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sunflowergyeomie · 3 years

Text

can you handle it?

sypnosis: jeonghan is a real pain in the ass, we all know that. he always seems to get you to do things you never agreed on doing, you try not to fall for them though. what if one day you accidentally fall into his trap and give in, without knowing at all?

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader (vagina bearing)

genre: established relationship, fashion design student!au, architect!au, smut (18+ only)

word count: 2.9k

warnings: profanity, m!dom, degradation, lots of cum play, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names, size kink?? if you squint

a/n: bcos the irl girl version of jeonghan (aka my devil angel twin) @shuajeong told me "there aren't any fics of jeonghan lately", thus ✨this is written purely for you and your pain 😘 i have to say though, this isn't my best work :( i kept going back and forth and i rewrote and changed things at least three times so 😖😖 (i'm lowkey done with it so i'm sorry i tried, i really did) please forgive me.

Challenge?

Oh, it’s a challenge, alright.

Annoyed is what it is, lips pressed tightly together as you sink in the indescribable feeling. That’s what was currently happening seeing how there is a huge load of cum in your panties – an ignorant aftermath of your quickie with Jeonghan this morning before he drove you to class.

He even had the nerve to question how long you could stay like that for the entire day. You took that as him asking for a challenge and having been with you for a while now, Jeonghan knew you were never one to back down from them. Having basked in the afterglow of sex sure made you think anything was possible – or more accurately speaking his dick just made you dumb.

Now that it’s almost noon, you’re absolutely starting to regret the choice you’ve made, especially when you’re sitting halfway through your second lecture for the day, simply feeling that load threatening to spill out from the cotton panel, onto your inner thighs and slowly ooze down your legs.

Multiple calls of your name put a halt to your thoughts. A hand waves across your face while your eyes focus and refocus as the silhouettes come into sight. Your friends, Mingyu and Minghao are both staring at you, confusion etched across their faces, anticipating an answer from a question one of them probably asked. But in all honesty, you couldn’t recall the subject matter, nor did you give a shit about their issues because your main concern at this time is to get the hell out of there. “Oh, huh? Oh yes, sorry, yes, I’ll absolutely do that.”

A little laugh escapes from Mingyu’s lips while Minghao frowns. “I said.. What are you thinking about?” Mingyu asks, “You have a weird look on your face.”

“Are you not feeling well?” Minghao chimes in. “We can take n-“

“I’m fine, guys. Just a little tired,” You brush off, not wanting to go too deep into whatever you were currently feeling. It’s not that the guys weren’t close to you. In fact, they grew to be one of the closest ever since freshman year when all three of you showed up in the same pattern drafting class, wary looks on everybody’s faces in a new environment. Since the fashion department itself is small with only a few hundred students enrolled, it also meant that classes were taken with familiar faces, rarely is there a fashion student you haven’t seen before. Not to mention you were always being grouped in numerous projects and that’s how the three of you came to be. Both of them knew of your relationship with Jeonghan, of course, but there’s just some things that are better off left unsaid even if they are your best friends.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the both of them stealing glances at you every now and then. Even though they didn’t buy your excuse, Mingyu and Minghao knew better than not to bug you about it so throughout the whole three-hour lecture, you could just sense their concern emanating off their bodies. Adding on to your growing anxiety, making you more on edge, terrified that at any moment they would catch a glimpse of whatever dirty secret you were holding in – quite literally. Pulling out your phone, you quickly sent a text.

[12:03 PM]

you: I can’t take this anymore.

hannie: what’s wrong, princess?

You groaned, exasperation coating your breath. Was he playing dumb?

you: you know what I mean, han.

hannie: and what about it?

hannie: if I recall correctly, weren’t you the one who practically begged me to cum inside of you? Was just doing what you asked me to, princess :)

Scoffing in disbelief, you ignore his message, tossing the device straight into your bag, now furious at yourself for agreeing to it.

Stupid dick.

You weren’t even that horny this morning.

The cement walkways on campus greet the three of you as you step through the warm breeze. The sun shining through every leaf on the tall oak trees above you signal the firsts of many beautiful days now that summer is just around the corner. The bright weather is a big contrast to your dampening mood as your feet slowly drag along the blocks, leaving a gap between you and your friends while you try to keep up. You weren’t too keen on walking too fast right now. One wrong shift and you could be at risk of having Jeonghan’s gooey, semi-translucent, and not-so-warm release pooling down from underneath your mound. The two paid no attention to you though, they’re happily chatting about lunch options and the next possible location for studying afterwards. Not that you were going to join them anyways, not until you get the mess in between your legs situated.

“How about donkkaseu?” Mingyu turns around to ask, head whipping back mid-sentence to look at you, only to turn around and see that you’re already gone. His head turns left and right, trying to find you in the crowd of students, squinting his eyes for even a glimpse of your backpack but you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d she go?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minghao gives him a pointed look. “Jeonghan.” He says bluntly.

Jeonghan works downtown, a full hour away from your university. He was a busy man, well-equipped with knowledge and never failed to take pride in his work, no matter what it was. Your boyfriend was a well-wanted individual – not only with people who desperately wanted to be in his inner circle but also in his field of work with the numerous clients fighting for a slot in his schedule. Jeonghan has never-ending project proposals, spending most of his hours reviewing alterations and redevelopments on his building designs – a perfectionist, you often say or an obsession as others might call it. Knowing how serious his job was to him, you made sure not to meddle in with his profession, seeing how much it irritated him whenever he couldn’t concentrate, but this time was different – and you couldn’t hold yourself back from making the journey. You bow as you greet the secretary at the front desk. She takes one look up from her screen and already knows who you’re here for, immediately telling you of your boyfriend’s whereabouts while you nod back in thankfulness.

Pushing the heavy doors to Jeonghan’s office, the first thing you notice were his eyebrows deeply furrowed upon his face, a definite telltale to the attentiveness of the task in front of him. A few coworkers were surrounding him, each hovered over what seemed to be like another one of his drawing plans. At the click of the doorknob, Jeonghan’s head perked up when he saw you enter. A smile threatens to pull at his lips, but he bites them to prevent the joy from appearing. He’s been waiting for you all day. Having expected you to cave in earlier so he could have an excuse to take a long break. The current deal he was working on was getting to his head even though he’s gone over it a couple times already. He just needs a reset, a breather of some sort, … a release. Jeonghan fakes innocence however when he asks why you’re here. Simultaneously, his brain has already got his fingers wrapped around the string – pulling once, twice, three times, officially starting the internal mischievousness in him. A devious idea accelerating right before your very own eyes.

You furiously start making your way towards him, hair flying in all directions, nostrils flared in annoyance, your cheeks flamed red from built-up anger since the early morning you got to school, and the wrinkle between your eyebrows. You were a hot-tempered mess, you knew that but god, all he could think about was how beautiful you look. The way your eyes are rounded with the curvature of your nose bridge, adding on to the natural tint to your soft lips. Your lips that pout ever so slightly whenever you want something, your lips that taste like a mixture of yourself and that artificial strawberry-flavoured chapstick you apply every morning, your lips he so badly wants to feel against his own.

Your voice cuts through, interrupting his trance. “Excuse me, can I speak to you privately for one second?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan grins, dropping the pen as his hands start pushing his body up from the plush chair, quickly dismissing his staff with a wave of the hand. They take a hint as one by one, each of them starts leaving. He stands up, arms already going around your waist to pull you close, “Hi baby, how was your day?” He asks, head tilting as his hands are already reaching up to run his fingers through your hair.

You open your mouth to spew words, anger bubbling in letters as they boil up to the back of your throat but all of which dies down when the fire is turned off. Blocked off after the door is shut behind the last person when his demeanour takes a turn and switches a whole 180 degrees. His plan finally comes into action as his acting skills gear up. Licking his lips, his hands drop as he takes a step closer to you, hovering over your tiny figure. He’s finally got you where he wanted you in the first place. His eyes peer down from the lenses of his wired glasses, “Don’t you know better than not to interrupt me while I’m working?” He pauses. “What do you think my staff will think if you’re here for too long?” The back of his fingers gently trails down your face, almost feather-like as you try to press your face against his palm, leaning more into his touch.

“Guess you couldn’t keep it in, huh? I always knew you were a little slut.” Jeonghan tsked, “Was my cock not enough that you needed a second filling? It’s only been a few hours, darling.”

He starts walking back to his desk, hands going into his pockets as he leans against the edge. It shouldn’t have intimidated you, the way his eyes bore into yours but you gulped anyways, a feeling of excitement stirring in your lower abdomen as you clenched around nothing. You opened your mouth to retaliate, only for it to be shaped like what seems like a silent ‘o’. One of his eyebrows raise, a silent gesture for you to come.

Out of habit, your legs start moving obediently on their own until they reach the fronts of Jeonghan’s dress shoes. Tracing the outline of his long, toned legs hidden underneath the carob brown material of his trousers, you couldn’t help catching onto the small details of the garment. The modern leg-lines seamed in to elongate his legs, waistband wrapped around his torso showcasing his slim but strong build, the button with its holes as imaginary eyes and a crossed thread disguised as lips silently screaming ‘open me, open me!’.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to tear your eyes away from his lower half to look at him. “I thought you came here to say something, but I can practically see the drool coming out of your pretty little mouth, staring at my cock.”

“I-“, He spins you around, positions changed now that you’re the one leaning against the desk. Jeonghan dives his head to capture your lips with his. You’re taken by surprise as a gasp escapes from your mouth while he takes that as a chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your bottom lip; full of need and desire, desperate to let out his frustrations. All your effort is focused on keeping up, molding your mouths together. Your anger is now replaced with lust. His hands are moving down to grip your ass.

Your breath hitches when his lips start trailing down your jaw, gently nibbling the soft skin on your neck before travelling down the valley of your breasts. He doesn’t bother trying to take off your top, opting to unbutton the first few, just enough to expose your lacy bra. Slipping underneath one cup to carefully knead your honey soft skin before latching his mouth onto your nipple, sucking gently but firmly. You whine as he hoists you up and places you on the surface, his face never detaching from your soft and full chest as he quickly pulls your pants off, leaving you in just your soaked panties.

“Maybe it was a good idea to leave my cum in you,” Jeonghan’s fingers hook onto the waistband. He smirks before pulling them down completely, stopping mid-thigh. “Easier to prepare.”

A trail of your slick follows as his digits spread your pussy, using his middle finger to slowly drag up your wet slit. His other hand is gripping your thigh when he reaches down in between, scooping the leftover cum from the previous session and forcing it back into your pussy. You watch with wide eyes only to have them roll back completely when he finishes by stuffing them all the way into you, resulting in a loud moan.

“P-please”

Jeonghan chuckles, satisfied by your reaction. He had you beckoning at his every move yet you were sure the satisfaction still wasn’t enough for him, not just yet. He pulls his fingers out to strip himself of his own pants, popping his member out. The hand with the fingers that were just inside of you is now rubbing all over his cock, using the little beads of precum along with a bit of your slick to pump himself.

Jeonghan’s cock is pretty, like the boy himself. He’s not too big or too small but he knows his angles and he knows how to use them right. Every time the two of you get intimate, which is quite often, his thrusts are sharp, clean and reach to the most inner parts of you – something that leaves soreness inside of you for days. But that doesn’t seem to matter whenever the two of you are having hot and steamy sex five days out of the seven weekly.

“You better stay fucking quiet.”

One hand is gripping your waist for extra support while the other is slowly guiding his length into you. The growl in his voice sends another wave of arousal between your legs, the wetness starting to spill and gather down your thighs. His eyes diverted down to pay attention to the way his length was disappearing inside of you. Each stroke covering his manhood with even more of your juices.

“F-ffuck, baby.” He curses under his breath. “You’re still so tight.”

His voice was breathy, almost like a whine before he picks up his speed, splitting your folds with a sloppy rhythm, expecting to chase both your highs before his coworkers come barging back in. Although the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position arouses him, Jeonghan couldn’t risk letting anyone seeing you in your most vulnerable state. Not when you have all the right curves, exclusive only for his viewing.

At some point, his hands start pulling you into him to meet his every thrust, your tits bouncing as you start feeling the delicious new angle he’s ruining you from. The tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix with every stretch. The familiar feeling of tension starts to build as your eyes squeeze tighter, your orgasm is approaching faster and faster. You’ve never wanted to scream his name out loud so badly when he slams once, no, twice into you, releasing the coil sending intensifying waves of pleasure throughout your whole body. Your tight heat clenching and unclenching around him causing Jeonghan to groan, “Shit.”

“Cum in me.” You insisted weakly. He gives in as he presses himself balls deep, cock twitching as he unloads inside of you, cum shooting in spurts coating your walls in white. The groan emerging from the back of his throat muffled as he quickly smashes his lips onto yours to conceal it. Your muscles move on your own, hiding your own whimper as your lips move together in unison. His body slumps over yours while he rests his head against your shoulder, pressing a light kiss as a way to say thank you.

In the intimacy of the moment, your arms are thrown around his broad shoulders, subconsciously pulling him closer as the two of you try to catch your breaths. When he lifts his head up, his doll eyes are already staring into your glossy ones. A tender smile spreading across his face, pecking your lips one more time before he slowly pulls out. Straight away, the emptiness is evident as his warmth disappears, your hole gaping while he looks down to appreciate the work done on your ruined pussy.

You feel your panties being pulled back up, now snug on your hips as he lets go of the elastic waistband to hear it snap back on your skin.

“Guess you have two loads to keep in now.” A devilish look covering every inch of his handsome face.

“Jeonghan!” you lunged at him. He cackles maniacally, successfully dodging while you attempt to jump on his back. The blood in your veins starts boiling again, both hands reaching up to cover your face when you realize your mistake for the second time today.

Jeonghan’s dick really did make you dumb.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan one shot #jeonghan one shots #svt jeonghan

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glowingbadger · 3 years

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Can I get a nsfw fic for Diluc where he and reader are vigilantes together? I feel like that would be hot af.

Oh-ho~ what a delightful concept, Friend Anon.

I feel like I've barely had time for fic-style stuff rather than headcanon stuff lately, so forgive me if this is like... idk.. less good xD I hope it's good idk agopwgj

Side note, y'all Genshin people tend to blow up my page every time I post something in this fandom but I get SO few actual requests for it, wtf is up with that

Diluc x GN Reader - vigilantes

NSFW 18+

There aren't many of your typical "dark back alleys" in Mondstadt, but they are there if you go looking for them. If you do, you're sure to make some friends and acquaintances of the sort who also go looking for such tucked away places. And tonight, you're expecting a meeting with a coworker.

You've been tracking a particular Treasure Hoarder for weeks now. He's a cut-throat sort, in that he literally cuts throats, and quite gleefully at that. He's scum, but he's a valuable asset. He's the only Treasure Hoarder idiotic and brave enough to have set foot inside of Mondstadt's walls as of late, and you're not about to lose the opportunity to track him back to his hive. And it shouldn't be too difficult to do so- as long as a certain "Darknight Hero" doesn't decide to step in.

Somehow, you have a feeling he will.

And as you crouch atop the sloping roof of a typical Mondstadt residence, observing your pet rat scurrying through alleyways he clearly doesn't know as well as he ought to by now, you glimpse a familiar flash of red. Moving as quickly as one can with a sword that matches his height while retaining some measure of stealth, Diluc clearly has your subject in his sights. You barely contain a sigh, your brow lowered in flat exasperation.

You'll have to act quickly- Diluc is rapidly closing in on your only source of intel, blade at the ready and eyes devoid of mercy. Never taking your eyes from his dark silhouette in the alley below, you gracefully maneuver from the roof to a nearby balcony banister, then down a railing. Your feet meet the stone pavement silently just as muscles flex and the greatsword hefts into the air above a fiery mane of hair. Without a sound, you draw your own blade and press it firmly to Diluc's throat. He hesitates for just a moment, his surprise causing his footing to waver for the instant you need to tug him back against the wall.

"You-" he hisses with fury in his eyes, "What are you doing?!"

"Keeping you from killing my only lead!" you shout-whisper back to him as the Treasure Hoarder slides around the corner and into the open streets. He's a lost cause now- acting out in the open would draw unacceptable attention to both you and Diluc. For now, the edge of your sword indents his skin, emphasizing the unfortunately seductive sight of his adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

"He's a killer." he spits out bitterly.

"Yes," you reply, "And so are all of his friends. And the only way to snuff them all out is to let him live- for now."

His weapon vanishes for the time being, but you know his strength well enough to know that this does not make him 'unarmed.'

"Go join the Knights if you enjoy wasting time so much."

"Oh, perhaps I should," you say, "It was a Knight who gave me the intel to track this target, after all," the playful lilt in your voice guides him to the exact conclusion you want him to reach. What you don't expect is for Diluc to use his considerable strength to spin you back against the wall, jostling your sword from your hand and swapping your positions, with your wrists now pinned to the plaster behind you. You're startled for a moment- but not so much so that you miss the way his eyes scan your body before him.

"It was a strutting peacock that needs its beak removed, more like," he says, his voice low as he looms over you. Your bodies are so close, the space between you seems charged with electricity.

"Is that a touch of jealousy I hear?"

"You're infuriating," he gives this utter non-answer just before his lips reach yours. His kiss is deep and intense from the start, pressing you to the wall as his tongue thrusts into your mouth.

This has always been your favorite way to vent your mutual frustration. There's something about each of you that only the other knows; a part of you both that only the two of you have access to. Those cordoned off sections of your hearts instinctively reach toward one another, binding you and the Darknight Hero together despite all of the myriad ways you find yourselves at odds. Adrenaline and emotion drives your bodies together, and your pulse pounds as his tongue wrestles yours and the warmth of his body catches yours on fire.

You do your best to keep up with Diluc's frenzied need, parted lips working rhythmically against his, yet you can feel the rush of arousal through your body and the fight leaves you almost instantly. In one final act of provocation, you urge your thigh between his, rubbing it gently against the growing heat you feel there. His cock twitches with interest, hardening against the front of his pants. Diluc groans into your kiss, his hands releasing yours to travel down the contours of your sides.

When those strong hands reach your backside, they shamelessly grab at your curves, pulling you firmly against him and encouraging your thighs around his hips. Your feet are barely touching the ground anymore, and you can feel his growing cock grinding into your heat. His impatience is as evident in his touch as it's always been in his fighting style; though, the difference is that now, you're happy to match his pace. Thoroughly trapped between his body and the wall, your hands run across his chest, happily indulging in the plains of muscle beneath conservative clothing.

Then, you nip at his bottom lip, dragging it between your teeth and revelling in the husky groan this pulls from him. His hips sway against you, rubbing the head of his now rock-hard member against you. Quite suddenly, his hands leave your body, then instead, cup both sides of your face. Diluc holds you in place as he kisses you so hard and deep that your legs tremble and you worry your knees may give. And at last, the airy moan you offer him in reply seems to break the last of his restraint.

"Towards the wall," his urgent whisper grazes your skin, and it's all you can do to keep from moaning at the intoxicating, masculine tenor of his voice. Instead, you obey him, turning to the wall, only to feel him pinning you once more from behind. His lips are at your ear, his tongue tracing its curve, until he says softly,

"Truly a shame you can't always be this cooperative."

"I- I'm very cooperative when it gets me what I want..." you half-moan as his lips press heated kisses down the side of your neck. His fevered touch is everywhere, running up your sides to caress your chest, fingers briefly circling your nipples and causing you to arch against him.

"One day I'll make you beg for it." he muses softly, less like any 'dirty talk' you've ever heard, and far more like he's scolding you. Either way, it sends a hot wave of arousal plunging to your core. With a soft whimper, you urge your ass back against him, grinding onto the stiff length of his cock. Tonight won't be the night you beg, but you do need to show him how badly you want him- and he graciously complies.

Diluc's thumbs hook into the hem of your breeches and tug them down over the curve of your ass. Despite his own wants and needs, he does pause to appreciate the sight of you offering yourself to him, lower body exposed and face flushed when you glance over your shoulder at him. A single large hand runs over your backside, cupping and grabbing at it idly, enjoying the sight of your flesh over-filling his grip. Then, with a low hum, his eyes meet yours as he opens the front of his trousers and reveals his thick, twitching manhood to you. It's dark and veined, a powerful, masculine member that practically makes your mouth water- and you can't stifle an eager whine as he positions himself behind you once more.

The warm head of his cock presses to your greedy little hole, and Diluc wastes no time pushing himself steadily into you. With each inch, he splits you open around him, and your body tenses and arches against his strong frame.

"Diluc..!" you gasp out the moment he's buried into you to the base and his tip hits your core. Sometimes you think you'll never truly be accustomed to how fully he fills you.

"Quiet," he whispers harshly, though the way the full length of his cock swells at your cry tells him he quite enjoys hearing you. Yet as his hips begin to move and the veins and contours of his cock grind against your inner walls, it becomes harder and harder to keep your voice down. He feels too incredible, reaches too deep, stretches you out so nicely around him until you fit him perfectly. Your entire body burns, and you cling to the wall in front of you to take some of the strain off of your trembling legs. Before long, you're gasping and panting for him as he bucks into you, the head of his cock dragging against some indescribably wonderful spot each time he thrusts forward.

"You're so... difficult..." he grumbles, and you hear him move, unsure of what he's doing until you feel his gloveless hand sliding fingers into your mouth. Your eyes roll back, your body clenches and squeezes around Diluc's shaft. Perhaps he'd only meant to keep you quiet, but the depravity of being fucked senseless by the most sought-after gentleman in Mondstadt in a back alley while being made to suck on his fingers is simply too erotic to withstand. Your lips and tongue worship those fingers as he pounds you against the wall, railing into your desperate body until the hot, winding knot of pleasure in your gut comes undone in a sudden, mind-numbing rush.

"Nngh- gods...!" even Diluc, with all of his strict self discipline, can't keep from groaning as your climax seizes you. He can feel your body tense and release, feel your inner walls tightening and gripping around him, clinging around his cock like you can't bear to be without it. He draws closer, his hard chest against your back, his head sinking down to the crook of your neck. His thrusts lose their timing, uneven and inelegant as he nears his own release.

You feel the sting of his teeth at your flesh. Diluc silences his own sounds of pleasure, burying his face at your neck and sucking a dark love-bite to your skin. But even this jolt of wonderful pain can't distract you from the way his cock flexes deep within you, swelling and straining out against your tight hole. Then, at last, his breath catches, and his cum begins to shoot out into you. The first impact causes you to whine around his fingers, which he punishes with a harsher bite at your shoulder muscle, even as he continues to fill you. Wild red hair brushes your face as you rally your strength to keep yourself in place for him and he fucks the remainder of his climax into your waiting body. For a moment, he holds within you. You each struggle to regain composure and steady your breathing- no easy feat when his manhood is stubbornly refusing to soften even the slightest bit. Then, with a barely restrained sigh, Diluc eases out of your spent hole.

His hand comes to rest on the wall in front of you, trapping you against his body for a moment longer. You have just enough room to move your hands to tug up your clothing and cover up, and he does the same with his free hand. But before releasing you, he places a lingering kiss to the spot just below where your jawline meets your ear. It's a surprisingly tender spot, and the soft warmth of his lips seems to spread across your skin from that point.

"Be safe getting home." he murmurs, and you find yourself wishing dearly that you could see his expression as he says it. Though, perhaps he fully intends to keep that image from you. Then, he straightens his posture, the cool night air filling the space where his body had warmed you.

"And next time," he adds, having regained his usual business-like tone, "Don't expect me to be so generous if you stand in my way."

#diluc #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fic #diluc smut

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confessionsof-a-writing-freak · 3 years

Text

I Don't Wanna Be a Memory

Summary:

And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385405

Rating: Explicit

Ship: James 'Bucky' Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha bucky!, Omega Steve!

Bucky’s voice is the single most dangerous weapon he possesses.

Not the guns, or the knives, or even the years of government-issued muscle memory in hand-to-hand combat could compare the carnage that rubbles and quakes the earth when he says Steve's name.

“Stevie,” Low and silky. Full of authority-full of alpha. But still understanding the difference in rank despite the apparent superiority in designation. Never challenging or speaking down, but fuck did it make Steve want to sink to his knees and watch Bucky fall apart due to his mouth for a change.

“Steve?”

Okay, maybe not the entire earth, but Steve’s world sure feels like it’s been turned on its axis.

“...Steve.”

The worst part of it all is Bucky has no idea. No clue. No motivation! He simply exists and speaks like that with no intention of letting his voice get all severe and appetizing for the purpose of getting Steve’s omega excited for Bucky's alpha.

It’s especially distracting during missions.

Steve’s heart races, his conscious thought nowhere to be found as he conjures up impossible scenarios involving his reformed assassin best friend and naked cuddling.

The second they boarded the Quinjet, Steve had torn the earpiece away as if it had burned him.

Can you imagine leading a team or keeping them safe when every so often your second in command asks for your position, voice rough as he asks Steve for orders?!

Can anyone really blame him for getting lost in the phantom sensations of Bucky saying his name like a secret no one else deserves to know?

He didn’t think so.

That being said, all the control he can muster in order to actually complete a mission evaporates into the wind the moment the dance between life and death comes to a close; every suppressed, shameless fantasy unleashed and unforgiving as they consume his every thought.

Steve is abruptly pulled from his most recent daydream when a cool metal hand taps the back of his wrist twice, “You with us, Steve? I’ve been calling your name for a minute now.”

Quickly, Steve straightens his back and squares his shoulders, meeting stormy grey eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. Had a lot on my mind.”, He says with more confidence than he actually has.

It’s not really a lie. He does have a lot on his mind, all the ways he can find himself face down, ass up on the other man’s bed. Drooling and crying and breathing in Buckys scent with every breath he takes.

Of course, he can’t very well say that, can he?

He was lucky the S.H.I.E.L.D issued, super soldier approved suppressants made him nearly null. He can’t fathom the level of embarrassment that would claim him if Buck- or the whole damn plane for that matter- could scent the desperation, horny inside of him.

Bucky shifts closer, grey eyes softening the tiniest bit with concern, “Is everything alright?”

No.

“Yes, of course, “ He lies, “Just thinking about battle techniques is all. Scouts honor!” Steve makes an odd, incorrect gesture as a mock salute.

