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alloftheimagines · 2 years

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bucky barnes | monsters don't cry

masterlist | ko-fi

words: 2k

warnings: blood, violence, injury, winter soldier!bucky hurts reader, angst, comfort, guilt, self-loathing, mentions of torture and nightmares and a smidge of throwing up, written in a heatwave so probs a bit delirious

prompt: i was thinking a whole lot of angsty angst with a happy ending bc ofc buck deserves all the happy endings in the world :( maybe cw era, something happens that triggers the winter soldier side and he attacks the reader and injures her badly??? a lot of angst where he comes out of it and avoids her for a bit before coming to her apologizing and saying he knows he’s being selfish but begging her not to leave him even though she would never and never even thought about it bc she knows it wasnt him? i just need a lot of angst in this part my heart strings love being yanked ✨

You see the moment he turns, just after the last remaining Hydra agent utters the word “furnace.” It’s spat in Bucky’s face, mingling with his blood. A trigger word, made to tug the Winter Soldier back into action.

You came here to save him, and he fought with you when you realised you were outnumbered. You saw the man you’d loved all those years come back to you, just as Steve had promised he would. You’d never lost hope, but it hurt, chasing Hydra around the world in the hopes that one day, you’d get the love of your life back. Free him.

But he’s not free yet. One little word turns his blue eyes to molten steel. He drops the agent, straightening.

“Bucky…” Your gun trembles in your hand.

He looks at you, face devoid of recognition. And then the agent whispers, “Kill her, soldat,” and it’s all it takes for him to spring into action.

He’s on you in a second — your own fault. You can’t bring yourself to pull the trigger in time, though you know Bucky isn’t here now. “No,” you beg instead when the gun is knocked out of your hand.

He doesn’t listen. Doesn’t even acknowledge you as he throws you down roughly, his metal hand clenching around your neck as though it’s nothing more than a splintered pencil ready to break in half.

“No. No, Bucky. Please. Look at me.” You vie desperately for his attention, clutching his hand with your own as you search his eyes. But they’re flat. Gone. “Look at me,” you try anyway. “It’s me. You don’t want to hurt me. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. You’re James. James Buchanan Barnes.”

His brows draw together, and you think it’s your chance. You try to strain against his grip, try to get your face closer to his so he has no choice but to see — but it’s a mistake. He jerks you back down, slamming your skull into the concrete floor. The world swims as agony sparks through you, and then the gun you dropped is there, pressed to your temple. And he’s not coming back, you realise too late. This is the end.

Blood trickles out of your nose, your mouth, but you smile softly in the hopes he might remember when he comes back. When Steve gets him back. “We were so close, Buck,” you whisper. “So close to getting you free.”

“Do it,” the agent orders again, hungry now. “Make it slow, soldat. Watch the life leave her eyes.”

His grip on your neck tightens until you’re fighting for breath. You squirm, trying to kick out, but it’s no good. You’re as strong as Bucky, but the Winter Soldier… he’s ruthless. An assassin who never misses a kill. You should know. You’ve spent your long, long life working with him.

“I love you,” you rasp finally. “I love you, Buck. I’ve always loved you. Even as this. The Winter Soldier.” Tears roll down your cheeks. You’re using your last breaths to make sure he knows. To make sure that when he comes back, he remembers just how madly in love with him you’ve always been. “It’s okay. I… I…” You can’t get the words out anymore, though he’s trying to squeeze them from your throat. They mangle with your shallow breaths, and then your lungs are aching as there’s no more air.

“Break her, soldat,” the agent whispers, glee shimmering in his eyes. “Let her feel it.”

So Bucky does. Your knee, first. You scream out in pain, but nothing more than a gasp wrenches from you. He presses his free elbow down on your ribs and you hear the sickening crack. You choke on your own blood, praying it’ll be over soon. Praying he doesn’t remember this part when he comes back tomorrow and you’re not there.

Gunshots shatter through the sound of breaking bones, Steve and Sam barreling into the base. Steve is the one to wrest away Bucky, yelling, and then whispering as he pins him up against the wall. What the hell have you done, Buck? What happened? But his friend is still gone, and you can only watch as you lie broken on the floor.

Until the darkness finally takes you.

***

You wake up alone at the compound the next day, bright fluorescents beaming down on you and your leg trapped in a cast. Everything hurts, and the nurse tells you not to try to speak. You find out why when you attempt a reply and find your vocal cords wrecked.

Steve appears soon after, sympathy and regret twisted all over his features. “I should have gotten there quicker. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He takes a seat beside your bed, placing his hand over your tube-covered one.

“Buck?” you manage to mumble, the words nothing more than a hiss.

“We got him back again. He’s… well, it’s gonna take some time for him. He’s not really talkin’ right now. Well, except to ask about you.”

You close your eyes, tears dribbling down your cheeks. All you want is for him to be here, holding your hand, so you can see for yourself that he’s safe and him again. But you know him. Know he’ll be torturing himself for what he’s done. And it’ll torture you too. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t see the damage. Maybe it’s better he takes his space. You just hope it doesn’t last too long.

***

Bucky can’t stand himself. He’s been holed up in his room for weeks, wishing he could rip his damn arm off for what it did to you. Wishing he could rip himself apart for what he did to you.

You’ve tried to see him. He doesn’t know how to open his door. How to keep going knowing what he’s done. He almost killed you. He dreams about your screams, day and night, waking up in cold sweats and running to the bathroom to throw up.

But he can’t hide forever. Steve’s asked him to join him on a mission tonight, and he knows he has to talk to you. Apologise. He has to face what he’s done, otherwise he’ll never stand a chance at being himself again. So he puts his black gear on, and on the way down to meet Steve, he knocks on your door.

“Come in,” you call from the other side. Your voice is still hoarse, and it makes him want to turn around and run. But he can’t. It’s you, and he can’t keep pretending he doesn’t want to see you. Even if he hates himself for it.

Surprise contorts your features when he enters carefully, finding you propped up with pillows on your bed. His eyes fall across the bruises he left. A green branding around your neck. The leg still in a cast. The way you move stiffly as though everything hurts. He thinks of how you looked that night, blood covering your teeth, spattering from your mouth as he wrung the life from you. The woman he’s supposed to love.

“Buck,” you whisper, and he can’t understand why it’s still so thick with adoration, as though nothing has changed. As though he wasn’t your ruin. An assassin. A cold-blooded murderer.

He shifts on his feet in the doorway, bowing his head and swallowing thickly. “Hey.”

“It’s…” You put down the book you’d had open, giving him your full attention with those same wide eyes that had begged him not to kill you. “It’s good to see you.”

He almost scoffs. Opts for a shake of his head as he tucks his hair off his face. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

Your hand rises to the bruise along your collarbone absently, and he resists the urge to flinch. “How are you?”

“Hell of a lot better than you,” he replies bitterly.

“If you’re here just to punish yourself, you should go.” Your voice holds a sharpness he hadn’t been expecting. But he deserves it. He deserves all of it. “It’s been weeks. Weeks without a word. Don’t come in here unless you want to talk properly.”

His chest aches, and he feels lost as he looks around your room. “I don’t really know what to say. What do you want me to say? I… I almost killed you, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t you. You would never hurt me.”

“Look at you. Look at what I’ve done to you.” His voice drips with self-hatred. “How can you say that?”

“Because you were used as a weapon, Bucky, and you had no control over it. Any of it.” You push yourself to the edge of the bed, jaw clenched. “I know you. I know who you are, and I know you would never hurt anyone if you had the choice.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, unable to keep looking at you.

You sigh. “I wish you would have come to see me sooner. It hurt that you pushed me away.”

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe that after everything, you’re not angry or scared or filled with hatred for him. His stomach churns, and he thinks maybe you were right. Maybe he did come here to punish himself. You’re not making it easy.

“I can’t stop remembering it,” he admits finally, tears gathering in his eyes and his lip wobbling. “The sound of your bones cracking. The way it felt to squeeze the life from you. It makes me sick. It’s like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I’ve killed thousands, Y/N, but I can’t…” His voice breaks. “I was so close to killing you. I don’t how to live knowing I’m capable of that. Capable of killing someone I love. Putting them through so much pain.”

Your own eyes grow glossy, and he knows there’s nothing you could say to make him despise himself less. To forget.

“And I guess I’m an asshole as well as a monster, because I should have walked away. I should have left you alone. You’d be safer. But I can’t be without you even now. Even when all I see is the way I broke you.”

“I don’t want you to walk away,” you murmur. “Bones heal, Buck.” You push up, limping your way towards him. He can’t bear to back away when you tap his head. “So will this.” Your hand moves to his chest. “And this, too. If you let it.” And then you wipe away his tears, smiling sadly, and it only makes more build in his throat. “Monsters don’t cry, my love.” You cup his jaw, your eyes piercing through him until he’s certain he’ll break. “You’re not a monster. You’re James Buchanan Barnes.”

The words echo what you said that night. The way you tried to get him back. If he’s James Buchanan Barnes, why can’t he control himself? Why can’t he keep the person he loves safe?

He rests his forehead against yours, a sob leaving him.

“We’ll keep fighting it,” you promise. “Just don’t push me out. Please.”

“What if I hurt you again?”

“Then we’ll heal again.” You brush your fingers through his hair, and his eyes flutter closed. God, he’s missed you. And god, he wishes he could be the man you deserve. “Just don’t give up on us, Buck. Don’t give up on yourself. Please.”

“Okay,” he agrees, voice a low rasp. He could never say no to you; another reason why it took him so long to visit. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I know. I know you are.” You place a careful kiss on his lips, and he lets you, his fingers curling around your own.

And he thanks the heavens that you haven’t left him, even if it’s what he deserves. Because he wouldn’t be Bucky without you. He wouldn’t have a reason to come back to himself if not for you.

You're the only love he’s ever known, and he has to hold onto it. He has to do his best. Even when it hurts.

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deada55 · 2 years

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Closed

crossposting: ao3

synopsis: Stella tries to reach out to her wonderful teenager, William.

content warnings: self harm, suicidal thoughts, sexual abuse referenced (no SA has occurred)

for kloktober day 23, group photo or feeling lonely

Closed

“William! Open the door!”

“Shut the fuck up, Grandma!”

“William, I just wanna-” she tried the handle again, “I just wanna talk!”

“What, wanna fuckin’ beat me?”

“What?! William-”

Moments like this made her think angels, and shit, maybe everything holy, was a sales pitch from Collections Etc. You fall in love with your daughter’s baby and he twists and he twists what you do until it hurts him, just to provoke your guilt.

And you love that sensitive little bastard all the same, you do, you really, really do. You stay up when he doesn’t come home. You buy him clothes and mend what needs mending after you wash, dry, and iron them. You made him a small savings with an account you plan to give him when he graduates high school.

Hell is when he accuses you of beating him and instead of defending your love you think back and try to find everything you did to make him believe that.

“William, sweetie, really, I just want to talk to you. You haven’t come to get your dinner from the fridge like you said you would in two days! I don’t think you’ve left the room at all, Willy!”

“Stop fucking watching me, fuck! That’s fucking weird, Grandma! Are you a fucking stalker or do you wanna see your grandson’s cock, huh?”

“William!”

“That how you get your sick kicks, bitch?”

“You motherfucker!”

He pushed and pushed and pushed her to the edge. This had to be the part he loved to keep begging for it like this, and she felt bad. Raising a child this angry at the tender age of fifty seven took what little drive she had left. And then Thunderbolt gave himself a stroke on the toilet, and it felt like par for the terrible course. Everything else had gone and so would her “bad boy” who kept her sane even when he was the one driving her crazy. When he “died” (whatever this is isn’t living), William found more of her to take and tore it right out.

He needed direction, but she wasn’t strong enough to give it anymore.

But, really, William was a wonderful thing to believe in. He was tender and sensitive and clever and opportunistic. She tried her best to feed the hobbies he chose and get him in Boy Scouts and youth groups to give him a shot at finding some life passions to chase… or a job. Anything. They stopped hearing from the school principal finally, and that’s the first sign of hope she’d found in about a year that she wasn’t the only one trying to get William somewhere.

He loved to debase her, and the shame lit her ears up as soon as she cursed at him. It fed all the parts of him who felt the kind of hurt he accused her of: of being beaten, being watched, being violated… No happy person talked like that and she knew it.

Her back begged for her to sit down and her knees seconded the motion. An apology would get thrown back in her face, she knew it, and she couldn’t take another sleepless night. She sighed.

“William… I’ll be back with your dinner, if you want it up here.”

He heard the floor creak down the hallway and stopped holding his breath. The room spun with the cashier price roll of “truths” that stained everything he thought about. Self-esteem was just lying, it was lies. He had nothing worth congratulating. When you’re shit, you oughta feel like it. It’s honest. Why ruin a clean ashtray when you’re unclean to start with? The sleeve of his shirt kept brushing up against yesterday’s little “incident” and it was comforting.

It was something that made sense to cry about, even if it made you a pussy. What the fuck was so wrong about today other than the victimless miasmic anger that permeated everything, like nausea. God. Nausea ends when you puke, right?

If he killed himself, it would be the best thing he could do for the world. Take yourself out of the picture, get out of the way, stop breathing all the air, what little was left.

Piles of towels and sheets and clothes and garbage covered up the floor vents, insulating the room into a suffocating snowglobe of dust.

God. Fuck that guy. Praying was the same as eating lunch with the fucking principal: it pretends you have someone to talk to when no one can actually stand you. He looked across the room into the mirror perched on his dresser and decided he didn’t even deserve to pretend. He’d cut up that half-filled baby album over the summer. “This little light of mine”... Fuck, you want a light?

He pressed his right thumb over the end of the black Scripto lighter the second he let go of the flame. The sparkwheel and the shroud were indistinguishable. The blood in his thumbprint could have been boiling. The throb was instant.

“William?”

Grandma was back, and he was so humiliated that he wanted to cry. It didn’t make sense, she didn’t see, she didn’t know, and none of it made a difference.

“What?!”

She sat down the aluminum TV tray by the door, with the warmed plate, a cosmic brownie, a stadium cup full of Ovaltine, and the copy of The Red Badge of Courage that he’d left in the living room by accident.

“Dinner,” she heaved, as the sciatica made all the energy rush out of her like the flushing of a toilet. “I’m going to lay down. Shout if you need something.”

#metalocalypse fanfic #kloktober 2022 #william murderface #metalocalypse #kloktober #my writing

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high-fructose-dreamscape · 2 years

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Rant:

Am I allowed to shout into the void anymore? Are my feelings and thoughts even my own? I mean what am I doing anymore?

One day I’m trying to fall for someone the next we’re fighting. What’s happening? Where does it break down?

I keep wondering if it’s me and if I’m doing something wrong. I keep wanting to say something but at the same time, maybe it’s not me for once. I did promise myself not to chase something that hurts me so. So I have to breathe.

Maybe I’ll write out everything I feel towards her. But I feel that currently there will be nothing until she can bring her half to the relationship.

—————————————————————

Can I chime in?

Sure.

It’s been a while. Hasn’t it?

Yeah. Too long. I have so much to say.

I know. You got into another argument with her. She wasn’t listening and invalidated you again. She doesn’t see it and you feel like she doesn’t care about your feelings again.

Yea…

Just maintain. I mean it hurts but like it’s not your job. It’s hers. If she notices you’re hurt she should say something. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t care.

Bur that’s not a good philosophy.

So-so. You can’t constantly throw yourself and your feelings out there. You’re trying and doing too much. I get that you’re ready to love but you’re not worthy of it going about it this way.

Makes sense. I… don’t know what to say. As in I don’t have the strength to argue.

How’s home?

Scary to be honest. I don’t want to be home. I don’t feel comfortable or happy anymore.

Still? Well let’s ask this, what makes you happy? I know that you also feel uncomfortable out, what do you feel is missing? What would you rather do?

Well, that’s a good question. I’m not in my element. I rarely am. The bar doesn’t play my music, the movies out aren’t playing what I wanna see. It’s hard to describe. It’s like when you’re hungry and you know what you DONT have a taste for, but not what you actually want.

So it’s picky. Complex.

