feel.

“gojo,” you moan. he’d pick up his speed, wanting to see his bulge through your stomach as he pounded you into the bed. you felt like your were sinking down into the mattress because of the position he was holding you in.

“sorry, i didn’t exactly hear what you said.” gojo chuckled before he let out a long and deep groan. he would continue to slam into you until he heard his name filling the room countless times.

he was fucking you dumb. you felt like a mindless zombie that only knew one word. one name. you were drooling all over yourself as your mouth hung open and your head leaning back against the headboard of your bed.

“is that all you know how to say?” gojo teased. you couldn’t even say anything to counter her statement. you were lost in another world. a place you couldn’t even comprehend.

before you knew it, you were making another mess for him. you let out a contempt sigh when the two of you finish. you felt exhausted but you felt like you wanted another round at the same time.

“okay, now we can cuddle.” gojo beamed, smiling at you, laying his head down on you.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

#choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen #𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #anime #jjk choso #choso x black!reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu kaisen choso #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x black reader

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sincerely-ari · 5 days

Text

can i touch your hair ??

warnings : hair play?? (no idea if that’s a thing) , touch starved!matt, bratty sub matt, got this from a dream i had, smut, turns into more as the story goes on, over stimulation,bondage,blindfolding,reader has a slight thing for seeing matt so desperate and needy.

(might’ve missed some tags)

you had just finished filing a video with matt, you two were so tired. Matt especially, poor baby. you two headed off to the couch and you sat down first letting matt follow. He sat down on the floor and pulled your legs over his shoulders gripping onto them with his hands “wanna watch a movie?” you suggested, he turned his head up to meet your eyes,they were husky and had a rather dark gaze.

he shaked his head and pulled his phone out instead, you brought your hands up to his head dragging your fingers through his hair combing it with your fingernails. he hummed quietly as you continued to play with it making sure to get every inch of his scalp relaxed, finally you let go and he whined at the loss “something wrong?” you ask worriedly expecting him to say anything except what was about to leave his mouth “you can’t just get me hard by doing that and not let me finish” he whined.

he brought his head up again.. giving you those puppyish eyes he knew made you want to have control over him “please babyy” he whined once more, and your eyes widened you clearly didn’t expect this sort of reaction out of him. “just this once.” you warn him and he nods but you both know now that he’s found out this gets him off he’ll never stop asking for it.

you bring your hands up once more to his hair, dragging your fingernails down his scalp and massaging his scalp “oh..” he sighs out, a cheeky smile forming on his mouth as he throws his head back for further access to your hands. “feels good?” and he nods, only bringing himself further pleasure. you continue to praise him that stupid,overlyexcited,horny smile never leaving his mouth as he pushes himself up towards your hands digging further into his hair. it was so thick making you have to move it out of the way quite often which he doesn’t mind. all he knows is that it feels good, way too good.

“ ‘m gonna finish love” he warns as he palms himself through his boxers and just to test the waters.. he suddenly feels a sharp pain through his head yet it’s oddly pleasing too. “did you just pull my hair?” he asks looking up at you. continuing to touch himself. “i have to have some type of control over you” you mention how he always does whatever he wants to when he’s hard and that makes him smile because obviously you gave him an idea, so he stops palming himself and continues to let you play with his hair painfully slowly.

“baby could you please, please..” and you know he wants you to dig your nails into him because of course he’s into that, so you do. letting him moan out your name and letting out obscurities of how good it feels and he can feel himself getting needy again.. bringing his hand back down to grab onto himself. “ i need to.. please please i need to so badly.. ‘m gonna cum.” he whines out with eyes shut and his hand rubbing his clothed cock so so harshly. You continue to play with his hair and just for good measure you tug on it and he lets out a loud, unashamed moan. he quickly covers his mouth and looks up at you apologizing almost immediately.

“i- i didn’t mean to..” he starts, but you stop him letting your hands leave his hair and moving your legs off his shoulders so you can sit infront of him. “can you wait right here baby?” you let him know and he nods awaiting your return.

you come back with a blind fold and his eyes widen in interest “you're gonna use that on me?” he smiles and he looks eager. you blindfold him and cover his mouth “try not to be so loud yeah? we wouldn’t want chris or nick to see you like this wouldn’t we?” he practically jumps at the idea of it ,bucking his hips up.

he feels you leave once again and tenses when he feels you tying his wrists together “wha-“ he gets cut off by your hand covering his mouth, your free hand going down to his very hard cock, he whines behind your hand but it’s muffled yet he doesn’t care. he bucks his hips up and is as vocal as he wants to be.

“shhh.. if you can’t be quiet i won’t touch you.” you warn and he quiets down immediately. but his hips thrusting into your hand is something he doesn’t stop. he moans behind your hand and you have to press down on his mouth so often because you’re just making him feel so good..

his pace quickens as he feels himself getting closer and closer and just as you rub your thumb over the slit on his tip, he spills. crying as he does so because it just hurts so good, he doesn’t stop thrusting his hips up and his breath is heavy and you think he might just pass out.

“oh baby.. that good huh?” you tease as he nods while sobbing he’s pretty overstimulated as well as overwhelmed, Yet you can’t help it “you’ve got one more in you, don’t you?” his sobs get louder as you say this and you feel the hand over his mouth get so unbelievably wet from his tears and just for a minute you let go off his mouth. he drops his head immediately. sobbing and letting out whimpers “are you okay puppy?” he nods “t-too much..” he says and he looks at you and woah.

he looks so pretty like this, face flushed, tip flushed, with a tear stained face.

you won’t touch him anymore after this, you can tell he’ll past out if you do and while the thought is amusing you don’t want him to get hurt. You untie his wrists and his blindfold. he’s still as beautiful as ever and you smile at him “look at you, your lips match your tip both are so red.” you tease, he looks like he’s about to enter pure escasty “feels good” he says, the words are slurred but he smiles. he leans into you and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“i love you y/n.”

“i love you too matthew.” and you smile, because it’s true.

#matt sturniolo #smut #sturniolo smut

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

Text

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Part 1

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

#masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan #John Egan x oc #mota fanfic #bucky egan #dear john

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elvensorceress · 6 months

Text

Sunday Sentences

way more than 7 of them because it's been a while and you deserve all of these 💕 tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @monsterrae1 @messyhairdiaz @theotherbuckley thank you, beloveds 💕 tagging @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @housewifebuck @hoodie-buck @the-likesofus @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @giddyupbuck @911onabc @eddiediaaz @thespermdonorstorylineisstupid @ronordmann @shitouttabuck @babytrapperdiaz @fleurdebeton @buddierights if you haven't posted yet and want to share something 😘

from the Unless finale

Eddie leans in closer, pressing harder, more securely against Buck from shoulders to thighs. “I wanted you,” he whispers and leaves a light brush of a kiss on Buck’s lips. “I want you.”

Buck holds onto him but leans to the side to look at him with a puzzled expression on his face. “You want me?”

What sort of question is that? No, Eddie does this all the time to everyone. He’s the one stealing firetrucks and hooking up in bar bathrooms. Because those are things Eddie would do. When he can’t even talk about having sex even with the man he loves without panicking. Whatever. Of course he wants Buck. “Do you think I don’t?”

“N-no. No, I don’t mean. I mean— what? What do you mean?”

Eddie means this is the strangest conversation he and Buck have ever had. Which says a fucking lot. “What do you think I mean? I want you. I wanted more. I wanted you to stay. You and your hard-on. We could have—” Eddie’s still not sure where they might’ve landed on the they could have had sex spectrum. But it would have been something more than Buck running to jerk off alone because he was too turned on and thought it wasn’t welcome. “I mean maybe you aren’t ready to have sex yet. I get that. We haven’t even said if we’re dating dating and it’s only been hours that we’ve been together. So… maybe this was better. Maybe we should wait. But…”

But he doesn’t know how to finish that thought other than Buck should have stayed. He needs Buck to stay. He wants Buck with him. He wants to take care of him and love him and be good for him.

Buck blinks at him then leans back even further and stares with a scrunched look of trying to do complicated math and failing at it. He even holds up a hand like he needs a teacher to call on him and answer his questions. “What? I just. I don’t understand. What do you—what?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“I mean who are you and what have you done with Eddie and I don’t know what you mean by, I want you. And we should wait? And you think I’m not ready to have sex yet? Why do you think we’re going to have sex? What do you want with me? Of me? What do you— w-what do you want when you say, you want me?”

What else might it mean? Were they not just making out all over the kitchen? Is it not obvious? Eddie didn’t think he would have to spell it all the way out. But maybe direct and to the point is the best approach?

He rests both his hands on Buck’s chest. His very soft, very warm, very muscled and beautiful chest with his beautiful beating heart that Eddie swears he can feel racing beneath his fingers. “Buck,” he says slowly, passionately, with as much warmth and love as he can possibly pour into his words. “I want to have sex with you.”

It doesn’t quite have the reaction Eddie was expecting. Or hoping for. Not that he knows exactly what he thought might happen, but Buck just blinks at him like Eddie’s suddenly confessed he was wrong and actually does believe in jinxes and the “q-word curse” and other stupid superstitions.

But he’s not the one who responds to Eddie’s declarative wanting anyway.

“Uhhh. If you’re going to do that, can you not do it in the kitchen,” Chris says from the doorway. “I eat here. We all eat here. It would have to be some kind of health hazard violation.”

Chris is leaning against the doorway. Without his crutches. Which somehow makes him far too stealthy and quiet. Either that or Eddie was just way too distracted with... never mind.

Eddie’s stomach, lungs, liver, kidneys, heart all plummet out of his body. Metaphorically of course because literally dying of mortification would give him an out from this situation. That would be too easy.

He pulls away from Buck and steps backward until he’s at the opposite side of the room, while Buck is left with his arms hanging in midair, curved around where Eddie used to be.

“We’re not,” Eddie says. “We weren’t doing— anything. We weren’t going to. We were just talking.”

Chris gives him a withering, skeptical look that only makes him look a thousand percent like his mother.

Which Eddie absolutely cannot handle right now.

“H-hey, Chris,” Buck steps toward the doorway, coincidentally or maybe not so coincidentally between Eddie and Chris, and turns into his bubbly, eager, friendly self. “Are you— are you hungry? Do you still want those pancakes? Cinnamon swirls and cream cheese icing? I was getting ready to make them for us.”

Chris wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Not hungry anymore. What’s going on? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Buck looks back to Eddie with clear worry all over his face, and Eddie tries to silently convey that everything is okay. Chris isn’t in the dark about how Eddie feels about Buck. He’s not angry with them.

Eddie’s pretty sure anyway. “It only just happened. We weren’t keeping anything from you.”

Chris gapes at him with wide, horrified eyes. “It just happened? That’s how you told Buck? By saying that? Oh my god, Dad! What were you thinking? That is so embarrassing.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open. “N-no. No! That wasn’t— That wasn’t how.”