Bucky allows a small huff of air Steve recognizes as his poor imitation of a chuckle. There’s a moment of fuzzy pride that nearly causes Steve to purr; happy he brought a smile to the alpha’s face before his stomach drops clear down to his toes as murmured laughter rumbles too close to a growl in Buckys chest.

“My memory may be shit, Stevie, but I know for damn sure you weren’t no boy scout.”

Aaaand there it is.

Stevie.

Steves omega stirs and preens before the captain shoves them back down. Resenting the butterflies crying out in his belly and the urge to beg Bucky to just say his name over and over and over…

“Steve?”, This time, the concern isn’t quite as subtle, “Are you sure you’re alright, pal?” Bucky takes a step closer towards the blonde, drawing out skittish blue eyes, lowering his voice in case anyone was listening.

Again, the omega clears his throat and squares his shoulders.

“Did you want to tell me something, Sargent?”

Bucky opens his mouth, defiance dancing on his tastebuds before something makes him snap it shut, offering a curt nod, “Yes, Captain.” His voice strained, everything he wants to say lodged in his throat.

“I just wanted to let you know that we should be landing in less than 15 minutes.”

Like before, Bucky opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. Choosing instead to take a seat beside his captain, slipping his arms through the provided harness. He gives Steve a pointed look, “We should probably buckle up.”

For a moment, Steve is taken back to the war. When his body was just beginning to react to the serum and the increased suppressants. (The government had taken every percussion necessary to ensure the public wouldn’t know Captain America was an omega.)

After Steve became ‘big’ and outranked Bucky in the military, the brunette never did anything but follow him into the fire. Loyal and boundless. Never questioning his strategies or actions unless it put him in direct danger. That didn’t mean he could keep himself from telling Steve what to do. He just found different ways to do it.

Suggesting tasks, like putting on seatbelts, for instance. Strapping extra weapons to his ankles before handing one to Steve and forcing it into his hands even when the blonde would roll his eyes, whispering his disapproval so only he would hear.

Never raising his voice or permitting his tone to deepen or his scent to take on that spicy, electric feel that never failed to make Steve bare his neck. Never stepping out of line. Never disrespecting or demeaning Steves title. Always in charge anyway.

Bucky doesn’t utter a single command or request, but Steve buckles up anyhow. Drinking in the small, hardly there smile that Bucky offers to the air in front of him, not even meeting Steve’s gaze. And the omega hates the happiness, the relief he feels at satisfying Bucky.

Hates that Bucky doesn’t even have to tell him what to do for him to obey. Hates that he has to obey, even though Bucky doesn’t need him to anymore.

He doesn’t need him anymore...

Bucky still hasn’t said a word when they land, but it’s not like Steve gave him much of an opportunity.

Things have been strained between them since Steve began pulling away. Avoiding Bucky’s calls and limiting their time together.

It was just easier that way. Miserable and lonely, but easier.

The moment the Quinjet is stationary, the supersoldier is up on his feet and stomping down the runway, leaving the Avengers and Bucky behind him.

He needs to breathe.

He can’t breathe!

If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was having an asthma attack. It feels like an asthma attack.

Steve’s eyes sting with unshed tears, taking large gulps of air into his lungs, and it burns!

He arrives at his door by the grace of God, not remembering entering the tower or if he passed anyone on his way.

“Jarvis. Door.” He gasps. Actual fear starting to seep into his bones.

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” The AI responds, the oversized steel doors swinging open.

Distantly, Steve hears the door shut behind him and feels himself settle against a wall. He pushes his back against the surface and tries to even out his breathing. Revisiting everything he can remember about how to resolve an asthma attack.

After several attempts, he stumbles into a somewhat consistent breathing pattern, his chest heaving at a slower rate.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose…

It’s not working!

Steve’s heartbeat only hammers against his chest and neck quicker, his breathing sharply turning back into hyperventilation.

It’s then that he realizes he isn’t having an asthma attack at all. He’s having a panic attack.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. InthroughthenoseOutthroughthemouth.

Why isn’t this working!?

The blonde clenches his eyes shut, a sob fighting its way past trembling lips. He feels so alone. So unwanted, Unwarranted.

He thinks back to the 40s- back to him and Bucky. After the serum, during the war. Hidden behind the cover of night and an abandoned building at the far end of Base. The first time since the change, his heart felt like it would crawl its way up Steves throat and swan dive right off his tongue.

Struggling to ease the fogginess in his mind, Steve remembers strong arms wrapped around his waist. Cool metal poking his nose as he bumped Bucky’s dog tags with each of his movements, scenting warm flesh.

Bucky’s voice is rumbling demands, his voice leaving no room for argument while every word was also laced with patience and love. Scent projecting love, understanding, I’m here, you’re safe.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

He repeats the mantra until Steve’s Omega obeyed his alpha, sucking in lung fulls of oxygen and releasing it in time with Buckys orders.

The memory of bombs and gunshots lost behind the sound of Bucky’s voice.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

He conjures up the memory of Buckys voice, coated in alpha command, urging him to breathe evenly. Fingers digging into Steve’s flushed skin, grounding him.

His alpha always knows what he needs...

Steve misses him.

Misses more than just the raw irrefutable attraction that got them into more trouble than it should have growing up. But he misses the rest of him too.

Misses the smirks and the long nights dreaming of what the future would bring. He misses Bucky’s laugh. God, he can hardly remember what it sounds like now.

Steve misses the way he would kiss. Gently. Chaste. Rough. Long. Kiss him in private and kiss him places that weren’t safe. On the stoop in front of their apartment, before the sun would come up and wandering eyes could catch them. Or alone in their bedroom, lips starting on his eyelids, across purple bruises, then down to his chest. Swallowing the omega’s moans and grinning into his mouth before settling beside him and chuckling deep into his ear, the last thing Steve would hear before sleep would overcome him. He misses the way Bucky would say his name like a prayer, wrap his lips around every letter like a caress, eyes sparkling with their love.

He misses knowing he’ll never be alone.

His heart thunders in his ears, chest feeling seconds away from crumbling in on itself as he thinks maybe it was easier when he believed the alpha was dead. Before he found out Bucky was alive, he mourned the man who loved him. Now, he grieves the love he’s lost. The alpha- his alpha-standing beside him without an ounce of affection or desire in his eyes.

Bucky wasn’t mourning the loss of Steve because he didn’t want Steve. Not anymore.

He clearly remembered enough. He may remember it all. However, knowing didn’t mean he had any intention of returning to what they had.

But even if every memory was gone, if the omega mattered at all, Bucky would remember him- his soul! If Steve himself were robbed of his past and they were just meeting again for the first time, he knew his soul would remember Buckys. Would want to know him all over, not needing to understand why!

The tears are falling before Steve has the chance to notice. A jagged whine barreling past his lips. All the weight of devastation and loneliness finally falling onto his shoulders.

Bucky had met him again. But he didn’t need him the same. Didn’t know his Omega; he didn’t want his heart.

Steve slumps further against the wall, blonde hair drenched in sweat, hands clawing at his chest, trying fruitlessly to manage his racing heart.

Closing his eyes, the omega summons an image of Bucky smiling reassuringly, soothing him as he tells him what to do.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Okay… okay. That’s better.

“It hurts to think of you,” The omega confesses to no one, the tears running past his chin onto his suit. But I need you, “And I can’t breathe without you.”

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. I’ve got you, Stevie. In and out. That’s it. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

Steve allows himself to sink deeper into his fantasy, swearing he could actually feel Bucky's hands running down his back and through his hair.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

It’s the last thing Steve hears before he passes out.

***

Steve is warm.

Steve’s bed has always been too soft, even after Sam suggested a firmer mattress. While helpful, he still couldn’t manage anything better than a fitful half-sleep most nights. He knew why, but in an effort to avoid further misery, he chooses not to dwell too much on that matter.

Aside from the too-soft mattress and the alpha missing from his bed, the omega was never warm enough. He shivered and reached out for body heat too far from his reach. But…

Steve is warm...

For a moment, he swears arms are around him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t care who they belong to. Because he isn’t shivering, for once. Isn’t suffering through another cold sweat, and the omega constantly pacing within him is actually settled. He hasn’t been this comfortable since the previous century, so whoever the hell is beside him can very well stay where they are, as long as he can keep this feeling.

It’s with another breath, he feels consciousness slowly creep up on him.

He almost laughs at the thought of being comfortable in anyone else’s arms. Of course, Bucky should have been his first thought, but honestly, at this point, Bucky willingly in his bed was a cruel dream.

Bucky must be using the same blockers Steve does. His Omega can’t scent him even this close, but who else’s arms fit so perfectly around him?

It’s the closest they’ve been at all since rescuing Bucky from Hydra, and Steve hated it as much as he loved it.

He wants to go back to sleep. Wants to bask in the warmth Bucky offers and pretend they’re back in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn. Struggling to make ends meet and unplagued by the horrors of war. Hidden from the world behind wilting wallpaper, sharing sweet kisses and bruising grips.

But this isn’t 1939. Bucky doesn’t share his bed...or his affections.

He would give anything to go back. He’d give anything to have his alpha again.

“I didn’t know you still had panic attacks.”, of course, Bucky noticed he wasn’t asleep anymore.

Steve feels him shift away, the arm around his waist, already feather-light, hardly there.

The omega within him whines, not wanting him to pull away. No, he wants him to climb on top of him. To drop all of his weight onto Steve’s hopeless body, make him stay in place. Unable to move until Bucky tells him he can...

Steve clenches his eyes tightly, suppressing his every unrelenting instinct from manifesting into something that will only push Bucky further away. And he needs him. Steve needs him, even if it is killing him.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about, Buck.”, the omega remarks, his back still firmly pressed to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky may be ready to move, but Steve certainly isn’t. It’s not like the Alpha will say anything. Steve is far from perfect, despite whatever bullshit the news wants to feed the public. Steve is flawed and can be as selfish as anyone else. There are times where he permits his gaze to linger longer than it should, hands lazily pulling back when they should’ve never left his side, to begin with, or say Buckys name in the dead of night, surrounded by nothing but darkness and the sticky evidence of his spent weaknesses.

In private or in front of the alpha, Steve has toed the line of what is appropriate between friends and behavior shared between lovers.

Bucky has never reacted to any of it. Robotic and perfect all at once. His responses are exactly what they’re supposed to be, feeling false all the same.

Never contesting. Never reacting. As if Steve doesn’t ache for him.

It’s then that the confusion begins to twist at the recess of the omega’s mind.

“Why are you in my bed, Buck?” And how can I keep you here?

There’s a beat of silence, Bucky’s breath even beside Steve’s ear. It almost feels rehearsed, as if Bucky is concentrating on his breathing. Steve shakes the thought away before he can fool himself for the millionth time something is there that has proven again and again to be long ago dead.

“I was worried about you,” Bucky eventually admits, the arm just barely resting on Steve’s hip returning to its previous pressure, fingers hot and electrifying as they accidentally meet bare flesh peeking beneath Steve’s sleep shirt.

Sleep shirt?

“Did you change my clothes?” Steve says without thinking, saying anything to stop himself from moaning. He can’t remember the last time Buckys hands were this close to his body without explosions and frantic shouts playing in the background.

He turns his neck enough to meet Bucky’s clouded grey gaze.

A gasp falls from his lips instinctively, his own eyes widening on their own accord, taking in the receding blood red only just beginning to fade from the alpha’s eyes.

Just like that, Bucky is removing his arm entirely, releasing the Omega and taking all of that delicious warmth with him.

Bucky stays on the bed, though. His back resting against the headboard.

Steve just narrowly stops himself from shouting, ‘No! Stay, please!’, his heart pounding in his ears and his hands burning with the desire to reach out and drag the other man in.

Instead, he swallows his cries and urges his weary muscles into a sitting position, facing away from the former assassin.

While Steve was changed into something more comfortable than his uniform, the omega notices Bucky remains in his clunky tactical gear, down to his boots.

He had no intention of staying, Rogers. Take deep breaths, and give him an out.

He just needs to go.

The blonde is good at pretending. Well, most days anyway, he can fake a smile when the world is falling apart; he can pretend to be happy. But what he can’t seem to do anymore is pretend that he isn’t painfully in love with the man currently sitting on his bed, not a single reminisce of what they once were hanging between them.

He can’t manage a smile or a whisper of optimism when everything good has been taken from him. He knows what’s expected of him, but there are days when the sorrow is crippling, and he feels weaker than he ever did as that little guy from Brooklyn.

Clearly, no more talking is going to happen. And Steve isn’t emotionally stable enough right now to act as if he doesn’t want the alpha to bathe him in his scent, forcing the lingering panic, unwell, lonely away.

He moves to stand when,

“Rest.”

The order is sharp and certainly unintentional.

The shiver that races down Steve’s spine is violent, and his body locks up, ready to obey.

Turning his neck again, Steve catches the profile of the alphas annoyingly handsome face. His eyes are closed, brow pinched in concentration.

Steve stands slowly, hands shaking. It’s sickening how dreadfully good that single word made him feel. Floaty and sated. His blood, always raging, rushing, and crying out, settles within him, preparing to be taken care of.

The logical part of him reminds the omega they’ve been here before. Bucky will do something so woefully familiar, he dilutes himself into thinking he’s still wanted.

It’s never the case.

Steve keeps the hope from his tone when he challenges, “Excuse me?” Waiting for another command with bated breath.

“You should probably rest, Cap,” Bucky folds his arms across his broad chest, still ignoring Steve’s previous question as well as his gaze.

Forcing a smirk that makes him want to throw up, Steve teases, “Are you avoiding my question, Sargent?”

“Steve,” Bucky objects, voice chastizing.

Something uneasy burrows into Steve’s stomach, his body rejecting the discontent emanating off Bucky's skin.

He shrugs away the urge to whine, instead offering an ingenuine chuckle, “Jeez, I’m fine. Why so serious, Buck?”

Bucky stands, eyes hard, glaring right into Steve’s soul. The blonde sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers tingling and breath shallow.

Bucky’s eyes are red.

“Why so serious? “ The alpha growls, not moving from his spot beside Steve’s bed. The distance separating them not making sense in contrast to the intimate edge heavy in the air. It would be comical if not for the current sparking the negative space.

“We’re just gonna pretend like I didn’t find you seconds from passing out less than an hour ago? Is that something casual, am I supposed to just ignore it?”

Steve’s plastic smile fades, a tired expression painting his sharp features, “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He sighs, scrubbing his face in frustration, “Ignore it. Like you ignore everything else, Bucky...Just go.”

“What’s tha ‘posed to mean?”

“It means I’m sorry you had to see that, but you don’t have to worry about it.”

“See what? You being irresponsible?”

The thin scrap of patience the omega has evaporates; actually, it burns the fuck up, raging as loud as Steve’s fury, “Irresponsible!?”

The anger shoots through Steve like a wildfire, his temperature rising and his hands balling into fists. If the Alpha didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve was going to punch him.

Even so, he doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a single step towards the blonde, body tight and rigid. Voice booming when he sneers, “Yes, goddamn it! Irresponsible.”

“Fuck you, Bucky!” Steve shouts, “Who the hell are you to lecture me on being irresponsible?”

“I’m your… I’m your second in command, and if you were struggling with PTSD, you should have told me something! Instead of me following you to your rooms and basically threatening Jarvis into letting me in. You were pale, Steve. Snow White ain’t got shit on how you looked- you were nearly blue! And I’m sorry for stepping in. We can blame it on your biology, but you finally managed to relax when my alpha came forward. It’s irresponsible to let yourself get to that point when you could have come to me- or, or anyone in the avengers for help.”

“You’re sorry,” Steve scoffs, “ You’re sorry you had to help me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, but it’s what you said, isn’t it?” The Omega is nearly in hysterics. Half sad laughs, the only thing keeping him from crying.

“Steve...”

Buckys voice is now soaked in concern, the anger lost behind wisps of worried seeping from his concealed scent. Which serves only to break Steve further.

“Stevie.” Bucky repeats, wondering if Steve was spiraling into another panic attack.

He is only two steps away from him in a second, twitching, never touching but always close.

Steve feels another shock rack his entire body. His name falling from Bucky’s lips so effortlessly. The authority he holds swallowing every syllable. The sheer force of it nearly brings the omega to his knees.

Steve's heart pounds against his chest, like his heart is trying to escape. Running both hands across his face, then over tufts of blonde hair, his hands meeting behind his neck craned up towards the sky. Praying to anyone up there with mercy that Bucky will just leave. He keeps his arms where they arm before he can do something stupid like reach out.

“Bucky, why are you so concerned about it?” Steve’s eyes are still trained to the ceiling.

Steve knows he’s playing with fire. Playing with his own emotions, but sometimes he can swear he lives for it.

Bucky hesitates, watching Steve with careful eyes. “Because…You are our Captain and my best friend. If you need help, I am going to help you.”

The finality in his tone almost sounds like an alpha command, but his words contradict any sense of attraction or desire.

Another huff, gaze and arms dropping, “I’ll be fine once you leave.” Steve counters, harsher than he intended.

But fuck if he cares. Bucky doesn’t want him. He deserves to be a little angry. If he can’t grieve him, he can at least have this!

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” He snaps, “Just leave, James.”

“James? Oh, I’m James now?”

Steve could care less if he’s hurt his feelings. He’s had enough. His heart hurts, and his head aches. He is done playing this ‘I’m okay with everything’ game.

He is not okay with this, Dammit!

His heart is broken. Shattered. Irreplaceable. And he’s just supposed to be okay with that? He’s supposed to be Bucky’s friend and make jokes and smile when he is dying inside? Crying for his alpha- for stability when he feels like his whole world has been rocked?

Well, he’s had enough. He’s behaved for 2 years. He’s done!

Clenching blue eyes shut, Steve feels every carefully constructed wall of deception crumple at their feet.

“I don’t have time for this. Just leave so that I can breathe! I can’t breathe with you here!”

“Stevie…”

“Please,” the omega whimpers, all the fight leaving his body, long pale fingers running through sleep tousled hair, pulling at the roots, “Just stop.”

“Stop what? I can’t stop doing something if I don’t know what it is I’m doing!”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be panicked. In two strides, he’s in front of Steve, feeling the alarm creep up his chest, a flash of something sharpening eerie grey.

“Steve! Answer m-” Bucky lifts his hands as if to reach out for the other man but catches himself before metal could find flesh, “Will you tell me what I am doing wrong?”

Steve wants to cry and scream and rip that stupid mental arm out of its socket just so he can slap Bucky with it.

“Stop!” He repeats desperately, “Just stop! Stop saying my name! Stop talking to me like-like…”

“Like what!?”

Taking a calming breath, Steve forces himself to meet the alpha’s eyes, “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to give you orders and never receive a protest in return?”

There’s a beat of silence accompanied by a blank expression. Steves heart shouting in his chest.

“...What?”

Steve continues, “Telling you what to do and how to do it. At least before you would fight me, yell at me. Make it easier to breathe.”

“Steve, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? You’re my boss. I’m s’posed ta take orders from ya.” Steve just about weeps when the Brooklyn accent begins to peek through, just as it usually does when Bucky is confused.

“Well, I’m not just your boss!”, Steve hears himself say, “I’m not just your boss. I’m also an omega. And I want you to tell me what to do. Your voice is like it’s permanently in alpha command, and I want you to fucking command me! Because I’m not just your boss. I’m not just an omega. I’m your fucking omega! And I can’t stand you saying my name like your seconds away from telling me to get down on my knees because you never do! And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, for precisely one second, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Steve’s eyes are misted with tears, his chest heaving and skin flushed with embarrassment and shame, “Please… Just don’t say my name, or I’m just gonna break.”

The words pour from his lips, and he wants to disappear. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from Bucky’s response.

Steve trembles beneath stormy grey, choosing instead to watch the ground. His omega whining and clawing at the back of his mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Bucky.” He murmurs, waiting for the outrage or worse; the indifference-the clunk of footsteps walking away from the mess he’s made. The life they had. The man he no longer loves.

Steve hasn’t found his eyes again. Won’t move his head. He doesn’t care how submissive it makes him look because he’s spent most of his life searching for steel grey eyes in crowds and across rooms. Seeking them out in the dark, the only beacon of light he would see most days. And now… Now those eyes that kept him so safe when the world was crumbling around them made him feel like winter on a summer day, cold and alone, only seconds from melting into nothing.

He’s not sure how much time passes without a word between them. He waits another moment before surrendering a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaking his head and turning to leave.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t stay here.

Like lightning, Bucky’s right hand snaps forward, catching the omega’s wrist before he can make it far, and just like electricity, a jolt of fire scorches where their skin meets.

As one would an old friend, Steve invites the sensation to consume him, feeling every nerve respond to Bucky, it’s like he was brought back to life, and he wants nothing more than to cry because he knows it won’t last. He knows as soon as the alpha lets go, he’ll return to reality as only half a man. Something-someone always missing from him.

“Steve.”, his breath hitches, and his hands shake. A whisper of a scent he’s all but forgotten seeps into the room, but it’s gone before Steve can determine if it’s only a memory.

Steve’s name rolls off of Bucky’s tongue too easily. Too pretty. Too dark. Too much!

Jesus!

Hadn’t he been clear enough the first fucking time? How else exactly was he supposed to phrase it; ‘Don’t say my name, or I’ll break from how horny it makes me?’

“Steve,” The alpha repeats.

Steve feels another pang of electricity shoot to his fingertips, itching with the need to just touch, “Bucky, I think you should leave.”

He doesn’t want him to. But when was the last time Steve got what he wanted.

“Now,” He adds after another second passes. Bucky's feet were firmly placed on the ground, not a single muscle prepared to even twitch.

The room is blanketed in heavy silence before, “No.”

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. His lips part in surprise, brow furrowed as his heart begins to pick up the pace.

“Excuse me?”

“I hate that I can’t scent you,” The alpha announces, talking slow, calculated steps forward, eradicating any space brave enough to separate them,

“I hate that I can’t tell where you are during missions.” Suddenly Bucky’s grip loosens, yet it doesn’t move far. He runs his hand up Steve’s forearm, fingertips dragging across perfect porcelain skin, not stopping until the palm of his flesh hand rests on Steve’s neck.

“I picture what it would feel like to sink my teeth into your neck and keep you there, with my fangs in your flesh, drawing blood from your skin and moans from your lips. I dream of you whimpering, “ He whispers harshly, eyes trained to Steve’s neck.

The omega’s eyes flutter closed, lips trembling around the alpha’s name, “Bucky,”

Ignoring the blonde, the other man continues, not quite done yet, “I defend those thoughts by saying to myself, it’s all so that I can feel you. So I can feel where you are when we’re in the field. So I won’t worry as much, won’t get distracted. But I know it’s just half of it. I know I want to tell you to take those damn blockers off. To wash it away, or let me lick it away with my tongue-whichever came first.”

“I hate that I want to fall asleep with you curled above my chest because you’ll be warmer that way. And for whatever reason, I remember you always being cold before bed. I want to demand you buckle up and wear extra layers. I want you to fight me a little. I want you to tell me to shut up but get all soft when I give you a hard look. Like, you are now, with my chest touching yours, hands at your neck and waist. Your heart stuttering against me. I want you to tease me because you want me to get annoyed so that I tell you to shut your mouth and put it to good use. I hate that I want to do all these things, but I can’t. Because you don’t want me to...”

Blue pop open, held hostage by grey. Bucky is everywhere. His face is so close Steve can feel every breath the alpha takes fan over his eyelashes. His eyes tracking over the curve of pink lips and soft skin. Left arm curled around Steve’s waist, metal grip unmoving. His other hand still firmly placed over his scent gland, Bucky’s long fingers spread over the column of flesh, thumb running back and forth along the length of it, causing goosebumps to follow his trail of fire.

Steve moans at the sensation, baring his neck so Bucky has the access he would need. His legs nearly giving out beneath him, but the arm at his waist won’t let him fall.

“Are you telling me that you want me to?” Bucky presses. His voice is sharp and promising. The hand around Steve’s neck, a light pressure the omega finds himself pushing into.

“Steve! Look at me. Look at me, omega.”

The blonde hadn’t noticed his eyes fluttering shut again, the sensation of being held, of having so much alpha- his alpha right there in front of him. Soaking him in his scent. Not a true claim or even a scent mark, but this is more than he ever thought he would ever get again.

Bucky’s words have barely registered for the omega; he lost the ability to comprehend English the instant Buckys hands found his body. But he reacts to the order, all the same, seeing the steely, beautiful grey (beginning to tint red again) he has known since he was a boy.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve begins to piece together the things Bucky has confessed, his eyes once more welling with tears.

Patiently, Bucky waits for the understanding to reflect in sapphire eyes, speaking only when he knows the omega can now retain information.

“Are you telling me you want me to touch you, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs, staring at Steve’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” He breathes, just barely audible without an ounce of hesitation.

The next thing Steve knew, Bucky had him against a wall. His nose buried in his neck and his hands rounding his ass, using his shoulders to pin Steve to the wall and lift his legs until the omega joined the program and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s hardening cock pushing into his hip.

“Oh shit, Buck!”

“ I have to say your name,” Bucky growls, grinding into his omega.

“As much as I can, even if it doesn’t work in the conversation, because it’s the closest I can get you in my mouth. It tastes like heaven, and memories I can’t decipher are real or just fantasy they- Oh, fuck baby. Yeah, Stevie- They don’t compare to this- Keep moving, just like that, babydoll.”

Steve ruts against Buckys friction, his eyes closed tightly, whatever was left of their blockers bleeding out, replacing the neutral aroma in the room with their combined scents, desperation, and slick.

“God, Bucky. I missed you so much. I’ve been so alone.”

Buckys mouth finds Steve’s trembling lips, nothing subtle or slow about his movements. The alpha’s tongue swallows the moans tumbling past Steve’s lips. Hands gripping his waist tighter.

The sun bursts behind their eyes. Blood rushing and hearts bumping to twice their regular speed. For different people, people who aren’t Steve and Bucky, a first kiss after so long should probably be slow and tentative, something soft and building. But they aren’t different people. They are too broken and too powerful and undeniably deserving people who have had nothing to count on besides one another their entire conscious lives. To entertain even a second of not indulging in hard, fast, desperate supersedes unthinkable and settles somewhere over cruel.

