#if that's the closest to returning the favor i can get

[hotchscvm]

dildo shopping

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: aaron catches you dildo shopping.

word count: 1k

warnings: sex toys, emily being a little shit

Telling Emily about your less-than-adequate one-night stand had been a mistake. After being short with everyone for the whole day, she finally confronted you about the change in attitude and you confessed the guy you brought home the night before had gotten off without returning the favor.

She had asked when was your last orgasm and you had to think about it before telling her it had been a while. With that reply, she dragged you to the closest mall. That's how you ended up in front of a Spencer's.

You raised an eyebrow at Emily, sighing loudly as you reluctantly followed her inside. "Seriously, Em? I think I could've just bought a vibrator online or something."

"That could take days to come and you clearly need this now." Emily leads you to the back section, giving you a look. "Don't argue with me, you yelled at Rossi after he got your coffee order wrong today."

"I literally have no memory of that," you replied, trying to think if that situation had happened. "I didn't even drink coffee today."

Emily holds up an "I love Milfs" t-shirt briefly. "Because you threw it in the garbage after cussing him out in Italian. Rossi teaching you Italian really came back to bite his ass today."

"Whatever," you said, a twinge of guilt crawling into your heart. You shrugged it off knowing he'd understand and you made a mental note to get him his favorite bottle of wine to make up for it.

As you entered the back, you looked through all the dildos and vibrators lined up against the wall. Emily held up a purple dildo, reading through the description while you looked at the unimpressive dildo and vibrator wall decor, none really vibing with you.

"This one says it vibrates and is supposed to feel realistic," she mumbles, eyes narrowing as she reads through the instructions. "Six inches though, I think you can take more than that right?"

You giggled, unable to hold in a laugh. "I don't really want to think about Barney's small dick vibrating in my cunt when I want to cum, Em. Or Thanos for that matter."

She makes a face, putting the purple vibrating dildo back. "What a strange image. Thanks for ruining Barney for me."

Chuckling, you check out the lingerie a nearby mannequin is wearing. It's black and lacy, and while it holds up the titties, it's see-through and the panties are crotchless. Taking off its panties, you hold it up to your body. "Hey, this is cute isn't it?"

"Very cute, you should get it," Emily responds, looking through the hundred dildo options.

"Yes, you should."

You freeze, your ears instantly knowing who that voice belonged to. Emily looks behind you without turning her head, holding back a laugh at your clear mortification. A second passes and you turn around to see Aaron fucking Hotchner, your stoic boss and friend standing in front of you, looking at the lingerie you had pressed up against you.

You can't help but laugh awkwardly. "Hotch? What're you doing here?"

He's amused and you can tell because he's eyes are twinkling and the corner of his lips are twitching as if fighting the urge to smile. "I was picking something up for Jessica at Bath and Body Works when I saw you guys and wanted to say ... hi.”

"Wonderful." you deadpanned, placing the crotchless panties back on top of the mannequin's head.

Before either of you could say anything else, Emily joins in, a smile so smug and big it would've been hard to miss from space. "I'm going to look at that section of toys. Maybe you'll like a blue one instead so you can imagine it's Jake Sully instead."

She's too far away when you think about slapping her, already moving towards the side section of even more vibrators and dildos, a few naughty shirts display that separated you and Hotch from her. After glaring a hole into the back of her head, you turned back to Hotch, wanting nothing more than to melt on the floor and die.

"I-" you start, unable to finish; just like the night before.

He begins to look through the wall of sex toys, brows furrowing at the choices. Your cheeks redden when he picks up the infamous rose vibrator momentarily before placing it back down. It looked so tiny in his big hands and you wanted nothing more than to have his big hands in you. "What kind of toys do you like?"

It takes you a second to comprehend his question, still stuck on him seeing you shopping for things a boss should never know about his employees. "Um, whatever, really. I haven't really had one since college."

Hotch nods as if you were talking about a case and not about orgasming on a fucking sex toy. "I see."