Yeah. Like I close my eyes and I can see flashes of things that make me happy, but I can’t explain it. Like I can see myself taking photos with people as we dress up as cowboys or looking up retro fashion, but I don’t see how we got there.

Have you tried asking people to do these things?

I have. And I get that question a lot. I have all these cool ideas in my head but I have a hard idea trying to get them out. Lots of cool adventures but like I describe them like I’m stupid and I honestly get insecure after so many rejections. I just really start to feel like I’m not fun.

That’s really rough man. But like it’s hard to describe what to do. You can try to keep selling your idea or find other people. I know it’s timing and waiting for a yes feels like forever and a day.

Yeah. It’s not that I want to do it alone, I’ve already thought of it, it’s that j want to share the memory. I don’t want to do it alone is the big deal. Things are better with company and so I can always dress up, but to be goofy with a friend feels so… freeing.

So then, maybe you’re in the wrong pound. Maybe you are more niche than you think.

That’s how I feel. I couldn’t sell a drowning fish water if I tried.

So what do we do?

I don’t know. I honestly talk to you to get out this loop but today we are so cloudy.

Well it isn’t a conversation. I’m more of a plot device to express feelings in the form of a conversation with a friend.

You know why you did that, right?

Yeah. You felt insecure that you’re talking like this.

Yeah.

It’s okay.

However you organize your thoughts js you.

… I’m lonely. What do I do?

I don’t know my boy. That’s a good question.

I feel like I’m not good enough.

But you are. Just, you’re always lonely.

I know. I really don’t feel like people like me honestly. I feel very tolerated.

Why?

Well I tolerate a lot and I love a lot more. I don’t get the difference in others though.

But what makes you feel like they don’t like you?

I don’t feel like I can be me. I feel like I have to hold on to my thoughts because I’m so different and I’m so insecure talking about myself. It feels like bragging and stuff.

Why are we so wrapped up in what others think about you?

I keep trying to make reasons and excuses but I don’t know. Honestly I just don’t know anything anymore. It’s so much that it gets too heavy for me to figure out. It makes me feel dumb that I don’t know and worse that I don’t know how to fix it. I get frustrated and sad. I get frustrated when I don’t know what to say or how to feel. I lock up and feel so excluded because I don’t get or feel a lot of things. I get frustrated spending too much time listening because I want to be apart of things and conversation. I genuinely feel so to-the-side that I just feel bad. I use others to Judge me because I want to do a better job and feel so involved in convos. I want social stimulation and I can’t seem to get it. I get conversation blue balls.

Geez that’s a lot.

I know. But I also don’t know what I’m saying anymore. Words feel weird and in a way I’m tired of them. I’m tired of talking. My chest tightens and I feel so… stressed. I get anxious. I feel anxious typing. What do I do?

Stop. Just, so something else.

Shall we call it?

Yeah. You’re not okay. You worked yourself up and I can tell your going to breakdown.

I’m sorry. i.. I’m just sorry. I just don’t know what to do. I’m falling apart. And I keep having flashes of that morning. I’m having an episode and…

Stop my dude. It’s okay. Just… hold on for me? For us? Ride it out a little more. This will not be what breaks you.

I know.. I’m just tired.

Then let’s sleep. Sleep for days.

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sl-ut · 2 years

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a new kind of happy

pairing: college au!maddy perez x fem!reader

description: maddy and y/n are eerily alike, but that doesn’t stop them from falling in love and moving in together! (headcanons)

warnings: euphoria spoiler (but it’s been a while so this isn’t even a warning anymore), reference to sex

date posted: 03/05/22

-for most of her life, maddy had little to no ambition to actually make something out of her life. she always assumed that she would end up marrying and being taken care of by nate, but after things ended with him for good, she realized that there might be something out there for her.

- she took a year off after high school and started working as a freelance makeup artist while she figured out what she wanted to do, and by the spring, she had applied to a fashion school in los angeles.

- maddy met y/n about three weeks after she started school. she’d seen her around campus a few times in passing and in a few of her classes, but she didn’t actually meet her until their prof assigned them together for a group project.

- she was instantly drawn to her, particularly because of their similarities. they had very similar taste in style, and y/n had proven to be equally as outspoken as maddy was. she didn’t talk to her much after the project was finished, but by the end of the semester, she had finally reached out via instagram.

- maddy was so used to nate’s pattern of just returning to her that she was so unsure of how to react when y/n was obviously playing hard to get. she’d never had to chase anyone before, but she couldn’t say that it hadn’t caused her to be even more attracted to her.

- they finally hooked up after about two months of cat-and-mouse games. it was rough, both using each other for their own pleasure, and it continued like that for several weeks of meaningless hookups and casual chitchat, things just didn’t seem so meaningless or casual anymore.

- they didn’t really talk about it, they just kinda transformed into a rather romantic relationship with some unspoken understanding that they were together.

- the act of moving in together wasn’t much of a grand gesture, as it is with most couples. instead, y/n simply sent a link to a small one bedroom only a few blocks from their school, to which maddy replied “cool,” before promptly emailing the landlord.

- the apartment wasn’t anything special, but with some skilled thrifting and unmatched flair of the two girls, it was exactly up to maddy’s standards; a mixture of flashy colours and exotic looking decor pieces, equal parts girly and edgy.

- their close-knit group of friends loved hanging out there. it had a very nice atmosphere, was great for taking aesthetic pics for their instagrams, and above all else, they were able to see the couple in a more personal setting without the tough façade that they both liked to wear in public.

- the relationship itself was nothing if not loving. at home, there was rarely any conceivable space between the two girls, and they allowed themselves to express their feelings towards each other in a much more intimate and emotional way. in public, maddy likes to keep at least one hand on y/n at all times, and prefers to sit next to her so that she can lean against her side. however, both like to keep their lovey-dovey affection behind closed doors.

- maddy has gotten into a fight for y/n before. it was probably with some other girl at a party who had either talked shit about y/n, or someone who had just gotten a little too close for comfort. i feel like maddy is the fighter of the two, while y/n could tell a bitch off and leave no crumbs.

- they like to show each other off at parties. dancing together, wearing coordinating outfits and makeup, sneaking off to the bathroom together in a not so subtle way…

- maddy has practically made y/n’s lipstick stains on her neck a staple for her party wardrobe, and she has never worn anything more proudly in her life.

- for her birthday, maddy gifted y/n a necklace with her name on it, which matched her own with y/n’s name on it.

- maddy lives to do y/n’s makeup. she’s the perfect canvas, and y/n loved the intimacy of sitting so close and just talking over random things. it was the sort of domesticity that neither had ever felt before.

- a relationship with maddy will never be smooth sailings, but this one definitely is worth fighting for. maddy needs someone who won’t judge her for her interests or style, who won’t call her names for dressing a certain way (*cough cough*), and most importantly, who she could trust wholly without a shred of doubt, and who better to fill that role than someone who is almost exactly like her?

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #euphoria #hbo euphoria #euphoria imagine #maddy perez imagine #maddy perez x you #maddy perez fanfiction

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marvelettesassemblenow · 3 years

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Miscommunication

Pairing: Stucky x F Reader

Summary: You were a retired Shield Agent and enjoyed the quiet life. Steve Rogers came over to your house to lay down and suddenly he almost moved in with Bucky Barnes. But it seemed like not all three of you were on the same page where your relationship stands.

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but mostly fluff (I think) and all of them are idiots, swear words

A/N: I actually have no clue what this is or where it came from. But I was in the mood for some fluff and couldn’t decide, if I should write Steve or Bucky. So this is the first time that I wrote Stucky

There was a small knock on your door and you knew that the person who was knocking had a key to your house, but he insisted on making himself known before he'd enter.

„Come in, Steve,“ you yelled, knowing that he would hear you through the closed door. Not a second later you heard the key being turned and him entering the house. He came up to you and put his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek before he let go. „Smells good,“ Steve commented and noticed that there was way more food in the pan than one person could eat.

„Buck isn’t with you today?“ you asked and turned around although you heard that Steve came alone.

„He's on a mission.“ Steve walked to your cabinet and pulled out some plates for the two of you and put them on the table. You didn’t have to point out where anything was. This was like his second home.

You had worked for Shield before everything went down and you were actually there when Steve was chased by the organization. You were injured then and Steve came to you to make sure you were okay. That was the start of your friendship with Captain America. Not long after that you met Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff, before they all had to disappear. After that Steve came back with another person for you to meet: James Buchanan Barnes.

You didn’t know what happened then, but you became friends with him also and it almost seemed like the two super soldiers moved in with you. They even had their own bedroom in your house, which used to be a guest room. They lived in the compound, but some days when they just wanted to feel like normal people they were found in your place.

You didn’t have a conversation about the relationship of the two. They didn’t kiss in front of you, but you were sure that the two of them were an item. They shared the bed in the guestroom, right? You didn’t want to bring up a conversation why they didn’t look for a place on their own. Not when it felt too good that they came to your place.

They did show affection, to each other and to you. It blurred the line of your friendship often. Both of them were cuddlers and when you first noticed that there might be something between the two men you felt bad one day when Steve came through the door and found you cuddling on the couch with Bucky.

But when you wanted to move, Bucky's arm tightened around you and Steve placed a hand on your shoulder and told you to stay, he would join you after a shower. Things like that confused you and made you question if it was really only friendship you felt for the two of them.

„Well, then it should be at least enough food for the two of us. Will you stay the night or do you want to wait for him at the compound,“ you asked when you put some food on the table for him.

„I'll stay here, he won’t be back for two days,“ Steve said when he took the plate from you and placed it on the table.

„I should take rent from you,“ you joked when you sat down after Steve placed the second plate.

„You really should!“ Steve agreed. The discussion had come up before, but you only made them buy groceries from time to time because stuffing two super soldiers was expensive!

„Can I ask you something?“ you spoke up when there was almost no food on your plate anymore.

„Anything,“ Steve answered without missing a beat.

„Why don’t you get a place on your own with Bucky?“

Steve’s movement stopped. „Are we a bother? You should have said something sooner,“ he started to ramble, afraid that they had overstayed their welcome.

„No, no. That’s not it, I swear. I was just wondering if it wouldn’t be easier for the two of you. I like having you around, I swear I’ll tell you if it’s too much,“ you reassured him.

„Okay. Well, it feels nice to leave the compound and everything superhero related behind. It’s nice to come home to something relatively normal. And it’s rare for Bucky to open up to someone, when he started to take a liking to you I was so happy.“

„I'm happy you feel that way. What do you say to popcorn and a movie?“

„Sounds good to me. Get comfortable, I’ll do the dishes,“ Steve offered and you didn’t complain.

Bucky and Steve were sitting on your couch when you stepped into your house. Not that you were surprised because they were often there and they had texted you that they had ordered pizza.

„Hey, where were you?“ Steve asked and did a double take as soon as he turned around and saw you standing in the hallway.

„I was on a date,“ you answered while you were still busy slipping out of your shoes. There was a choking noise and you looked worried at Steve who held out a drink towards the brunette, whose head was turning red as a piece of pizza has found its way in the wrong tube. „Are you okay?“ you asked and rubbed his back.

„Why were you on a date?“ he asked once he could breathe again.

„Because I was asked. I didn’t think it is a big deal. And I didn’t know you’d be here, aren’t you supposed to be on a mission still?” You didn’t see the point in telling them that it was a setup from one of your coworkers. And that you had tried to get out of it, but you went there in the end. It wasn’t a horrible date, but it wasn’t... what you had with the super soldiers. Not that you would tell them that part.

“It’s postponed to the next week. Will you,” Steve cleared his throat. “Will you go on a second date?”

“Are you afraid that I’ll kick you out of the house?” You pushed Bucky a little to the side and took a seat next to him. “No, I don’t think I will,” you finally said before you took a bite out of the pizza. “Why are you making such a big deal out of it. You have to know that this,” you pointed with your finger at the three of you, “won’t stay that way forever.”

“Do you want us to move out, doll?” Bucky asked and he looked so hurt that you had to place your pizza on the table and had to hug him.

“No, that’s not it. But don’t you want a place of your own?” you asked into his neck.

“Without you? No,” Bucky said without missing a beat. You let out a short laugh and let go of the big man. You could stay a little while in the bubble, thinking that this will stay that way. That night you fell asleep on the sofa and you woke up shortly when you were placed onto something soft and a kiss was placed on your forehead.

“I see you brought your girlfriend,” Sam greeted the three of you, when you entered the compound and entered the hearing range of the outspoken man. Steve and Bucky had asked if you wanted to come along to the party, seeing as you knew the Avengers and you agreed when you heard that a few of your ex-colleagues were also there.

You forced a laugh at Sam's greeting and hugged him. You hadn’t seen each other for a while but you were fond of him. He was keeping Bucky on his toes, but he was also one of the nicest people you have ever met. “How are you?” you asked before you let go of him.

“Oh I’m good. What about you? Do you miss the action or are you still enjoying the quiet life?” he asked instead.

“Still enjoying the quiet life,” you answered with a big smile. You saw an old coworker of you and excused yourself, telling Sam that you were sure you would see him later again and nodded at your two roommates before you made your way over.

It was about two hours later when Sam walked rather quickly over to his two friends. “I need to talk to the two of you in private.” He didn’t leave any room for objections. Bucky and Steve shared a glance before they followed Sam into a debriefing room not far from the party.

“Did you told your girlfriend that she should deny a relationship with you?” he came straight to the point and looked into the confused faces of his friends.

“No?” Steve finally said.

“Did you have a talk about how you are going to approach today with her?” Sam asked next.

“No, why are you asking these weird things? And why did we have to leave the room for that?” Bucky was just as confused as Steve was.

“Because I thought you might not want everyone to hear this. Why is your girl telling everyone that she’s single then? And why was her laugh so forced when I called her your girlfriend? I thought maybe it was because you wanted to keep everything private, but I saw you looking at her and each other the whole night and now I am just confused.”

“You are the one who is confused? I think I am the one who can’t follow you.”

“Okay, well then I have a simple question for you. Does she know that you are in a relationship?” Sam asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes,” Bucky and Steve said at the same time.

“And you are in a relationship with her too, right?”

“Yes,” the answer was spoken at the same time again.

“And did you have a talk with her where you told her specificly that she’s your girlfriend?”

“We don’t have to discuss every little detail when it’s clear,” Steve started to say and Sam threw his arms in the air to show he was clearly frustrated with the big guys in front of him.

“She doesn’t know that the three of you are in a relationship. It all adds up, now. You need to have a talk, because she clearly thinks she is single. I heard herself saying that more than once tonight.”

Steve looked at Bucky. “Do you think he’s right?” he asked his boyfriend.

Bucky just raised his hands and shoulder to show he had no idea. Until now he didn’t even question it, but he thought they had made it clear after you had come back from the date and they were confused as hell. The three of you were almost always cuddled together on the couch or on the chairs in the garden, when one of the two insisted that you could still fit on one of their lounge chairs. Or the little dates they went on like the little café a few streets down your house.

Or the stroll around the little park when it had suddenly started to rain and he had given you his baseball cap while Steve insisted you would get his hoodie because he wouldn’t get sick. You had held Bucky's hand on the way back to the house after you had waited under a tree for the rain to stop.

“Do you think that is why she always asked if we wanted to get a house of our own?” Bucky concluded.

“You are so dumb. I think you have to fix that,” Sam said and was the first one to leave the room.

You were surprised when suddenly Steve and Bucky were around you and after the fourth time they had hinted that they were tired you asked if you wanted to leave the party. They agreed eagerly after you said goodnight to a few people you were on your way to the house.

You sat on the passenger seat, although you had argued that you’d be fine to sit in the back. Now Bucky sat behind you and you had pushed your seat forward so he could have at least a little space. Steve’s right hand was on your leg and he only took it away to change the gear.

“Okay, what is wrong with you? You’re acting strange,” you said finally and turned around so you could see Bucky which caused Steve to lose his hold on your leg.

Bucky thought about denying it, but it didn’t feel right.