Chris’ very disbelieving, very Shannon-face comes out again, and Eddie sags against the counter and rubs a hand over his suddenly aching head.

“No. Chris,” Buck says gently but solidly. Something firm and stead through storms and Eddie just wants to hold onto him and never let go. “Your dad told me last night that he’s in love with me. And I love him, too. I love you both more than anything.”

Chris turns his scrutinizing gaze on Buck this time and still looks skeptical, but also not so horrified. Just wary.

At this point, Eddie will take what he can get.

#buddie #seven sentence sunday #buddie wip #jenwyn wip #the one with the oblivious obtuse pining idiots #fic: unless you ask me to #911 #May and Buck aren't the only ones who get to be disturbed by their parents doing the sex in the kitchen??#and for the record Buck is being weird and confused because he's all #Eddie wants sex? does not compute #demisexual Eddie my most beloved

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neteyamssyulang · 4 months

Text

Mommy Kink

Day 2

Pairing: Teylan x Fem sarentu reader

Warnings: Subby Teylan, Dom reader, Orgasm denial, P in V.

Word count: 234

Translation(s): Yawne -> Beloved, ìmu’ta -> Bitch

It was understandable really, he loved helping people out. It’s not like you minded whenever someone asked if your mate could take a look at something for them, no no.

It was only a problem when they kept eyeing him as if they were about to pounce on the poor boy, or when they couldn’t keep their nasty hands off of what was yours.

Teylan of course did not see what was happening, he was just happy to help out.

Teylan sobbed as you once again denied him of him release, he squirmed against the binds that held him to your bed

“Please mommy.. what did I do?” He sniffled, his beautiful golden orbs gazing over at you. Tsking you slid back down onto his now sensitive cock, not daring to move once your pelvis was flush against his own.

His hips tried bucking up wanting you to move, “Yawne, do not make me bind your ankles aswell” you warned him. The boy reluctantly stopped, throwing his back back against the soft pillows.

“Please mommy please!..” he whined, his tail now coiling around your calf, you had no pity for him. He had allowed someone else to touch what belonged to you, and you only.

Leaning down you kissed the flat of his nose softly, “Maybe if you hadn’t allowed that ìmu’ta to touch you, then I might’ve considered letting my precious boy cum.”

#romancingpandora2024 #avatar romance #teylan x fem!sarentu reader #neteyamssyulang #teylan smut #comments really appreciated #please like and reblog #followmypage

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ratedfleur · 6 months

Note

idk if u take ricky request but if u do, can i request ricky with a reader who just had nails done and..and she tease his bulge with it? jdkekfofpleasee

-> ricky x reader genre ୭ explicit

hi lovie! i do take ricky requests, i write for all legal members so feel free to send some over! also i might’ve gotten carried away but … Yes 👍

tags: handjob (m rec), mommy kink, gagging (like once), sub!ricky & dom!reader

ricky who sat innocently on the couch, peacefully watching a show on the tv before you waltzed into the apartment.

you plopped down beside him, kissing ricky’s cheek softly before sitting prettily.

it was that time of the month where you get your nails done, changing them into new design depending on the season. since it was christmas season, you settled for fire red nails in an almond shape.

you eyed ricky who chuckled at his show, feeling entertained without knowing what you were planning.

“love, look at em. they’re pretty, right?” you say to ricky, showing off your nails to him. he temporarily looks away from the tv, eyes studying your sharp red nails before nodding.

“they’re sexy, love.” ricky chuckles, trying not to look at your nails any further.

“how so? don’t they look sexier this way?” you said while your hand wandered to his front, hand placed on his thigh before it wandered up to his bulge.

ricky bites his lip, watching as your hand busily groped his growing bulge.

he pants, throwing his head back as he released an exhale. “i need more, love.” ricky says, eyes begging for more.

“more what, love?” you tease, fingers lingering by his sweatpants’ band. your watched him with a glint in your eyes, feeling a little mischievous.

ricky bucks his hips up, chasing more of your hand. “i need you to touch me..” ricky says.

you hum, hands pulling his sweatpants and boxers off his waist and letting it pool around his knees.

“tell me where, love. here? or do you want me here?” you said while your hand wandered around his cock, hand wrapping around his length before it moved down to cup his balls.

ricky whined, bucking his hips up. “u-up— everywhere, wan all!” he whined, panting as you clicked your tongue.

“since you asked nicely..” you muttered before gathering a ball of spit in your mouth, spitting it on his cockhead before your hand took it into your palm and spread it all over, a makeshift lube.

your manicured hand wrapped around his length prettily, moving it in circles as you jerked him off.

ricky shudders when you hold him a little too tight, feeling himself near the edge even if you just started touching him properly.

“oh god, ‘m gonna cum— please please please, wan cum..” he cried out loud, head throwing back against the couch.

you watched him cry before ducking down, popping his head into your mouth. your lips wrapped around his girthy head, tongue lapping up the pre-cum.

your hand continued to jerk off his remaining length, simply stimulating more of his head with your mouth’s warmth and tongue.

you bobbed your head up and down his head, feeling his cock’s heaviness in your mouth. quickly, you got on your knees with him in your mouth, knees slamming against the floor whilst you blew him.

“a-aah! y/n— mommy please! i can’t, need cum now!” ricky whined once more, hips bucking up, making half of his length disappear into your mouth.

you didn’t pull off, continuing to blow him while your hand busied itself with his balls, listening to ricky’s cries.

ricky moaned, both hands holding onto your head and moved it up and down his cock, trying to ease his discomfort of not releasing yet.

his hands mindlessly gathered all of your hair into a ponytail, fisting it while his hips thrusted into your mouth, making you gag.

you slap his thigh, making ricky cry out loud while letting go of your hair. you pull off him before coughing, “that’s it, no cumming for you.” you said while wiping your chin with the back of your hand, standing up to leave ricky crying in the living room, left untouched.

#mikha’s works.#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 ricky #zb1 smut #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #zb1 hard hours #zb1 x reader #ricky x reader #ricky smut

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testingthewatersss · 7 months

Text

Halloween Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 5000 words fluff, mild angst, comfort, very light-hearted and mild smut. 18+ MDNI Reader is Tony's sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who reappeared after TWS. The halloween party turns out much better than expected.

It’s Halloween.

Well, it’s the night before Halloween, but it’s also a Saturday. It’s the Saturday before Halloween, which means a party.

A Stark party.

This, of course, means that every single person who lives in Avengers Tower is expected to attend.

Including Bucky.

She had told him that his attendance was not mandatory. Tony had mirrored the sentiment with less interest, too. So he probably could’ve gotten out of the whole affair, had it not been for Steve’s excitement.

His clear, untempered excitement at the mere prospect of attending a party with his best friend.

“It’ll be just like the good old days, Buck! Except you’ll only have one dame on your arm this time- I’d hate to see Y/N's face if you asked her to bring a friend for me”

He hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he really, really didn’t want to go.

The idea of a bustling party, full of strangers and loud music doesn’t sound fun to him anymore.

No, now it fills him with dread. Dread that’s only worsened by the addition of the ‘costume required’ rule, and his inability to get drunk along with the rest of the crowd.

So, he’d nodded along, intending to address his concerns later.

Maybe offering Steve a night out together instead. Just the two of them. That’d be much more akin to the ‘good old days’ anyway. It’s not like lavish billionaire parties were the kind of things they were doing together before the war.

Even if he’s been dating one of said billionaires for over a year.

Y/N is probably the main reason that conversation never happened with Steve. If she hadn’t been going there would’ve been no way in hell that Bucky would’ve even entertained the idea of going himself.

But she is going. And the idea of a night without her is almost worse than the idea of the party.

So now, it’s too late to back out.

He’s dressed up like James Dean because out of all the ideas that had been thrown around, it was the outfit that seemed the least intrusive. It’s basically a leather jacket and some hair gel. Tony had scoffed at the concept, making a ‘Tin-man and Dorothy’ suggestion that had earned a scolding from Y/N, who had beamed at the idea and agreed to go as Audrey Hepburn to complete the look.

He hasn’t seen her all day.

He misses her, and it shows.

Steve is at his side, dressed in an ornate ‘Count Dracula’ ensemble which, paired with the black spray he’s put in his hair looks awful.

The fake fangs are funny, though. And his excitement had been infectious. The playful chattering and obvious glee had been hard to ignore all day, so, he hadn’t tried. He’d let himself get swept up in the atmosphere;

“She’s running late” Natasha announces, rounding a corner dressed as Marylin Monroe, “apparently there was a change of plan”

“What kind of change?” Steve asks before Bucky can—

“She lost a bet” Bruce says, also coming into view.

His costume idea is good.

He’s dressed as Tony, complete with a fake arc reactor and drawn-on facial hair.

If Bucky had a better relationship with the man he might’ve considered that one for himself.

“With who?” he presses, curiously spiking;

“Who do you think?” Tony answers gleefully, “You’re goin’ to love this”

He’s addressing Natasha when he says that, which he thinks is strange. But, Bucky purses his lips in silent consideration.

What kind of bet? he thinks, And why is Natasha going to like it?

A few more minutes pass in the same kind of ‘excited haze’.

Everyone is talking and most of them are drinking, glasses clinking in toasts. Steve has a beer in his hand, but Bucky knows that it’s empty now.

His own is almost drained, too. The taste is familiar and comforting, even if it’s not doing what it used to in regards to calming his nerves.

His nerves are getting more and more frayed with every passing second that she doesn’t arrive.

Everyone else is accounted for.

Steve, and Tony. Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda and Vision- all present, all wearing their outfits.

God, even Happy has arrived, wearing his usual suit, but with the addition of sunglasses which he says make him a ‘man in black’.

Bucky thinks he looks a bit like a HYDRA officer who he worked for, once. He decides not to mention it.

“Come on, princess!” Rhodey yells, in the general direction of the stairs- “I’m sure your hair looks fine!”

He’s dressed as Fury. It’s funny, but, when no reply comes to his shouting, Bucky can’t help but frown.

Tony, however, snorts out a laugh that makes all eyes snap at him.

“What did you bet, anyway?” Steve asks

“That my new gamma-wave equation was compatible with her old nuero-partical theory-” he answers, “-She said it wouldn’t be because she didn’t believe I’d read her paper.”

“I meant what were the stakes”

“Oh” Tony chuckles, knowing that only Bruce would’ve understood the concept of the dispute anyway, “If she won, I was going to have to cover the internship paperwork for the rest of the year—“

“—And if you won?” Natasha cuts in, suspicious.

“He got to change my costume for tonight” Y/N's voice answers, from out of view.

Any relief that Bucky expected to garner from hearing her voice is dampened by how sullen she sounds.