“Never again, Stevie. I ain’t leaving you alone” another thrust, “Ever, “ another bruising kiss, “Again.”

Bucky’s cock strains against his uniform, desperate for Steve’s hole. Steve is a withering whimpering mess, drunk on Buckys scent and high on all the delicious friction causing his weeping cunt to flutter, uncomfortably empty.

After several more minutes of making out, Bucky moves them back to the bed, lying Steve out on the mattress. He only has a fraction of a second to admire the work of art that is Steve Rogers sprawled out and waiting to be fucked when Steve’s hands are at his neck, pulling him back in.

His lips move against the alpha’s sloppily, sucking on his bottom lip until the ex-assassin growls impatiently, searching for his mate’s tongue. His mate…

His mate. Steve thinks he may cry as the sheer relief almost painfully washes over him. All of the uncertainty and shame of being unwanted melts away, and all that surrounds him is the vibrating want, mine, love, love, love from the man above him, trailing scorching hot kisses down his neck.

“I wanna be ‘side you, baby. Please, Steve. Let me, ugh, please, babydoll. Can I-”

“Yes!” steve interrupts, “Yes, Alpha, you never have to ask! I’ll do whatever you ask, oh just touch me, Bucky, alpha, my alpha, touch me-”

“Shh, “ Bucky chuckles, stopping the omega’s rambling. He runs his flesh hand through disheveled blonde hair, dragging his nails through Steve’s scalp and marveling at the hiss the omega releases, “I’ve got you, Stevie. All I needed was a lil consent, then all bets are off, aren’t they? ‘Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, baby?”

“Always have been, jerk. I never stopped.”

“Good. Now, stop touching me.”

With a whimper, Steve can’t stop his hands from frantically clawing every inch of Bucky he can access.

“Now, babydoll, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

Still clutching one hand around Bucky's thick, muscular biceps, the other pulling at the strands of dark brown hair helplessly, “I can be good,” the omega babbles, “I’ll be good, Alpha. So good, I can be good, so so good. Please-”

“ Then listen to what I am telling you. I won’t repeat myself again, Steve. It’s my turn now. I wanna get my mouth on you, and I can’t do that if you keep pullin’ me back up to kiss. So stop touching.”

The moan that stutters past Steve’s lips would be embarrassing if not for how fucking fantastic it feels for Bucky’s alpha command to slam into him. Paralyzing him in place. Hands falling unceremoniously at his sides.

Crystal blues brimming with tears, he feels safe for the first time since coming out of the ice- he feels familiar. Not somewhere foreign with no understanding of anything besides, fight this, kill that. This is different. This is them. This is intimacy- their intimacy.

There’s trust swimming within the negative spaces Bucky extends, and he knows, to his core, he can let go. Steve surrenders all his false smiles and exhausting positivity. This is home. Bucky is home. He doesn’t have to put up a front because his alpha has it handled.

Steve isn’t Captain America or some beacon of hope. He’s just Steve, Stevie. Bucky's Omega.

He’s unsure how much time passes or where it went, to begin with, but his body sinks deeper into his mattress, feeling entirely boneless.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky’s husky voice breaks through the fog, “I lost you for a second there.”

Steve feels himself come back, callused hands running through damp blonde hair.

“Mmm,” he hums.

“You spaced a little, Stevie. You’re so beautiful when you get all soft for me. But you’re back now, aren’t you? Look at you. So perfect. Pretty, perfect omega-mine. Kept your hands at your side the whole time too. Such a good boy. You’re gonna keep your hands right where they are, Stevie. Don’t you move a fucking inch. I’m going to lick you open now, babydoll. And you’re gonna come on my tongue as many times as I want you to. Because I’ve gone 70 years without you, and I’m goddamned starved” Bucky’s voice goes from soft praise to near feral growls. His voice sending nothing but jolts of electricity down Steve’s spine, another wave of slick slipping down his thighs.

Before the ‘please’ has the opportunity to touch Steve's mouth, Bucky's hot, slick tongue finds his pulse point, just mere inches from his mating gland.

“Bucky!”

“I want this off!”, The ex-assassin grunts, in one swift move yanking the crisp white shirt from Steve's chest.

“Oh!”

Bucky backs up to lean on his knees, eyes tracking over pinkening skin. Steve’s own gaze glides over now exposed skin. Steve tries to finger out when he removed his clothes but falls short.

After so long without Buckys tenderly harsh commands, falling into space came a little easier than he would have thought. Overwhelmed by the unanticipated satisfaction.

“Open your eyes.”

When had Steve closed his eyes again?

“There you are, dolly. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay? Always on me, baby.”

Rough, mouthwateringly calloused hands find the waistband of Steve’s pants and yank down in one fluid motion.

The blonde hisses for a moment at the sudden cold air biting his skin, but it only lasts a moment before he’s screaming.

“Fuck!” Steve throws his head back in favor of making sounds even a prostitute would blush at.

One moment Bucky’s on his knees, eyes predatory and sinful, calculating all the things he could do to the man shivering beneath his gaze, the next finds him throat deep, swallowing down Steve’s sweet omega cock, slurping up his precum and getting high off the scent of slick so close to his nose.

Steve can’t breathe.

God! It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s too good!

Steve can feel the familiar pull of an orgasm tugging inside of him. The corners of his closed vision whitening out around the black, lacking the energy to even feel embarrassed by how quickly he’s reached his pinnacle.

Pulling off agonizingly slow, Bucky lets his tongue harshly lick along Steve’s little shaft and twirl over his tip, remembering- fucking remembering! All the sounds and glazed looks elicited from the man below him in the past.

Grey eyes flick up hungrily, ravenous for a look into perfect crystal eyes; he can remember the glazed debauched expression that could devour Steve’s pupils, but it’s not enough!

He wants the real thing.

He wants something tangible and alive in his hands he can never again confuse with desire. Something he’s sure happened, a gift Steve is willingly offering instead of a snarled half-memory he can’t allow himself to believe.

“I-ugh! I’m gonna-“Steve stutters, toes curling and knees bending, framing Bucky's face between his thighs. His hands twitch beside him, but he doesn’t dare move them.

“Oh!”

It should have been a cry of ecstasy.

Should have been the Yellow River Flood; relentless and relieving. No survivors.

Instead, Steve is left with his chest heaving violently. Gasping for air just as he did when he was small.

The omega hears Bucky tutting before he manages to pry his eyes open. Immediately recognizing his mistake before the words fall from cum slick lips.

“Oh, baby. You were doing so good.”

“Nno! Buck, please!”

“Shhh, What did I say, dolly?” Bucky replaces his mouth with one strong hand, lazily jerking at Steve’s straining cock.

He’s smirking when Steve hisses beneath him and hums in approval when his hands stay at his sides.

“F-Faster! Please, Buck! Goddamn it, stop teasing’ me.”

“What did I say, Stevie?” Bucky repeats sharply. His movements slowing further.

Steve’s omega cries.

“You wanna cum, baby doll? “

“Yes!”

“Then what do you have to do?“

Steve’s mind has gone to mush. He thrusts his hips up, chasing after Bucky's friction. Hands struggling against the bedsheets.

“Still, omega!”

Bucky's voice is rough as sandpaper, sounding as on edge as Steve feels. A firm metal hand presses into the omega’s hip holding him in place.

“Be good, Stevie.” The alpha asserts firmly, scent growing muskier with every heavenly noise gasped and groaned from Steve’s sinful lips.

“If you wanna cum, what is it you have to do?”

Bucky rubs a metal thumb soothingly over a sinfully sharp hip bone before trailing his fingers over Steve’s quivering thigh.

Grey eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, “Fuck, baby, you’re so soft. C’mon, don’t you want me to touch you?”

“Yes! Please, fuckin touch me, you jerk!”

Chuckling darkly to himself, Bucky watches Steve with bated breath, and all at once, he feels like his mind had never left. Like an addict, he was never over his addiction; he just forgot how good it was. And like the degenerate addict he apparently was, he sucks in deep breaths, sucking in as much of Steve’s aroused scent that his lungs can handle.

All it took was one hit of Steve- his omega- and he had fallen into himself, more of who he was than any memory had offered.

Steve is his clarity and his habit. The one thing that will always bring him back because Steve is home.

And he’s gonna make him feel good. He’s gonna make up for all he put his omega through, and he’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

Every moan, every shiver, every cry. He’s gonna hold him and bruise him because Steve is his, and that’s how the omega likes it. Bucky’s omega. Bucky's Sweetheart. Bucky’s mate.

The ex-assassin lets his fingers trail lower, his other hand still just barely moving over Steve’s pulsing cock.

The first touch of cool metal meeting Steve’s hole causes the blonde to nearly jump off the bed.

“Buck!”

Steve thinks he’s gonna die.

He feels every cell in his body vibrating with a hot, hopeless sensation. Slick pours out of him the second Bucky’s teasing, perfect, godforsaken pinky circles Steve’s core. His lungs and eyes are burning, nearly out of breath, and only capable of volunteering a broken sob when that fucking pinky just barely pushes in.

“Please,” he whispers jaggedly.

He’ll be good for bucky. He’ll keep his hands at his side. He’ll do what he says even without the command, the fogginess of his brain settling deep enough that any request will register as a command anyway.

That’s just how Steve is wired.

Designed to submit to Buck’s direction.

He knows what Bucky wants, but to physically pry his eyes open at that moment was easier said than done. He struggled to determine whether or not he’s trying to starve off a quickly approaching orgasm or trying to chase one.

Whatever the answer, Bucky doesn’t let him reach it.

The alpha’s dark, whiskey voice sounds as wrecked as Steve feels.

“What. Do. I. Want?” Bucky growls impatiently. Another wave of slick dribbles from the omega wetting the sheets beneath them.

Think, steve! Give alpha what he wants! You can be good. I can be good…. What does he want again?

“My…ugh! M-My eyes.”

Finally, fucking finally, Bucky pushes a finger into Steve’s hole. Fast and absolutely delicious.

Just when he thought Bucky would stop playing games, he realizes the ringing in his ears is replaced by the alpha tutting above him.

“Very close, baby, but not quite.”, Buckys finger starts to draw out slowly; what little fullness Steve has is threatened, and the distressed mewl Steve makes in protest causes the alpha to chuckle darkly.

“P-pretty! Keep my pretty eyes on you! Only on you!” his eyes snap open frenzied, finding a swirl of grey and red zeroed in on him.

In a millisecond, Steve has two metal fingers thrusting into his hole. His back arches on the mattress, fingers nearly numb as they grip the sheets tighter, but his eyes don’t close again.

“That’s right, baby. Only on me.”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Fuck! You’re so tight, Stevie.”, Bucky groans, lowering himself as to mouth along Steve’s jaw, nipping his skin between tentative licks.

“Pl-Ease! Oh, yes... Please, Buck.”

“Please what, Stevie? Use your words.”

Steve’s mind is a simple stream of 3 thoughts, Touch me. Fuck me. Love me!; all of which he can only vocalize as, “Oh please, please. Bucky!”

Working a third finger along with the other two, Bucky hisses with Steve at the stretch his hole gives.

So fucking tight, the alpha thinks to himself, I don’t know how I’ll survive it, but I’m gonna fuck this omega so gooood.

“Words, Steve. Or I’ll start thinking you don’t want me t’touch ya at’all. Huh, maybe I should stop...”

“No! God, Buck, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”

“Then tell me what you want. What a’you begging for, Doll?” Bucky trails the tips of his fingers over Steve’s ribs, rounding at his back, “is it my fingers? Sliding through all your slick? Or is it my mouth?”

“Yes!”

Bucky chuckles,” That’s not really an answer, Stevie.” His voice gets darker each time he says the omegas name like he knows. Actually, the bastard does know! He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The prospect of teasing seems to pull him just the tiniest bit to the side of coherent, a snarky remark falling from his lips as easily as the desperate pleas had moments before.

“You havin’ fun, Buck?” Steve pants, “Seems like you’re having a little too much fun.”

“Aw no, baby. I’m having the exact right amount of fun. Aren’t we?”

“ ‘We’ are a lotta peop-le!! Oh shit!” pushing his fingers in deeper, Bucky just brushes against Steve’s prostate. A sinister and smug smile curling his lips upward.

“Words, Stevie. Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you, omegamine. Just tell me.”

Steve’s chest flushes more as the words tingle on his tongue. Bucky's nearly feral tone betrays his suave and calm demeanor.

He’s just as desperate to be buried deep in Steve’s hole as Steve is to have him there.

Bucky’s fingers push more firmly against Steve’s prostate, and the omega nearly sees stars.

“Sing for me” Almost like an echo, Steve hears Buckys words like gospel.

It’s a command he’s most familiar with. He knows just what ‘ song’ Bucky wants ….

“Daddy!” Steve hisses around a fourth finger. The words punching out of him before he could stop them.

“ I wondered if that was just fantasy,” the alpha mumbles. Eyes darkening a rich crimson. An ever-present growl rumbling in his chest.

Bucky leans over, letting his fingers get even deeper, dragging against Steve’s special spot with every new thrust. With red eyes and diminishing control, the alpha drinks in every pant and whine that drips past kiss-bruised lips and bouncing off the walls of Steve’s room.

Bucky drops his nose into Steve’s scent gland, swiping his tongue over the swelling tissue for a better taste.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Like mate.”

“Buck…” Steve gasps, feeling overwhelmed. Any moans he could possibly wish to suppress are yanked from his chest with every move the alpha makes. Sounds too rowdy even for porn echoing in his small dark room.

Bucky can’t get enough of it, stuttering an accidental thrust into Steve’s hip when the omega whines in a delightfully sweet way, the scent of slick and alluring sounds steve makes nearly choking him.

Fuck, I hope Tony has these rooms soundproofed. Steve uses his last brain cell to think.

Bucky's metal fingers continue to work him open, preparing him for his big alpha cock fast and rough and exactly how he likes it, but his other hand still moves sluggishly over Steve’s, slowly purpling prick. Tightening and stopping entirely every so often as to starve off Steve’s orgasm.

“Bucky, please!”

Fuck, Bucky thinks, I hope everybody can hear him, fuckin; hear us,

The blonde knows all he has to do is tell Bucky ‘Fuck me’ maybe add on ‘Daddy’ to further wreck him like it did back in the days if he even still likes that. But as much as Steve likes Bucky telling him what to do, he loves to defy him into aggression, twice as much.

“Say it again,” Bucky mumbles against the omegas scent gland, unable to move a millimeter.

The laugh that tumbles past Steve’s lips is quickly swallowed by Buckys tongue shoved down his throat. Pearly white teeth pulling back only to stress a bite on his bottom lip, not stopping until a faint taste of metal joins the deliriously delicious taste of Buckys omega.

“Again, omega. Say it again.”

With another brush against his prostate, Stev’s vision begins to blur, but he won’t close his eyes, no matter how much he wants them to,

“Alpha!”

Steve is a debauched disaster. A puddle of liquid fire and Bucky wanted to fucking burn.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear, babydoll. But I’m feeling generous, so let’s make a deal, yeah? You say what I want, and I’ll tell my precious boy how good he is. How good you feel around my fingers swallowin’ my fingers so fuckin’ good. And I’ll say your name as much as you want. That’s what you were beggin’ for, wasn’t it?” Bucky rambles, fingers pumping quicker into Steve, hand starving off the omegas dick, tugging over the length with dangerous precision.

“You want me to say your name, dontcha dolly? Tell you you’re being good. Everything Daddy needs. My good, beautiful Stevie.”

Buckys cock presses into the mattress, the slightest friction sending magic to tingle over his skin. His knot calls out for Steve’s sopping wet pussy, fluttering around his fingers. The sensation alone is a mutual torture all on its own.

It would be so fucking easy to slide home into Steve’s awaiting heat. So fucking easy!

Not yet, he reminds himself.

No, he wants something first, and he’s gonna get it.

Outside of the bedroom, the thought of ever using his alpha tone with Steve is unthinkable. There isn’t a scenario out there that could justify taking away his omegas free will.

But here-like this. Sweaty and drooling and filthy, reeking of mate and sex, the tone combines with his voice as if that’s the only way there is to speak.

“Say it again, Steve. Now!”

“Daddy! Daddy, fuck me! Please,pleasepleaseplease”

Gently, the alpha removed his fingers. Steve’s mouth opens to cry, but before he can focus too much on the dreadful emptiness, Bucly is buried to the hilt in Steve’s ass.

“Ah!” Steve shouts, throwing his head back and moving his hands to grip at Bucky’s shoulders for the first time since being told not to move them an inch.

He quickly realizes his mistake, and in a fearful attempt to keep Bucky inside of him, confident he wouldn’t survive another moment of his teasing, his alpha’s voice rumbles past the panic.

“Touch me. Wherever you want, Stevie.”

The sigh of relief is an afterthought, long nimble finger trail over both metal and flesh shoulders, a satisfying wave pushing into the realm of too damn good. Being allowed to touch after being denied was always such an experience. Reverse touch starved. Bucky has the go-ahead to do with him as he wishes. Meanwhile, every instinct within the omega seeks Bucky out. His skin, his mouth, his scent. He wants to feel his alpha under his fingers as much as he wants to bounce on Buckys, but he can’t. He has to lay there and fight against the urge to suck hickeys onto every surface of skin he can find.

Pulling on stands of dark chestnut-colored hair, Steve tries to adjust to the girth inside of him.

“Move.”, the omega whispers harshly after a few moments.

Bucky doesn’t need much prompting; he knows Steve can take it, and more than that, any remaining sting that prepping might have missed, Steve fucking aches for.

“As you wish.”

It’s like a dam break. A flood, unforgiving, and exactly what they each fuckin need!

Bucky's shallow, calculated thrusts soon quicken, taking on a brutal pace.

He slams his cock home and grinds deep before pulling nearly entirely out and slamming back in. Again and again and again. Returning quicker every time he finds himself back inside Steve’s velvet-soft heat.

Words are lost on the omega, choosing to indulge rather on feral groans and guttural whines, meeting every thrust and dragging sharp nails across Bucky's shoulders.

It’s all so much. Like a storm, heavy and pounding in their ears. And it all makes so much sense.

They’re a natural disaster. Bucky kisses like a hurricane, all lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve moves and squeezes his walls around Bucky's cock, no rhyme or reason to his actions, just passion, just I have to have this.

Kisses pouring down upon kisses like rain, soaking them in love, and Steve nearly cries.

He never thought he’d have this again.

The ex-assassin is a bit more vocal.

He can feel his release creeping up, desire warm and urgent low in his belly. But cumming before Steve is absolutely not an option. Half the fun was watching the poster child for purity throw his head back in ecstasy, beggin for ruin with Buckys name on his lips. And he’d be damned if he's gonna miss it in the cloud of his own pleasure.

“D-Deeper!” Steve whimpers, pulling Bucky closer by the nape of his neck.

The hand that had been knotted in Steve’s own hair follows suit of the palm firmly placed over one sharp hip bone.

Gripping him with enough pressure to bruise, Bucky bends over Steve’s lithe build and takes hold of one muscular thigh, nearly folding the blonde in half as he settles Steve’s leg over his flesh shoulder.

“Fuck!” Steve cries, Bucky's cock sliding that much deeper, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust.

Bucky groans at the new position, one large hand kneading and pulling at Steve's ass, tugging him back with the snap of his hips. His other hand runs over the omegas sweaty, slick body, sliding a finger over a single hard nipple before securing his fingers around Steve’s neck. Palm pushing into his scent gland.

It is a little more than light pressure, but it gives its desired effect; Steve’s eyes go from unfocused and glassy to piercing. More black than blue, pupils blown, but Bucky still catches the glint of gold mingling about, exactly what he’d been waiting for.

There you are, omegamine, he thinks.

“Ugh, yes, fuck! You like that, don’t you. Like me pushing you down. Like me pounding into your sweet pussy. But it’s not really yours is it, baby?”

“Gnnn”

“Answer me. Who’s pussy is this, Steve?”

“Y-yours, Daddy. I’m yours.”

“Mine.” The alpha growls, yet another wave of slick passing Steve’s thighs. “My omega. My good boy. Listened so good, doll.”

“Fuck, Buck. Alpha, my alpha. I missed you, I missed you so fuking much. I missed your big alpha cock. So good to me. I wanna be good, Daddy. Tell me how to be good.”

“You wanna be good?”

“Yes!”

“You’re already so good for me. Perfect omega. Pretty, perfect thing.”

“I can be-ugh yes!! I can...nnnn….be better.” The omega stutters between kisses, “Wanna be the best boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, Alpha. Knot me!”

“Okay, baby. Listen closely, hmm?”

“Keep still.” In two mostly smooth movements, Bucky is lying on his back, Steve’s lean frame now straddling the alpha, lifting him by the waist; Bucky sinks Steve further on his cock.

“Ride me.”

As if without his permission, Steve’s moving above the bigger man.

Thick thighs feel even wider between Steve’s slightly smaller ones. Bucky’s hands come to Steve’s waist, helping him grind down harder, deeper.

Steve can’t keep his gaze from trailing down to where they’re connected. His hole swallowing 6 to 7 inches of monster alpha cock, and he could just cry for how hot it is to see them connected like this.

I wanna be locked to you. I want your knot!

“Eyes, Stevie!” Bucky snarls with another hash snap of his hips, impaling Steve further and hitting his prostate. The omega falls over, making sure to lock blue with grey.

Abandoning their vice grip on the alphas thighs, Steve steadies himself with one hand over his lover's heart, fingertips brushing the mating gland by his neck as the other grips the headboard above the bed, wood splintering under every shock of pleasure jolting through Steve in response to each of Bucky's strident thrusts.

“Oh, oh! D-Daddy. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!”

“Now that I’ve got you back, we won’t be leaving this room for much, Stevie. I want you on your knees sucking my big alpha cock. Licking up the evidence of what you do to me. I’ll hold you by your neck and force-feed it to you just like you like it.”

“B-Buck-eyy!”

“Yeah, baby, say my name. You’re beautiful. Angelic. A work of. Fucking. Art.” He punctuates his words with a sharp jerking of Steve’s body above him. Pulling his center as close as he can get him, knot swelling mercilessly and snagging on Steve’s rim.

Steve feels pleasure like he’s never felt before. Words slurred and hardly coherent,

“‘Wan’ yur k’nnot!”

He sounds drunk.

Bucky loves it!

“Not until you cum, baby doll. You first, then Daddy. Good boys get their rewards, and this is-” using Steve as a ragdoll, Bucky manhandles him into circular motions, twisting and penetrating the omegas sweet spot with wild precision.

One hand (Steve couldn’t even tell you which, mind too fuzzy and too loaded with his quickly approaching orgasm) presses into the omegas gorgeous tits before sweeping down to tug on Steve’s crying cock, pre-cum dribbling from its bright red head.

Steve cums with a shout, back arching and eyes struggling to stay open, finally shut. His vision whites out with pleasure, but he can’t bring himself to remember anything outside of this bliss. No world lived outside of these walls. Just him, his alpha, and all the pleasure Bucky brings him.

“Ohhh, Allphaa,”

“Yours. Yes! Oh, you feel- God so fucking tight, Stevie. Look ‘atchyou. Milking my cock, pussy squeezing my knot, beggin for it. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

“Gimme,” he whispers weakly.

He doesn’t feel Bucky flip him over or the hands pushing both his legs over Bucky’s shoulders, but the moment Bucky starts pumping in and out again, his body jolts awake, and all Steve wants is to make his alpha cum.

“Daddy’s gonna cum right inside your tight, perfect pussy. Yeah, Stevie. ugh!”

“Wan’ be...hmm.”, he tries to form words, but they die on his tongue, not coming down fast enough to entertain even a murmur of conversation.

Another 30 seconds passing before he has enough brain cells to return his gaze to stormy grey.

As always, Bucky’s eyes are already on him.

“That's all you got, Daddy?” The blonde snarks between pants, another orgasm building in his belly, toes curling, and his half-soft prick smushed and pulsating against Bucky's abs.

Bucky laughs around a moan, pulling Steve into another kiss before giving one, two, three more thrusts, shouting out a string of praise as his knot pops inside of his omega.

Steve’s heavy punched out sigh joins the shuddered fluttering of his hole, another wave of release escaping him.

The room fills with pants and sloppy kisses. Each man nosing along their scent glands, finding where a bond mark would go and lapping over it lovingly.

In the 40s, hiding their love was a matter of survival, and a surrender of their need to properly mate. They didn’t have to hide here. They could love each other and bite each other someday. Unified in the one way they spent most of their lives thinking they’d never have.

They Lie there, tied together even after Bucky’s knot goes down. Thoughts of taking that step-marking each other, on the tip of both of their tongues.

They lie there, bathing in the calm after the storm.

Sometime afterward:

After another round and many minutes of lazily making out, the pair rest beside each other, touching the other man wherever he could reach, tracing nonsense patterns into heated flesh and feeling happier than either had in 70 years.

“What were you sayin’, y’know before we… Y’know”, Steve blushes as if he wasn’t just face down ass up drooling over Tony’s Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Before you started crying for my knot, and I fucked you 6 ways from Sunday?”

“You’re a fucking jerk!”

“Nah, I’m just fucking a jerk.”, The alpha smiles, joy like nothing he’s been able to remember trips over his heart.

“I’m serious, Buck. Before we...did it”

“Ha!”

A sharp smack falls onto Buckys bare chest, “Fine! Before you came like a geyser up my ass-”

“Steve!” Bucky barks a laugh, loving the pink blush dusting over Steve’s cheeks despite the faux aggravation he was attempting to express.

“Will ya quit interrupting me? You fucking alphas are so rude!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Stevie. What were you saying?” Bucky concedes, the shit-eating grin doing nothing for the butterflies swarming the omega’s insides.

“You were saying that you couldn’t decipher real from what’s fake?”

Sighing, Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, not stopping, when the omega turns onto his stomach, exposing his back and facing the brunette. Bucky smiles down at the omega letting his hand slide down to his spine, tracing the smooth pale skin with the tip of his finger.