“Can we talk about it at home, honey?” Steve asked instead and you nodded. You turned back around and the rest of the drive was quiet. When Steve parked the car in front of your house and you loosened the seatbelt, Bucky had already opened your car door and held out a hand in front of you. You raised an eyebrow at that but still accepted it. What was going on?

“Do you want to change into something more comfortable?” Steve asked when you stepped inside.

“No, I want to know what is going on.”

You decided to sit down on the couch, so you could at least sit comfortable and you tucked your feet under your legs. It looked like the two men didn’t know where to sit, but they decided on the other side of the couch next to each other. “So, will one of you finally tell me what is going on?”

“It seems like we’re not all on the same page with what is going on here,” Steve started and made a motion with his finger to the three of you. You cocked your eyebrow again to show him he should continue, because to be honest you were lost. “You know that Bucky and I are in a relationship, right?” Bucky’s hand had grabbed Steve’s. And did he seem nervous?

You nodded. This was where they would tell you that you had crossed a line. Although when you thought about it, Steve’s hand had rested on your thigh not even 20 minutes ago.

“Doll, the point is... we thought we made it clear that we’re in a relationship,” Bucky stepped in.

“You did, I knew from the start. I mean you share the room with one bed. This is where you can be whoever you want to be. I won’t judge you,” you said quickly.

“Doll, Steve and I thought we had made it clear that we’re in a relationship with you. Steve, you and me.” It looked like he wanted to grab your hand but then he pulled back as if he was afraid of your reaction.

You mouth was open and you only closed it when you noticed that your tongue got dry. “The three of us? I’m so confused. Since when? I mean we haven’t even kissed,” you rambled.

Steve decided to be brave and grabbed your hand then. “Love is shown in many ways. It doesn’t always have to be physical and we just thought that wasn’t what you wanted. It took Bucky a long time to get comfortable with touching and it sometimes is still hard for him. But I think I do have to make it clear, honey. I love you and not just in a platonic way. It’s the same love I hold for Bucky and if you want to and if you feel the same, we’d love to be in a relationship with you.”

“If you need time, or hell,” Bucky swallowed, “if you don’t want to be with us or doesn’t want us around anymore, just say the word and we’ll leave.”

“I’ll grab a glass of water. Give me a moment, I’ll be back, okay?” You couldn’t answer them right now, there was so much going on. They wanted to be in a relationship with you? And they assumed that you already were an item? You wondered what had changed. Wait, was that why Sam had greeted you as their girlfriend? It hadn’t been a joke. And if they had told Sam, or maybe even Natasha... that means that this was something serious. But you still couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t talked to you.

“We need to work on your communication skills,” you said when you walked back, the glass of water long forgotten. “I'm not sure how to go from here,” you admitted.

“We can continue just as we were. Nothing has to change except we don’t see others romantically. We can go just as slow as you want or we don’t have to change anything.”

“Can we talk about this in the morning and just cuddle right now?” you asked and you could clearly see the relief on the guys face.

“Of course, doll,” Bucky answered and opened his arms.

“Let’s go change into something comfortable before, okay?” You took his hand and the three of you walked into your respective rooms. When you walked out of your room in some comfy clothes you could hear Steve and Bucky talking in their room. You couldn’t understand what they were saying, but you knocked on the door. The talking stopped and Steve opened the door.

You stepped from one foot to the other. “Maybe we can cuddle here,” you said when you looked up. Why you were suddenly so nervous around them you didn’t know. Steve nodded and stepped aside so you could enter the room.

Bucky noticed you hesitating and took your hand again. “Come here,” he said and lead you to the bed. He got comfortable on the right side and when you crawled after him he pulled you to his chest. Steve got on your other side and put an arm around your waist.

You felt Bucky's breath on your neck. “Just to make it clear, doll. I love you too,” he said and a feather light kiss was pressed into your neck.

“I can’t believe that you let me walk into a room full of people who knew about your feelings for me and I didn’t. Why couldn’t you just say anything? And why did you tell Sam and not me?” you said after a while because you couldn’t just wait for tomorrow.

“We thought it was obvious. And Sam just called your our girlfriend once and we didn’t deny it and then we called you our girlfriend. That’s kind of how we told them.”

“I always felt so guilty when one of you cuddled with me, but then you showed me in affection wen the other one was around and it was just so confusing. I’m glad we cleared that now, though,” you said and wrapped your hand around Bucky’s while your other one rested against Steve’s chest.

“We’re sorry,” Steve mumbled. You laid there and enjoyed their presence until you got sleepy. But you weren’t ready to share the bed and so you started to get up. “I’ll go to sleep, we’ll see each other for breakfast.” When you were about to walk out you stopped in the doorway. “I’m really glad you came clear. Goodnight boys.”

“Sleep well, doll.”

The next day you were woken by a knock on your door. “Good Morning, honey. We prepared breakfast.” You tried to raise a eyebrow.

“Am I in a parallel universe? I’ll come soon,” you said and pulled away your blanket to make your way to the bathroom. When you made your way to the kitchen you were greeted with the smell of food and you did a double take when you spotted the flowers on the table and the stuff that was neatly arranged.

“We wanted to make it special for the first date that the three of us will be aware of. We went to the bakery you liked so much,” Steve explained while he filled some glasses with juice, not really noticing that the juice was spilling over as he waited for your reaction.

“Well, thank you, boyfriends,” you said with a smile on your lips as you sat down. You were aware of the pressure that fell from the tall guys in the room.

“I'm glad you like it, doll,” Bucky pressed a kiss to your cheek before he sat down on the chair next to you, while Steve was busy cleaning the counter. He was about to sit down in front of you, when you asked if you wouldn’t get a good morning kiss from him. You knew he was a super soldier and he had good reflexes but you were pretty sure you have never seen him move so fast before. He was about to kiss your cheek but you turned around and stunned him when suddenly your lips connected. He was shocked, that much you could tell, but it didn’t hinder him from kissing you back gently.

He shared a quick glance with Bucky when you disconnected, but the other man wasn’t about to say anything. He meant what he said when he told you the night before that they would go in your pace. But when you looked at him and asked if you could have a kiss from him too he didn’t hesitate to kiss you.

“So, now that that’s out of the way. I’m starving,” you said and started to put some food on your plate. “What are we going to do today?”

“Whatever you want,” Steve and Bucky said at the same time which caused you to laugh

Masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

#stucky x reader #stucky x you #steve x bucky x reader #stucky oneshot #stucky fanfic #stucky ff #steve x reader x bucky #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvelettesassemblenow #stucky x y/n #avengers x reader

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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hiii, this might seem weird but do u have any head cannons for when the reader is pregnant and how the Darkling would react?

a/n love this concept,, it's not weird at all!! i feel like there's so much here!! also i leave for college this month and im lowkey starting to freak out so ive been watching star wars movies for comfort 😭and now i have half a mind to write for them, especially the prequels (cough, cough,, anakin) 😭 😭 that should tell you where i am mentally

anyways lets get into the headcanons:))

- okay so like most of my headcanons, this is probably going to be all over the place bc i feel like so many different things could change how he would react. Like if the darkling x reader have been trying to get pregnant, or an unplanned pregnancy with someone he really likes, i also think whether or not the reader is a grisha affects his reaction too

- in general though, i think he'd lowkey have a breeding kink he'd def find something about the thought of you having his child really attractive bc for one thing, he wouldn't have to worry about being left alone and now he has an excuse to be a real 'protector'.

- also if youve read my other headcanons i am 100000% convinced that he has this thing where if he really likes someone he needs them to need him (let's all remember the whole 'i will strip you of everything you know and love speech until I'm your only shelter' speech he gave to Alina)

- also i kinda want to write a fic or blurb series or something that's just the darkling being super toxic in super thoughtful ways LMAO if that makes sense, like he's being super sweet but it's to make sure the reader is dependent on him

- and he def wants to be the protector to give himself some sense of assurance bc he's so desperate to not be alone anymore and bc the reader is the only person he has/loves, he wants to feel in control and like he's the less attached one

- okay,, let's get back to the pregnancy thing, anyways, your pregnancy is most definitely activating all of those senses and this was meant to be a sub plot but it kind of became it's own thing lol

- so lets get to the actual pregnancy reaction

if you two have been trying to get pregnant:

- when you tell him, he kind of like, pauses bc it's not every day that he gets surprised so it takes him a moment to register that he's experiencing shock lol, so he tenses and goes islent

- and then after he realizes that he's surprised and that it's bc of a good thing, he manages to relax

- meanwhile you're kind of freaking out bc he got so quiet?? you start to wonder if he's regretting ever wanting a child with you? and you're like two seconds away from a downspiral and then he...

- he touches your cheek and looks at you in a way you've never seen him look at anyone,, not even you

- the look is so warm and strong and full of fierce admiration that you feel foolish for ever thinking he didn't want this. And then he says something about how you're carrying his child and how he didn't realize he could adore you more and then he kisses you and it's all :)) warm:)

- he doesn't want anyone to know that he's expecting a child as long as possible bc of how many enemies he has and how he has to worry about you enough when people just know that you're his 'lover' (a title you never really liked, but one he tells you is necessary to make sure no one realizes the extent of his attachment)

- if you really want to tell your mother or someone of that relation, he won't be mad about it, but he just needs to know

- Genya is the only exception bc the darkling basically instructs her to look out for you,, but when you tell her she's like oh?? you guys just found out?

- miss girl most definitely noticed like a day and a half ago after you cried bc she couldn't find you ice cream the other night 😭and she just assumed you knew but weren't ready to tell anyone

- okay so this what i think is his most problematic expecting father trait would be. So i just ranted about how important secrecy would be to him but he's also the most overprotective person in the entire world,, like he was bad before but once he knows your with child?? yeah, if a man asks you about the weather, he's done for

- he's next to you in a second, ordering either you or the man to do some asinine task

- if you get mad about this (rightfully so) or even just point out how nothing is wrong and you having a casual conversation with a man who isn't even looking at you sexually won't hurt you or the baby, he'll lose rationality

- it depends on how much you push, but it'd be super easy to make him super possessive bc like i said, being bonded by a child has made him so much more intense (and he was pretty intense before)

- and if you push too much he'll lowkey forget about how cautious he's trying to be with you and pin you against the nearest wall and say something along the lines of 'are you already forgetting you're mine? that i own you, body and soul--is my child growing in you not enough of a reminder? because i'll give you another one if you need it.' (AH--i want to write a whole fic based on this line)

- also if the reader is grisha, especially if she's a sun summoner/special grisha like him, he def talks about the power that they've created and how proud he already is and how he can't wait to train together and be the most powerful family in the world

- not everything is perfectly happy though, bc now he feels more pressure to complete his plan and establish the world he wants his child to be born into

- so sometimes when he's working extra hard or is extra aggressive for no reason, you have to work at calming him down and reminding him that the best thing he can do for his child is be there for them (and the child's mother,, lol)

- sometimes he'll respond by actually listening to you and trying to make up for his absence or his aggression by being extra soft until you finally forgive him

- you never last that long, it's hard to be mad at him when he's coddling you and whispering such sweet things about he's so happy to have you and your future child

- overall, his first reaction is to swell with emotion, which he isn't used to, and so he becomes super protective but also extra lovey and you know that his overreactions are just him trying to show that he cares about you and your future child more than anything

If the pregnancy was unplanned:

- the initial reaction is pretty similar, only his state of shock lasts longer

- like i said at the beginning, he's not used to being surprised and an accidental pregnancy is so much more surprising than a planned pregnancy

- this really sucks for you bc he's not exactly known for his patience so you just kinda sit there and genuinely wonder if you're going to be a single mom or if you're going to want to deletus the fetus or something

- but then he takes a step towards you and you see how he's looking at you and you just know that that fierceness has to mean something good

- and at this point you're scared and nervous and feel so alone so tears are pricking at your eyes,, so he wipes his thumb across your cheek to wipe away tears you won't let spill

- he then whispers something really sweet about how you two are now together forever, as you should be

- it's really relieving bc you felt so alone and uncertain and he's such a smooth speaker that by the end of the night, you feel like this is a good thing

- if youre still hesitant/weighing your options, he's not above trying to (gently) manipulate you into thinking that what he wants may be the only way

- by that,, i don't mean outright tricking you bc he means everything he says, but he def is pushing the keeping the baby agenda,, especially if you're a grisha,, and even more so if you're a grisha with similar power levels to him

- he won't get angry at first bc he's not so out of touch that he's unaware of how shocking a pregnancy is to a woman who wasn't planning one,, but his patience is limited and if you fight it too much he will get mad and yell

- but unless you really don't want to have a child, it won't get to that bc he makes the idea of having a baby with him sound so perfect?? like you genuinely don't understand how he did that

- he chases away all of your worries and assures you that youre not alone and that even though it isn't planned he wouldn't rather anyone else carry his child

- the initial conversation would probably end in you two sleeping together again bc he finds the fact that you're carrying his child so attractive and bc being aware of the pregnancy makes him more possessive

- it's also a good way to fight any of your doubts

- speaking of being possessive though,, i feel like he could be a little more possessive/protective of a reader who didn't plan on getting pregnant bc your relationship has been less established

- no one sees you as anything to him and he doesn't want to start rumors now bc it's important to him that his enemies don't find out about you or his future child so he doesn't want that to change

- but he almost forgets about all of those reasons each time he sees a man get a little too close,, especially if that guy is flirty

- it takes all of his will power to not just go 'she's mine and if i wasn't worried about the stress that witnessing something violent would cause our unborn child, you'd be dead already, but if you're not gone by the time i turn around, i'll forget about caution'

- lots of close calls ngl!! at one point youre like 'if it bothers you so much, maybe you should tell someone??' and he's like 'no,, maybe,, shut up' and then you raise one eyebrow and he just closes his mouth and is like 'i mean,, i'll kiss you to shut you up, haha--dont be mad'

- youre the one that's pregnant but sometimes you think he might be the one experiencing the mood swings i swear 😭

- so your little theory gets tested,, he's not the type to gossip with his besties and be like 'guess who's officially my girlfriend, i knocked her up but it's not like it sounds--'

- so he's like ig you can tell genya

- once again genya is like ?? yall thought you were keeping that secret? couldn't be me

- but having it a little out in the open helps ease him just enough that youre actually capable of consoling him when he becomes jealous

- still though,, he's quick to go into possessive/pregnancy kink sex

- youre most def not mad about it,, unless pregnancy has you particularly sore

- he's normally pretty understanding about that and def doesn't mind pulling his weight in the bedroom when he needs

- honestly he'd be really good at being a source of calmness at the beginning, but as time goes on he becomes more and more worried about finishing his plans bc he didn't expect to have a child right now

- so he'd be more adamant about working/becoming more tense and would be more difficult to console if it was an accidental pregnancy

- when you call him out on it--or on anything while your pregnant--it's frustrating for you both bc the number one thing everyone knows is stress is bad for baby, so he's trying to keep you calm without backing down

- these argument always end with one of you clinging to the other,, and then the more angrier of the two just like shuts up, rolls their eyes, and lets go of the argument...at least for now

- the main difference between an accidental and intentional pregnancy would probably be how you perceive him,, bc an intentional pregnancy means youve talked about things but since you havent talked about anything your shocked about how soft he becomes ??

#headcanons #headcanon #darkling x reader #the darkling x reader #the darking x you #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x you #general kirigan imagine #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #aleksander morovoza x reader #aleksander morozova imagine

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unecoccinellenoire · 2 years

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47. “When I picture myself happy… It’s with you.” Gabriel to Nathalie.

It’s a marvel how comfortable Nathalie is in his arms. His hands have hurt so many, created so much that’s admired, but here with her they’re just those of a man holding a woman.

The light of the television neither of them are really watching casts strange colours on her face, and as he watches them chase over her face he struggles to remember why they’ve never crossed that final boundary.

Nathalie readjusts a little against his chest, and it occurs to him that perhaps she’s waiting for him.

He after all is the one who’s been terrorising this city for his wife.

And now he’s sat here, on Nathalie’s bed, with his arms around Nathalie as she rests against him.

He rests his chin on the top of her head only for Nathalie is dislodge it a moment later as she turns to look at him.

“What are you thinking about?” She says.