It doesn’t suit the usual lilt of her voice.

It worries him. He feels both of his hands tightening into fists and is suddenly grateful for how he’d placed his beer bottle on the side.

“Oh no you don’t!” Tony commands, instantly animated, “Back up stairs! FRIDAY- Que the music!”

“Tony!” Y/N objects, tone slipping towards pleading, “Ple-”

Her “please” is drowned out by the loud start of a song.

A familiar song.

Steve recognises it first. His eyes widening as every single person that has gathered in the common room moves, all adjusting their positions so that they have a clear view of the stairs.

Bucky is no different.

He walks a little too fast, the vibration from the speakers filling him with urgency.

‘Star spangled man, with a plan'

The tune builds, and then he feels his face click with remembrance;

It was the song they used to parade Steve around too. With a haram of women in short skirts-

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, louder than the music, “Tony, I swear to god—”

‘and I tell you there’s no substitute— the Star, Spangled, Man, with a plan’

and then, the venom in her voice makes sense.

As she appears at the top of the staircase, almost unrecognisable, Bucky thinks it makes perfect sense.

So does her brother's untempered laughter, and the way that he’s snapping pictures on his cell phone.

Her usually brown hair is blonde. Shoulder length in soft waves, her lips are painted bright, apple red, which, hair colour aside isn’t too abnormal for her, but-

God, she’s… she’s dressed like Steve.

She’s wearing the full Captain America suit, skin tight and colourful with the shield slung over one of her shoulders.

As she starts to walk down towards the crowd, Bucky realises that his jaw is hanging open, so he snaps it shut.

“Give us a smile, Cap!” Tony gears, cell phone aimed at his sister's face, “and maybe a salute”

“I will break your fucking jaw-” she threatens.

“Language” Natasha scolds, failing to conceal her grin;

Y/N's head snaps towards her friend, and then, she moves her hand, flipping her the bird before turning to glare at her brother again.

“Can I at least lose this wig?”

“No” Tony answers quickly, “No, I think it really ties it all together”

“You’re an asshole” she hisses, “You’re not even wearing a costume”

“Yes I am” he retorts, almost offended, “I’m dad!”

“You’re who?!” she splutters, totally taken aback, “You- You’re going as dad?!”

“Yes” Tony replies with a smirk, ”but, young dad, y’know- not-”

“You haven’t even shaved” she says, pointing at his face, “He had a moustache- not a goatie”

“I couldn’t find a razor” he lies, not even trying to hide his glee, “and all I needed to finish the look was-”

“Son of a bitch” Y/N curses, realisation setting in, “you made me wear this so I could be your accessory?”

and then a ripple of laughter washes over everyone.

Everyone except for Y/N, and Bucky, who is still staring at her, awestruck.

“You’re a jerk,” she says when everything settles;

“That’s more like it” Tony says, “throw in a couple of ‘sons’, maybe a self-richeous speech about justice here and there-“

“Hey” Steve objects, suddenly realising that at least part of this might be at his expense,

Tony beams again, excitement unwavering under his sister's glare.

and then there’s silence.

The sibling's dynamic is strange at the best of times, and in situations like this, the entire mood of the evening is going to be decided by how well either party decides that they can take a joke.

“Just wait until next year” Y/N sighs at last, “I’ll get you for this- I swear”

“I bet you will” Tony agrees, looking falsely contrite, “But for tonight-”

“I’m your star-spangled man with a plan,” she says, defeated.

He bursts out a “ha!” and turns to celebrate his victory with Rhodey and the others.

Y/N takes the moment of reprieve to finally meet Bucky’s gaze. She takes a few steps towards him, before smiling in acknowledgement of Steve, too.

“Sorry about leavin’ you in the lurch with the outfit,” she says, “at least you’re basically just dressed as yourself.”

Steve chuckles at her, even though she’d been talking to Bucky, and then he comments on her hair.

“It’s a wig,” she says off-handedly, “What’s in yours anyway? Shoe polish?”

That makes Bucky laugh for the first time that evening.

A real, true laugh.

He’s not even sure why. The jibe hadn’t been that funny. Not really. But he’s giddy with relief that she’s okay. That she’s safe and finally here, and her outfit is… ridiculous, he knows it is, but he can’t help but find himself captivated by it all the same.

Y/N beams in response to his outburst regardless. Smiling at him with her with her painted lips like he’s the best thing in the world.

That’s how she always looks at him. It’s so familiar that he can almost ignore the costume.

“It’s not your shield,” she tells Steve, “Or your suit, don’t worry��

“I wasn’t worried” Steve replies, “I was wondering how it fit you so well”

Bucky laughs again, and this time he realises that both of them are grinning at him.

“You look great, doll” he says when he catches his breath, “I’ve never really been into blondes but I think you pull it off”

“I can’t wait to pull it off-” she mutters, tugging at the fake hair with dismay, “-but, thank you.”

And then, everyone’s moving.

The room is a blur of motion. Everyone is abandoning bottles and cans and glasses and heading towards the elevators.

And Bucky is holding Y/N's hand while he lets Rodgers knock against his shoulder and make jokes about candy.

They have to split into groups for the cars.

Y/N and Tony have to go together with Happy, so, with a pout and a kiss on his cheek, she leaves Bucky with Steve and Sam.

Wilson teases him a little about how love-sick he is, but Steve doesn’t let the ribbing go on for too long before he silences him with a fatherly glare that makes him the target of the jokes.

Bucky doesn’t have to come to his rescue because their car pulls up just after the Starks have left.

He hates being driven around.

The feeling of being forced to be still in the back of a moving vehicle is unpleasant. But not unfamiliar.

Steve is too polite to comment on the way that his flesh knuckles turn white as he makes a tight fist on his lap. Or, how on the way he flinches, hard, when they stop at red lights.

“Easy” Sam chides, ignorant of the reason behind the response, “we’re in an armoured car- relax a little”

“I think Tony called it luxury” Steve cuts in, trying to be supportive and change the subject, “but he’s right, Buck- Everything’s fine-

“Luxury or not” the other man replies, “We’re still in the billionaire equivalent of an armoured tank—”

“Yeah?” Bucky gristles, tired of the patronising tone, “So was Howard Stark”

His remark sours the atmosphere instantly.

Steve goes to put a hand on his knee but he jerks it free before he really makes contact.

Sam just falls into an awkward silence that Bucky thinks is much more tolerable than his attempt at conversation.

They arrive exactly seven minutes later.

He knows because he’s been counting.

Y/N had taught him to do that. When they’d been talking about ‘coping techniques’ he’d scoffed at the usual suggestion of deep breathing.

“Deep breathing doesn’t help when you feel like you’re somewhere you can’t catch your breath, doll”

“No” she’d agreed, patient as always, “No, I don’t suppose it does.”

She wasn’t the first person to talk to him about ways that might help him feel better. She was probably the first person to listen to him, though;

“What did you used to do when you really couldn’t?”

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds before she’d taken pity on him and smiled.

“When you couldn’t catch your breath.”

Oh-

“You mean…” he’d gulped, “You mean when I was there?”

“mhmm”

“Whatever I was told”

That was the first time he’d been really honest with someone who’d tried to ask him about that. The answer had slipped out before he’d had a chance to think about it, but when he’d had a moment or two to process what he’d just admitted, he’d been so embarrassed that Y/N's palm on his cheek had jarred him.

Jarred him so much that he’d jolted in place, the panic that they’d been previously discussing flaring in an embarrassing display.

“..Okay…” Y/N had exhaled, “… you’re okay…”

A jerky nod hadn’t reassured her much, but it’d been all he could offer her at the time.

“What are you doin’ right now, huh? Nobodies telling you what to do now.”

“I-“ he’d stammered, suddenly unsure, “-I’m counting”

“Counting?” she’d pressed, curious “Alright… Let me know how high you get”

And then he’d been crying. He’d broken down and sobbed into her shoulder until his chest had stopped racing.

Then, he’d been able to explain, very shakily, about how sometimes they’d kept him masked for so long that arbitrarily counting in his head had been his only way of not losing whatever scrap of sanity he’d had left.

He could always count.

No matter what terrible thing was happening to him. No matter what heinous thing he was being made to do to someone else.

He could manage counting.

“So” she’d whispered, stroking his hair back, “That’s what you do… You count.”

and he still counts.

and, because he’s been doing it for so long, he’s quite good at matching his silent clock to actual seconds.

and, by the time they’re all exiting the car, it’s only been another 20.

The atmosphere is still awkward. Even with the removal of the car from the equation.

“You okay, Buck?”

It’s Steve asking. Concerned, now.

He feels a sharp stab of guilt when he blinks his eyes over to him and sees that it’s genuine. That the playful, childish excitement from before is gone, replaced by fatherly worry.

“I’m fine, Stevie” he replies, deliberately making his tone light-

When he sees that he’s not buying it, Bucky smiles.

“I’m not a good passenger” he allows, “but I’m fine.”

That seems to work a little. The honesty does, anyway.

“Look” Bucky sighs, placing his flesh hand precisely on his shoulder, “This is all a little hard on me…even the car rides-”

“-You’re doin’ awesome, Buck-”

“-Give it a rest” he chuckles, jostling him a little, “I’m workin’ on some stuff, don’t worry about me.”

The latter part is what sticks with Steve.

He looks directly at his old friend, reading his face for a full 4 seconds before nodding in agreement.

“I can’t take you seriously with that hair,” Bucky says, breaking the tension as they head towards the back entrance, “How did you do it?”

“Natasha gave me some spray stuff?” he says, almost like a question, “Apparently it washes out.”

“I hope it does” Bucky grumbles, flashing his ID at the doorman without meeting his eyes—

The inside of the party is alive.

That’s the only way to describe it.

It’s like every single person in the building has merged into one singular being. And that being is having a blast.

There’s dancing and laughter and plenty of drinking.

The Stark’s always have an open bar, and it’s clear that this one is being used.

Custom Halloween cocktails (and the signature glasses they come in) are littering the space, acting as extra decor as the multi-coloured lights dance through them.

A woman dressed as a cat, holding a tray of neon green shots appears, smiling at Bucky as she offers him one;

“That I’d pay to see,” Tony says, coming up behind her, and drinking 3 of them in quick succession, “Terminator and Captain All-star doin’ jello shots”

Wilson, eye patch and all laughs, mirroring the billionaire and taking his shot with a grin.

“Play nice” Y/N’s voice inserts, as the crowd parts to reveal her, “They don’t even get drunk from them, T— why would they want to do them?”

“For fun?” Tony replies, doing another 2 shots without coming up for air, “You’re gettin’ a little too into character there, cap”

As if to spite her brother, she declines the waitress's offer before making a show of politely thanking the next server who seems to be busying themselves following the more high-profile guests around.