It’s freeing, liberating even, to let his hands and eyes roam wherever they want. After so many years of separation, then being reunited only to build unnecessary obstacles designed for the sole purpose of self-sabotaging, somehow they’ve found themselves again in the other man’s arms.

Bucky bends down to press a gentle kiss on Steve’s shoulder, loving the way the omega shivers beneath his lips.

I could just eat him alive…

“Buuuuck,” Steve shakes his head, smiling at the alpha underneath long lashes.

“Sorry, baby, you just look so sexy.”

“Oh, do I? Maybe it has a little to do with all the naked skin?”

Smiling goofily, Bucky allows his voice to get al sweet, “C’mere, smartass.”

Bucky pulls a yelping Steve into his lap, effectively laying the slender omega over his broad alpha chest.

The feeling is exhilarating. Bucky feels his stomach swoop and heart skip a beat, feeling more accomplished in this solitary moment entangled with Steve than in months of SHIELD work.

Steve grins despite himself. Settling against Bucky's chest, folding his hands in front of him and resting his chin onto his knuckles. Suddenly thrilled by the position.

He can stare into Bucky's eyes forever, and he has a sneaking suspicion the alpha won’t protest.

Cold metal fingers trail down Steve’s spine, eliciting a gentle quiver from the blonde man, shamelessly beaming beneath the attention.

“I remember how scared I would get in the winter.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, lying his head down onto his forearms and urging the larger man with his eyes to continue.

“I love that I can make you shiver now. But I think it would’ve just about wrecked me with worry back then.”

Bucky's flesh hand curls across Steve’s exposed waist, letting his heat seal into his fingers. His eyes close in relief. Like he’s remembered something… or rather; reminded himself of something.

“ I remember the worry best. The sleepless nights and evenings spent bent over pews, praying no one could hear your name falling from my lips because then they’d know… Know how much I wanted you. Wanted you to live. Wanted you to love me. Wanted you to be my omega. I remember going to work at the docks and feeling the bike rise in my throat as we talked about chasing tail when all that I fucking wanted was to make it through my shift and run my way home to you.”

Steve smiles fondly at Bucky. His head remains rested in the crook of his right elbow but reaches forward with his left to trail patterns on Bucky’s scent gland. Trailing back from his neck to his cheek, he will never understand how helpful he is just by existing.

“ I remember wanting you. I know there has never been a moment in which I existed, and I didn’t love you, even under hydra. Even when they told me- made me go after you. They had to wipe me twice before I stopped fighting… I should’ve kept fighting.”

“Buck-“ Steve’s tone is soft and reprimanding in the way only Steve Rogers could manage, but it’s not enough. The tears build behind grey and crimson. Shame burning him from the inside.

Bucky shakes his head, trying to shake away Steve’s tender touch.

Leaning forward, Steve ignores the alphas dismissal, warm petal-soft lips find Buckys, and he presses his weight deeper into his alpha.

“I’m here. With you. You stopped, Buck. You never, not for a second, stopped fighting! That wasn’t you.” Steve’s tone was loving and firm in the way only Steve Rogers could ever manage- or could ever feel for Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes find crystal blue, and for a moment, he’s thrust back into his mind, his heart thrashing and growling, crying Not him! Not Steve. Stop! God damn it! You’re hurting him! We can’t hurt him!

For a moment, Steve’s sweet pink cheeks are bruised and bleeding, split by Russian metal and the free will Bucky was robbed of.

“Bucky!” Steve whispers harshly, just on the edge of frantic, “ C’mon, alpha. Don’t leave me alone again.”

“I’m here.”, Bucky chokes out, “ I’m here, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They hold each other for, neither of them speaking. Foreheads pressed together between grabby hands pushing firmly against heated flesh.

A reminder…

I’m alive. You’re okay. We’re together.

“ I remember those things; that panic of possibly losing you, very easily,” Bucky continues, “ And then… it started as flashes. Split seconds. But god, did I chase after them. It would be something minimal at first. You lying down on the bed or smiling at me over a sketchbook. But then they changed, and your head was thrown back, and the things you were drawing were us-naked. And I started hating myself because my fucking crush on you was filtering in on my memories of you, and it wasn’t fair. It felt real, but I knew it wasn’t or-“

“But they are real, Buck. We’ve always been us. This way! Laws be damned! We loved each other, and no one was gonna tell us we couldn’t have that!”

“It didn’t matter, though,” Bucky adds.

Steve shoots up off his chest, kneeling on the mattress, and as naked as the day he was born. More hurt than he thought he could ever be in his alphas arms, “ Of course it did. How could you say that? Wha-”

Bucky sits up quickly, reaching out, but Steve swiftly evades him, feeling colder than Brooklyn in February.

“Steve-“

“No! How could you say that? It matters! We matter. You matter. I fucking matter, Bucky! I lost you. You died! You fell off that train, and my alpha died!” he cries,

“I flew that plane into the ocean not because Captain America’s nobility prevails, I did it because l was grieving and life wasn’t worth living without you.”

“Steve-“

“No! Shut. Up.” Steve growls, but it sounds more like a whine.

“I died too, Buck. And woke up to a life I didn’t want either. Not just like you. I know what you went through was unthinkably cruel. But living without you was a prison sentence. And I had no choice but to wear red, white, and blue in place of orange and serve out my life miserably and without you. And that mattered.”

“I know, Stevie, I know. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby.”

“Then how else did you mean it?”

“There were things that I saw or remembered-whatever! But neither matter because fantasy is something that can never happen, and if it’s a memory, it will never happen again.”

Steve can feel his heart breaking in his chest. Angry and more than a little offended, he can practically feel the anguish emanating from his alpha’s skin.

“Because you wouldn’t want the blood-soaked into my hands to touch you. To touch your pretty perfect body, so I say your name, and I can’t stop because my alpha is always just before feral, and you are the only thing keeping Me on the side of sane. I know you matter. You’re the only thing on this entire fucked up bullshit infested planet that matters!”

“But the thought of losing you based on things I simply wanted and not what you needed from me? It didn’t matter- nothing mattered beyond you. I thought you wanted Bucky Barnes, the closeted best friend. I couldn’t trust myself to believe you wanted me in the 40s, and I couldn’t hope that if you had, you’d want me still.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve sighs, eyes misting, but he lets himself be drawn in by strong, vulnerable arms.

“...I think I understand what you mean, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I miss you ao many times. But then I just...couldn’t. I thought it wouldn’t change anything, so I just kept pretending I didn’t. But then there are days when I wake up, and the fact that it’s without you won’t let me pretend anymore.”

“Now, who’s the idiot?” Bucky chuckles, brushing strands of hair from those hypnotizing blue eyes.

Bucky lets the Sympathy, understanding pool from his scent and settle over Steve like a warm blanket.

Smiling, Steve takes the comfort from his alpha in stride, “Of course, I talk like an idiot, Buck. How else are you ‘posed to understand me?”

Huffing a quick laugh, the ex-assassin feels all the love for this omega shine in a smile, “You’re such a fuckin’ punk, y’know that little omega?”

“ I’m your fuckin’ Punk, and besides, I’m not so little anymore.”

Whatever faithless semblance of decency they had left swiftly deteriorates as Bucky fully settles Steve into his lap, lying back into the cushions and pulling the duvet over them both.

He presses a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead and whispers with as much meaning he can muster, “You’re perfect, omegamine. Fuckin’ perfect! Perfect for me, you hear?”

Steve releases a joyful giggle,” I hear. Are we going to sleep, Alpha?”

“Yep!”

Snuggling deeper into the alpha’s chest, Steve feels content for the first time in what feels like forever, loving how perfectly he still fits in Bucky's arms, even all beefed up by the serum. Not a single gap between them.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” Bucky asks happily. Certainly hearing and feeling Steve’s pleased purring.

“ I’m warm,” The omega mumbles, exhaustion barreling into him.

“Good. Sleep, Stevie. We'll talk more in the morning.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just nuzzles into his alpha more until his nose is close enough to the source of the brunette’s scent, humming satisfaction as he sniffs pleasantly.

“I never thought I’d get to have this. That you’d be in my arms like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life just pining after you-loving you. I love you, omegamine. I love you so much.”

Steve replies in soft snores, but Bucky doesn’t care. He presses a kiss to the top of ruffled blonde hair and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He doesn't mind that Steve fell asleep because nothing else matters besides his blue-eyed beauty. Not when he has this. Not when Steve is soft and asleep and warm. He has the rest of his life to tell his omega he loves him.

One thing is for sure.

Bucky will never stop saying Steve’s name.

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loverdrew · 3 years

Text

Do It For Me | b.b

Synopsis: Y/N may never be able to forgive Bucky if he goes through with his decision. (pre-endgame with a twist, very inaccurate storyline and writing I know but it’s all fiction)

Warnings: a few cuss words here and there

Based off of Greys Anatomy (between Izzie and Denny)

My first ever Bucky Barnes fanfic! I’m getting more into writing for Marvel characters.

I had been sat up in my room at the Avengers compounds for the whole day at his point; harnessing my magic, drawing/reading to calm me down, and just enjoying a nice day off. Everything seemed quiet, a little too quiet for my taste. No one had come knocking on my door to talk or check up on me. After a few minutes I started to hear talking through my headphones and it was coming from outside my door. I slowly let my earbuds drop from my ears, silently opening up my door and creeping downstairs. It had seemed to more I got down the steps, I saw more people come into view. All backs were turned, some arms crossed, but voices were definitely raised. It felt like more than one person kept trying to speak and once at the bottom step, I saw the one person who was the center of it all.

Wanda was the first one to see me, cutting her sentence short, and soon everyone followed. Steve’s face dropped, biting his lower lip and looking at the floor. Bucky stood up, eyes almost bulging out of his head. I looked around stunned at everyones faces as they all made a collective sigh.

“W-what’s...what’s going on guys.” Wasn’t so much of a question, but more of a ‘tell me now or I’ll crush you guys with just a thought’. My powers were growing, everyone knew this. With one scream, a whole city could go deaf. With no swipe of my hand, I can send more than 10 men flying 100 feet. Most of the time they wouldn’t dare bother me in fear of my emotions becoming heightened and possibly destroying something. But something tells me right now might be the first time that happens.

“I said, what’s going on.” My hands glowed purple, the color of my powers. Wanda immediately rushed in front of me and looked me in the eyes, rubbing her hands over mine. When she found out I also harnessed powers from an infinity stone, Tony made it a point to have her help me maintain my magic. Her touch softened the glow, instantly calming down my heart rate. She repeated the same phrase to me; ‘don’t let it take control of you, take control of it’. The purple glow went away, as she guided me towards the group.

“Thanos is coming, Y/N.” Tony spoke up.

“And we’re trying to figure out how to stop him once and for all but...there was an idea brought up.” Bruce chimed in, and I followed his gaze right to Bucky. His head laying low. My mind went to the darkest of places. Bucky had never looked so ashamed. All I wanted to do was hug him and rub up and down his back, he always liked that. The last time I did that for him was a few nights ago when he had yet another nightmare and I found him downstairs watching TV even though I knew he was exhausted. He was too afraid to fall asleep. I remember that night, thinking about how badly I wanted to tell him how I felt. He had been my rock since coming into the compound, even if nobody else saw it. Our friendship consisted of late night snacks and conversations, training together making each other stronger, and always communicating and tell each other the truth no matter what. But oh, how I wanted that friendship to mean more to him as it does to me. But I would panic, thinking I wasn’t ever going to be good enough for one of the best people I’d ever met. He deserved a woman who was just as great as he was.

“Tell her.” Natasha spoke, anger laced in her voice.

“Bucky...” I whispered.

“My greatest wish in life is to take back every bad thing I did in this world. Every person I had killed, hurt, ruined their life.” He looks at Tony with deep regret. “And I can’t ever do that physically, but maybe in another way, I can.” He was rubbing his hands together avoiding my gaze.

“Okay? Bucky that’s great that you’ve figured out how you want to do that-”

“You didn’t let him finish.” Sam said with a monotone voice.

“We need to be ready whenever Thanos decides to come. And the only way for me to get my wish is to...be the one that’s sacrificed during the battle.” My heart stopped and the ringing in my ears began to pick up. Wanda could see my hands glowing much brighter and more rapidly this time. I could feel her hands come up to the sides of my arms but within a flash my whole body shook the entire room like an earthquake.

“What!!” I walked over to him and slammed down on the table. “Are you out of your god damn mind Barnes!”

He tried to reach out but I raised my hand, stopped his movement and moving his arm to stay at his side, unable to move it.

“No, no, no you’re not doing this. You guys please tell him he is NOT sacrificing himself! You have no idea how much power those stones are! Just look at me! I have the same powers as a stone yet I can’t control shit Bucky! It’s out of control you’ll be dead before you can even use one stone to fight off Thanos!”

“I’ve been working with Tony and Shuri on a way to help me harness the power. They’ve been working on a suit for me that is stronger than Tony’s. Y/N you have to understand that this is my way of righting my wrongs, if I die then I die a hero who saved the whole world, not someone who use to kill hundreds of people with no remorse.” I turned towards Tony, his eyes becoming scared as he held his breath.

“You...” I throw my hands up and thrashed Tony into the wall, shattering it. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear at what I could do to him. Wanda yelled out to stop, but I couldn’t hear anything over my own boiling anger. “You knew about this. You knew he wanted to die and didn’t try to stop him!”

“I-I was just doing what I thought was the only option.” I slammed him again into the wall.

“There’s other options Tony!” I began to cry out, tears instantly springing from my eyes so quick it took me a second to realize I was even crying. With each puff of my chest my powers weakened as I wasn’t paying as much attention anymore, my brain becoming overstimulated with dark thoughts.

Bucky came up behind me and brought his arms around mine, his cheek pressed up against the back of my head.

“You’re not doing this Buck, we’ll find another way.” I said in between cries. I looked around seeing everyone else become emotional at my breakdown. Natasha was like a mother figure to me, this was the first time I was seeing her tear up. Wanda was my protector, but she didn’t know how to protect me from my own feelings. And everyone who surrounded me, who watched me grow from a 20 something year old uncontrollable witch to a grounded and a fantastic Avenger, wore heavy hearts and hooded eyes. I turned around quickly wiping my eyes of any tears and stood tall. My breathing coming back to normal. “It’s okay we’ll-we’ll find another way. There’s gotta be another way right?”

“Y/N...” He said sadly, clutching my hair. I pushed him off and walked away giving some distance between us, actually, between the whole crew. I stood on one side of the room while the rest remained where they were.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to make me okay with this. Alright, you did some shit in your past Bucky, so what we all don’t have the best track records as angels. And I’m sure you don’t feel like you deserve to live with all of the trauma you’ve endured but guess what? You do! You know how you get the fix things? You become a better person, a fighter and protector of the world! People change Bucky and I’ve seen it first hand in you! You deserve to live just as much as anyone else!” Everyone remained silent, so I assumed they agreed with me. “And if you tell me one more time about sacrificing yourself because that’ll right your wrongs in this world, so help me God, I will kill you myself right now!” And without thinking, my hand shot out a purple beam of light, latching onto a glass vase and chucking it around the room, creating a whole in the wall and the glass shattering everywhere.

He walked up to me peacefully with his hands held in the air.

“Y/N, please. I’m going to be alright, you don’t have to worry this much. You should be more concerned about protecting yourself. I definitely wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t do this and something worse happens to you.”

I laughed in sadness.

“What about me? What about me when you die!” I saw multiple people begin to shed the same tears I was. We had all grown fond of Bucky when he joined us. He really proved and showed deep down, behind the trauma HYDRA had left him, he was a great man. That’s why I fell so deeply in love with him. “That’s the worst thing that could ever happen to me Bucky! I will die inside if you don’t exist in this world!”

“Y/N-” more tears sprang from his eyes. His voice cracked and got lower. It’s like he couldn’t find the words to describe the pain in his heart at the thought of leaving you behind. Without having told you that he loved you too.

“No I get it! You’ll be okay, you’ll be fine with it but what about me? Please, don’t do it for yourself, do it for me please!” I hunched over, the grief and pain overtaking my body. I felt too weak to even stand and continue yelling at him. “Please Bucky, please do this for me! Don’t leave me please don’t do this, I can’t take it please! You have to do this for me, because if you don’t I will never be able to forgive you!”

He stepped closer at a slower pace.

“For dying? For saving the world?”

“No for making me love you!” I began to cry out harder, the ring in my voice shaking the room once again, making everyone’s hands fly up to their ears as I got louder and louder. Natasha at this point was full on bawling, along with most people in the room. I think it was safe to say everyone knew of my affection towards the man at the center of attention, and maybe that’s why everyone had left me alone today. Afraid of this exact situation. The one person, the one thing in this world that can bring me to tears at my feet.

Bucky’s eyes filled with adoration as he ran up to me and held me on the floor in between his legs. I clutched at his arm crying into his shoulder. He looked back at Tony, who only gave him a nod. They had agreed together that one of them was bound to be the sacrifice when it came to defeating Thanos. Bucky of course still wanted it to be him, he felt it was the most right option. But when he looked back at Tony, clutching the love of his life in his arms, Tony took that as a final answer. Tony was okay with the decision he had come to long ago. He was ready to die for the good of everyone else, but nobody knew that yet. Bucky wasn’t giving up the fight, but now it only became that much harder to leave her behind. It was easier not knowing her feelings, but it had come to the light. Bucky wanted a life like Tony, the kids, the wife, everything. But at what cost? He was still going to fight to the death if he had to, but the decision to be the one to end it all was fading away.

“It’s okay Y/N, I promise we’ll talk more about it and find another way if we have to.”

“We have to Bucky, we have to.” My cries didn’t stop, but my voice lowered. My eyes caught everyone else’s, almost embarrassed at my sudden outburst of devoted love to Bucky, but everyone knew, they just never heard it from me. “Just hold onto me please.” I pleaded.

“I’m here Doll, I promise I’ll stay right here.”

#marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #the avengers #avengers imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes x reader

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years

Text

Fic: Pepsi Raspberry

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you

Warnings: There's a fight and Reader's ex left her with some issues, but nothing super traumatic. Frankie is super cute (and a little needy). I just threw this together on a slow day at work, apologies in advance for errors.

Summary: You fight with Frankie. That's it that's the plot.

A/N: This was honestly supposed to be a piece about feminism and female independence in a relationship but I can't be trusted around Frankie, he totally bippity-boppity-booped me into forgivance. Dickhead. Also I struggled for two and a half hours with the title and that's why it's shit. I hate titles.

Words: 2,416

A loud noise wakes you up, your heart missing a beat. For a moment, you're completely still in bed, scared out of your mind. That was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing, and someone crashing into a chair. You're as stiff as a board, your first thought being that this is it, this is how you'll die, by the hand of a home invader who's probably going to assault you first and then kill you, or maybe kidnap you and do god knows what to you…

You hear cursing and as you recognize the voice you also realize that if someone wanted to break in, they'd probably at least try to be stealthy about it.

"Frankie?" You mean for it to be a call but it's just a breathless whimper. You wet your lips, finding your mouth too dry.

Heavy, staggering footsteps bring the unknown visitor to the bedroom door and you reach out to turn on your bedside lamp. Blinking blearily towards the soft light is indeed Frankie, a sheepish smile on his face.

"The hell are you doing?" Your fright-induced stiffness leaving your body, you sit up in bed and glare at your boyfriend who was supposed to sleep at his own place tonight after his night out with the boys. His eyes are unfocused and his face shiny, and it's clearly been a good night. You glance at the nightstand, where the red light diodes of the clock tell you that the time is barely three am.

“Sorry, baby. Did I wake ya? There was… there was a chair in the entry. Did you move a chair? There never was a chair there before. Stubbed my toe.”

He limps over to the bed, trying to look as sober as possible while unbuttoning his shirt – “trying” being the operative word, as he’s clearly lost control of his fine motoric skills. He ends up pulling the flannel over his head, but it gets stuck, and he topples over his side of the bed. You draw back a little, wrinkling your nose. He smells of stale beer and cigarettes and moreover: he was supposed to go home. You had both agreed that you'd spend Saturday night apart for once, him catching up with his friends, you with yours, and he'd go home where he could spend Sunday nursing his hangover while you got some cleaning done in your apartment.

“What you are doing here?” you demand again, anger replacing fear. “Can I send you to the shower or will you drown?”

“I’m not a good swimmer,” Frankie acknowledges ruefully as he clumsily rolls over in bed and attempts the next step of getting undressed: undoing his fly and getting his tight jeans off. “Here, baby, gimme a hand, you’re so good at this…” “You deal with it yourself,” you say sternly, in no mood to help. The whole idea of spending one night apart was to get a good night’s sleep – something you rarely get in the same bed as Frankie as both of you are usually too voracious for each other to think about sleep – and for you not to have to worry about a hung-over boyfriend the following morning. On top of that, you’re furious with him for scaring the shit out of you by stumbling in at three in the morning. You almost regret giving him a key but then again: if he didn’t have one it could have been even worse, he could have gone full on Stanley Kowalski outside your window.

“Ah, baby, c’mon… Don’t be like that. Help an old man out.”

Frankie tilts his head up and looks at you with imploring eyes, upside down from you. Half of him is hanging outside the bed and the rest is slipping off, and he looks like he might fall asleep any second. You might as well help him before he goes limp and ends up on the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and crawl over to his side of the bed before climbing out. As you bend over to pick up his legs and lift them onto the mattress, Frankie manages to slap your ass.

“Baby. Hey, baby. Let’s have sex.”

“Not gonna happen.”

You unzip his jeans and yank them down carelessly, pulling Frankie down the bed in the process.

“Whoa, wild thing,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes falling shut. “Careful of the joystick, you don’ wanna damage that or you won’ be able to fly anymore…”

You don’t bother with an answer, he’s not going to remember it anyway. You help him off with the t-shirt as well and when you’re about to tuck him in, he grabs you by your wrist with a move much quicker than you had thought him capable of in his state. He pulls you down over him, the other hand squeezing your ass.

“Sex,” he mumbles. “Love you, baby, and I wanna be in you fo’eva.”

You try to avoid the smelly, wet kisses that he keeps pressing to your neck and shoulder. While you can appreciate him being horny for you in any situation, you’re still mad about him being here at all.

“You need sleep and I want it,” you tell him as you squirm out of his hold. Returning to your side of bed, you ignore the puppy eyes look he gives you as you turn off the lights.

“Not sleepy,” Frankie protests weakly before he’s out cold. He starts to snore loudly and you sigh in exasperation.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

You barely sleep for the remainder of the night and when you finally give up and get out of bed, you're in a pissy mood. Not even two cups of coffee and the fancy bread rolls you bought at the bakery yesterday to treat yourself this Sunday morning make you feel better. You down a painkiller to combat the beginnings of the headache you feel creeping up on you before starting on your chore list. The clearing of the closets in the hall is the first task and you get to it, trying to find some satisfaction in the fact that you're getting your things in order.

As the hours pass by, you do your best to work around the tasks on your list that would generate noise, such as vacuuming. You may be pissed at Frankie but you're decent enough to let him sleep for a little while longer. However, you finally face the fact that if you're to get everything done in time for you to actually enjoy the rest of your day off and open that novel you've been dying to read, you're going to have to start the vacuum cleaer. If Frankie wanted to sleep until three pm he should have gone home.

When you turn off the vacuum cleaner, you hear Frankie groan in the bedroom.

“Babe?”

You're not really in the mood to talk to him but you go check on him, just in case he needs help to get to the bathroom. Nursing his hangover is the last thing you want to do today but you also don't want to clean up vomit.

He looks like a wreck with his hair standing out in every direction where it's not plastered to his skull, puffy eyes, and pale face.

“Morning.” Your tone is short but he doesn't seem to notice. He grunts and rubs his forehead with one hand, the other reaching out of bed towards you.

“C'mere. I wanna cuddle.”

“You smell,” you shake your head. “Get up already, I want to change the sheets.”

He groans again and retracts his arm, draping it over his forehead.

“One more minute. Or hour. It's so early and my head is killing me.”

“Not my problem, Frankie.”

Frowning, he looks at you, clearly bothered by the sunlight washing the room in light. You don't offer any explanations.

“Is there coffee?” he asks eventually.

“No.”

“Can you make some?”

“Make it yourself.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

“What's wrong, baby?”

You go to the other side of the bed, grab the pillow and start to take off the pillowcase.

“Just get out of bed. I have shit to do.”

Frankie sits up slowly, his head clearly bothering him when he moves from a horizontal recline to a vertical seat. He takes a moment, eyes closed and hand on his bare, soft stomach, before looking up at you.

“What's up with you?”

There's a hint of accusation in his voice and that does it for you. You slam down the pillow onto the bed and cross your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him.

“You scared the shit out of me last night, Frankie! I thought I was being burglared!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mumbles, his apology meaning nothing to you because you can clearly see that he doesn't understand the terror you felt last night.

“We agreed that we'd spend the night apart, what the hell did you come here for and ruin my sleep and my morning?” you demand, raising your voice a little despite yourself. Frankie hates yelling. “Did you think I'd take care of you, tip-toe around you all day, serve you coffee in bed and junk food on the couch while you get to feel sorry for drinking too much?”

“What, no, what are you – “ Frankie seems utterly confused, the state of him most likely partly to blame. “Can you please keep your voice down?”

You pull at the duvet, stuck partly underneath him. “Move.”

“Jesus...” he mutters as he slowly gets out of bed. He stands still for a moment as if to recalibrate as he adjusts his boxers, before sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom. You strip the bed and as soon as Frankie's out of the bathroom and heading into the kitchen, you take the sheets to the washing-machine and start it. And just because you're feeling like a bitch, you throw Frankie's clothes out of the bedroom, letting them land on the floor, before vacuuming.

When you're stowing away the vacuum cleaner into the cleaning closet, Frankie confronts you. He's now dressed but that doesn't help his half-dead appearance.

“Why are you being like this?” He's still struggling to understand you. It's typical Frankie: he always tries to talk about things, bring clarity into every issue.