“You.” Though that’s not quite right. “Us.”

There’s the slightest line of concern between her brows. “Us?”

“You really are irreplaceable to me.”

“You’ve said that before,” she smiles but there’s an odd tightness to it, “it’s nice to hear though.”

It’s that stress in her one that makes him move to meet her lips with his but Nathalie doesn’t relax for him at all. All that softness pressed against him drains away until it feels like a statue in his arms.

Her eyes are wide, when he pulls away, and she’s breathing frantically, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

He should move or do something to help her but her response throws him for such a loop that instead he just sits there like an idiot and says, “Nathalie?”

Unlike him, she manages to move gently remind him to let go of her and then scrambles off him to stand up.

“I didn’t think you felt that way,” her eyes are wide and she looks ready to flee the room.

“And,” there’s only one way to interpret that response, “you don’t.”

Anger starts to creep in between the cracks in his heart her reaction has left. It’s true he’d ignored any signs their relationship was more than what it should be, but unless Nathalie too is in denial, then he can’t understand how to interpret everything she’s done. Everything she’s allowed.

She doesn’t meet his eyes, “I can’t be your rebound Gabriel I,” she swallows, “I realise it must seem like I’ve been volunteering for it in retrospect and I’m sorry for that and I’ll stop, put some distance between us or something but I can’t. I, I’d do anything for you. I’d die for you. But don’t ask me to be your next mistake.”

The heat inside him turns cold, and he almost feels sick, “I’d never ask you to die for me. I shouldn’t have asked for your help with the Miraculous. But I’m not asking you to be a mistake.”

“What else can it be?”

Gabriel gets up, “These last few years have been bad.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“But you’ve been there with me this entire time. You’ve been the light in that darkness. And I mean, you know how I feel about most people, and yet with you I could happily spend every hour of the day. I know I haven’t processed everything with Emilie yet, but, Nathalie when I picture myself happy… It’s with you.”

Nathalie’s eyes go soft and sad, “I can’t believe that. Because if it’s true then why did we do everything we did? If we weren’t justified then aren’t we just the people the rest of Paris thinks Hawk Moth and Mayura are?”

He takes her face in her hands, “I don’t give a damn what other people think. We wanted to save someone. That’s not wrong. And that’s something separate to this.”

“Is it? The only reason you can say this to me is because Emilie isn’t with us anymore.” She tries to shake her head, “I convinced myself you know, that my feelings for you, for a married man, were acceptable because no matter what I felt I was doing the opposite of trying to steal you. That I was better than that. That I was trying to reunite the two of you. But it turns out I’ve stolen you after all.”

Gabriel focuses straight in on the important thing like a shark that’s caught the scent of blood. “So you do have feelings for me?”

“So,” she sounds a little bit more like herself, “you just decided to ignore the rest of everything that I said.”

“Because the rest of it meant nothing in comparison to that. I’m not a piece of clothing. I have my own mind. You can’t steal me.”

Nathalie looks up at him, “I can’t be with you either. Not,”

“Not?”

“Not after everything we’ve done, and not…” she gently puts her hands over his and pulls them off his face, “I’ve seen you claim to have let her go and then change your mind again. I can’t spend my time languishing in guilt and waiting for the day you decide I’m just a pale imitation of your wife you settled for because I was kind of playing the part anyway.”

“There’s not.”

“I love you,” she interrupts and his heart skips a beat, “but I think it’s for the best that maybe we should spend some time apart. I mean,” she smiles ruefully and gestures at her legs supported by metal, “we’re hardly a good influence on each other are we? Maybe. Maybe we can both move on and find someone good for us.”

The very idea of Nathalie leaving feels like there’s a vacuum next to him already and she’s still standing there right in front of him, “And maybe if we spend some time apart. Stop doing all of,” he gestures futilely without words to express the depth of their not-quite-romantic intimacy and all the little things they share, and how many times one of them has fallen asleep against the other, “this. I’ll still come to you, sometime in the future, and I’ll still tell you you’re who I want to spend my life with because I'm not just confused by proximity, or just grieving or whatever you've convinced yourself.”

She straightens, bold in a way she hasn’t been despite her ultimatums, “And maybe then I’ll say yes, but,”

“Not now.” He finishes.

“Not now.” She agrees.

#gabenath #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #nathalie finally gets some self-respect but at the wrong time #ask fic #prompt fic #yes I know some of you know this is repurposed shhh

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butterfliestothemoon · 2 years

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My thoughts on “oil and water” *spoilers*

Sooooooo Vi says that the mix between her and Caitlyn is “oil and water” they can’t mix. She thinks that they are so different that they can’t be together because neither can change.

So we all know that oil and water don’t mix, and more specifically that oil is water-repellent (hydrophobic), which, along with other science stuff, ends up with oil floating to the top and water staying on the bottom.

In this case we are getting this analogy from VI’s perspective. Water being Zaun, the lower city. And oil being Piltover, the upper city, if you will.

Vi sees people from Zaun as her people, she belongs in water, she doesn’t think badly of them(excluding Silco, and his following), water is good for you. BUT she sees people of Piltover as bad and corrupt, like oil.

During a lot of the series she put all people into these two categories, oil or water, nothing in between.

Of course this changes when she meets Caitlyn, who should be put into the “oil” category, but is proving to be neither corrupt nor bad. She also sees Echo, who is neither “oil” or “water”. And lastly, she no longer falls into either of the categories. So as her relationship with Caitlyn is growing, the categories fade.

This changes when Vi gets triggered. She logically saw that not all of Piltover is out to get her anymore, unlike all of her childhood. Buuuuut she gets triggered when the Council says that they can’t help her. All of the sudden, she gets pulled back into her past where Piltover was out to make her fail, and there were only two categories of people. She then makes the illogical decision that Caitlyn is only “oil” and nothing else. So Vi leaves her.

Here is also something I found cool:

Vi isn’t used to getting what she wants, she isn’t used to being happy. She wants to go to her comfort zone of being alone. So she breaks it off with Caitlyn.

Caitlyn is only used to getting what she wants. All her life she has been given basically whatever she wanted or needed, which is why she was chasing after Vi. That’s she tried to keep them together.

AND I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT IN THE OIL AND WATER SCENE I WAS SOOOOOOO DESTROYED!!!!!! THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY TOGETHER!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I’m still sad about that to this day

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blouisparadise · 3 years

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Jealousy, Jealousy | Not Rated | 1163 words

Harry gets jealous when James Corden hold his Louis in his lap and pets him on the Late Late Show. He shows Louis who he belongs to and takes care of him.

2) The X-Factor Judge | Explicit | 1635 words

Harry watches the X-Factor and gets jealous about Brendan jumping on Louis. When Louis gets home Harry reminds him whom he belongs to.

3) Didn’t Know You Had It In You | Explicit | 1807 words

Harry sleeptalks and reveals his kinks which Louis is more than happy to try out.

4) Mine | Explicit | 1979 words

"So you been single for a while now?" Louis gulped as the vibrator slowed down sending a thankful look to Harry before glancing back at the interview who was looking at him with great interest,

"Uhhh yeah," he replied keeping his answer short and brief. He straightened his back shuffling slightly on his chair as the vibrator shifted inside of him hitting his prostate causing him to let out a small gasp as grimaced at the interviewer who just grinned back. She must be an excellent actress or just stupidly oblivious.

5) In The Moment | Explicit | 2611 words

Note: This is part 2 of this series.

Where it's their first time and Harry is being all fluffy and encouraging Louis to say his name and other dirty stuff?

6) Salvation Under My Breath | Not Rated | 2858 words

Louis is pregnant...

...and Horny

7) The Sight of You Brings Forth a Peace In Me | Mature | 3254 words

Louis loses inspiration and goes on a nature walk to find some. The inspiration takes shape in the form of Harry.

8) Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips | Explicit | 3435 words

Note: Part one of this fic is #23 on this list.

Adjusting to one another’s life came as naturally as the sun rising in the morning and brightening the sky, chasing away the darkness that had dared to lurk in its absence. They did not side step each other, did not second guess their instincts once they were finally together. It was the crash of roaring waves - reckless in their paths - but upon meeting had unified into calm waters in the vast sea.

Living with Harry was like a breath of fresh air. In all his years, Louis had never felt alive. He supposed there was some credit to be given to how devoted Harry was to him. The man would rather step in a raging fire than let him suffer even a trace amount of agony.

9) Fuck U (Even) Betta | Explicit | 3568 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Harry had sensed Louis was getting antsy all day, prodding and poking at Harry’s psyche like a game of mental whack-a-mole, trying to find that one thing that would flip the switch and push Harry over the edge. Even after all these years Louis still thinks he can get a rise, that he can in any way control the scenario. He couldn’t be more wrong.

10) We Act Like Nothing Is Wrong To Avoid What’s In Front of Us | Mature | 4179 words

Louis sends nudes meant for Harry to the wrong person on accident. Harry finds out. Rough sex ensues.

11) Love's First Bite | Explicit | 6135 words

Note: The pairing in this fic is Louis/Zayn.

For Zayn, love was never a part of life’s equation, not when you’re considered a lowly vampire while working in the Vampire’s royalty club, Love’s First Bite. He’s bitter and resentful and sees no point in looking into his past or future. But when Zayn saves a human named Louis, it all changes. He finds something special in him and, more importantly, someone worth giving up everything he holds dear.

12) Your Blueberry Eyes | Mature | 6154 words

Louis tattoos and Harry falls for blues.

13) Blow Me Away | Explicit | 6471 words

Louis likes giving blow jobs.

He doesn't exactly get off on it – he's been with people who properly loved it, and he's not quite that into it – but he doesn't mind the feel or the taste and he really, really likes watching his partner lose it, so getting down on his knees regularly is a no brainer.

Which is why it's a bit frustrating that every time he does, Liam hauls him back up again.

14) Thank You For This Prom Night | Not Rated | 6554 words

Note: This is part 3 of this series.

It's Prom Night. Stuff happens.

15) Can We Make It Anymore Obvious? | Explicit | 6628 words

Five times the boys accidentally walked in on Harry & Louis plus one time they did it on purpose.

16) It's The Way You Love (I Gotta Give It Back To You) | Explicit | 8153 words

Stretching, Louis finally pulled the duvet aside and let his feet fall onto the plush rug at his feet. Louis lived for soft, comfortable, plush things. From the fairy lights and fake plants to his plush robe and thick socks, everything in Louis’ little one bedroom apartment was carefully catered to his whimsical and soft aesthetic.

17) My Eyes Want You More Than A Melody | Explicit | 8315 words

Harry’s brain is short-circuiting at an absolutely awful time, the more expressive side of him is falling to pieces for some reason. The only responses he can give are venerated vibrations and nods, the feeling of Louis’ sweaty skin sliping him further into nothingness. Lightly dewy thighs, so muscular and plush— his lips feel just the same, so dangerously soft, a devious intention lying behind it all. “You’d do anything for me,” Louis mumbles, teeth tugging on Harry’s bottom lip, eyes dragging from his sinfully pink mouth when he lets it go to his hooded green eyes. “Isn't that right, daddy?” Harry whimpers— something that’s so foreign to him— but nods, trailing his hands up his shaved thighs, fingertips passing the hem of the dress.

18) Running Is Different Than Going | Explicit | 9018 words

Note: The pairing is Louis/OMC.

On the run, the last thing Michael expects from a stranger is help. Louis offers him everything he needs so he can keep running, but makes it harder than ever to continue doing so.

19) Quarantine, Baby! | Teen & Up | 9615 words

Note: There is no smut, but it contains mpreg Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

When Harry and Louis get a little too bored in quarantine, they turn to each other for some x-rated entertainment. Then, what starts as a COVID-scare, turns out to be something completely different.

20) Effervescent Horizons | Not Rated | 10676 words

Note: This is part 6 of this series. There is also no smut, but it contains mentions of bottom Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

They go to college together!

21) Moments | Explicit | 10726 words

Looking back, Louis should’ve known that the universe likes to fuck with idiots like him who think they’ve got it all sorted.

Looking back, he should’ve known that the minute he relaxed and let his guard down, when he thought things were going smoothly, that’s when it would hit him.

Looking back, he should’ve known to be on the lookout for a curveball.

He just hadn’t accounted for that curveball to have long legs, green eyes, and dimples; a curveball named Harry Styles.

22) The Blood Is Rare (And Sweet As Cherry Wine) | Explicit | 14270 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #8 on this list.

"Officer, I see you're giving away my secrets already," Harry said as he entered the room.

"It's hardly a secret," Louis accepted the delicate glass, cutting a glance at the man when the underlying scent hit him, "A little early to indulge in such things, isn't it?"

"You've had a long morning, I'm sure. Merely looking after your health, Officer," Harry smiled.

"You don't need to concern yourself with that."

"Someone has to."

23) Violent Delights | Not Rated | 76174 words

Prince Harry is arranged to mate Princess Charlotte, but first he must spend a month completing courting traditions which ends in a mating ceremony. When he arrives to the Tomlinson castle, he finds the forbidden North wing holds that which the family has worked hard to keep secret. Mainly: the sickly sweet Prince Louis, who’s rare gender has forced his family to keep him locked away for his own protection.

24) Truth Behind Golden Eyes | Explicit | 228727 words

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut (semi-public sex), possessiveness (some sexual, some not), jealousy, some fluff and some angst, also some violence (including a very small amount against the reader, proceed with caution), mentions of infidelity in a previous relationship

a/n: oh y’all thought it was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out? lol

You didn’t want to abandon Bucky to do carpetside interviews, but he refused to get anywhere near a hot mic so you let him go while you walked over to a reporter you recognized; she’d been nice before, probably would be again this time, so you were a little relieved to see her tonight.

She introduced you to the camera and you were slightly spaced out until she turned to you and got your attention again. “So, you’ve been making a lot of headlines lately for your new relationship— what’s the scoop? How’s it going?” she asked playfully, pushing the microphone into your face.

“Uh, great,” you breamed, “he’s my date tonight and he seems to have disappeared to…” you turned around to look for him. “Oh, he’s talking to... is that... Laurence Fishburne?”

“James, is that his name?” she prompted, making you focus your attention back on the interview.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, the name sounding a bit foreign, “legally, but he goes mostly by his nickname Bucky.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she smiled. “He’s, uh…” her eyes widened a bit and you laughed.

“Yeah, he is,” you smirked. “I assume by that facial expression you mean ‘crazy hot.’”

“I mean, in the politest way possible… yeah,” she giggled.

“Yeah, no, don’t pretend not to notice for my sake, cause, yeah, it’s… apparent.”

“Apparently he was your driver first?” she pressed.

“Yes!” you beamed, and then heard the way it sounded and backpedaled slightly. “I promise that’s not why I hired him. I actually didn’t meet him before he was on my team, but, I mean, I wasn’t mad to have some eye candy in the front seat.”

“Eye candy, huh?”

“But he’s so much more than that, that’s the thing,” you explained. “We became good friends first, because he’s so smart and funny and kind and… I mean, I know he looks tough, and he is, but he’s really very sensitive underneath the slightly intimidating exterior.”

“Hard shell, soft center, sweet— he really does sound like candy!”

“Indeed,” you nodded. “Gotta run but it was nice to chat!”

You dashed over to Bucky and clung onto his arm. “Oh, hey, we were just talking about you,” he beamed.

“Loved you in After Midnight,” Mr. Fishburne smiled and even you were totally starstruck.

“Oh, wow, thanks, I loved you in… everything…” you trailed off, internally scolding yourself for the vague and useless compliment. He was about to respond but was pulled away by some member of his team, giving you and Bucky a quick wave as he began a carpet-side interview.

“That was Laurence Fishburne, wasn’t it.” Bucky mumbled to you in a stunned monotone.

“Yes, what were you doing talking to him?” you asked, amazed at his bravery to approach such a huge star.

“He came up to me, to congratulate me on… on dating you, I guess…”

“Or he mixed you up with Brad Pitt,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, if Brad Pitt lost all his money, spent a decade in the desert, went loco and buzzed all his hair off,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you look great,” you soothed him, straightening his tie. “Wanna go take some pictures?”