You watch in silence as he studies the choices again, fully concentrated. He picks up a packaged dildo, regular colored, and holds it up to inspect it. You watch him eye the silicone dick before placing it back and picking up an identical one, only this one is thicker and wider.

"So ... you ever try one of these before with someone?" you asked, unable to deal with the silence but now wishing you hadn't spoken after that horrible sentence.

Thankfully, he chuckles, eyes not straying from the description on the packaging. "No, I haven't. I never really did have the time or someone who was willing to try something like this out."

"Ahh," you reply like a fucking idiot.

After another few moments of inspecting the dildo, he hands it to you with a smile. You take it instinctively, confused and gobsmacked at the gesture. His eyes are twinkling with amusement and something else you can't place. "That one should be the closest."

It’s about eight inches long, quite thick and has veins decorating the length. The head of it is big and you nearly salivate at the thought of getting off to it tonight.

"The closest to what?"

Hotch just grins in return and starts to turn away and walk out. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #thomas gibson

[cowboykento]

you wake up early one morning to make coffee for you and cowboy!kento for when he returns from the morning work. he smiles when he sees you in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his t-shirt that reaches just past your butt.

“g’mornin’ pretty girl.” he says, stepping into the kitchen.

“good morning, ken,” you reply with your own smile. “was about to make breakfast, you’re in sooner than i thought you’d be.”

he hums, pulling you in close before you have a chance to hand him his coffee, kissing you passionately. it starts slow, like the morning, but then his tongue slips into your mouth, hungry for more.

“that’s okay, darlin’, was thinkin of having somethin else for breakfast, anyway,” he replies with a smirk that’s too handsome for his own good.

you giggle, “oh? what’s that, handsome?”

his hands slip below your ass, picking you up and placing you on the counter gently, returning his lips to yours.

“i think you know, sweetheart,” he answers, his hands rubbing along your hips, pleasantly surprised to find that you’re not wearing any panties. “mmm, you must, you made it even easier for me, didn’t ya? such a sweet girl. my sweet girl,” he says, kissing you again before pulling you to the edge of the counter, pushing his t-shirt up enough to reveal your pussy.

he gets on his knees, ever reverent of you, and kisses along your leg, sending shivers up your spine. your fingers find their place in his straw-colored hair, pushing it away from his face.

“y’gonna let me enjoy my breakfast, darlin’?” he looks up at you, pleading in his eyes.

your ankles cross behind his back as you nod, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

“good girl,” he mutters before delving in, licking a stripe through your folds.

your grip in his hair tightens immediately as he finds your clit, kissing and sucking it gently. you let out a moan, tossing your head back in pleasure.

his tongue is all over you—licking from your clit to your entrance and sucking up all of your juices like it’s the nectar of the gods.

“always taste so good for me, princess,” he mumbles against your cunt, too starved to pull himself away for even a moment.

you pull at his hair even harder, urging him on as if he needed it. he moans against your clit, sending vibrations through your body and forcing a moan of your own out from your lips.

he sucks your clit with precision, his fingers making their way to your hole, slipping one in and curling it up to find the spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“oh, fuck, kento, oh my god,” you moan loudly.

your perfect moans only motivate him further as he picks up his pace, licking your clit and fucking you with his finger.

he slips a second in, drawing another pretty whine from you, and he thinks this is the closest he’s ever gotten to heaven. the sun pools in from the windows, casting light on you like a goddess.

“so, so gorgeous, angel,” he says, fucking you faster, desperate to taste your release on his tongue.

“fuck, kento,” you pant, “i’m close, i’m close—gonna cum!”

your words make him groan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl. cum all over my tongue.”

his words are all it takes for the coil in your tummy to snap, your release pouring out of you and right onto kento’s eager tongue. he doesn’t let up his ministrations, in fact he picks up the pace yet again, fucking you desperately through your orgasm.

when the shocks and shudders of your release subside, kento pulls off you begrudgingly, but not before placing another kiss on your cunt.

when he stands up again, you pull him in for a kiss, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. your release shines in his chin and nose, and his hair is a mess from your pulling, but you think he’s never looked so handsome.

he kisses you just as hungrily, like he’ll never get enough of you, when you finally pull away for a breath.