Any hopes Bucky might have had about spending the night with her are dashed a few minutes later by the arrival of the other Avengers… and then, a camera crew.

A camera crew who find Y/N being dressed as Captain America captivating.

And then, god—

The addition of Tony’s costume? that’s the nail in the coffin.

Every single person who doesn’t live with the duo is glued to them all night.

Snapping pictures and laughing and ploughing them with drinks.

She only manages to slip away to Bucky’s side twice.

The first time is because she catches him looking forlorn by a window.

That he’d been watching her reflection in but, still—

She’d nodded, making an inane excuse before crossing the room to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Are you okay, handsome?” she whispers, directly into his ear.

“I’m okay” he replies, meaning it. “Waitin’ for Steve to get back with the drinks- Couldn’t face the bar.”

“Smart move” Y/N murmurs, tangling her fingers with his metal ones for a moment, “If you need me, come find me.”

“I haven’t lost you, doll” is the reply he gives her, nodding towards the window in half admission, and half explanation.

She laughs, kisses him properly and then, she ducks out of view with the playful salute that makes him very grateful for the privacy the party lighting provides.

The second time, they’ve been there for hours.

Steve is having the best time Bucky remembers seeing him have in… well, decades.

and frankly, it’s infectious.

Bucky is laughing. Laughing, lips grazing a beer bottle as Natasha tells another embarrassing story about Rodgers that sounds strangely familiar.

He’s telling her that things haven’t changed that much in the past hundred years when he catches her.

She’s stood, arm draped over her brother's shoulder with her head turned just slightly towards where he’s sat on a high stool that’s draped in fake cobwebs.

She’s watching him.

She’s just watching him with this, adoring look on her face that makes him blush even though he’s not meant to know that she’s looking.

Her gaze doesn’t linger. He never actually meets her eyes. She’s way too good for that to happen.

But his moment of distraction is noted by Natasha, who makes a jibe about him focusing on the wrong Steve.

When Y/N separates from Tony to head towards the bathroom, Bucky makes his excuses as well, suddenly unable to bear another minute apart.

She actually does use the bathroom, which makes dread stir heavily in Bucky’s stomach.

You’re acting like a stalker, Barnes, he thinks, hiding in the dark—

“Hey, Buck” Y/N greets, in a half-hearted impression of Steve, “You doin’ okay?”

The second part of the attempt is much better.

So much better that he can’t help but laugh;

“That-” he chuckles, “is scary, doll. Please don’t do that again.”

She nods, beaming at him again.

“You havin’ fun?” she asks, in her usual lilt, “You look like you are”

That almost sounds awed. He’s blushing, and her hand is reaching out to stroke his cheek and god, he’s leaning into her fingers;

“You were watchin’ me?” he murmurs, shy.

She chuckles, leaning in to kiss his brow.

“Of course I was” she purrs, “seein’ you smilin’ like that, it’s the best part of a night like this.”

“A night like this” he echos, utterly entranced, “You mean Halloween?”

She shrugs and he can see the flush of alcohol in her face.

It’s beautiful.

She’s beautiful.

“See?” she murmurs, thumb on his lower lip, “You’re perfect…”

and, he thinks he might actually be melting.

He’s pressed into the corner that he’d put himself in, and she’s wearing that stupid suit, and she’s blonde and for some reason, it’s not funny.

Even though it should be.

It should be hilarious.

But, it’s… it’s not.

“That hairspray really has hold, huh?”

He chuckles at that, as her fingers try and run through his hair.

She gives up quickly, not wanting to risk pulling on the strands.

No, she wouldn’t ever do that.

“It’s yours,” he tells her lamely—

The spray… the hair— me…

The laughter she treats him to is nicer than the music that’s been playing all night. And the look of love on her face is sweeter than the bright red ‘blood’ orange cocktail that Natasha had made him drink.

“I love you,” she tells him, “Sweetheart”

“I love you” he echos, “and I’ve been watching you too…”

“I know,” she says with a smirk, “You’re not half as subtle as you think you are, Soldier.”

“Maybe not” he agrees, leaning obviously towards her now, “but in my defence- everyone’s lookin’ at you tonight”

“Everyone” she agrees, a little grumpily, “I was really hopin’ that Tony was going to steal the spotlight, but I guess I can let him have this one.”

“People are lookin’ at him too,” he tells her, “if that helps”

“It does” she sighs, knowing that she has to get back to her brother soon, “It’ll help a whole bunch more when people aren’t calling me Cap’ and making jokes about blondes having more fun”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. At the pout she’s wearing, and the way that there's a stubborn crease forming between her brows.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?” she asks, expression softening when she looks at him, again.

“Having more fun?”

“Not yet” she replies, “but, if the way you keep starring at my ass in this suit is anything to go by then there’s still time for that to change”

That makes him flush hotter than he thought was possible;

He squirms a little. Embarrassed by the fact that he can’t deny the accusation behind her little joke.

“I…uh—“ he stutters, trying to explain himself, “— um, I…I- di-“

“You don’t like the outfit?” her brow raises in a challenge.

Again, he can’t say that. It’s not true.

He toes at the floor, embarrassed by just how much he does like it.

“I better stop torturing you” she sighs, tone reluctant, “Let you get back to enjoying yourself with Steve.”

“I’m enjoyin’ myself with you,” he says, a little breathy.

“I know” she agrees, smoothing her hand down his front, straightening his shirt, “I know but Natasha has been watching us for 3 minutes, and I think she’s drunk enough to make jokes about us hooking up in the bathroom like high schoolers.”

“and that’d be bad,” he says lamely.

“That’d be bad” she agrees, playful laughter back in her tone, “Because while I’m stuck with Tony, you’re the one that’ll have to hear them all night.”

He nods, before pulling her in for a kiss.

And then, she’s gone.

And he’s back, ignoring the one sly dig about how long he spent in the bathroom, and how Y/N has also only just reappeared.

She was right, he thinks, they’re lucky to get away with only that one dig.

The rest of the night is fast.

It’s loud and full of friends, laughter, and music.

and a never-ending stream of drinks which Bucky can almost trick himself into believing are getting him buzzed.

The routine of drinking them is calming if nothing else.

The fruity ones are sweet, and the beer is classic and the shots, he finds out, aren’t that bad either.

Even if he can’t taste them as they slip down his throat.

He thinks he might’ve liked jello-shots, before.

When they’d have actually served a purpose.

The way that Steve is beaming at him is a purpose on its own he supposes. And they’re serving that one, so, he keeps drinking them.

It’s not exactly like the ‘good old days’ but it’s nice.

It’s very, very, nice.

The only thing that would make it nicer would be if Y/N had been able to escape the spotlight of everyone else for long enough to join him.

But, the way she’s smiling at him whenever he catches her eye across the crowded room takes the edge off.

The distance feels playful, not painful.

The glances and winks are flirtatious, and Bucky is loving it.

He’s loving every single second of it.

and then, it’s winding down.

The guests are leaving, pressing gracious kisses against Tony’s cheek, and then Y/N's and then it’s back to Tony—

He disappears before the room clears, arm in arm with a very female-looking Hulk.

There’s green paint all over his neck already, so it’s hardly a surprise.

Banner hasn’t been drinking, and although he grumbles a bit about Tony’s choice of companion, when the fact that he’s dressed up as the man is highlighted, he realises that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

When it’s time for the remaining Avengers to head home they separate into groups organically.

Somehow, Bucky winds up driving.

He doesn’t complain about that, though. He prefers it. Even if Steve is a nightmare for interfering from the backseat.

Wilson is black-out drunk. His speech so slurred that they’re not even pretending to understand him; and when they eventually pull up into the underground garage, Steve’s big brother complex fires up into high gear and he takes full responsibility for taking him inside and seeing him safely to his room.

Bucky is thrilled by this. He doesn’t hide it well. Steve slaps his shoulder in mock scolding before he ducks away into the stairwell.

He doesn’t know why he’s giddy on the way to his room.

Well, he does.

But he’s trying not to focus on it because it’s embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing because he’s excited by the idea of his girlfriend waiting for him in their room-

-Dressed as your best friend, he reminds himself, Dressed as Steve-

The feeling of wrongness only makes him more excited.

God, that’s sick, he thinks, hand on the door;

“About time, Sarge”

Her voice makes any shame melt away from his core.

and then he’s walking towards her. He’s pacing towards the bed, where she’s leaning against one of the mahogany four-poster posts, with the shield propped up against her bed frame.

When he realises that he’s looking at that, it doesn’t take long at all for his gaze to jump to her boots.

They’re red and knee-high, and then he’s starring at her ass in the suit again-

“Shall I keep the wig on?”

He’s caught, again.

His mouth opens to…Well, he’s not exactly sure of what he intends to do, but, nothing wasn’t the plan;

“Or is the blonde too weird?”

This whole thing is weird, but he likes it.

He’s still just gawking, so she beams at him before kicking a leg up onto the bed, to better display the boots.

“I think we should make Steve wear these,” she says, “I think they’d really set-”

“Can we not talk about Steve right now?-” he asks, chuckling, “Please?”

“Yes, sir” she replies, straightening back out and offering him a salute, “the bedroom is a Steve free zone.”

and then, he’s kissing her.

He’s kissing her, and she tastes like cocktails and his hands are on her waist, and god, she’s perfect-

“Y’know, I-” he pants, lips barely leaving hers, “-I always liked the outfit.”

“Wanna know a secret?” she whispers, hands moving up to cup his jaw, “So have I”

Oh, god- he’s laughing.

They’re both laughing, and kissing, and then they’re on the bed.

And they’re still kissing—

She loses the wig quite quickly.

Bucky tugs it free and launches it across the room where it knocks over an empty vase with a dull clatter.

The boots, however, stay on.

Even when the suit eventually comes off, the shiny red boots remain.

and the next morning, when she wakes up, she kicks them off, letting them fall to the side of the bed. And then, as she turns to fully admire him, she finds herself laughing quietly at the stains of red that smeared across his cheeks, and his neck, and his mouth.

“I made a mess of you, sugar” she murmurs, thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw, “I’ll help you clean up later— I promise.”

“I’ll hold ya’ to that, doll”

Masterlist

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #oneshot #female reader #fluff #drabble #x reader

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 8 months

Text

Something There (Chapter 9)

7.1k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, moment of violence (yay!), one scene of angst, lots of fluff and buildup A/N: Okay now THIS is my favorite chapter! I listened to Taylor's 'Daylight' for most of this, highly recommend 😘

Series Masterlist

He wasn’t letting go of her. Not this time.

Roy squeezed her tight, letting his cheek rest on her hair, the hair that smelled like fucking lavender and vanilla and was just as soft as he remembered. She felt good, pressed close to his heart like this. Right. Like she belonged there. The way she clung to him, trembling ever so slightly, told him that she was thinking the same thing.