“I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“It’s easy, just give them that sexy brooding look you do so well.”

Bucky smirked pridefully. “You think so?”

“Totally. You’re a natural,” you assured.

You tugged his arm and guided him to the carpet, letting him lead the way (or look like he was leading the way) as you found a clear spot and noticed how the cameras instantly flashed faster and brighter. Photographers called your name to get your attention, and you waved and smiled and pulled Bucky closer. The feeling of his arm around your waist was warm and comforting, and you hoped holding you had the same effect for him.

“Where are you looking?” you asked.

“At you,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you giggled, “you’re supposed to look at the cameras!”

“I honestly can’t, it’s blinding,” he frowned.

“Here,” you sighed, pointing out into the darkness just above the sea of flashing lights. “Look out there.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“I know, but, look as if there was something there to look at, trust me, it helps.”

You adjusted slightly a few times, turning a little to show off the low back of your dress. You almost gasped when Bucky held your face and kissed you suddenly, but you were happy to melt into it even as you heard the cameras flash even more aggressively, some whoops and hollers coming from the crowd on and off the carpet.

He pulled back and you wanted to chase him for more but you realized it wasn’t the right time.

“Let’s go inside,” you offered, guiding him the rest of the way down the carpet— mainly because you were afraid you’d end up jumping his bones right here in front of everyone.

He nodded and followed close by, arm resting on your shoulder the whole time, and just as you saw one of your friends and thought you might want to go over and introduce her to Bucky, you saw who she was talking to.

Sam.

Seeing him always made your heart stop. At first, it was because you were starstruck by him, in awe of his talent, amazed that you were going to be working with someone you admired so much. Then it was because you had fallen for him and he had gladly swept you off your feet, bringing you into a whirlwind romance that at the time had felt like the only thing that mattered. But since the break-up, and now, it was something else. Fear wasn’t the word, it’s not like you were afraid of him in a literal sense, but there was this anxiety, this tenseness to seeing him. It always brought back memories— the best and the worst, all at once. Nights laughing together, sharing secrets, stealing glances and touches and kisses; nights spent alone staring at a phone that never rang. Limbs tangled together between the sheets, that warm brown skin encompassing and surrounding yours; laying side by side in a bed that isn’t empty but is still plenty cold, seeing the way he angles his phone away from you and wishing you had the strength to just leave because you already knew what he was doing. The first time you said ‘I love you.’ The first time he said ‘it won’t happen again.’

“You alright?” Bucky asked, tearing you from your thoughts. You looked away and met Bucky’s gaze, hoping he either hadn’t seen your ex or at least hadn’t recognized him.

“Yeah, I’m great,” you answered quickly, “let’s go get some drinks maybe? And then I need to show you off to some people.”

“Show me off?” he scoffed.

“Yeah, why did you think I brought you here, really?” you winked.

“Hey, if we’re showing each other off, does that mean you’ll come to my next high school reunion?”

You’d been antsy ever since the two of you had come inside; it was obvious from the way you were clinging so much closer to him, and yet it was clear that your mind was a million miles away.

“Hey, it’s starting to wrap up, wanna head out soon?” you asked, trying to act casual, but he saw the way your eyes were darting up to where Sam Wilson was mingling and he knew it wasn’t about getting home early. Did you really think he wouldn’t notice that you’d seen him?

“Whatever you wanna do,” he shrugged.

“Okay, could you bring the car around for me then? And I’ll meet you outside?” you offered. “I should say hi and bye to a few people.”

“Sure,” he agreed, starting to walk away after giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he really did try to do what he said he was going to, but the further away he walked, the more he glanced back to watch you walk across the room, the harder it was to just let it go. He knew you were going to talk to him, and before he really even decided to do anything about it he found himself circling back around the room, following you.

He thought he’d lost you when he turned a corner and you were gone, but then he heard voices from a doorway and cracked it open slightly to see you inside with a few other people, nobody he recognized although one of them he’d definitely seen in something before.

He sighed with relief, about to turn and go get the car like he said he would, but then Sam Wilson just had to magically materialize out of thin air as he stepped up behind you and tapped your shoulder.

“Sam!” you blurted out, spinning to face him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, acting all suave and shit, making Bucky’s blood boil. “You look great.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, “you too.”

“You’ve been all over the internet lately, making quite the splash,” he recalled with a contemplative nod. “You and this new boytoy you’ve got.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is boyfriend,” you corrected sternly.

“Honey,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes. Bucky couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear him call you a pet name in earnest or with the derogatory tone that he currently had. “Everybody knows you go through these guys like potato chips. Especially when they’re not famous— how many PAs did you hook up with on your last set, huh?”

“I don’t roll like that anymore,” you denied.

“That’s not what Jake Friedman says,” Sam smirked. It actually took Bucky a moment to remember that that was the guy you’d… entertained in the backseat of your car, or maybe it was more that he had entertained you; you seemed to tense up when Sam mentioned him, as did Bucky. “I mean, sure, he’s not crew, but he’s not famous the way you are. The way we are. And neither is your new guy. He doesn’t ‘get it’, does he? He doesn’t get what it’s like. Has he already started freaking out about all the hate online?”

Bucky regretted that he’d ever said anything about that; if he’d known it would come around to prove Sam Wilson right about something, he wouldn’t have done it. “No,” you lied.

“Well, he will,” Sam assured you, stepping a little closer to you and letting his fingers languidly brush over your arm. “I made a mistake before, letting you go.”

“Damn right,” you hissed as you pulled away from him.

“But I realized that, and now I’m wondering why we aren’t giving the people what they want.”

“That’s what I never understood about you,” you frowned. “It’s always about other people with you. It’s never about you, and it was never about me.”

“But it is about you,” he explained, “and me: us. You’re forgetting how good we were together.”

You shook your head. “I was single for years and you never called. Now you’re all over me with all these regrets about ending it? Get a grip, Sam. This is about you wanting what you can’t have.”

“Can’t have?” he repeated incredulously. “Baby,” he purred— and Bucky decided it was definitely worse to hear him call you that in earnest. “You know you’re always gonna be mine.”

As you started to shiver, Sam’s arms slipping around your back and grabbing your waist, Bucky felt like he had lost control of his body. He was watching himself from far away as he stormed across the room, nearly knocking a few people over on the way, and shoved Sam off of you and onto the ground.

“Bucky!” you yelped. “Bucky, stop!”

“You’d better watch your hands, Wilson, before they get somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Bucky growled, ignoring you completely even as you helplessly tugged at his suit.

“Jesus,” Sam spat, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing?” you asked Bucky, irate and confused as you stared up at him with a furrowed brow. He grabbed your hand and guided you out of the room and down the hall, barely managing to drag you into a random bathroom before he started tearing at your dress, leaving rough bites and kisses down your neck as you gasped and moaned softly.

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “all mine. Did you forget?”

“No,” you sighed, “I could never…”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he sneered, hiking up your long skirt to run his fingers over your skin and expose the delicate, lacy panties you were wearing.

“Bucky, please,” you sighed, rubbing your hips up against his leg, riding his thigh shamelessly.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby? Is it me, or him?” he asked darkly.

“You, baby, just you, nobody else— I’m yours,” you assured him feverishly, “I’m all yours, please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, fumbling with his belt and fly as he pulled his growing cock from his suit pants. “You need it that bad?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “fuck me.”

He pulled your underwear aside and quickly shoved into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to welcome him. “Fuck, angel, so tight,” he sighed, knowing how much little praises drove you crazy.

“Bucky,” you sighed, “oh my god… harder, please— n-need you deeper…”

His hips moved back only to slam back against yours, making you whimper; he smiled when he felt your leg wrap around his waist and try to hold him inside, but he couldn’t slow down now, not when he needed this so bad.

He sucked on your neck as he kept thrusting into you, your wetness coating his cock so thoroughly that he slid right home every time. It was clear that he was hitting your g-spot from how you moaned with each thrust, your spongy channel pulsing and tightening in rhythmic patterns.

Overcome with the need to assert his, for lack of a better word, ownership over you, he found himself reaching up to hold your throat— not quite in the way to choke you, just to remind you that he could, if he wanted to.

“Did he ever make you come like this?” he asked with a gravelly whisper, lips right against your ear as he tightened his hand around your neck slightly.

“No,” you shook your head, “nobody has.”

“Nobody’s ever loved you this good but me, is that it? Nobody else has ever fucked you like this?”

“Just you, Bucky, please don’t stop— I’m so close…”

“Do you think they can hear you out in the hallway? Say my name when you come, princess, just in case they can— I want them to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, chanting it over and over with a few ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s interspersed occasionally. He thrusted faster and harder as he felt his own orgasm building; he needed to come inside you and claim you again, mark you as his one more time, and the flexing of your walls was only egging him on.

“I know you’re close, baby, just let go,” he whispered against your ear, “come for me, just like that, you’re doing so good— fuck, so good for me…”

You whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, a gush of wetness and a final, strong tightening of your inner muscles signaling that you’d reached your peak. He couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw (and felt) that, groaning as he began to release thick streams of come into you.

The absolute second your afterglow began to fade, you pushed him off of you and grimaced as you adjusted your panties and dress. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wh— what?" he stammered, breathless and confused. "What did I do? Was I not supposed to come inside?"

You gaped at him in shock. "Do you really not realize what you did? Bucky, you assaulted my ex-boyfriend."

"I— he'll be fine," he dismissed, "he was putting his hands on you, what was I supposed to do, just let him do it?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," you hissed. "You were supposed to be pulling the car around and not spying on me!"

"Spying?! I was protecting you."

"You shoved him hard enough to knock him over, Bucky, that's not okay."

"Hold on," he shook his head in disbelief, "so you're mad at me, when we just had sex?! Why didn't you say something before?"

"Just cause it's hot doesn't mean it's okay," you explained, a little embarrassed.

"Tell me something," he frowned, "what is this—" he motioned to the space between the two of you— "to you? Cause it kinda seems like I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend, and you think—"

"What? What do I think?" you challenged. "Go ahead, tell me."

"You think it's just a sex thing."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you get off on me dealing with your ex, and then tell me it's this big terrible thing?"

A sick idea clawed its way out of the back of Bucky's mind: was Sam right about her? Was Sam right about us?

You crossed your arms and huffed, but didn't respond.

"Was everything that just happened just a fuckin' kink for you or something? Cause I meant every goddamn word," he growled.

You sighed, like you weren't taking it seriously— like you weren't taking him seriously. His fist tightened at his side involuntarily. He'd never felt so used, so ignored; or, at least, he never expected it from you. "We'll talk about this later," you dismissed quickly. "Let's just go back there and put on a happy face, okay?"

"Oh, so you can let another guy feel you up? Sounds like a fucking blast," he hissed.

"Fuck you," you snarled as you pushed him aside to leave the bathroom.

He didn't remember grabbing you, he didn't remember twisting your arm as he pulled you back. He didn't remember you crying out, trying to wrench yourself away, clawing at his grip on you. All he remembered was you looking up at him with watery eyes, expression twisted in fear.

"Bucky, you're hurting me," you whimpered weakly, and only then did he notice his metal hand was holding your wrist. When he let go, he already saw a mark forming in the shape of his hand as you grabbed your freed wrist to rub the damaged flesh.

"I'm sorry—" he began to whisper, but you were already gone.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut

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dothwrites · 4 years

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15.19--freedom

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose/Nothing, don’t mean nothing if it ain’t free, no, no”--Janis Joplin

---

Freedom.

Dean rolls the word around on the tip of his tongue and tastes how it feels. Freedom.

It’s a strange concept, especially since he always assumed that he was. Ever since Apocalypse Version 1.0 was averted, Michael and Lucifer locked in the cage, thanks very much, he’s always assumed that he was the one calling the shots. No matter how badly he fucked up (and he fucked up a lot), he could at least take comfort in the fact that those were his choices. No one’s hand up Dean Winchester’s ass, no siree.

And then Chuck came and ripped that certainty away from him in one quick motion and then...everything was suspect. Sam, Mom, Jack...Cas. Every word, every action, every emotion... He couldn’t trust anything, so he trusted nothing.

He still wakes up from nightmares with those words echoing in his head: You’re dead to me. He bolts upright, almost puking, because he can’t believe his past self, he can’t believe that those words came out of his mouth, to Cas, to Cas of all people--

He splashes water on his face and notices that his hand is shaking. His stomach churns in warning, but he doesn’t think he’s going to puke. However, he also doesn’t think he’s going back to sleep tonight.

He and Sam are in the bunker, but he knows they won’t stay. It’s too empty now, their voices echoing through the halls and rooms. Maybe once, he would have been all right with that, would have even enjoyed it, but now, he can’t bear it. He remembers all too well how it felt to have Jack’s voice bouncing through the kitchen as he talked about the latest movie they had watched, or how it felt to just feel Cas behind him as he moved through the kitchen.

Every time he makes his breakfast, he’s reminded of what he lost. Every time he and Sam come back to the bunker, there’s the sinking disappointment to find themselves alone once more. Dean ends up spending most of his days in his room because anywhere else freaks him out. He can’t stop whipping his head to look over his shoulder, halfway convinced that he’ll find someone standing behind him. He’s always disappointed when he finds himself alone.

He and Sam are going to leave the bunker behind. He doesn’t know when and he doesn’t know what for, but he knows that it’s going to happen.

He asks Sam one afternoon why he hasn’t left yet. Eileen is waiting for him, biding her time a hell of a lot more patiently than Dean would, and Sam still isn’t going to her and starting the American dream life. And one afternoon, Dean either runs out of fucks and gathers up his last little shreds of courage, and asks him.

“So when are you going to move in with Eileen? I can’t imagine that she’s going to wait for your gigantor ass forever.”

Sam looks at him from across the table. There’s a book open in front of him, but Dean doesn’t think that he’s read a word. He knows that he’s been stuck on the same screen on his phone for several minutes. Without the pressing urgency of saving the world, things just seem so...pointless. Which is not necessarily bad. But it means that he and Sam spend a lot of slow, lingering afternoons like this, with just the two of them wandering through the bunker and occasionally bouncing off of each other like two very faulty pinballs stuck in a malfunctioning machine.

“She’s fine,” Sam says, which isn’t an answer. “She understands what’s happening.”

Dean’s glad that someone understands because he surely has no fucking clue.

---

His life falls into a kind of routine. Wake up, make breakfast. Find pointless chores to do around the bunker. Make lunch. Watch some bullshit shows on TV. Make dinner. Have a beer. Fall asleep.

He feels like the worst kind of retiree, devoid of purpose.

Sure, there are occasional hunts, but he doesn’t feel the need to go on them. The world is turning, same as it always did, and there are other hunters in the world. If that’s one thing that he learned through these past years, it’s that he doesn’t have to do everything.

(Plus, he and Sam literally defeated God, so he thinks they deserve some time off.)

The forced retirement doesn’t make him happy. The bunker is the cleanest that it’s ever been and he doesn’t feel happy about it. There’s a gaping hole in his chest that’s shaped like the rest of his family, and he can’t sleep at night. He makes dinner and all he can think about are the empty places at the table.

Sam sticks his head into Dean’s room. It’s a regular day, though Dean doesn’t bother to note either the actual date or the day of the week anymore. Time blends together in an endless cycle of waking, chores, and sleeping, because without a purpose to hold him together, he’s slowly falling apart.

“I’m going to head out,” Sam says. Dean notices that he doesn’t put a timeline on his departure. “You should get out too.”

Dean raises his eyebrows but doesn’t ask the obvious question: Where would he go? Sam, slightly chagrined, scuffs his feet against the floor. “Maybe go see Jody, Donna, and the girls? See if Charlie and Stevie want a third on their hunt? Bobby said something about building up his library here.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, with absolutely no intention of following through on any of those suggestions. He’s not quite wallowing in his own grief and filth (every time he tries to crawl back into a bottle, he just remembers the pinched look at the corners of Cas’ eyes whenever he would find Dean halfway through a bender, and that memory effectively nixes any desire he might have had to crawl into the nearest bottle), but he’s not exactly the poster boy for healthy coping strategies either.

“Dean.”