“wanna go back to bed? let me return the favor?”

he grins at you before his hands slip back under your thighs, picking you up and taking you back to his bed for another round.

you have to make another pot of coffee when you’re finally done, but you’d make a million more to spend every morning like this with kento.

sfw cowboy!kento masterlist

nsfw cowboy!kento masterlist

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento #cowboy!kento🤍

[daycourtofficial]

Like he’s just your understudy

Summary: based on this request - Can Azriel tamper down his jealousy over you going on a date?

Author’s note: have some fun, level headed jealous Az. 😘

“Is your whiskey that bad brother?”

Cassian’s chipper voice grates on Azriel’s ears. He looks down, unaware of the intense grip he had on his glass. His shadows were tight around him, turning him into a ball of darkness.

“Cass, leave him alone. You know why he’s upset,” Rhys’s voice floats over to the two of them before picking up his wine glass.

Mor looks confused, looking to Cassian or Feyre to explain.

“(Y/n)’s out on a date right now,” Feyre says softly, trying not to add fuel to Azriel’s state.

Cassian chuckles, hitting his brother on the back. “Not happy for her? He was quite good looking-“

Azriel’s head whips towards him, “you saw him?”

Cassian smile falters just a tad, “uh, yeah. He came by to pick her up - even came in and talked to Rhys and I for a minute.”

Azriel’s shadows go wild at this news - searching frantically around the house for someone who wasn’t there.

“And why wasn’t I told?” His grip tightens again, fingers straining against the glass.

Rhys waves a hand, an amused smirk on his face. “You were up brooding in your room.”

Azriel’s eyes snap to Rhys, deciding then that maybe he didn’t need two brothers. “I was not brooding-“

“Then what were you doing?” Mor’s amused voice interjected.

The eyes of his family were watching him as he met her question with silence.

Azriel couldn’t take it - their knowing looks, their smirks, their laughs, as if what he felt for you was some joke.

He couldn’t stand watching you, a beacon of light, trail off to light up someone else’s night.

He scoots his chair back, slamming his glass down. He gets up, about to leave his family and their insistence on family dinners, when Amren speaks up.

“They asked about you before leaving.”

His head snaps over to the newly turned fae, unsure if he can trust anything coming from her.

“It’s likely because I wasn’t here,” Azriel dismisses.

“Feyre and Mor weren’t here - they didn’t ask about them.”

Azriel looked at Nesta, the one person who saw through everyone else. Nesta, the person you were closest to besides Azriel. Nesta, who would never lead Azriel down a path of heartbreak.

Nesta returns his gaze before saying, “they’re down at that new restaurant on Third Avenue.”

Azriel gave her a quick nod before moving past everyone, walking through the foyer, and out the door.

-

The male that had asked you out at Rita’s was incredibly nice. He was tall, fit, and had the cutest dimple next to his mouth.

He was currently telling you a story about his younger sister, who was only eight years old. He seemed to care about her a lot, as he told you that he spends every Thursday night with her playing dress up.

He checks all of your boxes, he’s incredibly swoon worthy, and you two even share the same sense of humor.

But his eyes are the wrong shade of hazel, his jaw cut in just the wrong way, no wings adorn his back, no shadows skitter about him.

You knew pining over Azriel was a fruitless endeavor by this point. You were being so obvious about your feelings - it was clear he was ignoring every glaring sign you sent his way in favor of keeping you from further embarrassment.

Your date had excused himself to go to the restroom. He was gone for approximately fifteen seconds before someone else slides into his empty seat.

“Make up an excuse to leave. Let me take you out instead.”