Saying something would break the spell. So, Roy kept his mouth shut, wishing they could stay here, in this little office with its humming air conditioning and fluorescent lights, and forget about reporters and tabloids and non-boyfriends and hell, even forget about football. All he wanted was right there, in his arms, clutching to him like he was a life preserver in a storm.

But of course, staying frozen like this forever wasn’t a real option.

The sound of someone walking through the Greyhounds office had them releasing each other, not quite stepping away, as if they couldn’t bear parting, not quite yet.

Ted stood in the doorway, mouth open and eyebrows raised, glancing from one manager to the other. “I, uh, just wanted to see how you’re doin’,” he finally said, nodding to Buck. “That was a hell of a press conference, Coach.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, wiping her damp face; Roy realized she’d been crying into his shoulder. “I’m, uh, pretty tired. Should be heading home.”

Ted nodded, his face telling Roy he was sorry for interrupting. “Yeah, you get some rest. You deserve a good night’s sleep.” He offered a small wave. “Goodnight, coaches.”

Both managers mumbled their goodbyes to Ted before turning back to each other.

“I should go home,” she finally repeated, taking a step backwards to her desk, where her things were waiting to be packed up.

Roy nodded, suddenly unsure about what to do with his hands if they weren’t holding her. “Yeah, yeah. But listen-” He cleared his throat, eyes on the ceiling. “You… deserve to celebrate. Taking first place, the press conference, surviving all the shit we’ve been through. Maybe next week, when you’re up for it, I could… buy you a beer or something?”

When he forced himself to look at her, the corners of her red lips were tugging upwards. “Yeah. I’d like that, Kent.”

Before he could say anything else, his mobile vibrated in his pocket, further breaking the spell. He pulled it out, only vaguely registering the name on the screen.

“Answer it,” she hummed, starting to pack up her bag. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Roy nodded and started backing into his own office. “See you later.” He turned, answering his mobile as he walked through his office, into the changing room. “Hello?”

“Roy.” Trent’s voice was that serious tone he often used. “I, uh, got that information you asked for.”

Oh, shit. “Right, right. Anything… interesting?” he glanced over his shoulder as he entered the empty hallway, making sure he was alone.

Trent’s sigh sounded tired. “Oh, it’s interesting, alright,” he muttered dryly. “So, the photos were taken, but they weren’t going to be released. Keeley had done a good job convincing The Richmond Star to sit on them.”

“The fucking Richmond Star?” Roy’s chest tightened; he knew that paper.

“Yeah.” Trent paused. “They were going to just ignore them until… one of their reporters saw them. And gave them to another publication.”

Roy stopped in the middle of the hallway, ready to punch a wall. “Any idea who the reporter might’ve been?”

The hesitation on Trent’s end gave Roy his answer before the writer even spoke. “George Willows.”

“FUCK!”

Trent cleared his throat. “Figured you’d feel that way,” he hummed. He sighed. “I hate that it’s him. She’s… she’s lovely. She doesn’t deserve that.” The next pause was heavy. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Gotta… gotta think.” He let out a low, growling sigh. “Thanks, Trent. Really.”

“Good luck, Roy.”

Keeley had, thankfully, forgiven me for going off-script. On the contrary, she thought my rant was brilliant and long overdue. Rebecca, while concerned about the language and the reaction from shareholders, was proud of me.

After a the most light-hearted practice the Whippets had had in weeks, I found myself in my office, going over the report on our next opponent, determined to keep our first-place status.

“Hi there, Coach.” Ted Lasso stood in the doorway, smile on his face. “How was training today?”

“Good,” I chirped, waving him in. “Anything I can do for you, Ted?”

He shrugged and leaned on my desk. “Just didn’t get to chat last night.” His eyes searched my face curiously. “Sorry for, uh, interrupting.”

My face went warm. “It’s fine,” I murmured, looking down at my report. “We were just-”

“No need to explain,” he assured me, clearly trying not to grin goofily. “It was an emotional night for ya. For Roy too.” He raised his eyebrows. “The two of you… deserve something good. Some happiness.”

“The two of us,” I repeated with a little cough. “I mean-”

Ted placed his hand on top of mine, silencing me. “Lemme just say one thing. I know we’re practically strangers and it’s none of my business, but I dunno. I feel like I know a thing or two about a thing or two.”

My curiosity was piqued. “What’s up?”

After a quick glance around, Ted leaned in close. “Roy… he thinks you’re special. You know that right? Because it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. Heck, Helen Keller would be able to tell ya that Roy thinks the world of you.”

My heart stuttered as I looked at Ted. “I- you know, he-”

“But Roy’s pretty darn special too,” Ted continued. “He is so darn good. He’d do just about anything for the people he cares about. He’s got to be one of the most passionate people I have ever had the pleasure of knowin’. The man is a great coach and an incredible friend.” He cleared his throat. “Like I said, just a real special guy. And…” He shook his head. “I dunno. I think, and I’m sure a lot of other people think, that maybe you two… could be somethin’ special… together.” He threw his hands up as he hopped off my desk. “I said my piece. You can ignore me if you want, like I said it’s not really my place to talk.” He started towards the door, pausing halfway out of the office to look at me one more time. “But Roy… well if you let him, he’d care about you like no one’s business.” With a friendly nod, he was gone, leaving me alone with thoughts full of Roy Kent.

It was like Roy’s mind was at war with itself for a couple of days after the Whippets match. On the one hand, he was so angry with what he’d learned from Trent. Of course fucking Willows was behind this whole mess; the man was scum, after all. And the fact that her trust had been so fucking violated just crushed Roy. And now he had to figure out a way to tell her that didn’t look like he was just trying to break them up. Fucking hell.

But, even with all this inner turmoil, Roy couldn’t help feeling… happy. She was smiling at him, cracking jokes, and a couple of times he caught her gazing thoughtfully through the window from her office to his. Something had shifted, and Roy’s heart was soaring.

Still. How was he supposed to tell her who was behind their shared hell?

He was contemplating this when Rebecca bumped into him in the hallway.

“Oh, Roy, just who I was hoping to see.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She nodded, stepping closer. “I was wondering how you’re doing. We haven’t had a chance to talk since… well, the other night.” Her eyebrows flew up. “That press conference was interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Interesting,” Roy repeated, shifting his weight and his gaze. “Yeah, you could call it that.”

As if summoned by Roy’s discomfort, the Whippets’ coaches walked by, chattering quietly. The two managers locked eyes, and Roy was the recipient of the softest smile, the kind that made his breath hitch and his fingertips tingle. He nodded back, keeping his eyes on her as she continued down the hall; to his absolute delight, she glanced back at him before disappearing around a corner.

Rebecca’s face softened as she watched the manager squirm. “Roy Kent, when are you going to fucking tell her how you feel?”

He sighed, glancing around, praying no one could hear the two of them. “Rebecca-”

“No, don’t ‘Rebecca’ me,” she scolded in a low voice. “Come on, Roy, I’m sick of seeing you stumble around here in this little daze. There’s something between you two, we all know it. It’s so damn obvious. It’s been there for months. Hell, it’s probably been there since the day she arrived. So go fucking tell her that you have real feelings for her.”

“Rebecca,” he warned, face burning. “It’s not that fucking simple-”

She rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Stop acting helpless, because you’re not. You’re Roy fucking Kent! You deserve to be happy.”

Roy felt his blood boil as he finally snapped at his boss. “And you’re Rebecca fucking Welton! So when are you going to stop pretending you don’t love Ted and let yourself be happy?”

The color draining from Rebecc’s face told Roy he was right on the money. It wasn’t as if it was some great secret; everyone knew there was more than friendship between the owner and former manager. Well, maybe everyone except the owner and manager in question.

“Exactly,” Roy went on, confident that he’d ended this particular conversation. “When you talk to Ted about your feelings, I’ll talk to Bucky about mine.” He nodded, more to himself, and began to turn to walk away; Rebecca’s hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

“Fine.”

Before Roy could say another word, Rebecca dragged him down the halls of the Dog Track, ignoring the curious looks of the people they passed as her heels click, click, clicked against the tile. She didn’t stop her quick pace until they were in the Greyhounds office, where Ted was chatting pleasantly with Beard.

Ted’s eyes lit up at the sight of Rebecca. “Well, hey there-”

“Ted Lasso,” Rebecca commanded, releasing Roy’s wrist. “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

Roy had never seen Ted’s face so pale. “I-” the American choked, Beard wide-eyed next to him. “Well, gee- Becca, we-”

Rebecca took a step forward, raising a cool eyebrow at Ted. “Oklahoma.”

“Well, shoot.”

He cupped her face carefully and pulled her into a deep kiss; behind them, Beard’s arms were in the air as his mouth widened in a silent scream. Roy felt his ears go warm, his heart drumming with a mix of annoyance at Rebecca’s frankness and joy at seeing these two finally admit how they felt. He could also feel a twinge of envy in his chest; fuck, he wished he could be so honest.

Rebecca released Ted and turned to Roy, a goofy grin on her face. “There,” she hummed triumphantly. “Your turn, Kent. Off with you.” She looked back to Ted, fixing the collar on his polo shirt. “This one and I have some things to discuss.”

Blinking a few times, Roy turned his head towards the Whippets office, where Lucas stood with wide eyes. Realizing the answer to his current problem had been just through that door this whole time, Roy quickly ducked into the office, leaving the lovebirds behind.

“What in the world-?”

Roy shook his head and closed the door behind him. “Don’t fucking ask.” He glanced around. “She around?”

Lucas shook his head, clearly trying not to grin. “Want me to go get her for you?”

“No.” Roy cleared his throat, ignoring the heat on his face. “Lucas… I need your help with something.”

Today was the day, I decided. For a couple days now, I’d wondered if Roy was going to remind me about that beer he’d offered me. Even though we were on better terms than we’d ever been- saying hello when we passed one another, laughing, heck just smiling at each other- he hadn’t said anything else about grabbing a drink.

Of course, I didn’t mention a word about that to George. Things were icy since the press conference, with him insisting on going out to dinner the night after, which resulted in my picture going up on Twitter. But honestly, I didn’t care too much. Like I’d told everyone- I wanted to focus on my team.

Which I was admittedly struggling with since hugging Roy Kent.

Still, I did my best to get on with my day, running practice like I wasn’t wondering why Roy hadn’t asked me for a beer again. By the time Lucas and I made our way back to our office after most everyone else had left for the day, I was mentally composing a text to the Greyhound if he was free the next night. I threw my bag over my shoulder, mumbling something to Lucas about George picking me up for dinner. When I saw the sour look on his face, I sighed.

“What?”

He blinked at me. “What, what?”

“Luke,” I started slowly. “You’ve been weirdly quiet today. And the couple times I’ve mentioned George, you made these faces like you want to throw up. Is there something I should know?”