“Like what? What am I like?"” You're being a brat, you know, but you have no desire to be an adult right now. Frankie really doesn't seem to understand: the frown seems permanently etched into his face and he looks so different from his usual soft, easy-going self.

“Mean. You're being mean!” The last word comes out harshly and you can tell Frankie's losing his customary cool.

“So when I have plans to spend a day apart from you and be my own person, I'm being mean?” you spit. He looks at you like you're suddenly speaking in a foreign language.

“What are you even talking about?” The exasperation is plain to see, and it somehow makes you even angrier.

“This isn't your mama's bed and breakfast that you can just check into whenever you feel like it, Frankie!”

“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with this right now.” He pulls out his phone. “I'm getting an Uber.”

“Good!” you quip. “Fuck off home, like you should've done at three in the fucking morning!”

Without waiting for a reply, you stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. A few seconds later, you hear the front door slam as well.

[+++]

Sorry I showed up unannounced in the middle of the night. I just missed you. Didn’t want to go home and sleep without you. Call me, okay? I Love you.

You stare at the text message and feel bad, no, not bad: really fucking awful. It took you a few hours to calm down; hours that you spent playing angry music while finishing your list of chores. Afterwards, you didn’t feel that satisfying sense of accomplishment you usually experience after a good cleaning. Your head still hurt, so you went to your newly made bed which smelled fresh and nice even with the spread on top. You slept until late afternoon and woke up by the beep signaling the text.

You’re conflicted. The fact that he missed you is so sweet but there’s something about the statement that annoys you. He’s a grown-ass man, for chrissakes, and he should be able to be without his girlfriend for one single fucking night. And then guilting you into calling him with I-love-you’s and his fragile feelings? Fuck that noise.

And still. You know what Frankie’s like: physical, devoted, kind. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever been with. Not like your last boyfriend, who would pull shit like this all the time: show up at your place at all hours of the day (or night) whenever he wanted something from you. Sex. Comfort. Sympathy. Who would text and call you all the time when you were out with friends because he couldn’t find his way to the fridge without your help.

Reluctantly, you hit the speed dial button to Frankie, and he picks up almost immediately, saying your name with barely contained urgency.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi. You okay?” Such a Frankie thing to do, make sure you’re okay after a fight where, technically, he’s the injured party.

“Not really. You?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You mean the hangover or this morning?”

You hear the smile in his voice. “Both, but I meant the hangover.”

You exhale in an amused little sniff.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. Do you… wanna come over?”

“I’d love to. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. I’ll pick something up. Burgers from that place you like?”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of burgers but you’re more concerned with the sudden tears that rise in your eyes. Oh, Frankie.

“That would be great,” you manage, wiping at your eyes. Get a fucking grip!

“Parmesan fries?” he queries, but all he gets from you is a sob. “Baby?”

“I love you,” you sniffle. “You’re the best.”

“Aww, babe. I love you, too.”

You draw a deep breath to calm down, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst. It’s not like you, but it’s been a weird day.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Pepsi Raspberry for you?”

You start crying.

#my fic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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imaginegladions · 3 years

Text

One More Time, Like You Mean It

Xiao, Genshin Impact

A/N: Hehe, you guys haven’t heard from me in a while but surprise I am alive! And absolutely being devoured by work. I’ve been able to play a bit of Genshin in between to tide me over until I can play more Pokemon Games. But, I gotta say it’s pretty refreshing to write older characters. I hope you guys will forgive me for my fluctuating interests, have this... little gift from me. Not Gladion but he’s pretty damn similar.

The moment Xiao set foot on the bridge he heard them. The voices grew louder, screaming for salvation, for him to purge the evil. It was always loudest during the Lantern Rite but he had hoped with how well he had been doing recently he could risk it for a moment. Clearly, the years have made him complacent. He motioned to try and grab hold of his spear but instead found a hand tugging at his own. He followed the hand with his eyes until he caught sight of a shoulder and then deep blue eyes were staring into his own.

Right, he thought.

[You] invited him.

The person in question squeezed his hand once and started gently pulling him towards the myriad of stalls that had been set up. Some kids called [you] over from the corner, engaged in a game involving little multi-colored towers. [You] waved to them and posed for the shop owner next to them in time for the audible click of his camera.

“Doing alright?” [You] asked. And the Xiao one year prior would have sneered at that, not wanting [your] pity. But [you] only asked out of care for him and he’s come to appreciate [you] for that, for the charm that caused the lantern maker and grilled ticker fish seller to offer [you] freebies. For the charm that convinced the Vigilant Yaksha himself to cease his vigil if only for one night.

Xiao kept quiet as he took in all the festivities, not overwhelmed but also not quite comfortable with his surroundings.

Thankfully, [you] seemed to notice and quickened [your] pace until [you] reached a dock tucked away in the dark corners of the harbor with a single boat attached to it. Beside it sat a crate of fishing gear.

“My fishing boat.” [You] confessed, gesturing for him to sit across [you]. Inside the boat were a couple of cushions, a blanket, and a basket of assorted snacks.

Xiao scoffed. “You drag me to the city only to get away from it?” He raised a brow at [you] but got in anyway, unmoved even as [you] began to use [your] control over the water to gently push [you] out to sea, past several larger ships whose crewmen waved at [you].

“There’s that charm again.” Xiao thought, the notion clearing his mind of dark thoughts just enough for him to admire the way the Mingxiao Lantern loomed in front of [you].

[You] stopped the boat, leaning forward. And before Xiao could protest, [you] grabbed his hand again. He stared down at the offending appendages aghast. He doesn’t think he’s ever allowed anyone this close to him in the hundreds of years he’d been alive. The last he’d remembered were Bosacius’ shaking hands, Skybracer’s bloodstained shoulders, and all the friends he’d held as the light left their eyes.

“Xiao.”

[Your] palms, small and warm in his own, squeezed once. It was as Xiao lifted his head to meet [your] gaze that he realized [you] had been trying to get his attention. “What?” He hissed quietly.

But [you] only laughed breathlessly, nodding towards the direction of the harbor.

The entire city was dark, not a single person making even a whisper of a thought. Xiao was almost horrified at the sight. Was it possible that in the mere seconds he’d been caught up in his past, he’d been unable to protect the people of Liyue? Were they perhaps decimated in the blink of an eye?

The Skybracer made of bamboo and plauserite came to life, the fire within burning and revealing swirling patterns of gold against dashing blue. Behind it, fabric in luminescent azure and stark white fluttered in the evening breeze mimicking Skybracer’s full tail. And as if the spectacle hadn't surprised Xiao enough, the lantern began to move. Enchanted, he thought, as one by one the lantern’s limbs and neck began to shift and twist, the great deer shooting across the sky in wide arcs and in its wake the glow of thousands of lanterns carved out a path in the sky.

Xiao watched it happen with a wonder he thought he wasn’t capable of feeling anymore, only faintly aware of himself through his hands still linked with [yours]. It was so incredible, he’d almost giddily pulled [you] into his arms at the warm feeling rushing through him. The moment he hesitated, [you] had no qualms pulling Xiao in [yourself].

And as the glow of lanterns reflected in [your] eyes, he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to kiss [you].

Xiao held dominion over the wind, but never before had it been knocked so boldly out of him. He could scarcely believe it was caused by the mere realisation of his own feelings. [You] sat there, fireworks exploding in the sky as [you] stared at each other. For once, Xiao’s mind was clear of just about everything except the sound of [your] breaths, the curve of [your] lips, and [your] voice as [you] said his name.

Wait, his name?

“Beg your pardon?”

[Your] nose scrunched up in amusement and wow, Xiao doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as adorable. And Xiao has a soft spot for little ones, not that he’d ever admit it. “Right here, right now. Don’t you feel like you’re part of this?” [You] asked, cupping Xiao’s hands in both of [yours].

Xiao willed himself not to be distracted by the myriad of ways [you] liked to show [your] affection with [your] hands and tried to decipher [your] meaning to no avail. “What do you mean?”

“You said that not having a care in the world, being at peace, and feeling joy was not something you understood. But I feel your joy here,” [You] rested [your] fingertips gently at his collar where [you] could feel the flutter of his heartbeat, fast as a butterfly’s wings.

He was about to protest [your] warm hands leaving his when [you] continued. “I feel your peace here.” [You] said, hands grazing up his throat to cup his cheeks.

“And your care-” [You] smiled faintly, brushing [your] thumb over the tip of his nose. “Right here.”

Xiao clicked his tongue, lips drawing down into a slight frown at the teasing. His mood however was betrayed by the way his pulse grew ever quicker under [your] touch.

“As I have said, most mortal entertainment is fleeting, a short-lived spectacle.” He said in a tone notably softer than the growling timbre [you] were used to. He had declined, repeatedly, when [you] first asked him to join [you] for the festivities in a voice that struck fear into the hearts of heavenly and hellish creatures.

But Xiao the Vigilant Yaksha, [you] had discovered, who always donned his mask in a way even when he wasn’t exorcising demons was not the Xiao that sat in front of [you]. He was not in the Xiao that gently took [your] hands back in his, nor the Xiao that pulled the blankets up and wrapped them around [you]. He was not the Xiao that [you] dared to hope in the dead of night, when demons stole him away from [you], could possibly return [your] feelings.

[You] breathed in shakily, Xiao’s grip on [you] tightening at the sound. “Is this not?”

Xiao was somber, not unlike he was in the moments when his memories overcame him and he needed a minute to fight the darkness that clung to him like a second skin.

And in that serious tone of his, he spoke. “If you think that this relationship is something fleeting to me, then you are greatly mistaken.”

“You mean-” [You] choked at the words and the meaning behind them, startled.

“Will you-”

[You] didn’t let him finish, leaning all the way into his arms as [your] lips met, Xiao holding [you] so the boat wouldn’t tip over. [You] parted almost immediately, chaste and in awe of each other.

“Give me permission to court you?” He continued, a little breathless as [your] cheeks heated in embarrassment.

“O-Oh! I’m so sorry I misunderstood and I was too caught up in the ambiance and the way the moon and the lanterns lit up made you look so amazingly ethereal and unreal, I can’t believe you’re real and that you like me even though I-I make mistakes like think you want to kiss me-”

Xiao stared at [you] and his lips, the ones [you’d] kissed, curved into a smile brighter than any dawn [you’d] seen traversing Teyvat. The sheer joy and hope and affection in it infectiously warm. “You’re forgiven...” He murmured. As Xiao closed his eyes and rested his forehead against [yours], he whispered into the lantern filled night.

“Only if you’ll let me do it again.”

#xiao #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #reader insert #genshin impact imagines #xiao imagine #genshin impact imagine #he's just a baby #lantern rite imagine #lantern rite festival #and at last i seeee the liggggght #imagine xiaos #i am not promising more xiao stuff specifically #unless thats something u guys want and i feel like it

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jaehyunspeachparty · 3 years

Text

daddy jaehyun

iv.xlxi. (a,m)

trigger warning: mentions of abortion

The time when Jaehyun filmed his drama just didn't go by. It was getting harder for you every day. It wasn't easy with the four children either, but most of all you miss your husband. When you heard the door open in the evening and Jaehyun came to bed with you, you never wanted to leave him again. "You're finally here," you whisper and put your lips on his. The kiss was so comforting and full of missing that you didn't want to let go of him. But at some point Jaehyun broke away from you. "I'm so exhausted." He put his head on the pillow and sighed. You stroke his hair and hope he doesn't fall asleep right away. It was the only time you had together at the moment. You just lie down next to him and put your hand on his torso. "I miss you," you whisper to him and look up. "I miss you too and the children, I really don't see them anymore." Jaehyun was still plagued by a guilty conscience. "Hopefully it won't be that long." You sit up and sigh. "Yeah ... hopefully ..." To Jaehyun it felt like an eternity. You then sit on his lap and put your hands under his shirt. You finally wanted to feel love again. You lacked the feeling of lust, of passion. You didn't remember when you last had sex. It was clearly too long ago. "Y/N ..." He gently grabbed your wrists and looked at you sadly. "The children are asleep and we finally have some time for ourselves." You grab his waistband, but Jaehyun stopped you. "I'm really totally tired, I can't do anything today." He stopped you from doing your thing, but you didn't want to give up so easily. You were greedy and you wanted him. You were actually sure that if you would make the start, then he would be quickly convinced. "I'll do most of the work, just relax ..." You smile and slowly and carefully pull down his pants. Most of the time when you were at this point he was a little hard, but this time it was nothing. "Y/N...I don't know..." Jaehyun didn't mean to disappoint you, but he knew his performance wouldn't work down here. But you wanted to try it, you couldn't believe it. You start to take him in your hand, spread a bit of spit along his length and with pressure you move your hand up and down. But there was still no reaction from him. "Y/N ... I ..." He was uncomfortable now because he totally failed. But you wanted to do him something good and you also wanted to experience a few highs yourself. So you draw your last card and put his length in your mouth. Your whole torso leaned down and your butt was up. You wanted to give everything, you couldn't believe that he couldn't be persuaded somehow. But sucking a limp cock really wasn't easy. He was still very soft and it was difficult to stimulate it in this state. You press your lips together, lick his tip and massage his testicles. And as much as you try, he just didn't get hard. This whole thing then became uncomfortable for Jaehyun. He was tired and still under the pressure that he couldn't get hard. "Y/N, stop it." His voice sounded harsher than expected. You look up in surprise and somehow you didn't know how to deal with the situation. You sit up and look at him desperately. You didn't have any bad intentions, but you just wanted affection and love from your husband. You were also stressed out by all of this and you just wanted to take some stress off with him. "I don't mean that, but I'm just tired. The day was exhausting today." "Do you think my day wasn't exhausting today?" You were kind of hurt and disappointed. "Yes, but ... Y/N, I was really busy today." Jaehyun tried to justify himself, but you shake your head. "And should it continue like this for the next few weeks. Should we as a married couple give us up completely?" You didn't know what to think because it was all so confused. "No, but I ..." "Don’t you miss me?" You look at him with glassy eyes and cross your arms. "I miss you, but I can hardly ..." He couldn't go on talking. He was ashamed of himself that he was so limp today and couldn't get hard. "Anyway, leave it. I'm sleeping somewhere else today." You got up and left the bedroom. You didn't want to see or hear Jaehyun. You were disappointed that he hardly found time for you. You knew the drama was draining him a lot of time and energy. But it was all too much. He was hardly there, you were alone with the kids and he was kissing some beautiful actress on the set. Your jealousy was still something very present and you could hardly let go of it. Maybe this time it was you who ruined the relationship?

When you wake up in the morning, Jaehyun was long gone. You had only heard him briefly, but then he went straight to the garage. In the morning you visit Johanna and wanted to know how she was doing after the abortion. When you two were at the doctor, it was just quiet. You didn't talk and you just try to stand by her. But now days had passed and you hope she was better. Johanna was off that day and had the children with her too. This allowed your children to hang out while you chatted. "How are you?" You ask concerned and Johanna looked at you annoyed. "Don't come on me like that ..." she sighed and admonished you. "What?" "You feel sorry for me." Johanna shook her head and looked again at the children. "No, I'm worried. An abortion isn’t easy. It is an invasion of your body." Johanna went through so much the last few years and she had severe depressions, of course you are worried about how she deals with it. "Yes ... it wasn't easy ..." Johanna lowered her head and grabbed her stomach briefly. It was weird that she wasn't pregnant anymore. "But I feel so much relief ... I feel freer ..." Johanna sometimes felt bad for her thoughts, but for a long time she felt as if she could breathe again without problems. "I'm glad you're feeling better now." You smile and stroke her hand. At that moment Johanna was so grateful for your confidence and touch that she hadn't felt alone for a long time. Even when she was with Johnny, she often felt alone. But now she had her life under control again and she could think clearly again. She had her two children, her new job, her own apartment and a good friend like you. She never thought, neither did you, that your friendship would one day become so intimate. "How are you? It seems like something is bothering you." Johanna looked at you and you stroked Geon's head, who was sitting on your lap. "It's so hard right now that Jaehyun is never there." You sigh and look down at your son. "How are you doing with your jealousy?" Johanna knew about your problem and you couldn't say that you were better. "Bad. Oh my god Johanna, I'm going crazy." You throw your head back and you want to scream. Then you put your hands on Geon's ears and start whispering. "I need sex so badly, I can hardly take it anymore. Shit I just want him to grab me, fuck me wild and I cum so hard again that I forget my own name." You were really desperate. "Wow, how long has it been for you?" Asked Johanna, surprised. "Far too long, I don't know anymore. I think since he started filming the drama again." You sigh and take another sip of your coffee. "Hmmm .... okay ..." Johanna doesn't know what to say either. "I'm so horny as I haven't been in a long time. And what the dildo gives me is no longer enough anymore." Johanna had to laugh, because in the beginning you didn't want the thing and now you were glad that you had something to stimulate you. "Can't nobody take care of the children? You can sleep in a hotel for a night and have a good fuck again." Johanna's idea wasn't bad, but there was a problem. "I've already suggested that, but he wants to spend his free time with the children. Which I understand because he doesn't see the children from Monday to Friday." You sigh and were really desperate. "The disadvantage of being married to a good father," said Johanna with a wink. "Am I selfish?" You suddenly ask her and turn to her. "What?" Johanna didn't understand what you mean. "I'm selfish. I want Jaehyun to do something with me without his children for a day and only look after us." You lower your head and you feel bad. Maybe you were too hard on him. "No, you are still a married couple, you need time together." "But we have toddlers, we have to be there for them. They come first." "But you need time together so that you can become stronger as a team and also so that you don't go crazy. You shouldn't neglect yourselves, otherwise you'll end up like me and Johnny." You lean back and don't know what to say or think. Have you been selfish? Should you demand something like this? Was sex really that important? Should you care more about your marriage? You didn't know what was right or wrong anymore ...

In the evening Jaehyun still didn’t come home. It was the usual time, but he just didn't come. Tears came to your eyes, your pulse was high and you did not know how to act. Are you overreacting? Or were you allowed to claim time? But at the same time you miss him. At the same time you were plagued by jealousy. The next moment you take the remote control and turn off the television. You try to sleep a little, because in four hours Kiwoo would wake you up because he is hungry. You lie alone in the big bed. It felt so lonely. A shiver ran down your spine and a sob overwhelmed you. Why were you so full of emotions? Why did you come to tears so quickly? At some point you managed to doze off a little, but you always startle. You reach aside and Jaehyun still wasn't there. You were beginning to worry that something might have happened. You sit up and look at your phone. No message. No phone call. You dial his number, but no one answered. You write him to call you and try to lie down again. But still nothing came. You toss and turn, can't sleep, and start worrying. What if he had an accident? You fell apart in an argument and you would never forgive yourself if something happened now. You feel incredibly guilty. Everything contracted inside you and you are getting closer and closer to a panic attack. You call him again and again. You write to him too, but there was never an answer. At some point it was 3 o'clock in the morning. You go into the kitchen and make yourself some tea. Your pulse was still high and you had thousands of scenarios in your head and you plan to go to the police in the morning. Or that you call Johnny quickly so you can go to the police station and he'll take care of the kids. You didn't know what to do. Maybe you should just call the local police and see if something happened. You take your iPad and look for the number, when suddenly the front door opened. You look over and see how Jaehyun struggled to take off his shoes. He just threw the jacket down and almost fell to the floor. You look at him in disbelief. Did that really happen? "Are you still awake?" He slurred and looked at you in amazement. His cheeks and nose were red and he was having a hard time standing up straight. "Why didn't you answer your phone?" You were done with your nerves, you couldn't sleep. Jaehyun took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. "Oops ..." He saw the calls and messages, but due to his high alcohol level he didn't realize what was happening. "I just can't believe it ..." You didn't even know what to say anymore. You were disappointed and angry. At some point you just turn around even more and go up the stairs. "Y/N ... are you still angry?" You couldn't stand Jaehyun's streak of alcohol. You wonder why he even made it up the stairs. "Yes," you hissed back angrily. "Come on ... it's not that bad ..." You roll your eyes and you couldn't even listen to him anymore. "You could have called, I was worried." You turn to him and look at him disappointed. The tears were gathering in your eyes and it was hard to hold you back. "I didn't look at my phone. Sorry ..." He snorted and tried to be cute, but that only annoyed you. "I thought something happened to you." You take his bedding and cling tightly around it. "I thought you had an accident. FUCK! Jaehyun, I wanted to go to the police. You always call me when it gets late. ALWAYS!" You throw the bedding at him and your sobs got louder and louder. Jaehyun looked at you confused and his drunken brain found it difficult to process all of this. "I don't want you with me. You sleep somewhere else. I don't care where." You push him out of the bedroom and slam the door. Jaehyun looked at the closed door, the bedding in his hand and only the next day will he realize what just happened here.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

#jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun jung #daddy jaehyun #NCT #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #nct smut #nct angst #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst

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dottiechan · 3 years

Text

ICEBREAKER Pt. 2 & 3

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter

Wordcount: 2060 (Pt. 2); 2050 (Pt. 3)

Summary:

Pt. 2: Three are awake on the Marauder. Two are holding onto one another. One is barely holding on. (Hunter-centric chapter)

Pt. 3: You can only keep saying no to your old addictions for so long before they return with full force. (Crosshair-centric chapter)

Warnings: cursing, smoking & implied nicotine addiction

Part 2

The stars streak and melt against the abyss of space, unsteady and bleeding. You miss the stationary points of light, precise and dependable and easy. Stars make constellations that guide you, that show you the way even when you're lost. Hyperspace just confuses you, chills you to the very bones, makes you feel more lost than you already do. Which, to be fair, is not too difficult right now.

Having left the ice planet behind after the successful elimination of a remote Separatist research centre, you're en route to Kamino once more. What's more, you have the cockpit all to yourself, and you sit with your knees up, head rested back, throat exposed, undone by the comfort of solitude as you allow yourself to lower your guard. It'd be peaceful on any other day.

But your mind is plagued by Tech's revelation.

Your rational side knows he must have made a mistake. After all, what's the chance of either of them liking you? And why would they? You're fighting together, and you're bleeding, and sweating, and trying, and maybe even dying together. But that's nothing more than what's expected of you, of each soldier of the GAR, clone or otherwise. You're coexisting now, but you could be reassigned at any moment really. You try to convince yourself that you wouldn't feel the change, that working with a squad other than the Bad Batch wouldn't chafe you terribly, but you see through your own lies.

Of course you'd hate it.

Where would you be without Tech's advice and sage-like aura? Without Wrecker's enthusiastic support? Without Crosshair correcting your stance when you shoot, without him always watching your six? Without Hunter's hand on your shoulder, saving you from dangerous situations, but also, and maybe most importantly, even from yourself?

It would be easy to answer those questions. But you don't have the power to do so now.

So you sit back, wishing for simpler times, times when your greatest worry was Bracca and thinking they hated you. You'd rather they hate you than... than what Tech said. Somehow the idea of either of them liking you in an unprofessional way, even remotely, sends your head spinning. It makes your throat constrict, it makes you feel unworthy and angry and confused beyond belief. The idea of both of them liking you at the same time - as outlandish as it sounds - just makes you absolutely lose your mind.

So you try not to think about them, you try not to think about Hunter's softness, and Crosshair's piercing gaze, and what it would be like to let them close to you. They already feel closer than what you're comfortable with. Maybe they are already closer than you know.

But they can't get any closer. You can't let them, and you promise yourself to shut them the fuck out. No, you don't deserve this, you don't deserve them fucking up whatever respect you've built up with the squad. And you don't have the right to mess up their friendship either. They belong with each other, all of them, and no matter how much you like calling them your boys inwardly, they'll never be yours. They'll always be a family, with or without you. And just who are you to tear it apart?

You try so hard to fit in, but it all seems too much, as if the four walls around you were pressing closer and closer until you suffocated, and you breathe in shakily, afraid of your doubts manifesting into anxiety.

But the slight tremor in your fingers is a telltale sign you can’t ignore. You are good at repressing emotions in the heat of battle, but you weren’t engineered to feel no stress. Nature formed you to thrive on it.

...

He's been awake ever since you refused to turn in and insisted on staying in the cockpit. Hyperspace en route to Kamino is the safest possible space travel for the squad, but he doesn't argue with you. At some point, Crosshair is up - he knows it's him from the very specific way his feet touch the ground. He skulks about the ship for a while before returning to bed. And then it's just you.

He's trying his very best to ignore you, he presses his pillow over his head and bites down on his lower lip so hard it almost draws blood. He hates the power you have over him, he hates how he can't have anything to himself anymore that isn't tainted by thoughts of you. And apparently, he can't even fucking sleep without knowing you're okay, calm, quiet, dozing off, hopefully dreaming about him.

But your next breath, it really sounds disturbed, almost gasping, and his heart clenches in his chest. He'd protect you from your very own thoughts too if he only knew how, but he grows shy whenever he sees an opportunity to really be there for you. All he ever wanted was to make you happy, and he doesn't know how it ended up like this, how his own happiness ended up being intertwined with yours so irreversibly. His own breathing grows a little more restless, chest rising and falling with your anxiety, throat tightening with your worry, mouth running dry with your confusion. And he'd take it all from you if he could, he'd drain you of all of your worries and pains if he knew you'd feel better.

He says he hates the power you have over him, but what he really hates is his inability to fight it.

He slips out of his bed, carefully and quietly to not wake the others, for once in his life grateful for Wrecker's loud snoring as it covers the sound of his footsteps on the metal flooring.

Before opening the door leading to the cockpit, he looks down at himself in his blacks, bandana abandoned with his gear back at the crew's quarters. He runs his fingers through his long curls in vain, fighting the urge to turn back and make himself more presentable, someone you could like. He's not doing this for himself, he scolds himself, but his insecurities keep buzzing in the back of his mind as he presses the button on the control panel and enters.

You've been crying.

The red rims around your eyes shatter his heart into a million pieces almost instantly, and he struggles to say anything for a second as you stare back at him wide eyed, startled. You're beautiful and sad and Hunter just wants to undo your pain any way he can. He'd be your collateral damage if you'd only let him.

"You should be resting," you say suddenly, the heels of your palms flying up to your tear streaked cheeks in a futile attempt to hide the fact that you've been crying. He wishes you wouldn't, he wishes you were comfortable with just being unapologetically yourself around him, sharing whatever sorrows and joys you had in your heart with him.