You had no idea where he came from, or what he was saying as you look up to find Azriel, his hazel eyes molten gold in the candlelight.

“What?” You ask, noting the irriated look he was donning as he sniffed the air.

“Look, I - just end your date early, tell him you’re sick.”

Your eyes widen at him, looking around to make sure he hadn’t come back. “Az are you nuts? Why?”

He blows out a breath, leaning forward on the table.

“Because I am a selfish fool of a male who thought you didn’t feel the same way I feel about you. Now, if I’ve completely made a fool of myself, do tell me now so I can at least throw myself in the Sidra and die with dignity.”

Wide eyes peer back at him, “what do you mean ‘the way you feel about me’?”

Azriel sighs, looking in the direction your date went off to.

“Fuck it. I yearn for you. I want you in any conceivable way. I’m in love with you. And if I’m too late, I’ll just live with that for the rest of my life.”

Azril sighs in defeat as you stare blankly back at him. He looks up to see your date coming back to the table, a bit confused by the new presence.

He starts to stand, his wings drooping, all his determination gone as he says, “have a good night.”

He starts walking away when a hand gently wraps around his wrist, holding him in place.

“What’s going on?” Your date asks as he approaches the table.

You start to stand, the table clattering as you do so. “I’m so sorry,” you say, and Azriel can’t look at you, can’t watch your mouth form these next words. “There’s a bit of an emergency situation, and I have to go. It was lovely meeting you.”

Before Azriel could process that you rejected someone who wasn’t him, you were pulling your coat from your chair, tugging him out the door of the restaurant, and you didn’t lighten your grip until you were out in the street.

“So, about that date? Does now work?”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x flexible! reader, AFAB reader, allusions to PIV sex

Eddie finds out you're double jointed.

A/N: This one's super self indulgent because I'm very bendy and I felt like writing about it. Also they smoke weed but everything's consensual✌️

"C'mon, there's gotta be something about you I don't know already", he prompts after another smoky exhale, blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It wisps out into the evening air beyond the back doors of his van, opened out to overlook a moon dappled lover's lake.

This is what the conversation had dwindled down to after having spent the whole day together, most other talking points already stretched thin by now.

Usually you would have considered the question more carefully but now that your intuition's been dulled by his stash, you search through the foggy corridors of your mind for an answer like you're feeling around for a light switch in the dark.

Eddie has been your closest friend for the better part of five years now and you weren't exactly a closed book by any means which made coming up with something all the more difficult.

Most of what comes to mind feels too mundane to mention so you pass them over in favor of searching for something that might pique his interest.

"Hmm, I'm kind of double jointed I guess", you slowly recalled, too mellowed out to realize the kind of implications something like that might carry to a man like Eddie.

But where there should have been raised eyebrows and a lascivious curve on his lips you find his eyes narrowing into a puzzled little squint instead as he looks at you from where he's leaned against the back of the driver's seat.

"But we've only had one", he turns the joint in his hand over to examine it closer as if a second one might be hidden somewhere underneath.

Maybe you'd given him too much credit.

You roll your eyes at him playfully, leaning closer on your hands and knees to pluck the joint out of his hand and take another puff. The weed might have made him a little slow and sluggish to fully comprehend your what you'd just shared with him but not enough to prevent him from sneaking a peek at your cleavage from this angle.

"No Eddie, it just means I'm flexible. Like, a little more than most people", you return to your side of the van, leaning back against the side door with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"So, like the splits?"

"More than that"

"More?", his eyes go wide and you can see a hint of redness bordering his sclera, certain the same tinge is present in own eyes too.

"Yeah, like check this out", you hand him back the last of the joint for him to finish off and put out. Holding up your left hand, you fold your thumb into your palm and gather the rest of your fingers with your right hand, slowly bending them back beyond what he thought to be your limit.

The unnatural arc might have unsettled anyone else but not Eddie and you begin to giggle when his face lights up instead of twisting into a wince.