I had never seen such discomfort in my assistant coach’s expression; it had my stomach knotting up. “Bucky…” He ran his hands over his face. “Yesterday… I found out who leaked your photos.”

My heart nearly stopped in my chest. “You… you…” I clutched my bag, knuckles turning white as my voice lowered. “Who was it?”

Lucas closed his eyes, wincing. “George.”

It felt like all the wind was knocked out of me. “George?” I repeated, barely croaking it out. “As in my George?”

“Yeah.” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, not quite looking me in the eye. “Trent Crimm, you know Trent, apparently he did some digging around… and found out that the Star had the original photos and… and George, well he passed them along to another publication.”

I sank into my chair, staring up at Brandi Chastain. “Why would he do that?” I whispered.

Lucas leaned on my desk, tenderly placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bucky. Really. I know I pushed you to go out with him, I know I-”

“No, Lukey,” I murmured, using the nickname I only called him when he was truly upset. “You didn’t know. Don’t you dare feel bad.”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered, leaning back. “I swear, Bucky, when he walks through that door, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna go home,” I told him, standing up. “And you’re going to get some rest, and you’re going to come into work tomorrow like normal. And you’re going to go to tomorrow night’s Greyhound’s match with me. And we’re going to keep winning and leave all this shit behind us, alright?”

“What are you gonna-”

I shrugged. “Gonna tell him I know. Gonna give him exactly two seconds to explain himself. Then gonna have him permanently banned from Nelson Road.” I stood and offered Lucas my closed fist. “I’ll be fine.”

Lucas tapped his fist to mine. “Call me when you get home.”

After he left, I sat in my chair, not bothering to take off my bag, just staring at the hallway door. When George appeared, he was wearing that smile, that boyish, charming smile, the one that used to make my heart flutter.

“Hey, you,” he hummed, not noticing the stony expression I wore. “What d’you want for dinner? I heard about this great new restaurant-”

“Why the fuck did you do it?” I was on my feet, face burning. “Why the ever-loving fuck would you give those photos to someone to publish?”

He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. “No, see, Buck-“

“Fucking explain it,” I interrupted, bringing my face to his. “Tell me why you would put me through absolute hell. Why you would do something that put my reputation, my job, my everything at risk.” I blinked, refusing to let this man see my tears. “Tell me, George.”

For the first time since we met, his face held no confidence, only panic. “See, this is what happens to women who-who sleep with Roy Kent,” he stammered. “Honestly, aren’t you glad you found out now and not later? That being with Roy Kent is the wrong thing for you?”

“Oh my fucking-” I felt like everything was spinning. “You absolute jackass,” I groaned. “You piece of absolute shit. Because you were jealous that I had sex with Roy Kent, you told the world I had sex with Roy Kent? And this was supposed to make me want to be with you? I should fucking-”

“Buck?” Roy stood in the doorway between our offices, eyes wide as he stared at me. “You alri-” His gaze landed on George. “Oh, you fucking twat.” He stormed across the office, putting himself between us, chest to chest with the reporter. “You have three seconds to get the fuck out of here, otherwise, I will cut off your-”

“Roy.” I pulled him back by the shoulder, shaking my head at him.

He immediately stepped back, eyes never leaving George’s face and fists staying clenched at his side.

I whirled back around on George. “You need to leave,” I said in my lowest voice. “And you need to never, ever fucking talk about me, think about me, or write about either of us ever again. Or I will hunt you down and show you why I led the NWSL in fouls in my first season.”

George scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Maybe the two of you deserve each other,” he grumbled, nodding towards Roy. “Two washed-up has-beens, coaching low-rate teams, trying to stay relevant. Apparently the only time you’re relevant is when you’re getting fucked by that broken old bastard. No wonder you want to keep him around.”

It had been a couple decades since the last time I punched a boy on the playground, probably after an insult much less vulgar than this one. But as I looked at the smug look on George Willows’s face, I definitely remembered how. My fist connected harshly with his jaw with a satisfying thump. He staggered backwards, clutching his face.

“Bitch,” he hissed, stumbling towards the door. “Fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled, cradling my fist in my other hand. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

We stood in silence as George trudged out, the sounds of his footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty halls. When I finally turned to look at Roy, he was already gazing at me with wide eyes, clutching his own jaw. The look of pure admiration in his eyes was almost enough to make me forget what I’d just learned.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “That might have been the coolest fucking shit I have ever seen.”

I blinked at him for a moment, ignoring the pain in my hand. “Did you know?” I asked softly, taking a step towards him.

He looked down at my hand, tentatively taking it and holding it up. “Let’s get you some fucking ice,” he murmured. His soft eyes met mine again. “And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Roy kept my hand in his as he led me to the treatment room, only letting go so he could find an ice pack while I hopped up on the treatment table. He turned back to me, more confident now as he lifted my hand off my lap and pressed the ice pack to it, watching my face carefully as he continued to hold my hand. I scooched closer to the end of the table, letting my knees brush against the front of his thighs.

“I… asked Trent to do some digging,” he finally began. “And he called me after your press conference.”

“That was the phone call you got in the office.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.”

I tried to focus on his words instead of how incredibly close he was, close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Think about it,” he chuckled glancing down at our hands. “You know I fucking hate the guy. You know I wasn’t… excited about you being with him.” He shrugged. “It’d look like I was just trying to break you up or some shit, like I was… I dunno…”

Like he was jealous.

“No, I get that.” I ducked my head, willing him to look me in the eye again. “So you told Lucas?”

He glanced up through his eyelashes. “So I told Lucas,” he confirmed. “Told him he could even call Trent if he wanted to confirm. You… you could call him too if you want. If you need to confirm.”

“I don’t need to.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Well, I’m not going to pretend that seeing you punch that twat wasn’t the most bad-ass thing I’ve ever seen.” He cleared his throat. “But I am sorry it happened this way.” His eyes were again on our hands, his thumb slowly stroking my skin. “I… would never want to see you hurt.”

“Thank you.” I followed his gaze, a warmth filling my chest as I realized how nice his hand felt in mine. “Can I ask…” I trailed off.

“Anything.”

I wrinkled my nose, thinking for a moment. “Why’d you hate him in the first place? The whole thing with throwing a chair at him?” I couldn’t help but grin. “Which I now realize was probably well-deserved.”

He gave a full smirk now. “Fucking ’course it was,” he hummed. “It’s… pretty shitty, honestly.” With a sigh, he threw his head back, as if wondering where to start. “See, he always had some shit to say about my private life when I was a player. And it was really fucking annoying.” He scowled as he looked back down. “And, see, there was this whole thing… with Keeley… and some fucking video of her… a private video…”

“Oh.” It suddenly made sense why Keeley had fought so hard for me and my photos; fuck, I wanted to hug her.

“Yeah. We were already broken up, and it had nothing to do with me, but, you know, fucking hurt like hell to see her go through that.” He cleared his throat. “And George fucking Willows decided to ask me if I’d seen the video and if I knew who it was for. So, I threw my fucking chair at him.” He shook his head. “That’s why I was so pissed seeing the two of you together, even without… the gala stuff. And I should have fucking said something. Should’ve told you exactly the kind of shit he was from the moment he started sniffing around you. It’s my fucking fault.”

I shook my head. “Come on, Roy. You know I wouldn’t have believed you back then. I wouldn’t have even let you finish one sentence about him.”

After a heavy pause, Roy offered me a small smile. “We’ve… come a long fucking way, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

My heart hammered as we gazed at each other, holding hands in the quiet treatment room. It felt just like the night of my press conference, when we hugged in my office and just held each other. Quiet, calm, natural. Good. Like we weren’t dealing with all the shit we were dealing with, like we were just frozen in this moment. Like we could finally have a moment of peace.

“Any chance I could drive you home?” His soft eyes were begging me to say yes.

But the realization of everything that had just happened tonight came crashing down around me; as tempted as I was to accept the ride home, maybe suggest a detour to a pub, I knew I needed to say-

“Some other time.” I cleared my throat and nodded down to my hand. “Kind of want to walk. Just take the evening to myself. Get some rest. Ice this thing some more.”

If he was disappointed, he wasn’t going to tell me. “Yeah, I get that.” He stepped back and helped me down from the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I squeezed his hand before reluctantly letting go. “I’ll be at your match, by the way.”

“Well.” He smirked, flexing the hand I’d been holding. “Here’s hoping I can impress you as much as you impressed me the other night.”

My face warmed as I tried to figure out what to say; honestly, I just wanted to prolong our conversation, not say goodnight and walk out of this room and away from whatever moment we were having. Seeing Roy haloed in the fluorescent light, I wondered what would happen if I just leaned forward and-

“Oh.” Will stood in the doorway, holding a laundry basket. “Hello, coaches.”

Roy took a small step away from me, eyebrows raised. “Will.” His eyes shifted to me before returning to the kitman. “How much this did you hear this time?”

Will shrugged. “Walking home, going to the game, impressing each other.”

“Right.” Roy cleared his throat and turned back to me. “Goodnight, Coach. I’d shake your hand but…” He nodded to my hand, still red from the ice pack, and let out a little huff of a chuckle. “Anyways, goodnight.”

“Night,” I echoed, turning back to the door. “Goodnight, Will.”

He nodded to me, clearly trying not to grin. “Goodnight, Coach.”

As I walked out, I could hear Roy’s voice, rough and low.

“Will. Not a fucking word.”

“I know.”

Roy wasn’t sure the last time he’d been this nervous for a match. It had nothing to do with their opponent; he knew his team could beat Sheffield, that was no problem. But tonight she would be watching him, and that had him feeling a bit like he did when he was a young man and would have a girlfriend come watch him for the first time: giddy, excited, desperate to impress.

As he took his spot in the dugout, he found himself looking up into Rebecca’s box. Sure enough, there were both Whippets’ coaches, chattering with Rebecca and Ted and Keeley, laughter all around. His heart melted a little, seeing her so carefree, as if she hadn’t just been betrayed and wasn’t still being watched and judged. Ever since her press conference, she seemed to not care anymore; she ignored the papps who still wandered in the parking lot, she had told Keeley to not bother mentioning any Twitter trends, and she laughed at the cover of some magazine featuring an unflattering photo of her mid-sentence in that press conference.

Almost as if she could feel his gaze, she looked down at the dugout, locking eyes with Roy. Her red-lipped smile widened as she gave a little wave, one Roy found himself returning with a grin of his own. He ignored the clearly amused looks from his friends in the owner’s box, as well as the knowing chuckles from his fellow coaches. It was clear to everyone at Nelson Road that something had changed, and for once, Roy found that he didn’t care about people knowing his business.

Not when his business was her.

“I see we have some visitors,” Beard hummed, raising his eyebrows at Roy.