Dean hates that note in Sam’s voice, the oh-so-soft and sensitive tone that could soothe widows and lull children. He hates even more that it’s being turned on him, hates most of all that he derives comfort from it.

“I don’t get it,” Dean finally says, because if Sam is leaving then he might be losing his chance to ask his question aloud. “I don’t get...I mean, Jack could have brought him back. He could have done it. I could have asked him. I was right fucking there, and I didn’t ask.”

He’s dissected those moments in his head until there’s nothing left, and he’s forced to cobble them back together like some Frankenstein of memories just so he can take them apart all over again. Why didn’t he ask Jack to bring Cas back? Why didn’t Jack do it of his own free will? Jack knew how he much he needed Cas; hell, Jack brought him back once before when he wasn’t God. So why couldn’t he do it then, when Dean needed him the most?

“I don’t know,” Sam says, still in that same soft voice. “Maybe...maybe it was like Mom? I mean, Cas made his choice. For better or worse, he made it, and maybe Jack thinks that we need to respect it?”

A thick lump rises in his throat. Cas’ face replays in his nightmares, tear-stricken and yet smiling, peace and grief shining in his eyes. I love you. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to say at that moment. Like it was all he’d ever wanted to say.

“I never...” Dean swallows, but he doesn’t manage to chase away the horrid feeling rising in his chest. “I never said it back to him, Sam. I never...all those times he said it to us, and I never...he died, thinking that no one loved him. The one thing I want, I know I can’t have, is what he said to me.”

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a list of his regrets (there are too many to really list), but if he did, then he knows this would be at the top of it. Cas sacrificed himself, Cas let himself get taken, Cas died, and all to save someone who he believed didn’t love him back.

How could he not know?

Dean knows he’s not necessarily Mr. Subtle; he knows Sam knows. Their enemies damn sure have seemed to figure out through the years exactly where Dean’s heart lies. How could Cas, as brilliant as he was, as insightful, as compassionate as he was, not understand that Dean’s been lost on him, quite possible since the first time he walked through those barn doors?

Sam’s face goes on a journey and it ends up at about the same place that Dean feels. Maybe now Sam understands why it’s so much effort for him to just make it out of his room.

“He thought it was worth it,” Sam finally says. “Even if he thought...At the end, it was still worth it to him.”

You were still worth it, is left unsaid, but Dean hears the echo nonetheless. There’s an accusation there which he doesn’t want to confront, but he has to nonetheless.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” Sam finally says. “I can’t...” When he looks at Dean, his eyes are glistening. There’s a plea for understanding in his face. “There’s a whole world out there that I haven’t gotten to see since...since Stanford really. Since ever. I can finally go out there and walk around and not worry that something’s going to come after me. I can finally...” Sam rubs a corner of his shirt between his fingers. “You always said that I wanted a normal life, and I did, for a while. Then, when I figured that it was never going to happen, I stopped myself from wanting it, because what was the point? When everything we had got ripped away from us, what was the point of anything? But now...”

“If you start now, then you can probably make Des Moines by night,” Dean offers. It’s all he can say, but it’s enough.

Sam smiles, his eyes glassy. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

It’s not a goodbye, but it is. It’s the bonds of desperation and codependency snapping and shattering and reforming into something else. Dean doesn’t know how to love his brother in this new world. All he knows is that Sam deserves to live the life he’s deserved.

Dean closes his eyes.

When he opens them, Sam is gone.

---

That night, he goes up on the roof of the bunker. It’s cold, but not unbearable. There’s a light drizzle falling which strengthens to a gentle shower the longer he stays outside.

Dean closes his eyes and looks up at the sky. Out here, the stars shine clearer than ever before, visible even through the rainclouds.

He can’t help but think of Jack. His son. He can say those words now, acknowledge that Jack gave him everything he really wanted; the chance at a family, the chance to erase some of his father’s sins. Jack was gentle, he was kind, he was loving, he was theirs. And then he was gone.

Cas, Jack, Sam...

“What am I supposed to do?” Dean asks the rain, the same wild pain rising up in his throat. “What am I supposed to do now?”

---

He makes it back inside, damp and cold, and strips himself. He should shower, but he can’t be bothered, so he falls into bed naked and shivering. Not like it matters; no one is around to see him anyway. He falls into a fitful doze and is only awakened hours later by the soft sounds of someone moving around his room.

He bolts upright, snatching his gun out from underneath his pillow, because old habits die never. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as his heartbeat catches up with his adrenaline. “Sam?” he asks, and then, more tentatively, “Jack?”

His desk lamp blazes into the life with a soft snap. Dean’s heart leaps into his throat.

Cas smiles at him, the same as always, sadness always lurking in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Dean finally understands why he looks that way.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. The sound of his voice sends shivers down Dean’s spine, but the hair on his arms doesn’t rise. Dean understands then.

“This is a dream.” He lowers the gun. His heart slows to normal and disappointment is bitter in his mouth. “You’re not really here.”

Cas’ mouth lifts in a lopsided smile. “It’s as real as you make it.”

“Don’t fucking Dumbledore me,” Dean mutters. He rubs at his temples. Somehow, even lucid dreaming has lost its appeal. Talking to Cas isn’t appealing when he knows that he’s just talking to his own subconscious.

“I fail to see what a fictional wizard of questionable sexuality has to do with this.”

“Good to know that my subconscious has your sense of humor down.” Dean glares at Cas. “Why the fuck are you here, anyway? It’s a dick move, even for my brain.”

“Maybe because I’m the person you want to see? I don’t know. It’s your head, not mine.”

“Yeah. No offense, but I think I’m just going to go back to sleep. Or wake up. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I don’t need to see you anymore. It’s just...It really hurts, all right?”

“I’m not real, so you’re not really hurting my feelings.”

“Good. Well, now that we have that sorted out.” Dean punches his pillow as a punishment for betraying him, before he turns back to Cas. “I miss you,” he says, because he’s weak and always has been.

“Dean.” The sound of Cas’ voice always manages to make Dean stop and now is no different. He turns around and looks at Cas.

Somehow, Cas looks more solid around the edges. The lines around his eyes are more pronounced, and if Dean turns his head at just the right angle, he thinks he can see grey silvering at Cas’ temple.

“Sam was right,” Cas says. “I made a choice. That’s what this was all about, ever since the beginning. Making choices, running our own course, picking our own path.”

“Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in,” Dean mutters. The last thing he needs is his subconscious reminding him that once again, Cas decided that he wasn’t good enough to stay with.

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t make a choice as well,” Cas continues, ignoring him. “There’s nothing to stop you. You can make whatever choices you want and take the consequences that come with them. And if you make the right choices, then maybe...” Cas bites his lip, looking almost nervous. “Then maybe I can make some choices too.”

Dean opens his mouth to argue--Cas is dead, the time for making decisions has come and gone--but his subconscious is a dick, and before he can say anything, his dream fades away in a wash of black.

---

Dean wakes up energized. His eyes open into the same room, but it’s different somehow. It’s ridiculous, because the bunker is underground, but it’s almost like he sees the sun shining through his windows. Even the air tastes different. For the first time in weeks, he gets out of bed without dreading every step away from his mattress.

He glances at his phone. There’s a message from Sam along with a picture. In it, Eileen and Sam smile at the camera, their heads pressed together at the temple. There’s still a shadow of sadness in their eyes--they’ve all lost too much to be truly carefree ever again--but they look good. Happy. Whole.

Cas’ words echo back at him, both from the dream and from those last, horrible, terrifying moments.

Everything you did, you did for love.

You can make a choice.

Dean starts towards the library.

---

It takes him three weeks of almost non-stop research to cobble together enough spells to make something that has the potential to work. This isn’t his strength; Sam is much more suited for this type of work, but he won’t bring Sam in on this. If this thing goes really damn badly, then it has the potential to wipe him off the face of the earth, goodbye Dean Winchester. If this thing does what he’s halfway expecting it to, which is nothing, then he’ll have gotten Sam’s hopes up for nothing. He’s not going to expose Sam to either danger or disappointment, not when Sam’s finally managed to get to some kind of happiness.

If everything goes well...

Dean won’t let himself think about that.

He spends two days smoothing out the kinks in the spell, double and triple checking his translations. He gathers his ingredients, and then spends another hour pacing around the library. His stomach is roiling, and his nerves are jittery. He can’t bear to stop, but he can’t bear to move forward.

The memory of Cas’ smile spurs him into action. Cas went to his death a willing martyr for a man who he believed didn’t love him back. He can’t let that stand. If anything else, Cas has to know.

The drive to Pontiac, Illinois takes him the better part of a day. The impala springs forward across the asphalt, almost like she’s eager to eat up the miles after her forced retirement. Dean pushes hard down on the gas pedal, urging her forward. One way or another, this is going to come to an end tonight.

It takes him a while to find the barn. The last time he was here, he wasn’t in his right mind, still reeling from the horrors of Hell and the confusion of finding himself alive. He’d been scared and angry, lost and so very alone. And then an angel had walked through the door and told him that good things happened, that he deserved to be saved. The last little bit might have been a line fed to Cas by a bunch of dickhead superiors, but the sentiment behind it had stayed long after those superiors were all dead.

They replaced the doors which Cas shattered and painted over the walls which Dean and Bobby covered with sigils, but if Dean looks carefully, he can see the shadows of them behind the new coat of whitewash. He touches them gently for a second, remembering Bobby and all of the years which led him back to this place. Then he pulls out his can of spray paint and proceeds to deface the barn all over again.

When he’s done, he sets up the ingredients on the table. The table is where it was all those years ago, facing the doors to the barn. He doesn’t quite believe that Cas is going to pull the same trick, storming through the doors in a shower of sparks, but he can always hope.

“God...Jack,” Dean corrects himself with a wry twist of his mouth, “I really hope this works. Cas, wherever you are, I really hope you have your ears on.”

Dean looks at his translations and begins to speak. He’s hoping that intention counts for something as his tongue stumbles over the unfamiliar words. His heart beats an uncertain pulse in his chest. This has to work. It has to work.

He puts every ounce of belief into his voice, every bit of the faith Cas once accused him of not having. I have faith, he thinks, putting force behind his voice, sending his words rocketing into the dimensions. I believe in us.

What’s real?

We are.

The last syllables roll over his tongue, followed immediately by a peal of thunder. The barn shivers, a ripple rolling through the air to settle over Dean’s skin. Electricity crackles in the air, filling him with potential.

“Castiel?” he calls to the darkness. “Cas?”

There’s no answer, but the spells and research had been unclear on whether or not there should be an answer. He would prefer knowing that Cas was listening, but in absence of certainty, he’ll have to have faith.

“Cas, I really hope you can hear me,” he says. The words bring back the memories of Purgatory and a time when he and Cas could barely look at each other. He pushes those memories away and concentrates on the truth he can feel in his heart, the same truth which has guided him through the years and all the way from Lebanon, Kansas to the small barn where it all began all those years ago.

“I know you made your choice. I know you were happy. But...it’s not the same without you. I’m not the same without you. I wake up and think about you, and you’re the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night. Every moment, you’re there because you’re not there. I look at all the places you’re missing and I can’t help but think that everything would be better if you were there.”

Dean swallows. “I miss you,” he confesses to the night. “Cas, I miss you so much. And I want you to come back. Not because I need you or because there’s something to fight against, but just because I miss you and life is better when you’re around.” He thinks of what Sam told him before he went. “There’s a new world out there, and I can’t think of who I would rather explore it with than you, but in order to do that, you’ve got to make a choice, all right?”

His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode out of his chest. “I want to share my life with you. I want to figure out this world together. I want to be able to look at you and hold you and experience everything with you. Cas, I want to tell you what I should have told you every single day for years. I’m sorry that I never told you while you were with me. And I’m sorry that the first time I say it, I’m not going to be looking at you, but it wouldn’t be our lives if something about this wasn’t shitty, right?”

Dean takes a deep breath. “I love you, Cas. Not because of what you can do or how useful you are. I love you because of who you are and how hard you try. And I want to say it to you, every single day, for years to come. I’ve made my choice, Cas. Now you just need to make yours.”

Silence overtakes the barn. The only sound is the faint whistling of the wind through the slats of the barn and the quick rasp of his breathing. There’s no flap of wings, no deep voice growling in his ears, no pop of electricity.

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispers, closing his eyes to try and stop the burning behind them. “Please.”

Thunder rolls through the barn, shaking through the wood down to the dirt floor. Dean’s head jerks upright as he scans the barn. “Cas?” he calls, hardly daring to hope. “Castiel?”

A thin, golden thread rips open in the air before him. It looks almost exactly like the rifts between worlds which Jack used to create, but that’s not possible.

It’s not possible, but Dean dares to hope anyway.

“Castiel? Cas?”

A single hand reaches out through the golden tear, and then Dean is moving, he’s practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the rift. “Cas, Cas, please,” he’s saying, not quite aware of the words which are tumbling from his mouth. “Please.”

Until his fingers grip the hand, he’s not sure that it’s real, but that’s solid flesh and bone underneath his palm. Dean pulls, feeling resistance on the other end. “No,” he grunts, reaching into the rift. His hand touches skin, and his resolve grows. He didn’t come this far only to lose. They haven’t come this far only to fall apart.

“I want you,” he says, as though the force of his words can rip through the veil. “Cas, please, come home, Cas, please--”

With an almighty heave, he pulls once more and then he’s falling backward, another body tumbling against his in an ungainly pile of limbs and bodies. There’s skin and there’s warm, and there’s weight. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees the rift close up, as neatly as if it were never there at all.

He doesn’t care about that. He can’t, not now.

Dean looks down at the body sprawled across his lap. There are miles upon miles of naked skin for him to peruse, and he hopes that he’ll be able to do so later at his leisure, but for now, all he can concentrate on are those two luminous eyes blinking up at him.

“Cas?” Dean asks, hardly daring to believe. His hands cup Castiel’s face, fingers sweeping a few locks of dark hair off of his forehead.

Castiel blinks at him, his dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. A slow smile creeps across his face, like the dawn spreading across the horizon. “Dean,” he says, his voice the same as it always was, but this time it’s better, because it’s a voice that Dean never thought he’d hear again.

“Cas.” It’s the only word Dean seems capable of saying, but words don’t seem important anymore, not when he can lean forward and press his lips to Cas’, not when he can taste the small sigh of surprise on Cas’ lips. “Cas, I missed you so much, oh god, Cas, there’s so much I want to tell you, there’s so much I want to do--”

Cas interrupts him with another kiss, his arms threading around Dean’s shoulders to pull him closer. Gentle fingers tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and Dean thinks that he could live in this moment forever.

But before he does that, there’s something else which needs to happen first. Dean pulls away, ignoring the small whine of protest from Cas.

“Cas, there’s something I need to tell you,” he starts, only to be interrupted.

“I know,” Cas says, his face splitting into a wide, gummy smile. No shadow lurks behind his eyes, no hint of tears glisten in his eyes. There’s just happiness, radiant and absolute, gleaming from his face.

“I heard your prayer.”

Maybe once upon a time, Dean would have been satisfied with that answer, but not anymore.

“I love you,” Dean whispers, pressing the words into Cas’ skin with gentle kisses over his temple and cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you, and I’m going to tell you every day until you get sick of it.”

“You’ll have to try for a very long time,” Castiel answers, his fingers tracing along Dean’s jaw. “I like hearing those words very much.”

Dean can’t help but kiss him again. As he does so, he feels the lost and scattered pieces of his heart knitting back together until he can finally breathe for the first time in months. “Come on,” he says, once he surfaces for air. “Let’s go.”

It only hits him then that Cas is naked. Apparently rebirth and snagging people out of alternate dimensions results in a distinct lack of clothing. Dean’s eyes want to travel over the skin revealed to him, but he waits. There will be time, he realizes with a tiny thrill of delight. He and Cas have all the time in the world.

He manages to find a blanket to wrap around Cas’ shoulders. It will do until they get out to the car where he has a spare set of clothes. For now, he helps Cas to his feet. Cas looks around him, his eyes wide and huge, as though he’s overwhelmed with the world around him.