"Shit, does that hurt?"

"Nope", you start to beam a little, letting him take your hand in his when he reaches for it eagerly.

Carefully, he manipulates them, making them bend in all kinds of ways; touching your thumb to your forearm, pushing the first joint of each finger back as far as possible.

"Oh that's fucked", he smiles big and wide as if he could gladly spend an entire day just messing around with your fingers.

"What else can you do?"

His impress fills you with a new kind of high, one much more heady than the weed and you fail to resist it now that you've gotten a taste.

"Mm, I can get my legs behind my head too", you shrug, this time much more aware of what you're divulging.

"Seriously? both of them?", he manages to ask calmly enough though you can almost feel him buzzing under his skin like a cicada about to take flight.

"Yeah, don't even really have to stretch to do it"

His jaw tenses, his normally expressive face unreadable before he quietly asks, "can I see?"

Oh this is dangerous. You feel like you're entering uncharted territory in your friendship but you like the look stirring in his eyes too much to deny him.

"Maybe just one", you offer, thankful that you're wearing your cotton shorts today instead of something denim.

Sitting criss cross on the old blanket he uses to carpet the back of his van for smoke sessions, you slip off your flip flops and place both hands on your right foot. With your left hand cradling the ball of your foot and your right hand gripping your heel, you begin to lift your leg up past your chest.

The underside of your thigh which he only gets to secretly ogle on days when you're dressed like this is bared to him as you get your calf over your shoulder, no trace of pain or discomfort on your face. Dropping your right hand, you duck your head slightly to maneuver your foot over it with your left hand then it's done. Your foot slips into place behind your head, heel nudging the nape of your neck. You're able to straighten up to look him in the eye, shooting him a wink while you wiggle your toes.

"There. Not so hard", you can't help but show off, drunk on the stunned look etched on Eddie's face.

And then his eyes trailed lower.

He does it quickly -- a mental snapshot that he'll file away for later. He memorizes the way your shorts have ridden up, so tight around your core he can make out the print of your underwear and the shape of your cunt beneath the stretched out fabric, wishing he could rip the stitches of the offending material apart and fit his tongue there instead.

Pleased with your display, you untangle yourself smoothly, limbs returning to their rightful alignments as Eddie takes a few seconds to blink himself out of his thoughts. His entirely non platonic, downright debaucherous thoughts.

"Woah that was...wow", he settles, pressing his lips together before his motormouth revs up and he lets out something he'll regret. 'You're like a sexy stretch Armstrong', nearly makes its way through but he's able to bite on to it and swallow it back down just in time.

"You're the first guy I've ever shown that to", you laugh but it comes out a little weak now that you're processing what you've just done.

"Seriously? what about Mark?", he asks, face scrunching up slightly like the name left a bad taste in Eddie's mouth.

The mention of your last ex sobers you up even more. "No, I never told him", you tell him simply, smothering down a laugh. The truth was Mark's idea of kinky was leaving the lights on so you never brought up your little contortionist act, afraid it would be too much for him to handle.

"Don't think he would have been into it", you tell Eddie instead and he looks back at you, deadpanned.

"What?"

"Sorry I just find that really hard to believe", he clears his throat, barely disguising his own interest.

The silence that follows has a certain weight to it. It's a familiar kind of weight that you've felt before on days when you're alone with Eddie and the line between friends and something more begins to blur. The weight of possibility.

"Always wanted to try it", you add, hoping like hell that you haven't misread that hungry look in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't know just seems like it could be...fun?", you shrug, a not entirely successful attempt at appearing nonchalant because you've begun to sweat. The van feels far too small all of a sudden which doesn't make sense because you're nowhere near as close as you would like to be with the boy who's seems to be stuck on what to say next.

Call it a leap of faith or call it a huge fucking mistake but you decide to take the plunge and ask him the question that's been beating on the inside of your cranium like a hammer on a nail.