"I couldn't... You..."

"I'm fine." The little lie is so soft, almost like a caress against his cheek, a plea to let you wallow in your own misery. He'd never forgive himself for walking away now, and he can't understand why you want him to treat you so shitty.

"As your superior, I have a duty to make sure you're alright." He wants to wince when his words escape his mouth - he sounds so strict and stuck up and distant, and he wants to take it all back when a sour smile appears on your lips for a split second.

"I'm not crying as a soldier."

Hunter wills himself to sit, and forces himself to keep holding your gaze even though he wants to retreat. He's afraid, he's never been so close to breaking around you, but that damned shine in your bloodshot eyes doesn't let him back down. He knows he's already started down his road. Maybe it was time to commit to it.

"Well, I'm not asking as your sergeant then. I'm asking as your-"

"Friend?"

"I'm whatever you need me to be."

"I can't talk about it," you say after a short pause, looking away, leaving Hunter wonder whether that flush on your cheeks is because of him or not. He's disappointed you don't trust him, but he can't really be mad at you. He probably wouldn't trust himself in your place. And yet he can't stop yearning and wanting and tripping over his damn feet to make you feel better.

"That's okay. I'm still here, if you need me."

But maybe you don't need him, he thinks, his heart sinking, as he watches the colours of hyperspace reflect in your silent eyes. He stands, a hand stretching out towards you. He grabs the leather of your seat, digits sinking into it with helplessness before letting go completely, of the headrest, of your sadness, of you, and allows his own hell to swallow him up completely. He'll go back to his cot, and Wrecker snoring, and Tech mumbling in his sleep, and he'll listen to your misery in silence, suffering along mutely with every hitched, disturbed breath of yours. If that's how you want it to be, then he doesn't have the strength to change your mind.

You grab him in the corridor, catching him off-guard. He's always been off-centre around you, but so far it was only your retreats that unbalanced him. Your proximity is another intoxicating distraction, and for a moment, he feels like he can't move, he can't swallow, he can't reach out to touch you.

But you're hugging him, and how could he not return it?

Change comes slowly for him. First, it's his fingers that find your hair, and they tangle themselves in it at the nape of your neck tentatively. Your face is turned away from him, but your cheek is pressed firmly against his shoulder, and your arms have him locked in a tight hug, your ice cold fingertips seeping in his own heat. Hunter can't think straight, but he knows he's your lifeline now, and he slowly warms up, and tightens his embrace around you, and eventually holds you as if the world was ending, and you seem to need it. If only he could make your problems disappear simply by squeezing you against himself tightly enough.

It's unprofessional, so unprofessional, and yet nothing felt more natural to him than you in his arms, his nerve endings singing with the joy of your proximity. Now that he knows how sweet having you this close can truly be, he doesn't know how he's ever going to go entire days without your embrace. As if he needed anything else to prevent him from sleeping peacefully. He doesn't think he's slept well ever since you joined his team, and he doesn't seem to find it in his heart to regret it. It's bad, and destructive, and unhealthy, but it's also out of control, and Hunter promises himself not to stand in its way anymore.

No more swimming against the tide.

He just wishes, so desperately wishes he didn't have to hurt Crosshair in the process.

...

Fucking hell, he knew it'd hurt, he knew it'd come, inevitable and destructive like a tsunami, but he never actually believed it would be this bad, this paralysing. He hates it, he just wants it all to stop, he just wants to get out. But loving you doesn't seem to have an exit, and just like with breathing, the only way he'll stop doing it is when he dies.

But what's even worse than all the repressed anger and helplessness and loneliness is the hope, small and fragile but blinking steadfastly amidst the darkness of his feelings. The hope that - despite you being in Hunter's arms right now - somehow you'll still end up falling in love with him. It's false hope, Crosshair knows, but he just can't help holding onto it like a fucking lifeline.

He leans his head against the doorframe for a second, dizzy and momentarily overcome with sickness. Then he turns and lays down, curling up alone. Crosshair can't watch another second of this, of Hunter acting out all his forbidden fantasies until there's nothing left for him anymore.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but all he sees is Hunter's fingers tangled in your hair.

Part 3

You glance sideways, head propped up on your hands. He's surveying the street once more through the scope of his rifle. You consider yourself a rational person, someone who's not gross and would never violate any lines of decency, but there's something so unbelievably attractive about Crosshair as he aims his sniper rifle that you have a hard time restraining yourself from staring too much. Well, maybe you're willing to cross a few lines for him, but what the hell.

This stakeout is lengthy and has you stretched a little too thin anyways. Might as well pass the time with something.

Crosshair seems bored as well, more restless than usual. He lowers his gun and slings it over his shoulder, and you observe his lazy but meticulous movements, hoping to catch his attention before the silence drives you absolutely crazy. He comes to sit beside you on the rooftop as you watch the busy streets below you. You both know the rhythm of this place by heart now. First, there's a great bustling crowd in the late afternoon, mostly the poor workers of the adjacent factory fighting their way over to the beaten up shuttlebus station, and the merchants packing up shop and going home, leaving their stalls behind for the night. Then there are a few odd stragglers later, mostly seeking out the cheap watering hole on the other end of the street. And then around midnight, your separatist spy would finally show up to drop off his intel in the form of old, harmless looking datacards in a seemingly abandoned alley that ends in a cul-de-sac.

And then of course you'd alert the squad before the intel was retrieved, and Tech would make copies and start tracing the spy's sources, while Hunter would inform Commander Cody about the developments. Because there's a war on the other side of the planet that your information can help win, and while things look sad and boring here, at least this dusty city hasn't been bombed into oblivion yet.

"I can't wait to finally get the jump on this guy."

"Tech says we ought to wait a few more days," you remind Crosshair as you stretch your feet out in front of you.

"We're wasting our time here. There's a battle to be won on this very planet. So why are we stuck with this boring job?"

"Don't you like spending time with me?" you tease him, but you're scared of his answer, so you don't give him enough time to respond. "This is important. We're saving lives, Cross."

He bristles at the nickname, but nods reluctantly in the end. You hope it's the job he can't stand, and not you, because deep down you like this, you like not being shot at, you like having the upper hand, you like spending time with Crosshair, away from Hunter's suffocating lingering heavy with expectations posed towards you. You're none the wiser since you had that conversation with Tech some time ago, but you're all the more confused, and you're trying even harder to get back to how things were before. So maybe taking a page from Crosshair’s book and outright ignoring Hunter wasn’t the smartest idea, but you don’t have a better one yet.

"And who's going to save us before we die of boredom?"

From somewhere he produces a cigarette, and he flicks his toothpick off the roof before placing it between his lips. You raise your eyebrows, and he catches your eyes and smirks. He knows you've been trying to beat your own addiction, he knows how Hunter fucking hates the smell of smoke lingering about you, and maybe at this point he's only doing this to spite him, but he lights it, takes a drag and offers it to you.

"I really shouldn't," you wince, your rekindled craving suddenly running rampant in your veins. "I've been off it for a few months now."

"I've only got the one. But suit yourself," he shrugs, and takes another drag, smoke curling past his parted lips so enticingly that you lean closer involuntarily.

"I can't let you ruin your lungs alone." You break, and extend your hand. He chuckles, his fingers brushing against yours as he passes you the lit cigarette. You inhale the smoke, and you remember why you used to be so hung up on this shit as the nicotine soaks in your blood. Then you look at Crosshair, sweet and angry and oh so bitter Crosshair, and you soak him in too, unsurprised when he triggers the same reaction in you as nicotine does.

You remember why you used to be so hung up on him and you swallow hard, because all you can think about is what Hunter would say if he knew.

...

"I think I'm getting some sleep."

"Knock yourself out."

"I don't get how you're not tired."

"I am." If only you knew just how tired he really is, with all the pretending he has to do, with all the looking away whenever Hunter is by your side, hands drawn to you as if you were magnetic. But you are magnetic, you fucking are, he knows, he has a hard enough time to tear his gaze away from you constantly. He dreads to even think of what it would be like to have to keep his hands away from you too. He'd probably go mad.

That's why he never touches you, he avoids you, he withdraws like the losing party he is.

"Well, spyboy has already made his appearance tonight. It wouldn't be characteristic of him to come back again," you shrug. “Maybe we could both turn in for the night.”

"You really don't understand the concept of a stakeout, do you?" A snort and an adjustment to his posture later he's back to being mean to you because he needs to reinforce those walls he's pulling up between you. He'll be as cold as ice and you will burn your fingers and pull back and never come close to him again. Or at least that's the plan, he can't account for all times he's slipped out, all the times you made him laugh, made his heart race, made him wish he was more bite than bark with you. "There's a reason why we need two people here, remember? Someone needs to watch the street while I'm resting. Otherwise it'd be pretty difficult for me to do my job properly."

You take the bait so easily, and the pout and the crossed arms almost makes him smile. "Oh, so that's all I am here? Your backup? Your sidekick? Number two?"

"Pretty much." It clearly hurts you, but you deserve it a little. After all, he's your number two as well.

"It's such a joy working together with you."

Satisfied, Crosshair turns back to the street, ignoring the ache in his heart. He goes against his own wishes, but he's always taken care of himself, and he knows what's best for him. And pining after you like a lovesick cadet is not it, he can do so much better than that. You'll go now, probably pick a spot on the roof that is far away from him, you'll curl up on your mat and fall asleep, angry with him for the rest of the night.

But damn you, you're probably right, and the spy's not coming back again.

When you sit next to him, he's blinking in confusion, blank, nothing witty coming to mind. You sigh, annoyed but already letting it all go. Your elbows are touching, and he's too afraid to move.

"Do you have another cigarette?"

"You think I was lying when I said I only had the one?"

"Yeah. I think you were planning on waiting for me to fall asleep and then smoke them all alone."

"Smart girl."

The praise awakens something feral and primal in you, but Crosshair is too busy fishing out his pack of smokes to see it. You're sitting under the stars soon, ducking behind the half wall to hide the burning tips of your cigarettes, arms pressed together as you lean into his side more. You flick the ash off absentmindedly, and he watches your fingers, knowing he couldn't possibly look into your eyes now without feeling things he shouldn't feel.

"I don't mind being your sidekick."

And there you go again, fucking up his plans once more as he has nothing smart to say. He just sits, and smokes, and ignores the drumming of his heart in his ears as he focuses on you being so close to him. Just one last slip-up, and he'll do better tomorrow, he'll chase you off, he'll make you fucking hate him. But tonight is his, selfish or not. Tonight he will steal from Hunter, and then he'll never insert himself into your life again.

By the time you've put yours out, he's already lighting a second cigarette, and you blink slowly, exhaustion creeping up on you. Crosshair is about to shove you, about to tell you to fuck off finally and get some sleep, but then you put your head on his shoulder and he shuts up.

He's too scared to move, to ruin this moment. Tomorrow, tomorrow he'll stay true to himself, but tonight, he'll stay true to you.

...

"They've missed their check-in."

"Actually, they haven't. Crosshair gave me a status update not long ago. Looks like it’s all quiet - we won’t be seeing more of our spy tonight.”

While Tech is busy tracing the origins of the spy’s latest intel, Hunter paces up and down the abandoned cellar they established as their momentary camp. This temporary imprisonment has them all restless and stupid and twitchy, and he blames his own jumpy nature on being so understimulated. Listening to nothing but Tech’s datapad and Wrecker’s whining all day in the dark and damp confinement of these four walls is enough to drive him positively mad.

It has nothing to do with not seeing you or hearing your voice for days on end, no. Nothing to do with not catching a whiff of your scent in the mouldy air underground. Nothing to do with knowing you’re up on a rooftop, exposed, with no other than Crosshair.

Hunter trusts him to keep you safe. But he’s being irrational and jealous even though it is totally unwarranted.

Because he loves you.

It was a hard labour, to give birth to that internal confession, but he’s never felt so relieved ever since he’s done it. He finally has a name to put to all the yearning and pain and hope he’s harboured for seemingly endless months. But you’re not ready, he knows that. And maybe he isn’t ready to say those words out aloud either, and yet he knows the day will come. Because in the corridor of the Marauder those few weeks ago, while the rest of the ship slumbered, the two of you shared a moment that meant something.

You’ve been careful not to repeat it again, and he’s respected your wish, but he sees the way you look at him. Sees the purposefulness in your avoidance of him. Hell, he can practically smell your confusion. So he backs up as much as he can to give you the much needed time and space to hopefully figure out how him wanting to be close to you makes you feel.

But he likes to keep an eye on you nonetheless, not necessarily just to keep you safe, but also for that. And allowing you to tag along with Crosshair on a stakeout doesn’t exactly help him do that.

So he paces, dragging along his love for you with every step, ignoring his festering jealousy. Crosshair doesn’t even seem to like you anymore, he’s been vocal about it lately too, so there’s nothing to worry about. Despite it being an irrational fear, he still dreads leaving you alone with him, but he won’t have it. He knows you and his brother better than this. He knows. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

And as Hunter paces, Tech occasionally glances up to check on his sergeant, his friend, heart heavy with worry not just for him, or you, or Crosshair, but for the future of the whole squad in general.

#dottiechan writes #hunter x reader x crosshair #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb fanfiction #star wars

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ooowyn · 3 years

Text

I got two ask-box memes!! They are the same type, but weeelll..... I’ll do double the facts! I’ll also be answering some random messages in here, too! See under cut for random info dumps!

I got the two memes from @brglhobbit and @reshirement !!

Let’s see if i can even think of 10 fun facts hmmm...Forgive me if I’ve mentioned some before!

1. I’m a HUGE Zelda fan!! I own many CD’s, full manga sets, multiple figures, clothings, and instruments!!

2. I think i’ve mentioned this previously, but I’m a flute player of 14 years. Sadly, i can’t play it much where I live, anymore, since the walls are thin :(

3. I have a hairless cat. His name is Biggles :]

4. My username comes from a near-death situation that I went through. If people care to read, I’ll put that story in another post!

5. I can read French, but barely LOL

6. Snakes......i love snakes... Hognoses are so cute............

7. I am very good at doing impressions of people’s accents/voices.

8. I scare my friends by doing impressions of Smeagol :]

9. not so much a fact as much as a thought, but I often wonder how easy it is to find my old account. It’s not that hard, I think.

10. I miss public drawing boards, like iScribble.... I learned how to do digital art on that site!

And that’s it for my facts! Thank you two for the asks!! 🥺♥️

@anon Thank you so much!!

@shy-bi-sheikah I’m answering you SO late but omg thank you for finding that store!! Once i have some extra cash on me I’m buying this LMAO

@anon 1 I have a TON of fics and I add as many as my greedy little eyes can read to my collection. When i have time to clean up and organize my bookmarks on ao3 I’ll make sure to link it on my blog!

@anon 2 Thank you for your very kind words!! I wish no one to envy me, rather maybe be inspired to draw more, if that makes sense? I rather spark something positive with my works!!

Whenever i feel bad about my own art, I know I don’t want to draw...And that’s ok! Taking a break is good to recharge. I know what post you originally sent this in, and I did take a step back for a couple of days, and now I’m back in a better swing of things!

And finally, @my-thyla-my-captain .... Oh man, you sent me this I think when i did my FIRST horny-gaze Thorin art, that one a friend commissioned me for, reading a book. Now we’re here, like 4..5? horny-gaze Thorin arts in..... What has this dwarf done to me...😭

And that’s all she wrote! Thank you guys for sending me asks in!! I enjoy getting them and reading through them!!

I do have like 2 or 3 more asks in my box, but those are art request to be filled soon!! If yall want to send requests in fir art, feel free! I can’t garuntee i’ll do them, but a lot of time they’re good for warmups!

#ooowyn art #owyn answers #ask memes #bilbo baggins

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thero0ks · 3 years

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Would You Want to Start Tonight? <Erwin Smith NSFW!>

Forgive us Commander for we have sinned.

NSFW! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!

Erwin wants to start a family. Erwin and the reader decide to get started.

Erwin is the king of dirty talk, and you can't convince me otherwise. Tried to make it a little spicey...let me know what you think.

Horror came across his face as she dumped ingredients in. A half used cookbook was thrown open, “half a teaspoon of chili powder.” He heard her scoff as she threw the spoon on the counter sprinkling the spice right from the jar. It wasn’t even a measuring spoon she’d been using. Just the smaller set of spoons they kept in the drawer.

The only woman who could ever rattle that stoic face of his had somehow agreed to be his wife three years ago. His complete opposite, he found himself drawn to her spontaneous chaos.

He leaned against the wall watching her dance around the kitchen to music that was at a volume one would expect from a teenager, rather than a full grown woman. After receiving a content look from their dog she’d swooped in her arms to dance with, he couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips. When she finally noticed his presence she placed the dog back on the floor who already looked eager for more of her attention.

The warmth that came from her smile was drawing him to her. “Erwin, you’re home early.” On tiptoes to give him a kiss he felt her hands on his tie pulling him closer to her lips. The kiss was short and sweet, and he found himself following close behind her as she turned her attention back to the stove. Her hips fit in his palms as he rested his chin on her head. Liquid eyes observing the ingredients. His mind trailed back to the set of measuring spoons his mother had gifted her, it seemed he wasn’t the only one who didn’t fully understand the wild being in his hands. Somehow her dishes always turned out better than the recipes, and he quickly learned to not question her.

“How was work?” She inquired, and this was his typical que to unload. He sighed, getting all his work troubles off his mind. She never understood his passion for work, but she supported him regardless. Different things made people tick, and Erwin’s was always work. “Mike thinks we can win the case, but it’ll be a gamble.” He concluded with a sigh.

Pouring him a brandy she handed him the glass before gesturing to the table before bringing the plates over. “How was work for you?” He inquired as she poured a glass of wine.

“Ugh, don’t make me think of that place.” She groaned.

“That good?” He couldn’t stop the smile at her dramatics.

She took a seat offering him a smile in return. “It was fine, I’d just rather not be there.” She said simply, taking a sip of her wine.

“You know you don’t have to work, I make more than enough money.” He stated, eyeing her as she bit her lip.

“What else would I do? Besides, if I quit my mother would feel inclined to start asking about grandchildren.”

Erwin’s eyes flickered up, watching her push her food around. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

Surprised eyes observed him, “are you hinting at something?”

Erwin shrugged, “we have been married for three years, I’ve settled into my career, we’ve bought a house...isn’t it the next logical step?”

Erwin was always the planner. Everything had an order, and his life seemed to be stepping stones, every step marking a new achievement in his life. He’d always managed to stay on the straight and narrow. Perfect grades, perfect school, perfect job, and the perfect house.

Y/N felt like he was always achieving the impossible. Whenever she created plans they tended to blow up in her face. Looking back at all of the choices she made there never was a mistake, life just decided to blow her completely off course, and she always found herself playing catch-up. Erwin being drawn to her like a magnet seemed like dumb luck. How did a mess like her fit into his perfectly tailored life?

“I know you’re worried you’ll be like your father, but I know you.” Erwin said softly, “you would be the perfect mother.” Those baby blue eyes of his didn’t hold a hint of doubt. He knew how to charm people with a simple gaze, he also knew how to use them to solidify a point.

Y/N rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, “you didn’t know me before…” The statement died on her lips as she gripped her fork.

Erwin’s eyes softened, “you’re right, because you aren’t that person anymore.” His voice was soft, and Y/N knew her resolve was crumbling. He knew the art of negotiating, that’s why he was so good at his job. He reached for her hand, stroking it gently with his thumb, “you take care of everyone, and you don’t see how perfect you are.”

Glistening eyes snapped up at him, “you put everyone first, and can overthink yourself into oblivion.” He mused, his eyes were honest and full of adoration. “You always seem to know what’s truly important, whereas I tend to have a one track mind.” He said, running his fingers through his hair. He never was good at admitting his own shortcomings, he had a tendency to hold himself to an impossible standard.

“Okay.”

Erwin’s head snapped up, “okay? As in you want this?”

Y/N nodded, “yes Erwin. I want this.” She said softly, and she soon found herself engulfed in his arms.

Erwin was the catalyst that always drove her forward. Perhaps the reason her plans never worked out, was because that wasn’t what fate had in mind. Erwin seemed to always find the right timing on these things. He’d been the one to mention buying a house, and she’d initially agreed, because she thought it would make him happy, but as he pressed his lips against her’s she realized that she wouldn’t have had the courage to take the next step if he hadn’t already paved the way.

Erwin cradled her face, and the excitement that flashed in his eyes brought a smile to her face. “Would you want to start tonight?”

Y/N nodded, and found herself being lifted into his arms and carried up the stairs. Kisses being peppered down her neck.

Her back made contact with the covers as Erwin hovered over her, capturing her lips with his. Running his tongue across her bottom lip she allowed him to deepen the kiss. She could taste Pinot Grigio on his tongue. Warm hands slid up her neck to entangle in her hair. Pulling away his eyes were clouded with lust, as he took in her disheveled appearance.

“Strip.” He ordered.

Loosening his tie with his free hand he watched her undress. Grabbing her wrists he slipped the silky material around her wrists before pulling tight. She let out a small squeak at the pressure, and saw the feral look in his eye. Running his hands up her body making sure to take his time whenever her body shuddered at his touch.

Lifting her onto the bed his lips traveled down her naked flesh. Pushing her arms above her head so her breasts were on display. “You’re perfect.” He breathed, soft eyes flickering over the plains of her body. She was soft in all the right places, and he drank her body in like a man starved.

His fingers ran over her breasts, causing her to arch into his touch. Desperate for more. A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he leaned forward to capture a nipple in his mouth. A needy moan escaped her lips at the sensation, rolling her other nipple with his thumb it sent fire straight to her core. He continued his ministrations until she was squirming under him desperate for any friction between her legs.

“Tell me what you want.” Erwin said, nipping her breast.

“I want you between my thighs.” She begged, her wrists pulling at the restraints.

Erwin pulled away, and she let out a small whine from the loss of contact. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his hands unbuttoning his shirt. Leaning forward to get a better view of his exposed skin, she licked her lips eager to see more of him.

The man was sculpted like a Greek god. His muscles moved under his skin as he finished stripping his shirt.

Settling between her knees he ran his hands under her thighs. Gripping her thighs he tugged her to the edge of the bed. Glistening eyes gazed up from between her legs as he slowly kissed up her inner thighs.

Settling on her mound he placed a small kitten lick, causing her legs to flex with a sharp inhale of breath. A knowing smirk crossed his lips as he drew a finger down her slit. “Mmm already this wet?” Slipping a finger inside he started to work her until he slipped a second in. Heady eyes watched her squirm as he rubbed tight circles on her g-spot. Holding her in place he dipped his head to suck on her bundle of nerves.

Thighs clamped around his head as she begged for him to continue. Promising she was so close to the edge. Feeling her pulsing around his fingers he drug out her orgasm until her juices ran down his face. She was panting when her thighs finally released him.

Shoving his fingers in her mouth she eagerly sucked, “am I going to feel those pretty lips on my cock?” Retracting his fingers for her to answer his thumb played with her bottom lip as his wet fingers gripped her chin.

“Yes.” She whimpered, and he paused giving her a stern look. “Yes what?”

“Yes sir,” she said leaning into his touch, eager to please.

“Good girl.” He mused, reaching for the tie, releasing the silk binding. He settled against the headboard as she climbed over him eagerly. Trailing her lips down his body, leaving soft nips eager to watch his body shutter. Settling between his thighs her eyes flickered up to see one arm propped behind his head, and piercing eyes watching her every move. His muscles shifted as he grew impatient of her staring, but predatory eyes dared her to keep looking, eager to punish her for teasing. Tentatively she sucked a hickey above his dick, and felt a large hand bury itself in her hair.

Drawing her tongue up his cock she popped the tip in her mouth swirling her tongue. An exasperated moan escaped his lip, and Y/N loved how eager he was. Erwin ever the gentleman just gripped her hair allowing her to tease his length as she slowly bobbed her head. When she finally took him deep, she peered up at him to see his head thrown back, holding back from shoving himself deeper down her throat. It wasn’t until she started sucking with the bottom of her throat that Erwin’s grip on her hair tightened, and he couldn’t stop the “fuck.” that escaped his lips. Releasing him with a pop he stroked her face, dazed at how quickly she had brought him to the edge.

Crawling up the mattress to settle between his thighs, he ran his fingers down her body. “You’re just asking to be fucked.”

“Hands and knees.” He ordered pressing her face into the mattress. Running his dick through her folds he felt her hips wiggle against him eager to feel him inside her. “Look at you cock starved.”

“Please Erwin.” Y/N begged, gripping the sheets.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, please.”

In one stroke he filled her. Her sharp intake of breath made his brain want to short circuit. “Fuck you’re tight.” He growled, feeling her grip him. Bringing his hand down on her ass she pushed into him, trying to pull him deeper. “That’s for teasing me earlier.” He said, gripping her delicate skin rubbing any sting it left into pleasure. He hadn’t planned on starting slow tonight, and by the way she was meeting his thrust she hadn’t either. The brutal pace he set had her mewling into the mattress as her hands gripped the sheets desperate for anything to ground her.

Reaching between her legs he started rubbing quick circles on her clit. “I know you’re close baby, cum for me.” He murmured in her ear. Her breathing had progressively gotten shallower the closer she was to the edge. As soon as she heard those words a damn broke and her second orgasm washed through her. “Fuck you’re taking me so good.” He praised, and she felt his blond hair tickle her back as he leaned over her, the pleasure being too much as her orgasm pulsed around his cock. With a few more strokes he found his own release, cumming inside her.

Pulling out he pulled her in close. “You did so good.” He hummed, kissing her temple.

Soft eyes gazed up at him, “I love you.” She said softly, bringing a smile to his face.

He would never tire from hearing those words from her mouth. “I love you too.” He said, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Let me run a bath.” He said softly, but she grabbed his arm before he could slip away.

“Stay.” It came out as a content whisper. “For just a little longer.”

Erwin nodded, pulling her onto his chest. Stroking her hair as she traced shapes on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. The prospect of a family warming his heart.

#erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith one shot #attack on titan one shot #attack on titan fanfiction

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

Just Friends - Epilogue

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo, model fem reader genre: fluff, suggestive themes wc: 2.1k

[a/n]

I enjoyed writing this self-indulgent, tooth-rotting part. I hope you do too.

I loved this story so much. It really is goodbye now, Kuroo.

Ack. Not crying.

Part 10 || m.list

“Morning,” says your boyfriend with the familiar drawl of his voice in early mornings.

“Mmm, more sleep.” You nuzzle your face on his glorious chest which you deem is the best pillow you’ll ever have. Of course, you won’t tell him that. His head is already big enough with that bed hair of his.

He wraps his arms around you even tighter, drawing you in his warm embrace that makes the January weather in Japan forgiving, comforting even.

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead while he tenderly tucks your hair behind your ear.

“Kitten, as much as I want to sleep in today, we both have to get up,” he says while he strokes your cheek, making you want to stay longer like this, contrary to what he just said.

“But why?” You whine with your eyes still closed.

He chuckles softly. “It’s your graduation today.”

You squint your eyes open and look at him. Kuroo Tetsurou. Your fuck buddy for 6 months, friend without the benefits for another 6 months, and boyfriend for 2 years.

After you made things official with him, you sorted your life out and figured out what you really wanted to do. As much as you enjoyed working full time, you decided to go back to your university and finish your degree while working part time instead.

You realized that you wanted to see it through, not because your parents wanted you to, but for yourself. You lost clients, but you were happier. But with Tetsu looking at you as he is, you’d think he’s way gladder than you are that you’re finally graduating.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What? Can’t I be happy for this occasion?”

You shrug your shoulders and get back to nestling yourself within his hold. He gently taps your shoulder. “Oyyy, get up already. I can’t do it with you being cute and shit like that.”

You giggle on his chest before getting up.

—

“Seriously, Tetsu. You look too damn happy,” you remark on your seat as you watch him drive. “You’ve had that wide grin on your face since we left my place.”

“You don’t understand, kitten. We finally get to look like a legit couple. I won’t get those looks from students in your university anymore.”

You frown. “What’re you talking about?”

He snorts. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“Oh please. They look at me like I’m a cradle snatcher.”

You cackle on your seat. You really had no idea that your schoolmates looked at him like that. It must be the suit and the car every time he fetches you from the campus.

“Aww Tetsu.” You reach for his face and caress his cheek. “You don’t look that old to be a cradle snatcher.” He smiles as his one hand lets go of the wheel to cup yours that was resting on his face.

“Maybe a sugar daddy?”

He returns his hand on the wheel and scowls. “You know, we still have time to pull up somewhere.”

“Why the hell would we pull up?”

His scowl turns into a contemptuous grin. “So we could do that sugar daddy roleplay of yours. I can act like a creep who paid for your university. Then we can pretend to have one last sex.”

You instantly remove your hand away from his face. “You’re gross,” you spat out. It was his turn to laugh. “What? I’m just going along with your shit.”

His one hand creeps on your inner thighs. “Come on, baby. Won’t you let me fuck you for the last time?” You raise an eyebrow on his hand that’s inside your skirt before raising your gaze to him. “Oh daddy. Does this really have to be the last?” You play along with his dumb antics.

He grips your flesh right before making a sharp turning on the curve right ahead. “Tetsu! What’re you doing?” He keeps his mouth shut with his eye glued to the road. “Hey! Where are we going?” He still doesn’t answer you until he pulls up at a park that is somehow familiar to you, but you can’t remember why.

“What are we doing here?” You ask.

“You don’t remember this place?”

You shake your head. “Well, if you must know. I stopped over in this area to do you before I took you back to my place. You were batshit drunk and let me, a stranger do all sorts of stuff with you. End of story time.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and lunges right at your lips, causing you to moan from the suddenness of it. His tongue swipes your lower lip right before thrusting it impatiently in your mouth.

You force yourself to pull away. “Tetsu, it’s broad daylight.” He might have gotten away with it before, but it’s too bright at present. Anyone can just walk in on you.

“Why do you think I got my car tinted as fuck? Besides, barely anyone comes here,” he says before his lips coaxes you to agree by flicking his tongue just below your jaw.

“B-but my clothes,” you try to protest.

“We’re not going to remove them,” he hums against your neck.

You cup his face to lead him back to your lips as you unbuckle your own seat belt to get over to his seat and straddle him. He reclines his seat while ravaging your lips.

“Call me that again,” he says in between kisses. You knit your eyebrows together before gaping at him with an amused look as it dawns on you what he’s talking about.

You hitch your skirt up and grind on his clothed erection. You place both your elbows on both sides of his head, hovering just an inch on his face. “Call you what, daddy?”

He smiles as he reaches for your lips once again.

“Why are you late on your own graduation?” Kenma asks as he eyes Kuroo’s wrinkled slacks and your crumpled dress that you still struggle to fix even after arriving.

“Forget I asked,” he says with a grimace. “Sorry,” you apologize before catching your own breath. You turn to Kuroo and fix your hair for the last time. “Do I look okay?”

“Most beautiful person here.” He pulls you for a quick peck on the lips. “Go to your seat, kitten. You’re already almost an hour late.” You beam at him and give him and Kenma a quick wave before marching to your assigned seat.

When you're out of earshot, Kenma frowns at Kuroo. “Really? You couldn’t wait until after the ceremony?”

Kuroo laughs at Kenma’s question. “Is it that obvious?” Kuroo asks to heighten his amusement. “Disgustingly so.” Kenma answers instantly which cracks him up even more. Kenma easily swerves away from the topic, telling Kuroo about his current plans for Bouncing Ball while they wait for you to get on stage.

When your name is called, they both immediately stop talking. This is what they came here for, to see you get that certificate you very much deserved.

You were right earlier in the car. He is too damn happy for this day. You worked so hard for this milestone even if you didn’t have to. You did so well with your job. You were soaring your way to being more successful. But you stayed true to what you really wanted and studied again. After two years, you really did it.

He took the whole day off to make sure he’d be with you because he wanted to be with you as you grasp this achievement. More especially because you told him your parents won’t be coming. He’s also glad that Kenma made time for you so you have one more person celebrating your success.

He watches you get up on stage, a walk so far from your usual, composed one because you too were happy. Your face is radiating even when from a distance. When you get the diploma, you turn your head to where he is, quickly scanning the area to look for him. When your eyes meet his, you break into the most beautiful smile he’s ever laid his on.

He waves at you with a smile of his own. Fuck. He must have done something right in this life to deserve you.

“Don’t cry here, Kuroo. You’re going to look like her father instead of her boyfriend,” Kenma says. He sniffs a bit and laughs when he remembers your antics before you two arrive at the place. “I wouldn’t mind being her daddy,” he answers back meaningfully, causing Kenma to glower.

“Ew.”

“Oh my God. I’m exhausted!” You exclaim as you remove your heels when you enter his apartment. You two immediately went straight to his place after having your celebratory dinner with Kenma and Kuroo. You two have been sleeping at each other’s place interchangeably for quite a while now that you have some clothes and your necessities in his place and vice versa.

Before changing clothes, you plop yourself on his couch, resting your head on the back rest. You feel familiar fingers massager your temples. “You good?”

“Mmmhmm. Just tired.” His digits leave your head. You hear his footsteps go around the couch, the cushion shifting down with his weight when he gets there. He tenderly tugs your head to lean on his shoulder.

“Congratulations, kitten. I’m so proud of you” he whispers. You snuggle even closer to him, getting yourself lost in his comforting presence. “Thanks, Tetsu.”

You feel something in your lap which makes you flutter your eyes open. It’s a small red paper bag. You sit up straight and feign a glare at him. “I did tell you no gifts, right?”

“Yep, but since when have you been the boss of me?” You roll your eyes as you scoff at him. You take the paper bag off your lap and gently open it. You find a rectangular black leather box inside.

“Ooh! Are these eyeglasses?” You ask eagerly. You’ve been whining non-stop that your eyes hurt from the amount of time you’ve been spending in front of your laptop. Damn, your boyfriend really is thoughtful.

“Uh huh. Go open it and lemme see if you look hot with it,” he smirks as he watches you take the black box inside. You open it and see no eyeglasses. What’s there is a key stuffed in the velvet cushion filling the empty space inside the box.

You look at him with a frown, confused as to what it means. He no longer holds that cocky expression in his face. He regards you lovingly, his eyes warm as he dotes you. “I bought a condo unit in Shibuya. Move in with me?”

You gawk at him, the word you want to say not coming out of your mouth from shock. You two didn’t have a problem with your set up. He’d sleep over at your place and you’d sleep at his place in turn. You were fine with that, but sometimes, it’d slip your mind how nice it would be if you wouldn’t have to take turns anymore, if you lived together.

But you never told him that. It was just a thought that you pushed in the back of your head. You were content with your current set-up anyways.

“A-are you sure?”

He laughs softly. “Damn right, I’m sure.” He grabs your hand, covering it with his as he strokes your knuckles. “I don’t want to keep track of whose place we’re spending the night at. I want to wake up with your face next to mine on the same bed everyday. I want to go home knowing you’ll be there.”

You blink back the warm liquid in the corner of your eyes that’s threatening to surface. You have been exposed to many grandeurs and successes in life, but not any of those compared to the happiness you feel as he eyes you with pure rapture.

“Honestly, I would’ve asked you to marry me if only I’d met your parents already.”

You smile through the tears that you failed to hold in. “Tetsu, you’re making me cry like an idiot on my own graduation day. Of course, I’d love to move in with you, duh,” you say before wrapping an arm around his neck and burying your face on his chest as you let the tears of joy flow peacefully.

He draws you away and wipes your tears with his thumb, the amorous look he had not leaving his face. “I’m serious though. I love you, y/n. I love you so much that I want you to be completely mine.”

You trail your hands up to his cheek and hoist yourself up to cover his lips with yours. You’ve shared many kisses with him, and among those thousand times your mouth meld against his, this feels different, special.

You pull away and return the earnest adoration he has with your own. “I already am, Tetsu. Just as you are mine.”

Part 10 || m.list

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @arendizzle @phantomneko0 @ysatrap @babythotshq @ameliaxo @miiy @kurooscoochie @lucifers-luv @suikrem @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @tsumurai

#kuroo fluff #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #kuroo angst #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #for the love of kami-sama #pls let the tags work

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

if your looking for a bth prompt what about used in sacrificial ritual where tk gets abducted on a run and carlos is the lead detective on this case of people getting murdered as sacrifices and they arrive in time to save tk but the ritual involved cutting limbs off and tk ends up losing a leg? perhaps w lots of fluff at the end? <3<3

anon, i cannot tell you how excited this prompt got me. i’d been toying with a very similar idea for weeks and this was the push i needed to actually write it - with certain modifications to fit your idea. (i promise it has a happy ending!)

i’m super proud of how this came out, and i hope you like it as much as i do!

@911lonestarangstweek day 7: Free choice!

Two months ago, TK vanished, snatched while out on his evening run. Carlos will do anything to get him back, even if that includes running himself into the ground.

ao3 | 4.9k | cw: kidnapping, depictions of violence, death and injury, forced amputation, career-ending injuries

It’s been two months.

Two whole months since TK left for his evening run with nothing but a shouted goodbye and a promise to be home soon.

Two months since Carlos hadn’t even turned around, because apparently the dishes were more important than his husband.

Two months since they found TK’s shattered phone and wallet, abandoned in the park next to a pool of blood.

Two months since Carlos’s world came crashing down around him.

He blames himself - how could he not? He’s been the lead detective on this case for months; he’s the one who’s so far failed to catch the guys who have mutilated and killed so many people, and now might do the same to his husband. More to the point, he’s the one who is supposed to protect TK, and it’s clear he’s resoundly failed in that department.

His captain had tried to take him off the case, once they’d found out that TK had become the latest victim. But Carlos had informed him in no uncertain terms that he was going to keep looking for his husband, even if he had to go above his head to do it.

They’d allowed him to keep the case, but Carlos knows he’s being watched. They think he’s having a breakdown and, the thing is, Carlos isn’t entirely sure they’re wrong.

He hasn’t slept in their bed since the night it happened, when he got woken up at two am to the sound of his ringtone blaring through the room.

“Reyes,” Mitchell had said, tone heavy. “I… Shit, Reyes. You gotta get here. There’s another one and I… I really didn’t want to be telling you this over the phone, but…”

She’d paused, and Carlos had sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly all too aware of the empty space next to him. And, in that moment, he’d known; even so, he’d still choked out a quiet, “No.”

“I’m sorry, Carlos. I truly am.”

He’s been living in a daze ever since, work and TK the only two things on his mind. He eats when he has to, barely sleeps, and never hangs out with their friends anymore, which he almost feels guilty for. They’re suffering too, Carlos knows this, but he can’t afford any distractions right now. If he were to be out somewhere and ends up missing the one chance he has to get TK back, he’d never forgive himself.

He’s just about to leave for another shift when there’s a loud, insistent knock at the door. Carlos rolls his eyes and goes to yank it open, about to tell whoever it is to leave him alone.

Only to come face-to-face with a very determined looking Grace Ryder.

“Grace,” he sighs, irritation dissipating. “Can this wait? I’ve got a -”

“I know you don’t have an official shift today, Carlos,” she interrupts, folding her arms. “Just like I know you’re working yourself to death, and I’m not going to stand for it anymore. You’re coming out with me, no arguments.”

Carlos shakes his head. “Grace… I can’t.”

“Oh, yes, you can.” She clicks her tongue, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. "You should be thanking me; Judd was planning on bringing the entire crew down here to stage a full intervention. Now, I managed to talk him out of that one, convinced him the last thing you need right now is a house full of people, but I will not hesitate to go back on that. So you've got two options. Either you go back upstairs and get changed and I'll take you out for coffee, just the two of us, or I'm gonna unleash my husband and the full force of the 126 on you. Choice is yours, Reyes."

He sighs, wearily meeting her eyes. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"No, sir, you are not."

Carlos closes his eyes and hangs his head, knowing just how stubborn Grace Ryder can be. “Alright,” he says, though his every nerve is screaming at him for it, “you win. Give me a minute.”

She smiles encouragingly at him. “I’ll be here.”

The coffee-shop Grace takes him to is mercifully empty, both of people and memories. He wonders if she did this on purpose, but figures it’s more a stroke of pure luck, his first in months. It’s a nice place; he’ll have to remember it for when - if - they get TK back.

Grace quickly returns with their drinks, placing a sandwich in front of Carlos, too. “Don’t even argue,” she warns. “I won’t hear it.”

Carlos forces a smile. “Thanks, Grace.”

They sit in silence for a while, Carlos keeping his gaze turned to the table, picking listlessly at the sandwich. He can feel Grace’s eyes on him, feel the tension in the air between them, and part of him wishes she’d just come out with it already.

The other part wants to run for the hills, but he’s pretty sure Grace would catch him before he got too far.

Eventually, she sighs, setting her mug down and leaning across the table. “Carlos, we miss you,” she says softly. “I know it’s tough, but you’ve barely spoken to any of us since it happened. We’re worried.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“No.” She shakes her head, voice still unbearably gentle. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy. There’s a difference. And that’s okay, up to a point, but you haven’t given yourself a break in two months and that is not okay. You know TK wouldn’t want you to be doing this.”

“You say that like he’s dead.”

Grace sucks in a sharp breath. “Sweetheart, you know that is not what I meant -”

“Maybe you’re right,” he cuts in, ignoring the pain in his chest as he finally looks up at Grace. “It’s been two months; you know as well as I do what survival rates are for missing persons, even in normal circumstances.” His breathing trembles and he squeezes his eyes shut, images of the bodies they’ve found so far flashing through his mind. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks next. “You also know that the third month is usually when the bodies appear. We’re running out of time, Grace, and I don’t - I don’t know if I believe any more.”

“Carlos Strand-Reyes, I did not just hear you give up on that boy.”

He smiles humourlessly. “Not on him, Grace. On me.”

A long silence follows his words, though Carlos can feel the disappointment and worry rolling off Grace in waves. He should probably feel guilty for ruining a perfectly fine day, but he’s just so tired. He’ll do anything to have TK by his side again, but each day that passes is another day that TK slips further and further away from him, and it’s difficult to hold on to hope.

“I’m terrified,” Carlos admits quietly, tears pricking the back of his eyes. “Any day now they’re going to tell me they’ve found another body, and it’s going to be him, and I won’t be able to handle seeing him like that. You don’t know what they do to them, Grace, it’s - it’s -”

His breath hitches, and suddenly Grace is next to him, gathering him in her arms as he breaks down in sobs against her chest. She shushes him, running a gentle hand through his hair and, for a brief moment, she makes it easy to push away memories of sightless eyes and missing limbs and slit throats.

Grace holds him close, murmuring assurances Carlos doesn’t really hear, until he’s cried himself dry. Then, she pulls back, swiping her thumbs under his eyes, unshed tears shining in her own.

“You’ll get through this, Carlos,” she says, wobbly smile on her face. “No matter the outcome, we’ll all be here to help you get through this.”

Carlos nods, but, privately, he thinks she’s wrong. If TK dies, he’s not sure he’ll be able to find a way through that, no matter how many people are by his side. Because the only one he really, truly needs, won’t be there.

Carlos rubs his eyes, his vision blurring as he stares at crime scene photos, as he has been doing for the past however many hours. He must have gone through these thousands of times over the past eight months, and yet he’s still drawing a complete blank as to clues that could help them find the killers.

They’re always too careful, never leaving any DNA on scene, never caught on camera, never seen by witnesses. There’s not even much of a common denominator between the victims, aside from the fact that they’re all young - the oldest being 38 - and they were all alone when they were taken.

The only consistency in this entire thing is the bodies. Official cause of death is always a deep cut to the throat, accompanied by at least one limb being cut off when the victim was still alive, sometimes more. They never find the missing body parts, which bothers Carlos more than it probably should.

He rubs his eyes again, blinking hard to try and stay awake. He didn’t sleep well last night, which is nothing new, but the past two weeks have been exhausting. After Grace’s coffee outing, the 126 have been stopping by regularly, one or two at a time, to check up on him and make sure he’s doing okay. Carlos appreciates it, he does, but he doesn’t have the energy for it these days.

He’s so tired that he doesn’t notice Mitchell walking up to his desk before she’s standing right next to him, casting a shadow over his papers. Carlos looks up, and dread washes over him at the grim expression on her face, the tense set to her shoulders.

“We’ve got another one.”

Carlos makes a noise halfway between a choke and a sob. “A body?” he whispers, looking up at her fearfully.

“A disappearance,” Mitchell corrects, and Carlos doesn’t even feel guilty for the relief that floods him at that. “Industrial estate across town, one of the workers got nabbed when he went for a smoke. Same MO, no witnesses - it’s them.”

He nods, praying that Mitchell doesn’t notice the way his hands shake as he gathers up his papers. If she does, she doesn’t say anything, though he catches her exasperated head shake when he turns back to face her.

“Let’s go.”

The crime scene is, as always, pristine, and Carlos can’t help but be frustrated, even if this is what he’s come to expect. The case had been wearing on him even before TK was taken, but now it feels like every dead end is a spit in his face, like the universe is taunting him directly.

He’s about to wrap up the scene when a young officer comes barreling towards him.

“Detective!” he yells, panting. “Detective Reyes!”

Carlos stops, raising an eyebrow as the officer skids to a halt in front of him, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he gasps. Straightening, he clears his throat, pointing across the street. “There’s a hidden speed camera over there.”

Carlos blinks. Of all the ground-breaking news he imagined might warrant such dramatics, speed cameras weren’t one of them.

The officer heaves a long-suffering sigh, which, under any other circumstances, might be amusing. “We’re not sure yet, but, looking at the angle, we think it covers the place the guy got taken from,” he explains, and Carlos’s eyes widen. “If it does, we might be able to get some ID, maybe even a license plate. I know they’ve always been careful not to get caught on camera before, but they might not have known about this one. It’s a chance, Detective.”

Carlos breathes out shakily, mind reeling from the officer’s words. It’s a chance. An honest-to-god chance. “Have we pulled footage yet?”

“Doing that now.” The officer grins boyishly, and Carlos feels a small smile tugging at his own lips. He can’t let himself get too invested in this; there’s every chance that it’ll turn into yet another false lead. And yet.

Something like hope lights up Carlos’s chest, and he dares, just for a second, to believe in it.

It works.

It fucking works.

They don’t have an ID - the killers are at least smart enough to cover their faces - but they do have a plate, which they’ve managed to track to a warehouse on the outskirts of town. Carlos taps the steering wheel of his cruiser anxiously; they’re parked in some trees just out of sight of the building, and he itches with the desire to jump out and go.

Every second they wait here is one more second in which TK is still with them, suffering, dying. He chews on his lip, then turns to Mitchell.

“We clear on the plan?”

She raises an eyebrow. “I am. Are you?”

“What -”

“I know what this means for you, Reyes,” she interrupts, not unkindly. “I know what might be waiting for you in there. Now, if it were up to me, you would be benched. It’s too personal, and you’re way too close to it. But, since it’s not, you’ve gotta promise me that your head is screwed on tight, you hear me? We’ve got a good plan, and it’ll work, but it’s only good so long as we are all following it. So, you tell me. Are we clear on the plan?”

Carlos swallows thickly, glancing back in the direction of the warehouse. Mitchell is right - he is too close to it, and he’d be thinking the same thing if the situation were in reverse. He just… He can’t fathom being anywhere but here right now.

He can do this; he knows he can.

He has to, for TK.

“Yes,” he says firmly, meeting her eyes. “We’ve got this.”

She nods. “Alright, then.” Her gaze shifts past him and she jerks her chin up. “There’s the signal. Let’s move out.”

It’s almost too easy, in the end. The suspects are woefully unprepared for an ambush, and Carlos doesn’t even need to fire his gun, which is always a good thing. They find the guy who was taken today in the same room as his kidnappers, a little worse for wear, but not too injured, all things considered.

Carlos wants to be happy about that, but he can’t. Not when TK is still nowhere in sight.

Mitchell takes over managing the scene and questioning the hostage. He’ll have to remember to buy something for her in thanks when this is all over; she’s been a rock over the past three months, often covering for Carlos with their supervisors when things became too much.

He glances around at the swarms of police and paramedics filling the warehouse, feeling oddly detached from it all. He’s itching to go looking for TK, but there’s only so far he can push things - though he’s being no help here, he has to maintain an appearance if he wants to not get fired.

That appearance being, the calm and collected detective, which is the furthest thing from what Carlos is right now.

His hands tap restlessly at his thighs, his senses dialled to eleven with anxiety, which only spikes when he sees an officer making her way towards him, a grim look on her face.

Please, god, no.

Carlos moves to meet her, but he’s not able to form the words for the question he needs to ask. Fortunately, she takes pity on him.

“We’ve found your husband, Detective,” she informs him.

Carlos swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to tamp down the fear. “Is he...?”

“Alive,” she says, and Carlos could cry with relief. “But he’s in bad shape. I’ve been told not to let you back there.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “I appreciate the concern, but my husband has been missing for nearly three months,” he says tightly. “It would not be a wise idea to keep me from him any longer.”

She hesitates, biting her lip uncertainly, but eventually relents under Carlos’s hard stare. “Alright. Follow me.”

Carlos is led down several corridors until they stop outside a door, guarded by two other officers. The woman who brought him has a whispered argument with them, but Carlos pushes past her to glare at them, his patience at an end now that he knows that TK is mere feet away from him.

“I told her to bring me here,” he says. “That man in there is my husband; I’m going in there one way or another.”

The two officers exchange a glance, then wearily sigh and nod, stepping to the side. Carlos doesn’t bother to thank them before rushing inside, coming up short at the sight of three paramedics crouched around a body on the ground. He can’t really see much of TK yet, but he feels frozen in place, his mind suddenly rebelling at the thought of having to witness what three months of captivity have done to him.

He shakes his head and wills his feet forward, feeling like he’s walking through treacle as he rounds to TK’s side. Bile rises in his throat and he can’t stop the gasp that escapes him when he finally catches sight of his husband - it’s worse than anything Carlos had imagined, and he’d imagined a lot.

TK’s completely naked; the paramedics have lain a sheet over his lower half, but it does little to hide his emaciated state, his entire body outlined with sharp corners where his skin seems almost shrink-wrapped to his bones. Carlos can count every one of TK’s ribs, and the hollow of his cheeks is deeply pronounced. His torso is discoloured from bruising and he’s horribly still and pale - Carlos would think he were dead if not for the barely there rise and fall of his chest.

That’s not the worst of it, though. Carlos’s eyes travel down TK’s body, cataloguing his injuries, before sticking on his left leg.

Or, rather, the space where his left leg used to be.

Carlos barely refrains from throwing up, his stomach turning at the bloody mess in front of him. This isn’t… In the back of his mind - in his nightmares - he’d known that this was a possibility, but he’d never prepared himself for actually seeing it. He doesn’t know if he could have prepared himself, even if he’d tried.

“Detective.”

He’s broken from his horrified staring by one of the paramedics, now standing in front of him. Strange - Carlos hadn’t noticed him moving.

He sighs, obviously disapproving of Carlos’s presence here, but his expression holds nothing but sympathy. “Your husband is lucky we got here when we did,” he says. “But I can’t make any promises, and he is nowhere near out of the woods yet. To be perfectly honest with you, Detective, it’s a miracle he’s still breathing right now. He’s severely dehydrated and suffering from starvation - it looks like his kidnappers were giving him just barely enough food and water for him to survive. I’m also worried about infection in his leg, plus there might be injuries we can’t see yet. We’ve done everything we can for him here, but we have to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. I’m assuming you’re going to ride with us?”

Carlos immediately nods. There’s no way he’s going to remain here, even if he knows he won’t be able to stay with TK when they get to the hospital. He trusts Mitchell to handle things, and he wouldn’t be of much use anyway, even more so than before. Not after everything he’s seen, everything he’s heard.

The paramedics get TK loaded on a gurney and Carlos follows them out, eyes locked on TK’s still form. He brushes a hand through TK’s limp hair, forcing back the tears burning in his eyes.