Roy shrugged, turning his attention to the pitch. “Yeah,” he murmured, wondering if his blush could be seen from the owner’s box. “Nice of them to come.”

The two assistant coaches exchanged grins, shaking their heads at the pleased expression Roy couldn’t quite hide.

To Roy’s delight, the Greyhounds outdid themselves, playing better than they had all season. It was almost as if the guys knew he was hoping to impress her; it wouldn’t completely surprise him if that was exactly the case. When the final whistle blew on a 4-1 win, Roy found his eyes gravitating to the owner’s box; she was already looking at him. She offered him a grin and a playful shrug, almost as if to say Yeah, you impressed me. He tapped his fingers to his temple, saluting up to her with a smirk.

He could get used to his, having her at his matches. He considered asking her to come again to bring him luck, because she clearly did tonight. He definitely felt damn lucky receiving that smile after a win.

His stride was uncharacteristically light as he entered the changing room, where he shouted compliments at his team, who were all wearing the most shit-eating grins he’d ever seen. Those grins only grew when the Whippet coaches popped in to offer their congratulations. As she went around giving hugs and high-fives to the team, Roy couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes kept shifting to find him; he was sure everyone else noticed too.

Finally, she approached him, offering her hand. “Good job out there, Coach.”

He gently shook her outstretched hand, melting a little at her wince. “Your hand alright?”

“Definitely bruised,” she mumbled, making a face. “But fucking worth it.”

Roy nodded. “Well, if you need some help icing it some more…”

“You’re my first call,” she assured him, smirking. They stayed there for a moment, exchanging smirks, fully aware of the eyes on them. It took Jamie asking if she saw his two goals to finally bring them back down to earth. After answering Jamie, she gave Roy a friendly little shove and turned to walk out.

“Oi.”

She stopped, looking back at him with a coolly raised eyebrow.

Roy shrugged, suddenly bashful. “So? Did I impress you?”

Her coy laugh had his heart stuttering. “I’ll let you know when you buy me that beer you owe me.” With a teasing wave, she linked arms with a smirking Lucas and strutted out, taking Roy’s gaze with her.

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Roy made his way to his office, where he found Ted, Beard, and Nate all waiting for him, expectation on their faces. He raised his eyebrows at them, closing the door behind him; he had a feeling he didn’t want the team to hear whatever this conversation was going to be.

“Yes?”

Ted spoke up. “Y’all are pretty darn cute together.”

Roy scoffed, pretending he didn’t love hearing the word together. “Fuck off,” he mumbled, not really meaning it as he took his seat.

Nate leaned on his desk dreamily. “You ask her out yet?”

“No.” He glanced down at his hands, thinking about holding hers. “Should I?”

“Yes,” all three men practically shouted.

Beard leaned back in his chair. “Roy, it’s pretty damn obvious the two of you like each other,” he pointed out. “You two’ve been very friendly, smiling at each other like you’re a couple of kids. And tonight she was like your own personal cheerleader. Please put us all out of our misery and ask that woman out.”

For once, Roy didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at his friends with something close to anxiety in his eyes. “How?” He cleared his throat. “Everything that’s happened… Don’t think I can just walk up and say ‘Hey let’s go to dinner and a fucking movie’, now can I?”

“That’s true,” Beard murmured, raising his eyebrows at Ted. “Sounds like what Roy needs is a…”

Ted snapped his fingers. “Grand gesture.”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “Excuse me?”

“Y’all are in the third act of your love story,” Ted explained, practically bouncing. “The rules of rom-communism state you need a grand gesture to show her how ya feel, somethin’ special and big, like- like runnin’ through the airport or holdin’ a boom box over your head or paying the dowry for her teenage sister to marry a slimy soldier.” He shrugged. “Show her how important and special she is to you.”

“Grand gesture,” Roy mumbled, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Grand fucking gesture.”

Sure. Roy could do that- right?

The following week was a blur of football, the announcement that Ted Lasso would be coming back onboard as a scout for both teams, continuing to field annoying questions from journalists, and, dare I say, flirting with Roy Kent. We had resumed running together in the evenings, time now filled with making fun of the reality tv playing in front of us as we pretended that we weren’t eyeing each other yearningly. Well, maybe I was the only one yearning; while I definitely caught his eyes leaving a burning trail down my body as I ran on the treadmill, he still hadn’t mentioned that freaking beer he promised me. Even after I took him up on his offer to drive me home a couple of times, he always stopped right in front of my building and wished me a good evening before I hopped out of the car.

Maybe we were friends. That was good, right? After all this time, being friends with Roy Kent was a relief to everyone at the Dog Track.

But damn, I thought as I sat at home on that late Friday afternoon, listening to the sounds of the rain that had us calling an early weekend, our first free one in a while- I didn’t want to be just friends with Roy Kent.

Underneath all the shit that had made me hate him for months, there was something special, as Ted as said. Roy was kind. Caring. Passionate. Almost funny. He loved his team and his friends and his adorable little niece. He completely understood my pain about retirement and the determination to stay close to the game. He’d been protective of me and supported me and, hell, even inspired me.

And the tabloids would be thrilled to hear that I thought he was fantastic in bed.

Fuck, I realized with a groan as I slumped further into my couch. My dumb ass loves Roy fucking Kent.

What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

The afternoon wore on, with the rain coming down progressively harder as I tried to distract myself with a movie and my playbook. But my mind kept wandering back to those brown eyes and that bearded smile, reevaluating every interaction we’d ever had, right back to that first night in the club. Clearly Roy was attracted to me; that had been pretty clear from the start, even when we were constantly arguing. But did he like me?

As I wondered about all the smiles and looks he’d been giving me lately, a timid knock at my door sent me jumping. Probably Lucas, I thought as I stood, adjusting my Richmond fleece sweater. We hadn’t said we wanted to hang out tonight, but he could always be counted on to randomly stop by with food and a movie.

But when I opened the door, there was no one in front of me. I frowned, ready to turn around and close the door, but something at my feet caught my eye: a small box, darkened by the rain, with a folded note taped to the top. I bent down and opened the note; its sloppy writing read:

I hope you never play nice again. Except maybe with me.

“The fuck?” I breathed. I bent down again to open the box and stood up holding a black and white soccer ball. As I turned it over in my hands, I slowly began to realize it had writing all over it: autographs. The names were familiar to me: Julie Foudy. Kristine Lilly. April Heinrichs. Mia Hamm. Brandi Chastain.

The 1991 United States Women’s Team.

I looked back at the note, realizing I knew that handwriting.

Roy.

I quickly shoved the ball and note back into the box and tossed it inside, stepping in only to put on the sneakers I kept by the door. Not caring about putting on a coat or checking my hair, I ran outside as fast as my stupid ankle could carry me, immediately finding myself drenched in the rain. I looked both ways, my heart sinking when I realized how empty the street was. Finally, I saw that giant black car, the one that had brought me home earlier that afternoon. And walking towards it was someone in a black leather jacket.

“Kent!” I called out, breaking into a full sprint, ankle throbbing. “Fucking Kent!”

The figure stopped, tense and motionless. Roy turned around, brown eyes wide as I kept racing to him. He walked towards me until we stood face to face. He studied my face as I put my hands on my hips, breathing hard from the run, pretending that my ankle wasn’t killing me.

“You alright?”

I shook my head. “The fucking… the ball. You won it? Back at the gala?”

“No, actually.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking pitiful and beautiful with the rain dripping down his bearded face. “I did put a bid on it. But I got outbid.” He cleared his throat, bouncing slightly. “So I tracked down the wanker who won it. Had to pay twice as much as he did, and I’ve got to make an appearance at his idiot kid’s birthday party but…” He shrugged. “D’you like it?”

“Yeah.” I nodded feverishly, the nervousness in his eye making me desperate to assure him. “Fucking love it. But why…” I stared up at him, resisting the urge to wipe the rain off his cheeks. “Why would you do all that?”

His eyes roamed my face, as though searching for something. Finding whatever it was he was looking for, he took a miniscule step closer, our bodies nearly touching. “Because that team… it means something to you. And you… well, you mean something to me.”

I swallowed hard, not caring about how drenched I would be by the time I got back to my apartment, or that I hadn’t locked the door behind me, or the fact that anyone could walk by and see us. All I cared about was hearing whatever Roy Kent had to say. “I do?”

He nodded anxiously. “Yeah.” He put an uncertain hand on my arm, watching me carefully for a reaction. When all I did was continue to gaze up at him with what I knew were adoring eyes, he went on. “Right. Just… just let me say this, alright? And then you can tell me to fuck off and we- we can go back to ignoring each other, or this friendship thing, whatever you want, I honestly don’t-”

“Roy?” I raised my eyebrows, desperate for him to keep going.

“Right, right.” He took a deep breath, hand still on my arm. “I feel about you the same way I did the night of the charity gala. I just think you are the most incredible woman I have ever met. I fucking admire you, all that you’ve done and all that you are. And I care about you, so fucking much.” His hand left my shoulder to cup my cheek, his grip soft and warm and everything good. “I cared about you the night of the gala. Probably cared about you for a long fucking time before that, but I was too stupid and prideful to realize it until we were already in the middle of everything. And my biggest regret in all of this was not waking up before you so I could keep you in my bed and make you breakfast and assure you that you were never going to be a one-night stand. You never fucking could be.” He shook his head gently. “Not you, Buck.”

Roy ducked his head and brought his face to mine, moving slowly, almost as if he was trying to give me a chance to stop him. Instead, I grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him to me, crashing my mouth into his in the most desperate kiss I’d ever felt. My head turned light as my body remembered Roy and his hands and his mouth and his body, as if it had missed him even more than my heart had. Suddenly, I recalled what I’d thought the night of the gala, as he kissed me for the first time on his couch.

Roy Kent was everything I never knew I needed.

His other hand grabbed my hip, tugging me flush against himself, humming a little as my lips parted for him. The rain poured down on us, drops of water sliding between our faces, but neither of us seemed to notice; we were too wrapped up in finally, fucking finally, winning. When his tongue gently brushed against mine, I gave a soft groan; fuck, I’d forgotten the beautiful taste of Roy Kent.

I’d kissed plenty of men plenty of times. Hell, I’d kissed Roy plenty of times the night of the gala. But, as his fingertips dug into my hip, I realized how starved I’d been for this kiss, the one that held way too much heat and way too much affection. How long had I been waiting for it? Since the press conference? Since the gala? Since the first time I saw him shirtless on a treadmill? Or from that first time I spotted him at that club, leaning against the bar, miserable and rude as hell?

His hand slid from my hip to my back, trying to pull me closer, if that was even possible. Somewhere in the kiss, I lost track of whose heartbeat was whose; my entire body was pulsing and tingling. The rain sounded so faint and far away compared to the sound of Roy’s breathing and soft groans against my mouth. I wanted to swallow those groans, to rip off that leather jacket, to let myself have everything I’d been stupid enough to deny myself all these weeks.