"Eddie, would it be weird if I ask you to-"

"Yes", he answers quickly. Resolutely.

The swiftness of it hurts like a guillotine coming down on your heart -- shot down before you'd even finished the question so you swallow down your regret like a throatful of gravel.

"R-right. Yeah I know it was stupid of me to even try to-"

He doesn't know where he went wrong until he sees your bottom lip tremble and the confidence you'd worn up until now completely strip away, realizing you've mistaken him eagerly jumping the gun for flat out rejection.

Eddie's hands come down on your shoulders as he bolts up to kneel in front of you, shaking you to shock the tears away before they have a chance rise and turn your eyes glassy.

"No! I mean yes, it's not not weird but I don't care because YES, I want to um, do that with you… is what I meant"

His grip eases up but his eyes stay wide to read your expression, chest no longer feeling like an anvil had been dropped on it when a smile breaks out on your face, the kind that feels like it could reach beyond his ribcage and touch his heart.

"Really?", you ask, somehow understanding him perfectly. If there was anyone who could make sense of Eddie's nonsense it was you.

"I mean, if you want to...", he leans closer when he catches you looking at his lips.

"I do want to", you lean in too, hands smoothing up his chest, bringing your lips closer to his.

For all the effort he put into keeping his unfiltered thoughts from spilling out it's just his luck that he stumbles over the very last hurdle before the finishing line.

"Oh my god I'm going to fold you like a pretzel"

It's so abrupt and silly and just so Eddie that you can't help but laugh, dropping your head. His lips skim your forehead and he laughs too, both of you holding each other, locked in a giggle fit until it tapers and subsides.

When you do look back up the heat that had been there before his gaffe returns tenfold. "Maybe leave the dirty talk to me", you place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #first danny pov of the au! whoo! #danny's hair turns white if he drinks ectoplasm brrrrr and his eyes turn green. good for him #this sat in my drafts for the last few days until i finally finished it during class #it was a math class and i already knew the material so tis fiiiine. now i just need to finish my CFAU post rewrite :) #ectoplasm tastes like that time i went to go get pepsi from the soda machine and it was all out of the pepsi flavoring so instead i got a #cup full of carbonated liquid. it was disgusting. ectoplasm kinda tastes like that. sometimes. #danny smiles in this more than i thought he would but yk it fits. he IS more smiley around his friends and family. #ectoplasm is a weird non-newtonion fluid and danny is fascinated. its got the consistency of egg whites one minute and then water the next #its a water slime and then suddenly its as brittle as annealed glass. it heats up and rots like milk or it heats up and boils like water #it congeals. it thickens. it boils. it solidifies. it does whatever it wants. it gels and melts into a tar-like substance #how long has damian been standing there? good question. :) i almost had him open the door and make eye contact with damian before falling #backwards. i also almost had it be *bruce* and damian opening the door bc bruce found out that damian pulled a knife on sam and was gonna #have him come apologize. that would be a fun scene. prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact #imagery brrrr. had fun playing with how danny's ghost form works. if anyone has seen a video of steel wool burning thats how i imagine #danny's ghost transformation to be like. #also ayyy balancing danny's dialogue be like “how fancy should he sound and how Normal Teenager Should He Sound” #when sam gets home she catches tucker up to speed about everything including the convos with the waynes she had and they both form the #'“Fuck Them Waynes” squad. Sam has jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion about danny's separation from his family but in her defense. #it is a pretty sound conclusion to jump to considering the lack of context she has from danny's prior home life. which is almost none at al #so to her it looks like danny got abandoned by bruce wayne

[wileys-russo]

in the shadows II a.putellas x sister!reader

based around this request here - haven't decided if i like or hate this yet? but here we go! in the shadows II a.putellas x sister!reader

"mija! can you get the door please?" you heard your mami yell out from the kitchen as the knocking first sounded. "why? they have keys." you called back, quite invested in the latest episode of your favourite drama.