“Hold on, my love,” he whispers. “I’m here; you’re safe now.”

He hopes, somehow, that TK hears him.

“Oh my god.”

Carlos looks up from the bed at the sound of Owen’s voice. His father-in-law has a hand over his mouth, shock written all over his face at the sight of TK - what little that can be seen underneath all the bandages and machines he has hooked up to him. Carlos had done his best to prepare Owen for what he’d face when he arrived, but it had been an impossible task. He’d barely been able to get the words out, for one, but there was no explaining just how bad things are.

Nothing will ever be the same. Not that Carlos had ever expected that it would, but when (if, he reminds himself) TK wakes up, it will be to a completely different life than the one he had walked out of all those months ago.

The physical injuries alone would be bad enough - and, god, he’ll have to do so much at home to make it safe for TK - but he’s more worried about how this will have affected him in other ways. Carlos can’t imagine the level of trauma his husband has suffered, and he just prays that they can find a way to get through it.

Owen’s face crumples as he makes his way across the room, collapsing heavily in the chair on the other side of the bed. He reaches out as though to touch TK, but snatches his hands back just as quickly, expression stricken. “Oh my god,” he repeats.

Carlos lets him be for a few moments, allowing Owen to process what he’s seeing at his own pace. He turns away so that he can have some semblance of privacy, though he can’t ignore the soft sobs he hears. It’s almost as though they’re mourning TK, even though they now have proof he’s alive, which is more than can be said for the last three months.

Eventually, Owen sniffs, and turns to address Carlos. “Have they… What did the doctors say?”

“Nothing concrete,” Carlos answers, focusing his gaze back on TK. “If he makes it through the next few days, then they think he’ll have a chance, but that’s a big if, Owen. There was so much damage. His organs weren’t functioning properly, he has a head wound from when he was first taken that never really healed right, and his leg… It had become infected where his kidnappers cut it; they had to take some more in surgery to stop it from spreading any further.”

He tears his eyes from TK to meet Owen’s gaze, almost wishing he hadn’t when he sees his own pain and grief reflected back at him. “It’s bad, Owen,” he chokes out. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I’ll do if…”

He shakes his head, the words sticking in his throat. Not that he really needs to say them; they’re both thinking the same thing.

“The doctors probably told you, but they’re restricting visitors to two until he’s more stable,” Carlos continues, eyes dropping back to the bed. “I know the team will want to see him, but do you think you can hold them off for a while? Just for a couple of days, until we know more. I don’t want to keep them from him, but I just…” He trails off, guilt welling up in him even though he knows this is what’s best. “I know it’s a selfish thing to ask, but I think it’s for the best, for everyone.”

“I understand,” Owen says gently. “I’ll let them know. And… I’ll do my best to prepare them, for when they do come and visit.”

Carlos nods his thanks and the two lapse into silence, broken only by the hiss of the ventilator and the beeping of the heart monitor. Proof that TK’s still with them, but each noise sends another bolt of pain through Carlos’s heart.

He squeezes his eyes shut, finally allowing the tears to fall down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Owen,” he sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Owen gasps. “What for?”

“I was supposed to protect him! This was my case, I’m the reason he got taken, the reason he might not make it. He could still die, and it’s all my fault!”

Carlos drops his head into his hands, chest heaving from the force of his sobbing. Distantly, he hears the scrape of a chair on linoleum, then Owen’s hands are on his shoulders, turning him into an embrace. Carlos falls into him, not caring about the almost childlike way he clings to his father-in-law.

“You found him, Carlos,” Owen whispers, rubbing circles on Carlos’s back. “You found him. Any chance he has at making it through is because of you. That’s what matters now; it’s the only thing that matters.”

It’s several more weeks before Carlos’s prayers are finally answered.

TK was declared stable some time ago, the doctors saying that, barring any unexpected complications, they should expect him to wake up. They hadn’t said anything about what the damage might be once he did wake, but Carlos hadn’t wanted to ask; at this point, he can’t focus on more than one thing at a time, else he knows he’ll fall apart.

He’s practically lived at the hospital since they brought TK in. He’s pretty sure Owen, his parents, and the 126 came up with a rota for making sure he wasn’t starving himself, because it was always someone different who attempted to pull him away from TK’s room for food or sleep in an actual bed. Carlos resisted as much as he thought he could get away with, but he’s not stupid. He knows he needs to keep his strength up if he’s going to be of any use once TK wakes up.

It happens early one morning, when the sun is just beginning to filter through the blinds. Carlos is already awake, keeping a vigilant watch over his husband, though he doesn’t quite believe it when TK’s eyelid twitches.

He holds his breath, waiting, and, just when he’s given it up as a trick of exhaustion, it happens again, both of his eyes cracking open this time.

“TK?” he breathes, half-rising from his chair. He reaches out and grabs TK’s hand, which moves - actually moves - in his, and tears spring to his eyes.

It takes a few more minutes before something like awareness creeps into TK’s face, his eyes fully opening for the first time in weeks. Carlos just sobs at the sight, drawing TK’s attention to him, at which point his expression turns to shock and disbelief.

TK’s mouth moves, but he can’t force out any words, causing panic to flash over his face and his breathing picks up. Carlos leans forward, squeezing his hand and stroking his cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says softly, reassuring him. “You’re okay, I promise, everything’s going to be okay. You’re in the hospital. I’m here, and you’re safe. God, TK, I swear I’m never going to let anything happen to you ever again, I swear it.”

TK shakes his head, still not understanding, so Carlos reaches to press the call button. He forces a smile for TK’s sake, though his mind is crowded with worries about what their next steps will be. It’s going to be a long time before they can even think about going home, he knows this, but everything is so uncertain now.

Carlos wants to believe that there can be some sort of normality in their future, but, right now, it seems like a distant dream.

Time passes.

He brings TK home.

It’s hard, so much harder than he thought, but they have a whole team of people willing to help out as much as they can. Paul and Grace often bring food, usually stopping to talk for a while afterwards. The others - most often Marjan and Judd - sometimes come by and take TK out in his wheelchair for a while, giving Carlos time and space to relax or tidy. Letting TK out of his sight was difficult at first, and he still gets anxious watching him disappear out the door, but he knows that the 126 would do anything to keep him safe.

He just has to trust them, which he does, implicitly so.

Owen’s also a frequent visitor to their house, staying overnight a time or two in the beginning. Carlos is grateful for it; he doesn’t know how he would have coped if not for Owen’s steady presence while they were still figuring out their new reality.

TK struggles a lot, even with simple things these days. The head wound caused brain damage, leading to migraines and he has problems with speech and carrying out tasks. It breaks Carlos’s heart to see him, but he forces himself to keep up a front, only letting the emotion out when he’s alone - or, rarely, with one of the 126.

He suspects TK knows anyway, but they don’t talk about it.

It’s a long few months of recovery, of pain and exhaustion and frustration. But it’s all worth it, because it means that TK is alive. It means that Carlos has him back, and they can work on getting better together.

It means that, one golden morning, Carlos wakes up to see TK’s beautiful green eyes already open, watching him intently. He reaches out to caress TK’s cheek, then leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, lingering for a long moment.

And, when he pulls back, TK smiles.

And it feels like everything is going to be okay.

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everythingblreview · 3 years

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Slow Damage review 2.0 Part 2

Fujieda Towa’s route (True route)

I said before that Fujieda’s route is my favourite and the reason why is simple, because this route is actually Towa’s route, and Towa was for me, always the most interesting character in this game. The god endings of the other routes never left me satisfied, something always felt wrong.

Like it normal in bl games the other 3 routes were focused on the love interested, but this was different. From the beginning Towa was always different compared to other bl protagonist, and it was easy to tell that he had suffer some kind of a trauma. The Towa we met in the beginning is a broken person, he is not interested in other people, he doesn’t care when or if he dies, he lets himself get violated and raped (which he apparently “likes”) and he is not interested in any form of love. From the beginning on I wanted to know the reason for it and the reality of it was a lot darker than I could have ever imagine.

(For this review I’m going to summaries the route and write my opinion while I go on)

The route starts out completely different, Towa “killed” someone the first time using [euphoria], and this changes the flow of the story (chapter 0)

Towa gets a package with things that are connected to his past. Looking at it Towa health condition imminently gets bed, his way of dealing with it is like always, getting violated and raped by guys. Some short time later we learn that Taku knows something about Towa past that he won’t tell, even going as far as to burn his mail so Towa doesn’t look into it future (Not really nice of you Taku). Towa feels really lost in this moment, because he can’t trust his friends and his nightmares he always has, get worse to the point he is scared of them.

In these hard times he first meets Fujieda for the first time. At first neither Fujieda or Towa trust each other, for Towa he and Fujieda live in completely different worlds, but after Towa finds out that Fujieda has information that could have a connection to his past, the two of them decide to work together. (It interesting that Fujieda still doesn’t trust Towa at this point while Towa does, he also acts like a very serious person like you imagine a megane to be but I find it funny that he never used polite language with Towa while he does it with anyone else) Anyway Towa mentions that he can’t read Fujieda at all, because his smoke is completely white (something Towa never seen before) and doesn’t show any kind of distortion.

The two then proceed to do more research about Towa’s past and at some point the end up in Fujieda’s apartment because of heavy rainfall after being chased and nearly shot. Here we learn that Fujieda is maybe not that all different from Towa because his body is also full of scars like Towa’s.

For Towa it changes everything, because he never seen someone with a body like his, and for the first time he begins to show interested in Fujieda and his secrets. (We also learn that Fujieda is not a real megane, and a total hottie) After they watch some TV show involving a red room Towa remembers his nightmare (the one he always has about a dark red room) and decides to talk to Fujieda about his nightmare. (At this point you can see that he trust Fujieda enough to talk about his nightmares)

Later they return to the clinic and here we see Taku being called out by Fujieda, for keeping the things he knows a secret even though he knows that Towa is suffering. (Finally, someone that acknowledge that Towa is suffering from his current lifestyle, it was always hard to see them just ignoring the horrible stuff Towa does to himself), after some discussion Taku tells them Towa’s real name (yes his name is fake btw), hearing it triggers Towa so much that he passes out (imagine how traumatized one must be to pass out only by hearing his real name).

The next day they find out from a woman that worked with Towa’s mother in the past, that she was involved in some dark business involving child traffic and that the child Fujieda is looking for was a victim of it and was killed in the process. (Later we learn the „sister“ that Towa thought he had, was this girl and actually the sister of Fujieda) This information breaks Fujieda, who was looking all his life for his sister, after her mother sold her, and he completely flips and attacks Towa after they meet in the park again, even going as far as choking and raping him. Which only amuses Towa who is used to it (and wants that kind of treatment).

(Honestly I was not really happy that they included rape, while I understand that Fujieda doesn’t get at this point yet that Towa was also a victim and that he is devastated because his sister, he has been searching for was dead all along, was it really necessary to include rape? The only thing I can say what was not all too bad about it, is that we saw that he is also not a perfect human being and makes mistakes too. Still there was no need to include rape, beating Towa would have been enough but I guess this is a bl game after all …)

Anyway, here we see for the first time that Fujis smoke is changing and is now turning pink/red (whatever you call it).

Some stuff happened, Fujieda’s office get attacked, Towa finds a picture in it after sneaking into it, of the girl (and please look at baby fuji), Fujieda is looking for and he gets a headache from it again. After he meets Fuji (Fuji tells Towa that he will not apologise for his doings and I was not really happy with that statement and only forgive him because I know that he is not that kind of a person and he regrets it, [will explain more later on], also please notice that Fujieda’s smoke is now a pastel pink colour) and they decide to continue to work together. (Towa likes that this is relationship is only based on cooperation without any feelings involved oh honey you got a big storm coming)

The next day, Taku gets kidnapped by Madarme all of the love interested meet up in the deathmatch area, Madarame who is here of course to fuck shit up, fights Fuji for whatever reason, which is not really to Towa’s liking because Madarame is overpowered, so he tries to protect Fuji and gets hit in the process. (look at Towa trying to protect his future boyfriend) Madarame loses all interested, tells Towa he changed and leaves into the sunset to be never seen again, but not before telling Towa that if he want to know about his past he should look in that western style mansion he shows him (this scene annoyed me because Madarame tells Towa that he “changed” but he is not that all different from Towa in Madarame’s route the only difference is that Madarame could not manipulated Towa into thinking he is like he was in the past) After that Fuji and Towa decide to visit the western style mansion, where Towa finally remembers his past, that he was treated as a tool by his mother and sold to customers that did all the horrible things to a child no one even wants to think about, and Fujiedas sister was with him at the time, and she was the one that tried to help him and they tried to escape together but failed, which led to her getting killed. Remembering his past really broke Towa, because his reason to stay alive was his wish to see and draw the desire of people, but it turns out that this was all manipulation by his mother and that he had been doing the same horrible stuff she done (fulfil the desire of disgusting people, that abuse children) without even knowing it and he, for the first time in his life feels guilty because the girl that was helped him and was his only light in the dark please was dead while he is still alive. He wishes that she was alive instead of him. (You can see how much Towa liked her, probably the first person Towa had strong feelings for, she is the one that helped him in this horrible time. Towa was a really quiet kid, and he never went against his mother but she was the reason he tried to break free from her chains). After he understands he goes out trying to completely distract himself like he always does by getting raped and violated. (This scene was so horrible I could barely deal with it)

Towa’s mind works completely different how a healthy person would react. He was abused as a child and the only thing he could do was to accept it, after he lost his memory he stills to continue to get abused because it’s the only thing he know, it’s his way to deal with his trauma, by repeat it again and again. From the beginning he tells us that he doesn’t want love, he only wants to be treated as a tool, because this is what was always done to him, his love for violence is not real, it’s only a reflection of the abuse he went through. He has no desire to use violence on others, he only wants it for himself. (I really like the writing in the parts where Towa got violated because while Towa himself sells us that he likes it, the writing makes it sounds like deep down he actually doesn’t like it) A big part of his personality is not real, it something made up but his mother and the question is who is the real Towa, what makes Towa, Towa? This is something he probably wonders himself in the moment. And since he was confronted with his past, his way of dealing of it, does not work anymore and the only thing that could satisfy his desire is… death. (From the beginning of the game I always had a feeling that at some point, he will break at will try to kill himself, and sadly it came true. The scene is probably saddest in the game because you can really feel how he reached an end, nothing is holding him back anymore, he is all calm when he is confronted with idea of dying…luckily never happens because in the moments Fujieda burst in the room.

(He is the only person who could save Towa in this moment) Fujieda tells him that he should not throw his life away because this isn’t something his sister wanted, who tried to protect Towa and that her last wish before being killed was for Towa to live. He also tells Towa that he was attracted to him from the beginning, but he was scared because he knew that he and Towa where the same but he didn’t want to admit it because it would mean admitting his existence is miserable like Towa’s, but he just could not leave Towa alone. (This confession)

After making sure Towa is not trying to die anymore, he put him in the bath, because Towa tried to light himself on fire using oil on himself and he is all beaten up from before. (I like how atmosphere changes here, the music changes the room gets brighter, you can really feel like the heavy weight is lifted from them).

Fujieda washes Towa hair and talks about the time he did with his sister (you can really feel that Towa already became an important person to him already) he treats him very gentle and asked him if anything hurts, and gets really angry when he says the “traces” left by the men that raped him, and tells him not to do it anymore (finally someone said it) after Fuji tries to wash Towa’s body, Towa pulls him close and asks him to show him his scars, and he does (this scene is really beautiful because they standing facing each other naked bodies covered in scars, like a mirror) and Towa touches his scars and say they are the same, (like he finally found someone that he can related to, he also looks very vulnerable in this scene) after looking at his scars, he just kissed him, not even knowing why. Lucky for him Fujieda returns his kiss and this leads to them having a passionate moment on Towa bed. (Normally I don’t talk about the sexy times on in my reviews, because it’s more of a fanservice moment in games, but here it’s different)

Normally Towa only goes for violence during sex and doesn’t like gentleness (because he feels nothing), but with Fujieda who has sex skills over 9000 it was the first time that gentleness felt good to him, (Probably because it was the first time, he did it with someone he is attracted to) he also never experienced painless sex and doesn’t even know it can feel good and was really surprised by this unknow feeling. I also like that they keep on kissing each other’s scars, like they wanted to comfort each other (even though Fujieda didn’t like Towa doing it because he, unlike Towa, hates his scars). The scene is really focused on what they are feeling rather than just the actual act itself, and it’s just really wholesome and cute.

After they are done the sit awkwardly on the bed, thinking about what they just did (They sure didn’t expect it to happen, but the moment was right and they just let their feeling go). Fuji asked him about his love for scares, because he himself can’t understand it, he also asked if it felt good for Towa lmao no confident in his over 9000 sex skills, Towa tells him that it was the first time he felt like that and that it scared him, but it also felt extremely good. (Love a honest man) After that he tells Towa about his past that he and his sister were abused by their parents and his sister later sold by their mother, and Fujieda did everything to search for her. He worked as host in the beginning, earning enough money from his rich costumers to study (he basically was a male prostitute) and later become a lawyer. That’s why they he understands Towa so well because they share the same horrible past and are directly linked to each other by his sister. Also Fujieda’s name is fake like Towa his real name is Yuzuki Minato(first name) Fujieda also suggest for them to support each other rather than licking each other wounds (so it doesn’t sounds like they are just using each other), and when Towa asks him if he want to have this kind of relationship with him he gets all blushy. (Look at him who would have thought that behind this serous looking guy is a gently but very shy man).

Important thing to notice here is, that Fujieda’s smoke changed after this scene and is now completely pink/red and it’s the exact colour that Towa has, Towa also tells him that he can see smoke of people in this scene (I loved how they include this colour transformation, the more his smoke got pink/red the more we saw his real personality, and that his and Towa colour is the same, it’s like they are fated to be). They agree to start this kind of relationship and Towa gives him a little kiss to seal this promise. (Btw Towa always initiates everything, all their kisses and even the sex, Fujieda stop being shy)

The next day Taku asks Towa if he eat something delicious, because his face that looks dead normally, now has colour to it (thanks Taku, he had the best food you can have:love and affection), later on they decide to look for the person, who sent Towa the package and Towa ends up with Rei at Sakakis apartment, where Towa gets kidnapped by Sakaki and Eiji (never trusted him). They bring him back to the mansion, where Towa was abused by his mother, and Sakaki (who is a big piece of trash and adores his trash mother) tortures him by playing his mother voice recording, telling him because he killed his mother, he has to become his mother now. Apparently, Towa pushed her down the stairs, after she attacked him with a knife because he tried to escape with Fujieda’s sister. (I really like how small Towa who never went against his mother, for the first time in his life went against her, you can really see how much influence Fujieda’s sister had on him, even breaking him free from the chains of his mother. And that Fujieda and his sister both had an important role in Towa’s life) Before something can happened Fujieda shows up (our hero) to save Towa, the situation escalates and Fujieda ends up fighting Sakaki, who pulled out a gun try to shoot him. I loved how Towa, who normally never cares for people tries everything even though his hand are tied up, to protect Fujieda from being shot, you can really see how important he is now to Towa). The scene ends and with Towa acting like his mother tricking Sakaki (he got this idea from Fuji, who he can understand perfectly now even without a lot of communication) and Sakaki falling down the stairs to his death (yay happy end <3). Towa and Fujieda can finally both go home and get treated because they both got shot. Some days later they went back to the mansion, after getting a hint from Eiji, to look for his mother diary (some pages of the diary were sent to Towa). Here we find out Towa birthday (he didn’t know it himself) and that his mother did love him but she was a monster that could not control her horrible desire and that she always felt alone, after reading it Towa end up crying (this poor child) and Fujieda hold him to comfort him. Credit roll

Fast forward half a year later, Towa now lives with Fujieda (yay happy husband life) because he now helps Fujieda with work so they decide that living together would be better and totally not because they are interested in each other of course, also Fujieda is a bad cook, so bad that he even burns scrambled egg (lol). Towa also stops painting after completing Fujieda’s painting, but Fujieda, who is a supportive and loving boyfriend, encourages him to draw more, because his painting will be now free from his mother influence. Towa also ends up losing his ability to see the smoke of people and the colour that he always saw in his vision are also gone (so the colour was always something his mental state projected and not real) Around a month later the visit the beach together because they never went to the beach, and Fujieda tell him since both of their childhood were so horrible they never had such experience and now he want them to experience it together (asdfd why is this so cute) he also accidentally ends up implying that they are married but doesn’t understand it of course because he is a social awkward person and his way of speaking too hard lol. Anyways it ends with them playing in the water and plashing water at each other faces like small children. Still not the end, in the last scene Towa (with his husband of course) visits the shop of the grandma (best side character btw), who sells snacks. And there is this one painting that for Towa was always a black canvas, but it all colourful now. Turns out this painting was bought by his mother for him, and it inspired him to start drawing and all the time he could not see it. He wonders if the sky is such a colour and that he sees the true colour of it now, and most important, for the first time in his life he really feel alive. The end

At this point I was really crying, imagine how horrible your life must be if you never even felt like you were alive, this end scene really shows the greatness of the game, because here you finally understand what you just saw and how great this experience was (at least for me it was like that). I love this scene so much.

When you play the game the first time, after this last scene and the credit roll the room in the start menu that always been dark will turn completely bright like it tells you that Towa is finally free from the darkness. There are more metaphors with darkness and brightness in the game I noticed, Towa’s room is dark in the beginning, and he never opens his windows, but guess who does in one scene, Fujieda. Opening the windows bringing change in the room, also everything in Fujieda’s apartment is dark or just black, his windows are shut with black curtains, but we see in the end when they stared living together that their home is bright with white furniture and big open windows. And one more thing I notice, the credit roll has a black background but in the true route it’s white. I really like it that they made it like this.

Next up for the character analysis

We know a big part of Towa’s personality is an influence by his mother or something made from his trauma, but what part is the real Towa we see? And I want to talk about the part what make Towa such a great character not involving his trauma. A big part why I like him has to do (and I noticed it even more in the replay) with him being extremely smart. He has that what other protags are missing: a brain. I loved how smart he was, there is no scene in the game where I would say he acts dumb, he knows what he is doing. In Rei’s route he knew something was wrong with Mizuno, and he even tricked him into revealing his true self. In the first chapter he knew that Ikuina sent him the flower, in Takus route he knew that he was kidnapped to blackmail Taku, and what to do to get out of the situation. In the true route after he remembered his past, he understands instantly that he was manipulated by his mother. I really respect him for it. Another part I like about him is that he is honest, he is not a tsundere, he will always say his honest opinion, he also has no shame and no problem with admitting he likes and wants sex. Even when he has a problem with liking people, he does cares about the one that are close to him in his own way. Also, he is a fun person and likes to make jokes with his friends. Because of his trauma he has no understanding the feeling of “love” and “like” and almost never says he likes something (he only ever said he likes scars), him actually starting a relationship with people only worked because it was always someone that has been close to him a long time. (In Fujieda’s case it was because their similarities, because of that they could understand better than anyone else from the love interests, and their past is connected through Fujieda’s sister, so they are indirectly linked from the beginning). Unexpectedly he can be really cute sometimes, I didn’t expect him to blush at all but he did. From the beginning you may not think it, but Towa is a really calm person. He never screams, never curses, he avoid fights and is not extremely social, still he does seems to enjoy hanging out with his friends. He is a great artist and I enjoyed his paintings.

One last thing I really like about Towa and what differentiates him from a lot of other protagonists, he acts and feels like an adult. Compared to N+C last main character Aoba who is still very childish, Towa does not feel like a child at all, giving him a totally different atmosphere.

Fujiedas personality is not that all different to Towa, they are similar any many ways and it’s a reason why they work together. It’s funny how they tried to make him look like he is the serious megane even introducing him as someone who looks down on Towa and you really think in the beginning, he is liked that, but he is completely different. He is a hardworking person that doesn’t like to lose and sometimes comes of a little hard in the way he speaks, but in reality, he is just a very social awkward person with trust issues. From his backstory we can assume he probably didn’t have anyone that was close to him beside his sister like in no friends, and that since he has this trust issue he never let anyone near his heart. He is just not used to talking open with someone and this shows in the way he speaks and if really funny sometimes, he is also a little shy because of it. I love how gentle and caring he is after he finally opened up to Towa. Like Towa, he is honest person and also doesn’t understand the feeling of love I read that some people say that Fujieda feels like a side character and the story would work without him, I completely disagree with it. The feeling of him of a side character comes from the fact that people are just not used for the story to focus on the main character of the game and is always dealing with the problem of the love interest, but here it’s focused on Towa also on Fujieda but Fujieda’s only problem in life is his missing sister, nothing else is there to “fix” about him. In the first place the story was always about Towa, in the routes before you could reach happiness for the other characters and not Towa but this time everything is focused on Towa’s happiness. Because there is so much story in the true route the part where it’s focused on the relationship between them is short. The most important part is the before and after sex talk if you really want to understand their relationship.

The true route would also never work with the other characters, it only works because of Fujieda. He is the main key for the story and for Towa. He is someone Towa can relate to, he understands Towa and Towa understand him, no one else can related to Towa on this level. He pushes Towa to go forward and calls all the other out for not helping Towa, he is the support Towa needs in his life to get over his past, without him everything would fall apart in this route. The theme of the route is “equal”, and it fits them so well because they are always equal, no matter what they do. There is no one that is standing about the other, no top/bottom dynamic, they always do everything to be equal to each other. They have the perfect healthy relationship. Important to mention here is that we may thing Fujieda saved Towa, but Towa also saved Fujieda, fitting their theme. If you replay the game, there is a scene in the beginning where Fujieda tell that for him this world is nothing more than hell for him, and Towa frees him from it.

Last I would like to say that I like how the hinted at the story from the beginning on in every route (which you don’t notice the first time you play it) like with Towa’s nightmare and how he always felt drawn to children but he didn’t know why and that every aspect of the routes connected in the end. I really like games that keep the secret of the story hidden until the end, (some may say that it’s stupid that only the true route had it but that’s the point of a true route) and while all other pairings are also canon, I’m glad that they are the true pairing and the true end of the game. For me there is no better happy end I could have wished for.

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