“Where are we headed?” Cas asks as they head towards the door. The Impala waits outside, beckoning them forward once more.

Dean grins as the cool night air washes over them. It’s gentle and soft, eternity held in the breeze. There’s a world held within the palm of tonight, a world held within the rest of their lives.

“Wherever we want,” he answers, stepping out of the shadow of the barn and into the world.

As they walk towards the Impala, a light rain begins to fall.

---

“Before, I wanted to say: "I found love!" But now, I want to say: "I found a person. And he belongs to me and I belong to him.”― C. JoyBell C.

#spn spoilers #supernatural #spn15 #15.19 coda #coda fic #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #castiel #15x19 inherit the earth #fare thee well spn #dothwrites #not beta'd we die like men here

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

Payback | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.2k

✦ request — I was wondering if you could do a dean winchester imagine that is like the reader is like young and has been with the boys since she was 18 and now she’s like around 21 or 22. She lives at the bunker with them and helps with research. So, basically she’s fallen in love with dean and has been in love with him for years. She never says anything because she watches him go after all these skinny girls and thinks she will never be good enough since she’s big and doesn’t think he’d ever like her. Then one day she basically just reaches a breaking point and it comes out to dean, and after some angst they get together. Then maybe some fluff or smut?

✦ warnings — angst, age gap (reader is in her twenties while Dean is in his forties), reader is kinda insecure at times, language, mentions of past sexual partners, mentions of a past ilegal relationship, a twinge of jealousy, suggestive stuff, some fluff.

════════════════════════

You heard laughs on the other side of the bar, right under the Bud Light neon sign. Unable to stop yourself, you looked that way.

A small friend group had erupted in laughter. There was a tall guy in the middle of two redheads — you couldn’t see very well, but you could tell he had caught you staring.

So you deviated your eyes to the right, where the bartender served one of your companions another beer. A couple of beers in fact. Dean was talking to a woman, undoubtedly charming her as he rested his elbow on the bar and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

You couldn’t look any longer, you would be sick if you did. He should’ve been doing that to you.

Realistically, you were probably twice her size or more, but you still could dream.

That was the problem, truly — you only could dream. Dean would quit hunting before even considering seeing you as a potential conquest. By this point, you should have been used to it.

Your eyes went back to the friend group from earlier. The tall guy held your gaze for a moment — you couldn’t figure out his eye color, or what his eyes showed under the uneven light, but you damn well could see he was handsome.

Not wanting to give him the wrong impression, you turned to your side and picked up your jacket.

Maybe you should also start to pay attention to the men who were actually interested.

But they weren’t Dean Winchester.

Comparing every man you met to him was a reflex, just like comparing yourself to the women he picked up at bars.

The Bunker was eerie every hour of the day, but there was something especially uncanny about an empty Bunker in the middle of the night. Devastatingly so.

Turning on the lights as you made your way towards the library, you made a beeline towards the kitchen. You weren’t in the mood for drinking anymore or for food, but you knew you needed to drink water.

Taking refugee in the library, you looked around a few news sites to see if you found something. It wasn’t difficult to find something shady or weird going on, but filtering out conspiracy theories was a pain in the ass.

Eventually, you found just what you were hoping you would. Dean and Sam rarely took you with them for hunts, but perhaps you could convince them this time to at least let you watch from the car.

Sam came home a little later, tipsy enough to be in a good mood. You told him about the case you had found, he said he would check it out in the morning and wished you a goodnight.

Dean didn’t come home. Why would he when he could have literally anybody he wanted?

You didn’t get any sleep. You had hoped that listening to an audiobook would lull you, but like most things, it wasn’t enough to even entertain you.

You were sick of this, of being into somebody who would never be into you. And who the fuck loses sleep for somebody who doesn’t see them as anything more than a sibling? You, apparently.

You needed coffee and a hug, but coffee by itself would have to do.

To your luck, Dean was already in the kitchen when you entered. His hair was wet which meant he was, thankfully, fresh out of the shower.

Instead of greeting you, he asked, “Where’s Sammy?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He took the car.”

You didn’t even know Sam had brought the car home the night before. “He must have found the case interesting.”

“There’s a case?”

“Kind of. It’s not too far away from here,” you explained, “but I wasn’t sure it was something up our alley. I guess Sam thought it was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you weren’t here.” You could tell your answer offended him. Good.

“You should have called.”

“Babying you isn’t my job, Dean.”

“Funny you say that when babysitting you isn’t mine and yet...”

“Can you stop treating me like a fucking child for two seconds?”

“Stop acting like one and I might.”

“God, you’re fucking insufferable. I can’t believe I’m in love with you!”

You didn’t know whose eyes were wider, if his or yours.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

He tried to be nonchalant, but Dean couldn’t even move. “Sweetheart, come on. It’s okay.”

You effusively shook your head. “It’s isn’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do or how to fucking react.” You were yelling now. Why were you yelling over this?

“I— well, I don’t know what to say.” He stuttered. “I mean, you are a kid. I could be your dad who had a kid at a young age, okay? This is fucking crazy.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. It’s humiliating.”

“I’m not going to give you shit about it.”

“No, you are. And then you’re gonna go and fuck somebody who’s actually hot and interesting and you’re gonna make me feel worse.”

“Hey, you’re interesting.”

“I’m not. And even then, you don’t go for them because they’re interesting, do you?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You wanted him to say that you were attractive too, that he would go for you in a heartbeat.

“Nothing.”

Both of you remained silent then. He had many chances to make it right, to have enough pity for you to at least apologize for not realizing you were in love with him sooner.

“ I’m gonna go,” you announced, having decided that this wasn’t worth it. The humiliation hurt, but his reaction stung.

He reached over and stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What now?” Your voice broke and your lip trembled. Not now, you thought. But now it was.

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

He hugged you to his chest. “I hate seeing you cry.”

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, a hand on the back of your head and the other on your upper back.

“You’re making me feel even more stupid,” you admitted through tears.

Dean sighed heavily. His hand twitched against your clothed skin as he tried to keep himself from rubbing his face. “You know, maybe you need a break.”

“Are you really trying to get rid of me already?”

He didn’t deny it. So you pushed him off you and stormed out. You couldn’t even get a fucking consolation hug.

════════════════════════

You liked to think you were doing a good job avoiding him. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home either way.

Expecting him to care had been too much, it seemed. You hadn’t wanted him to beg, or even fantasized about him chasing after you — you just wanted him to care, to at least told you he would forget about it or pretend you hadn’t said anything.

Sam entered the library, feigning interest in the stack of books you had piled on the table two nights ago.

He stalled, opening the one on top as though he hadn’t seen it before.

You shuffled in your seat. Waiting for whatever he would say.

He cleared his throat so you’d look up. You did.

“Dean and I are going out for a drink or two. Want to come?”

“No, I’m gonna watch something on my laptop and go to bed early.”

Sam gave you a worried look. “Well, if you need anything...”

“Have fun.”

Maybe Dean had been right, maybe you needed a break, and maybe —just maybe— this wasn’t the place you were meant to be at.

But you wanted to be there, and you wanted him. It fucking sucked that you would never get what you wanted just because you weren’t thin.

Story of your life.

You stayed in the library longer than you planned and eventually your tv marathon was held there. You had everything you needed and the chairs were comfortable enough.

Your laptop rested on the other side of the table as you leaned onto said table with your forearms and laid your head on your arm.

A knock on the thick door startled you. Looking up, you found green eyes.

“Did I scare you?”

You pressed the space bar to pause your show. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to come back early.”

“Sammy left with somebody so he’s not coming home tonight.”

You hummed, unsure as to what you were supposed to say. Should you say that you were happy for Sam? Should you ask why he hadn’t left with somebody too?

Dean spoke before you could come up with something. “Can we, uh, talk?”

Seeing you nod, Dean approached the table. He didn’t sit down, forcing you to crane your neck.

“I’ll find somewhere else to live,” you assured him.

He frowned, looking down as he searched for your now shifty eyes. “You’re leaving?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” He rubbed his palm against his forehead. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

You twisted your mouth. “It’s a little late for that.”

He hurriedly said, “I don’t want you to leave. You’re part of the family.”

“I think I deserve space to move on.”

A groan slipped past his throat and lips, rumbling in his chest. He was growing desperate. “Look... I’m trying to be the responsible adult here because God knows you won’t be.”

“So now I’m an adult?”

“It was never my intention to treat you like a child. I just wanted to put some distance between us.”

“You could have said so.” You didn’t think you would need to state the obvious to somebody as smart as Dean.

“I didn’t want things to be weird or to give the impression that I could take advantage of you if you were too close. I would never do that.”

Not proud enough to pretend you knew what he was talking about, you admitted, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“You’re pretty,” he blurted. “Really fucking pretty and interesting and so attractive that’s kinda unfair. And you’re also too young.”

“Dean.”

“Mmmh?”

“Kiss me.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Just kiss me,” you insisted. “We’ll forget about it if it doesn’t feel right.”

Dean took the chair beside yours out and pulled it to the side. His eyes didn’t meet yours as he leaned in, but they did when his nose brushed yours.

He softly placed his lips on top of yours. You saw his eyes screw shut before you closed yours. It was short and sweet, and when he parted from you, you feared you would have to go back to hide the way you felt about him.

Grabbing you by the waist, Dean made you stand up. He wrapped an arm around you while you rested your hands on his sides as a reflex.

He kissed you again, hard. So hard he unintentionally pushed you against the table. His tongue tasted of whiskey and those bacon-flavored chips you had never had the heart to tell him weren’t that good.

You brought a hand up to the back of his neck, kissing him deeply.

Dean took advantage of the fact that he had you trapped between the table and his body to caress yours. He started with your back and dragged his hands down to your ass.

His hands traveled to your torso, where he could surely feel your belly up, fingers toying with the hem of your black t-shirt.

You stopped his fingers from lifting your top and pulled away from the kiss. “Wait.”

“Having second thoughts?” he breathlessly asked.

“I’m not what you’re used to,” you explained through ragged breathing. “At all.”

”Really?”

You nodded, ashamed. One thing was him knowing how big you were and other was him seeing it for himself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way...”

“That’s a great way to let me know you’re about to insult me.” Fuck. You were getting defensive again — what a way to kill the mood.

“I’m not!” he defended himself. “I was going to point out that you’ve been around for a relatively short amount of time to know what I’m used to.”

“I’ve never seen you with a fat person before.”

“And I’ve never seen you with somebody older than you before.”

Was he playing dumb? “Of course you have.”

“Huh? When?”

“That guy in Texas was well in his thirties. And I dated somebody in their twenties when I was 16, I’m not too proud of that one, but—“

He interrupted you. “Nevermind. Shut up.” Dean kissed you again, bringing you flush against him.

You smiled against his mouth. “Is somebody jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Serves you right.”

“You’re evil.” He bit down your bottom lip and pulled on it.

“It’s just payback, I promise.”

Dean snorted. “Can’t say I don’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, allowing him to dissipate the tension. You would let him do whatever he wanted, regardless of the outcome, but you were too scared to say it.

You didn’t have to.

“Hey.” He cupped your face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assured you. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “We can take our time.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester

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inuma-kiss · 3 years

Text

EXCEPTION.

summary gojo reminisces the three times leading up to when he fell in love with you.

characters gojo satoru, gn reader.

format drabble / fic.

word count unknown (will add later, im super lazy rn)

contains fluff, highschool au flashbacks, mutual pining (but like,,,,, theyre in the flashbakcs?????), basically 3/4 of the story is flashbacks, little angst.

i figured i wanted to get more written stuff out before preparing for my bnha smau that i still have to plan and outline buuuttttt here ya go :D

It’s like it was yesterday, when the Gojo Satoru fell in love with you. Despite the fact that time seemed to pass that quickly, his feelings towards you only changed drastically like that in high school, way before his time as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

The first time Gojo had an idea of his feelings towards you was during the week of his school’s sports festival in his first year of highschool when he had gotten into a fight. You nor Gojo don’t recall him ever telling you what the fight was about, but you never pushed on the topic, and Gojo never made an effort to remember. The man — who was just a boy back then — was ever so careless, but who was he to think about his actions? You were always there to keep him in check, and that time wasn’t an exception.

“How can you be so stupid sometimes, Toru?” You scold lightly, hand gripping tightly around his wrist as you drag him to the nurse’s office. Gojo’s face is plastered with a shit eating smirk, one you wish you could slap right off his chiseled yet developing features.

“And how can you be such a mom at such a young age, hm?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, pushing him into the nurse’s office, conveniently pushing him hard enough to get him to sit on one of the beds. His mouth is agape just a tiny bit from the shock of the force coming from your push, but he pushes that said shock to the back of his head as he watches you prance around the nurse’s office, trying to look for the first aid kit.

“Where is that stupid thing?” You speak to yourself, digging frustratingly through the cabinets. You sigh in relief once you find the kit, walking towards Gojo and pulling out a chair from the side. “Let me.” You say simply, eyes boring into his own bright blues. He nods, leaning forward and a little bit down to get his bruised forehead to your eye level.

You open the first aid kit and place it on a little tray table right beside you, taking out cotton, alcohol, some ointment, and bandages. You tend to his wounds, and as much as Gojo is thankful for the gesture, he can’t help but hiss every time the cotton meets with his fresh wounds, the alcohol reaching the depths of his wounds and creating a burn that even he couldn’t ignore.

“Sorry,” you pull back once you’ve finished cleaning out his wound, this time returning to his cuts with a prepared bandage. You place it gently on top of his cut, patting down lightly once you’ve placed it to secure it’s position, allowing his own body to do the rest of the healing. “At least we’re done though.” You smile, putting away the first aid kit but leaving it on the table, choosing to spend the rest of your free time staring at him instead of wasting time with putting away a stupid first aid kit.

“Thanks,” he comments, but you know better. You raise an eyebrow at him, voicing your suspicions, and Gojo just smiles, letting you know that he has no annoying intentions behind his rare voice of gratitude. You mentally shrug, relaxing your features, however instantly regretting it as a smirk pops up on your best friend’s features. “Mom.” He says, laughing out loud like a maniac at your reaction before questioning his own life as you chase him around the school in a fit of anger.

Gojo smiles at the memory. You and him were just kids, fresh highschoolers who had just left the obstacle of middle school. Although he never felt anything significant during that specific memory of his, he knew that his feelings started to bloom that day because when he got home, his heart started beating fast as his fingers grazed against his bandaged wound. A wound that you took care of and took the time to care for. And after that, Gojo was determined to make you tend to his wounds from that day on.

The second time Gojo had an idea of his feelings towards you was during the summer trip before the third year of highschool. Your friendship with him is still strong, in fact, stronger than ever, but all friendships come into conflicts at some points, and for you and Gojo, this time was one of them.

Gojo has always been popular among the student body. Males love hanging out with him while females love his personality and his looks. So, in other words, you can say that he has quite the reputation amongst the ladies, and as much as you want to say it doesn’t upset or bother you, it does.

I mean, how could you not? No female paid attention to your best friend for the entirety of both your lives, but once second year of high school had hit, all of a sudden it’s like the females knew of Gojo’s existence since forever.

“What?” You’re taken back, shock evident on your face as Gojo sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, making eye contact anywhere that isn’t your own.

“I’m sorry.” He says, still choosing to ignore your stare in effort of quieting the growing guilt inside of him. “I really wanted to walk around with you, but Nara said she—”

“—It’s fine.” You quickly shut him down, not wanting to hear anything else leave his mouth. He shuts up immediately, arms going down to rest on his sides before finally making eye contact with you. It’s obvious that he’s guilty, his eyes say it all. Those bright blue eyes you’ve always loved held some sort of darkness inside them as they start to gloss.

“A-Are you sure?” Gojo is hesitant. He knows you better than anyone, yet at this moment, why is he having so much trouble trying to figure you out?

“Yeah,” you shrug your shoulders, eyebrows furrowing lightly at the pang in your chest, targetting your heart as it started to beat heavily. It hurts. “You chose her, what right do I have to argue with that?” You ask before turning away, walking into the bus where students were chattering, expressing their excitement for the trip. Gojo stares at your back, watching as you sit far away from the seats that you and him had originally picked out. It hurts.