"just get it por favor!" you rolled your eyes and flicked the tv off, hauling yourself off the sofa you'd been lazing out on with a grunt and a stretch.

"vale! i'm coming jesus christ." you groaned as the knocking continued, pulling the door open with a deep seeded scowl of annoyance.

"i hope the wind changes and you are stuck like this, permanently ugly." alba teased, pinching your cheek and pushing past you making a beeline for the kitchen.

"alba!" your eldest sister huffed, being left with all of their luggage as you rolled your eyes. "gracias pequeña." alexia sighed as you helped her bring everything inside, kissing your head and pulling you into a hug. "hola." you mumbled into her shoulder as she echoed back the greeting.

"alexia!" you groaned as you tried to pull away only for her to hold on tighter. "no i never get to see you anymore, i am making up for lost time." your sister stated firmly as she started to walk toward the kitchen causing you to stumble as you were still held captive in her arms.

"you are so needy, i saw you like two weeks ago!" you struggled in her grip, truly no match for her strength. "you once used to love and appreciate me, worshipping the ground I walked on and following me everywhere always wanting me around, i remember those days." alexia sighed dramatically, gently smacking your cheek with her hand.

"get off!" you huffed, eventually pushing her away only to be pulled backwards into yet another hug. "are we sure she is not adopted mami?" alba asked, wrapping your arms around you as if you were wearing a straight jacket and holding them firmly behind your back as you wriggled to break free.

"sí she hates affection, like an alien." alexia joined in with a smug grin as you tried to kick and hit your sisters shins. "how do you have a girlfriend? so miserable and angry all the time, maybe we should give her a medal for putting up with you." alba teased, kissing your cheek as you huffed and struggled to break out of her grip, a head shorter than her.

"she still cannot get free, so cute." alexia joined in, cooing and pinching your cheek as your teeth snapped at her. "oh the biting phase is back, watch out." alba grinned as your legs lashed out wildly trying to connect with either one of them.

"i'm only like this around the two of you because you never leave me alone!" you grunted, bucking and kicking hopelessly much to the amusement of your older sisters who had always found pleasure in teasing and picking on you.

thats not to say they would ever allow anyone else to push you around though, that role firmly occupied only by them and they'd been fiercely protective of you your entire life in every other aspect.

"vamos, let your sister be." eli waved to the two of them with a disapproving look. you were let go and immediately launched at whoever was closest which in this case was alba, chasing her into the living room.

"do not break anything!" eli yelled out as a war cry was heard and something crashed to the ground, thumps and grunts echoing as the two of you rolled around wrestling like children on the living room carpet.

now a few days before christmas you were all due to spend the holidays together, cramming back into your family home which always lead to some sort of squabble between the three of you when you were forced to live on top of one another for the week.

"go make sure they do not kill each other please." your mami sighed a few moments later when you and alba were yet to return, alexia pushing herself up and setting off to find wherever the two of you had dissapeared to.

your relationship with both of your older sisters despite the teasing and the age gap was always incredibly close, and had only seemed to get better now none of you lived together anymore, alexia busy with her football career, alba with her job and you with law school.

well, you used to be.

"-no you need to tell her. we cannot keep this up forever!" alexia paused by alba's bedroom door which was slightly ajar, frowning at the hushed voices coming from inside.

"not forever! just not over the holidays, you know mami is already stressed with everyone coming over and she always sends herself sick and crazy preparing and cooking and cleaning. its not the right time alba!" you whispered back with a firm shake of your head.

"when will be the right time? you have made excuses for weeks now and you are making me lie because you're living with me instead of at school. someone will find out and then i get in trouble for not telling anyone you dropped out!" alba warned sternly as alexia's eyes widened and you both jumped as the door flew open.

"you dropped out of law school?" you withered under the piercingly sharp glare of your eldest sister as alba hurried to close the door again.

"ale-" you started but fell silent at yet another angry look flung your way. "when? do not lie to me." your sister warned firmly as alba sat back on the bed with you.