Sensing that I probably couldn’t handle much more, lest we really give the paparazzi something to publish, Roy pulled back, face soaked and smiling. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, his thumb stroking my face. “I take it you don’t want to just be friends then?”

I laughed, probably the most real laugh I’d felt in a while, and gave his jacket a playful tug. “Fuck no. Who’d want to be friends with Roy Kent?”

He leaned down and kissed me again, slowly, tenderly this time, smile pressing against smile. “Play nice,” he mumbled against my mouth. “Or I’m taking my football home.”

“How about I play nice,” I murmured as I leaned back, smirking, “if you finally take me out for that beer you’ve been teasing me with? I believe you still owe me one, Kent.”

Roy smiled and let me go, taking my non-bruised hand and interlocking our fingers. “Fuck that,” he chuckled. “Everything we’ve been through, I’m buying you a whole damn bar.”

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#roy kent something there #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso

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wwilsonbarness · 22 days

Text

still not funny

pairings: sam wilson x bucky barnes

summary: basically a continuation of the deleted scene <3

warnings: fluff, tinyyyyy bit of angst

word count: 1932

a/n: I love them so much and after seeing the deleted scene I just had to write this!!

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :)

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

“Thank you for bringing us cake uncle Bucky!” Aj shouts across the table.

“You’re welcome boys.” Bucky responds, playfully nudging Sam with a smirk.

“I’m still their favourite uncle so don’t go getting any ideas.” Sam says shooting Bucky a glare.

“We’ll see.” Bucky returns the same look.

“Alright, alright I’m sure the boys love you both plenty, right boys?”

A mix of “Yep” and “Mhmm Mama” come from Aj and Cass making everyone laugh lightly.

Bucky couldn’t help but look to his side, focusing on the smile lines on Sam’s face. The way they moved as he looked around at his family. The way his smile kept growing as Sarah and the boys speak about the activities they’re planning tomorrow. He doesn’t realise how long he’s staring until Sam turns to him, toothy grin and all. “Something caught your eye Buck?” He says, his smirk only growing.

He blinks as Sam’s voice breaks him out of his trance. “Hm? What? No I was just-” He rambles, only stopping when Sam moves his hand towards Bucky’s arm and squeezes slightly.

“Chill man, I’m just messing with ya.”

Bucky laughs but before he can respond, Sarah calls his name. “You staying here tonight, Bucky?”

“Oh, I- no that’s okay. Thanks Sarah.” Sam shoots him a look of confusion and answers again for him.

“Yes, he’s staying here tonight.” Bucky looks at him and mirrors the confusion on his face.

“Guys I really don’t mind getting a room at a motel.”

“Nonsense!” Sarah exclaims as she stands up from the table. “Boys, get ready for bed and I’ll set up the couch for Bucky.”

“It’s okay Sarah, I’ll do it. You just chill for the night.” Sam says. He gets up to hug the boys and Sarah goodnight. Bucky does the same.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yeah I got it.” He says.

“Okay, goodnight then.”

“Night!” Bucky says as she walks away before he turns to Sam.

“You know I really don’t mind getting a hotel room Sam.” He says slightly quieter than his normal voice. He didn’t really want to get a hotel room but he equally didn’t want to impose on Sam and his family.

“Come on now, you’re part of the family now Buck, there’s always going to be room for you here.” Sam reassures him with a pat on the back. They both begin to walk up to the house and Bucky heads for the couch.

“Hey Sam?” Bucky shouts through to the kitchen where Sam was quickly finishing the clean up from the cookout.

“Yeah?”

“You got a spare pillow? Maybe a blanket?”

“Yeah, in my room, hang on.” He puts away the last bowl and strolls through. Bucky could almost see a slight smirk on his face but had no idea why.

“You know, I can’t really be bothered going all the way up, back down the stairs and all the way back up again.” Sam groans. He had been subtly hinting at Bucky to make a move but he hadn’t caught on, so Sam decided to up the stakes.

Bucky’s a bit confused but responds anyway. “Oh umm, I can get it? Where are they?” He heads for the stairs but stops on the first step, turning to Sam to wait for his answer.

“Or” Sam trails off. “You could just stay in my room. Beds big enough for both of us.” Sam notices Bucky’s eyes practically fall out the sockets in surprise and suddenly worries that he might’ve overstepped.

“Oh.” Bucky clears his throat before continuing, he pushes together his thumb and index finger, a nervous tic he had recently developed. “Yeah.. I- okay. If that’s okay with you?.” Truthfully the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Sam was a lot. He hadn’t even really admitted it to himself but there were feelings there, on his part anyway. Spending time with Sam, whether it was fighting on a mission or just sitting with him on the jet made him get a funny feeling inside his chest and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“Wouldn't ask if it wasn't.” Sam responds with a light chuckle. He follows Bucky up the stairs. Sam’s heart was beginning to race and he prayed Bucky couldn’t here it.

Bucky walks into Sam’s room and looks around. He’d only ever seen it in photos and once on a video call, but it was just as he imagined. It was tidy but had loads of little trinkets around. He sees photos of Sam with Riley, his parents and a baby he assumes is Cass or Aj. There’s also a diary, it looks like it had been read a lot but it had a pen sticking out. Maybe a journal, Bucky thought.

Below the photo wall is a bottle of aftershave, he couldn’t smell it but he guessed it was the smell he had become so used to smelling on Sam. The one that he had grown so attached to recently. It made him feel silly, being attached to a smell but it also made him feel safe and that was a feeling he had been craving ever since he fell off that train in the 40’s.

He turns to the left and sees Sam’s bed, it was covered in blankets and looked so comfy. It had been a while since he had slept in a bed, his apartment back in new york had a bed but he hadn’t once slept in it. He begins to think about whether he’ll be able to sleep okay but Sam’s voice cuts him off.

“It’s a hard one.”

Bucky turns around quickly and looks at Sam, he turns his head slightly, urging Sam to continue.

“The mattress I mean. Soft beds are the worst. Ya know?”

“Right.” Bucky says. He hated that Sam had those struggles but it made him feel better that he wasn’t the only one who did.

Bucky goes to the bathroom first and changes into a pair of sweatpants and vest. He brushes his teeth and heads back to Sam’s room. Sam does the same but takes a little longer, he had a more detailed night routine. He changes into a pair of shorts and leaves his shirt off. He takes the time to wash and moisturise his face and walks back to the room.

You got a side you prefer Buck?”

“By the door? If that’s okay with you?”

“Yep.”

They get into bed and Sam turns all the lights off, just leaving a lamp on his side table on. The room is silent but he can hear Bucky’s deep breathing. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckles to try to hide his embarrassment but Sam notices his cheeks warming up and turn a shade of red. “Just been a while since I shared a bed with someone.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” Sam asks.

“No! God no!” He wanted to tell Sam he could never feel uncomfortable with him around but he held back. “I just.. The only time I ever really shared a bed was with a girl back in the day.” He admits with a shy grin.

Sam’s eyebrows raise at that and he takes a deep breath before responding “Is this so different?” He can’t help but chuckle when Bucky’s eyes do that thing again, they really would fall out if it kept happening.

“Hm?”

“Is this so different from then?”

“Sam.” Bucky calls his name.

“Bucky.” Sam responds in the same tone.

“Do you..”

“Do I..”

Bucky takes a breath, he knows what he wants to say but he just can’t get it out. “Do you feel this.. thing between us?” Sam really can’t help his full laugh coming out this time.

“Thing?” He asks, waiting for Bucky to say what he’s really thinking.

“Sam, If I’ve taken this the wrong way please tell me now to save me the embarrassment.”

“How can I know unless you tell me?” He was really gonna make him say it wasn’t he?

“Sam, I like you.”

“I’d hope so, we are partners after all.” Sam teases, he regrets it as he sees Bucky’s face drop.

“Right.” Bucky nods his head slightly. “Partners.” He starts to turn back and lie down but stops when he feels Sam’s hand on his arm.

“Oh my god, you idiot! Come here.” With that, Sam pulls Bucky towards him by the neckline of his vest and plants his lips against Bucky’s. The feeling of Sam’s soft lips melting into his was one he didn't think could ever be beaten. It’s a messy kiss and both of them don’t want it to end. Bucky’s the one to pull away, needing a second to catch his breath. He pulls away only slightly and presses his forehead against Sam’s.

Sam’s tongue comes out his mouth and licks along his lips, chasing the taste of Bucky he had finally gotten after craving it for so long. “I do.” He whispers. Bucky pulls away further and looks at Sam, urging him to continue. “I do feel that thing.”

Bucky chuckles at that, he feels shy and hides his head in the crook of Sam’s neck for a second. He couldn’t believe he had finally gotten to touch Sam in the way he way too often thought about.

“What took us so long?” He asks softly but it comes out as a mumble against Sam’s skin. Sam pulls away slightly and places his hands on Bucky’s face.

“What was that?” He asks and Bucky repeats himself but can’t bring himself to look in Sam’s eyes.

“I’d say we’ve had a lot on our plates, it didn’t exactly leave us a lot of time to be alone.” Bucky nods along, it’s true. There was always someone or something in their way. “Plus, I like seeing you flustered. It’s cute so I had to play a little.” Sam teases.

“Hey! I was not flustered.” Bucky argues playfully to which Sam laughs at.

“Buck, I honestly thought your eyes were gonna pop out of your head when I suggested sleeping up here.” Bucky feels his cheeks heat up even more.

“How else was I supposed to react? Sleeping in your bed with you in it.”

“Aw baby are you getting all flustered again?”

“You’re so annoying Sam.” Bucky playfully rolls his eyes and hides his smirk.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” They look into each other's eyes for a moment before he responds.

“Yeah, I really do.” The unspoken true meaning of their words float between them but neither of them bring them to light.

“Alright enough swooning.” Sam teases. “As much as I’d love to look into your eyes all night, we need to sleep.”

“Come here then.” Bucky responds, pulling Sam down towards the bed with him. He pulls Sam into his chest and lets him wiggle around until he’s comfy. Their legs tangle under the blanket and Sam rests his arm over Bucky.. “This okay?” Bucky asks.

“Mhmm. S’perfect.” Sam mumbles.

It’s silent for a few moments before Bucky breaks it.

“Sam?”

“Yeah Buck?”

“You think Sarah is free after their plans tomorrow?”

“Buck! It’s still not funny!”

Bucky can’t hold off his laughter.

“It will never not be funny Sam.” He speaks more softly as he continues. “Don’t worry, there’s only one Wilson I got my eyes on.”

With that he pressed a gentle kiss onto Sam’s forehead and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight Doll.” He heard Sam giggle at that and it was the best sound he had ever heard, until Sam responded in his sleepy voice. “Goodnight Babe”

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