The trip lasted for a whole week, if Gojo remembers correctly. The only thing he actually remembered correctly was the fact that he barely spent time with you that week. He’s used to having you by his side most of the time, and the fact that he was in the same vicinity as you yet you were absent from his side, he didn’t like it. Foreign feelings are always a good thing, it helps you get accustomed to new things and set out for new adventures. However, this particular foreign feeling was one he never wished to feel ever again.

Oh, yeah. Nara. She’s this girl Gojo had met at the beginning of his second year of highschool. The two became close and eventually he asked her out midway into the school year. Now that Gojo thinks about it, his time with you was starting to fade away little by little once Nara came into the picture.

Obviously, you said nothing. You saw how happy he was with her, who are you to ruin that? It’s not like you were anything more than a bestfriend, but that’s what you think. Gojo sees you as something a lot more than a bestfriend, he just hasn’t come to terms with it yet.

On the last day of the trip, Gojo finds you stargazing on the beach. He was hanging out with Nara, but he needed fresh air after being inside all day, so he excused himself for a bit to walk to the beach. Thank god he did.

“Toru?” You acknowledge him after feeling his stare on your back lingering too long for comfort, chuckling to yourself when he responded with a blush adorning on his face, eyes widening and shoulders jumping in shock. “Idiot. Come sit with me.” You tease, patting the space besides you, and with hesitation, Gojo follows.

He doesn’t know what to say. During this whole week, Gojo swore he had a million things to say to you, but now that you’re here, sitting besides him under the pale moonlight as the waves crashed against both your feet, he feels as if all the vocabulary he knew in his life...disappeared.

Maybe that’s just your effect on him. Gojo is not too sure, but with the way you’re eyes are boring into his, he can’t help but let his heart speed up a bit.

“How are you and Nara?” You initiate the conversation, knowing that Gojo is overthinking himself. It’s a bad habit of his, and no matter how many times you tell him to calm down, his mind just runs amock, leaving you no choice but to watch out for him. But, it’s not like you hate watching out for him. It’s quite the opposite.

“We’re...” Gojo tears his head away from you, instead looking at the vast horizon of the dark sky, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re okay.”

You smile despite the pain that grows inside you at his words, observing how his bright eyes soften at the thought of his girlfriend. You look away, hoping to qualm your overwhelming feelings for him, knowing it won’t do you any good.

You, however, miss the way Gojo turns back at you, eyes softening even more as he watches your silky skin glisten under the rays of the moon.

After that trip, Gojo remembers your relationship with him somehow changed. Back then, he can’t tell what the change was, but now that he’s an adult who’s had experiences, he’s very much aware what changed.

The third and final time Gojo had an idea of his feelings towards you was near the end of his third year of highschool. He was then a senior, still ever so popular. He was still with Nara, their relationship going on to one year, but he felt something off.

With his chest that used to tighten and warm up at the sound of her laugh, by the time the end of their third year comes around, he doesn’t get those same feelings anymore. Whenever Nara laughs, Gojo stays neutral, and that alarms him.

“Let’s go on a date tomorrow,” Nara approaches you and Gojo with a skeptical smile on her face. She ignores you completely, but you don’t react to it. After all, that’s how she always reacts whenever you came into the picture. It isn’t anything new.

“Okay.” Gojo smiles at her, but you can tell that his smile lacked the usual softness. “I’ll pick you up at 2?” He asks, and Nara nods, pulling him down for a quick kiss on the lips before skipping away happily as if she won a prize.

“She seems giddy.” You point out, and Gojo nods, his whole aura seeming to gloom as he stares at Nara laughing along with her friends. You furrow an eyebrow, hand touching the side of his arm to get his attention. “Hey, you okay?” You ask, and Gojo turns to you, mood lightening up as he nods. Sadly, you don’t notice the change in his attitude.

“Wanna go somewhere tomorrow?” Gojo asks, and you’re taken back, confusion lacing your features as you pull your hand away from his arm.

“Tomorrow? You literally just agreed to go on a date with Nara tomorrow.” You stare at him as his eyes widen in realization, and hope starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. Sadly, that said hope disappears once he laughs, waving his hand as if to dismiss you.

“Ah, my bad.” He shakes his head at himself. “I’m just tired.” He tries to play it off, and unfortunately, you take the bait and believe his lies. Adult Gojo wants nothing more than to slap the shit out of his and your highschool self, wishing that the both of you weren’t so blinded to your own stupidity.

Skipping to the next day, Gojo is tired. He’s mentally exhausted, and he wants nothing more than to go to your house and rant about everything. He doesn’t want to go on this date with Nara. In fact, he doesn’t wanna be with Nara at all. Gojo isn’t an asshole though, he would never leave Nara hanging like that.

So he gets up either way, walking to Nara’s house. The guilt in him starts to settle once he’s met with Nara’s cheerful face.

“Hey baby!” Nara giggles, instantly wrapping her arms around Gojo’s neck. “I feel like we haven’t gotten on a date in forever.” Nara says, gesturing for Gojo to come in her home as she lets go of his neck. Gojo doesn’t move an inch, however, and Nara stares at him in confusion, heart beating faster by the minute as realization starts to settle in the pit of her stomach.

“Nara, I...” Gojo clears his throat. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. Something changed, I don’t know what, but I do know that I can’t keep you going like this. You deserve better, and I can’t provide that for you.” Gojo is quick to speak his feelings, knowing that one more second here means one less second with you.

Nara smiles, shocking Gojo. He didn’t expect such a reaction from her. He’s not sure what exactly was he expecting, but this definitely wasn’t it.

“I know.” Nara reassures him, a tear trickling down her face. “That’s why I’ve been pestering you about going on a date. I know something changed, you love [Name]. You always have, but I thought I could change something there. I should have known that I hold no place in your heart when they’re around.” Nara sighs as more tears fall down her face. Gojo stands there, taking it all in as he’s swallowing in guilt. Guilt and relief. “Just go. I’ll be fine.” Nara says, pushing Gojo out of her house and closing the door on him.

Gojo runs to your house, not caring that he’s getting tired. Nara keeps her back on her front door, sobbing into her hands, her heart empty knowing she just let go the man of her dreams for the sake of his happiness.

He’s getting close. You’re all Gojo is thinking about right now as he burns his energy, legs moving quick and fast. All those times that he was so miserable during PE was worth it, because now that it counts, it helps him get to you faster.

“Toru?” You open the door, face pulled into an expression of shock when you’re met with an exhausted Gojo, hands on his knees and back hunched over ass he tries to catch his breath. “Did you run here?” You chuckle, shaking your head at him. You pull him into your house, sitting him onto your couch while you grab a cold glass of water for him.

“Thanks,” Gojo smiles at you, taking the glass from you and swigs the water down his throat in one go. “Yeah, I, uh, ran here; have some things to say.” Gojo puts down the glass on the coaster before leaning back against the couch, eyes landing on yours.

You’re taken back by his statement. Recently, your conversations with Gojo have been cut short. They’re usually compiled with small hi’s and how are you’s. Type of conversations that people as close as you and Gojo wouldn’t have. Unless, you know, something happens between them.

“Okay, um...” You gulp nervously, eyes moving away from contact with his, shifting towards the glass that he settled on the coaster instead.

Gojo smiles, noticing the nerves that were starting to settle in your body. “I’m sorry.” He says, and your eyes widen, eyes shifting back to make eye contact with him. Yet, you don’t say anything, allowing Gojo to continue. “I’m sorry for treating you like you weren’t important to me. For, you know, leaving you to yourself when I’m your bestfriend and I’m supposed to be there for you.” Gojo fiddles with his fingers, stopping when you place your hand on top of his.

“Toru, it’s okay.” You say, wrapping your hand in his. “I understand, I do. I’m just your bestfriend, and Nara, she...she’s your girlfriend. I know where your priorities land and—”

“—That’s the thing.” He interrupts you. “You’re my priority, [Name]. Not Nara. I broke up with her.” You let go of his hand, putting them on your lap instead as you try to take in his words.

“What...what are you trying to say, Toru?” You ask, unaware of how your body is leaning closer to his in wishful hope. In your mind, you’re hoping that his words mean exactly what you think they do, and fortunate for you, they do.

“I’m in love with you.” Gojo says as simple as that before sitting up properly to pull you close to him, hands caging your face in between his palms while his lips crash against yours.

The two of you stay there, lips dancing with each other as you both savor the taste of each other’s lips, the sweet taste of love filling the air causing your heart to swell up in happiness.

Before you could control it, tears start spilling from the corner of your eyes, the feeling of happiness becoming too over whelming. Gojo pulls away after a good minute or two, staring at your face lovingly while he uses his thumbs to wipe away your salty tears.

“You’ve always been sensitive, dummy.” Gojo teases, pulling you into his chest and letting you hide your head into his warmth, nose inhaling his strong yet comforting cologne.

“Shut up.” You smack the side of his shoulder, attempting to pull away from his hold, only to be pulled back in by his strong arms. “I hate you.” You sniffle, earning a heartfelt laugh from Gojo.

Back to the present, Gojo is chuckling to himself while you give him a confused look, eyebrows furrowed as your fingers expertly work their way to bandage his face.

“What the hell are you laughing about?” You ask with suspicion, but Gojo waves you off. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to make you take care of his wounds, and even after ten years since that first time he realized the change of his feelings towards you, you’re here, taking care of his wounds. Only this time, not as a friend, but as his lover.

“Nothing. Just reminiscing.” Gojo smiles, feeling as if he was rewinding time with the way he’s remembering things. You give him one more look of your suspicions before rolling your eyes, slapping his bandaged wounds lightly to signal that you were done. He hisses a little, sending you a feign glare, and you respond with sticking out your tongue, pulling back when he tries to bite your tongue.

You turn your back against him to put away the first aid kit, the smile on Gojo’s face getting larger. Now that he thinks about it, that one time in his first year if highschool, Gojo is pretty sure that he got into that fight because some boys were talking bad about you.

It’s not like him to involve himself in situations like that, but you? You’re an exception.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #fics #f.soft

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movedtodykedvonte · 3 years

Note

In one of your previous ask, I believe there was a mention of how Ethan feels the mental and emotional toll that it takes on him while he's in the position as Father Fungus. How would the Lords (including Lady D's daughters) react when Ethan just snaps after the stress has accumulated to the point where it becomes unbearable and he reaches his breaking point?

I doubt Ethan would break down in front of them. It is bad for everyone if they tried to blame it on one thing or even each other and he'd be aware of that. Ethan would excuse himself and then go off to cool down. However, there still is the chance he'd get caught...

"Why'd you call us all here, Alcina?"

"Yeah, what's the deal bringing us back here, super-sized?" Karl pushed past Donna on his way into the church, barely missing hitting Moreau when he dropped rested his hammer on the ground. Alcina scowled at his careless display but could understand the hostility.

The church had been a place marked as Mother Miranda's. If you entered there you were giving yourself up to her as a child, as a follower, as a living being. None of them, to her knowledge, had entered since she had been vanquished and, to her knowledge, they certainly did not want to ever again. Too many lies had been told here to them, too many bad memories made... Yet, she had brought them back. Composing herself she flattened her dress as she stood from her old chair, clearing her throat.

"I called you here," She narrowed her eyes at Karl, " because some troubling information has been brought to my attention by my girls."

"Well? Spit it out tall ass." Karl, eager to leave, demanded she cut to the chase.

"Don't be mean, Heisenberg..."

"Can it freak."

"Silence!" Alcina spoke sharply, patience wearing thin as Karl extended all of their times in the church. "If you had let me finish, I was going to inform you all that..." She stopped for a moment, as if unsure what she had brought them all together for was even correct. "That... one of my girls found Father Winters weeping outside my abode." The other lords stood quietly unsure of how to react.

Father Winters was weeping? Why? What for? He had gotten his child back, they were all safe and relatively happy. What could possibly trigger an action such as woeful and intense as weeping to occur in their dearest Father?

"Who did it?" Karl's impatient attitude faded, a one of a calm fury taking place. He picked his hammer back up, holding it as if ready to swing. "Winters-"

"Father Winters." Moreau corrected, shrinking back when Karl gave him a quick annoyed look.

"Father Winters," He stressed the word, rolling his eyes at how it appeased Moreau. "Has been through hell and back without shedding a tear. Whoever caused this, isn't going to cause it ever again."

"Yeah! Let's tear them to shreds!" Angie toddled on the ground, giggling and acting out ripping motions as Donna tied to reel her in.

Alcina shook her head, the sudden liveliness not what she wanted from a meeting such as this. "It isn't that simple, Heisenberg." She let out a huff, wishing she had a cigarette with her. "Less you plan on killing all of us... and yourself." The last part was said pointedly, a hopeful pitch to it.

"We've upset Father Winters?" Moreau sounded devastated, shaking his head as if he could shake the sentence from his memory. "What have we done? What can we do?"

"This is a mistake." Donna sat down as is faint, Angie coming to her side to comfort her.

"Your girls got this wrong, tall-ass." He took a step towards Alcina with the hammer, threatening to a person not as equally capable. "We ain't do shit to him."

"We ask a lot of him, don't we?" Alcina put her hands on her hips, glowering down at Karl. "My girls said most of what he said was incoherent, the wind and the doors made it difficult to hear."

"That's helpful..." Angie spoke calmly and irritably, the rest of the room momentarily stunned at the unusual display.

"It isn't... but what they did hear is his doubts."

"About?" Moreau shuffled closer, both to hear and see Alcina's expressions better.

Her looked turned dejected, almost as if she was a child told they were a disappointment by parents, which is effectively how she took it. "Us. If we are truly progressing, if we are ever going to be free of the confines of this village..." She looked as if she was leaving something out, but that is all she was willing to speak of.

"So, you're saying he's worried he's failing us?" Karl rested his hammer again, leaning on it, relaxed, as if listening to a boring story, "Please, I know you whack jobs call him father and stuff, but we aren't his kids!" Karl sounded jovial as if the problem at hand was a punchline he just got. The rest of the group's faces stayed grim. "We're fine."

"Father doesn't know that." Moreau's voice sounded serious, stern, and for once threatening towards his fellow lord. Karl went to protest before the silent nod of Donna and the agreeing hum of Alcina quieted him. He was outnumbered

"Exactly the issue I wanted to discuss." The tallest lord sat back down, attempting to look regal despite the vague focus in her eyes. Karl took note but opted to stay quiet. "We ask too much of him, too often."

"Nuh-uh, Father Ethan offers to play with me and Donna!" Angie seemed indignant, her games were not a forced activity, they were fun.

"Or does he feel the need to?" Angie looked up at Donna, this had been the most she spoke in a while. Her words resonated with the rest of the lords.

Did Ethan offer his time, his patience, his kindness, out of the good of his heart or did they force him? They had never called him to their residences, it had always been a choice on his part. Yet, they rarely gave him a choice when they would show up to his unannounced. He was always willing to participate in an activity of their liking, but when had they done the same? They did not ask for much, no, they took too often. Did he, for whatever reason, feel he had to let them? The ideas swarmed in the lords' heads.

"What should we do then, Lady." Alcina did not know if she preferred the vulgarity of Karl over when he disrespected her title. She would need a drink after this.

"We are overbearing him correct?" Silent nods filled the room. "He cannot handle giving so much of himself to us without reaching points like this. So we take less."

"And by that you mean?"

"Let him know we are fine and capable without his supervision. Shoo him off if you have to, but let him know we are doing well." Alcina leaned back in her chair, looking to where Mother Miranda would have been standing in moments like this. "Give him a break."

"That is doable!" Angie bounced on Donna's lap as if the idea was a challenge issued to her. "We'll be the best at not needing to be checked on! Like, hide n seek but with responsibility!"

Moreau nodded eagerly, being alone a little more often was no issue to him, especially since he had just gotten a few more movies to occupy his time with. Karl kept his gaze on Alcina, the latter still trained on the spot Miranda would stand.

"That settles it." Alcina began fixing her dress again, a content look unfolding upon her features as did the rest of the lords.

They would make sure they were not a burden to their father anymore...

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