"five months ago." you answered honestly, even alba's eyes now bugging out of her head and she smacked your arm. "joder! you told me three weeks ago. where the hell were you living?" she scolded, both their gazes burning into you.

"with mariana." you again answered honestly. "oh when i get my hands on that girl. she should have known better than to let you drop out, i bet she encouraged it!" alexia scoffed shaking her head.

"yeah well you won't need to worry about seeing her again to kill her because we broke up." you mumbled, gaze dropping to the floor as you picked at a loose thread on your shorts, the ripped denim edges now suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

"oh great! so you drop out of school, move in with your girlfriend, your girlfriend breaks up you and then you move in with alba and make her lie to everyone." alexia laughed but it was a bitter noise which stuck in the back of her throat, your eyes snapping up toward her.

"why do you assume she broke up with me?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper as alexia failed to hear but alba didn't, her frown melting from one of anger to concern.

"ale." alba warned quietly, catching the new look you were sporting as your fists balled by your side. "no! you do not get to defend her and coddle her alba. everyone makes excuses for her!" your eldest sister warned sending the brunette beside you quiet, but it didn't stop her hand from finding yours, gently forcing it out of a fist and squeezing it supportively.

"you are always going on about how everyone treats you like a baby. well look at how you act!" alexia gestured wildly with her hands.

"you're supposed to be smart. to study and learn and finish school, then get a great job, help people and help make change like you wanted to. you have so much potential hermanita why would you just throw that all away? do you not care about your life? your future? a career?" alexia lectured, voice growing louder as your eyes flickered nervously toward the door aware your mami was only a few feet away in the kitchen.

"alexia i-" you tried to answer her questions but it would appear they were rhetorical as she held up a finger silencing you. "you are going back to school. do you know how much even a year costs? no you don't because you didn't pay for it! and you promised me." alexia hit you where it really hurt as your face crumpled.

when you'd first floated the thought of law school it had been on the floor of her apartment, the three of you laid down on the floor the night she moved in testing out the new white shaggy rug alexia had insisted on buying for the place she'd bought after she signed a new contract with barca.

you hadn't finished high school yet but you hardly needed to try, you'd always been smart, book smart anyway, and you passed through school with ease. much to the infuriation of your friends who spent hours and hours studying for tests you'd finish a half hour early and that was after you'd already gone through all your answers twice to double check.

"how many years is law school?" you'd asked suddenly, both your sisters sending you a perplexed look as you rolled your eyes and snatched alba's phone, your own out of reach on the counter as you googled your question.

"why?" alexia pushed herself into a sitting position to look down at you as alba grabbed her phone back and flicked your ear for taking it.

"just thinking." you shrugged, moving your hands behind your head. "about going to law school?" alba had asked now as again you shrugged.

"maybe. oh! can get we get sushi for dinner?"

for the weeks that followed that night you continued to do your own research, hauled up in your room reading through the different kinds of law, lengths of study, different schools, but all of that came screeching to a halt when you'd looked at the cost.

though you'd tried to keep it to yourself there wasn't much you could get past alexia. alba was much easier to lie to or manipulate as you needed but your eldest sister seemed to have been born with a built in lie detector.

which was part of the reason you'd avoided her so much these last few months for fear of her finding out you weren't in school anymore.

but it was just after you'd graduated when of course the questions started. what would you do now, where did you see yourself in a few years time, what were your goals for the future? and all accompanied by the growing pressure of your families boasting that you were so smart you could go anywhere and do anything.

only, you couldn't do the one thing you actually thought you might be good at.

you'd applied for a scholarship without telling anyone, a last final hope that maybe you could make something work. but when you got the letter back in the mail informing it had gone to a different applicant you'd abandoned the thought all together.

but of course there was one person who saw right through your attempts to evade the questions and the compliments, alexia.

you'd all just finished having dinner after your graduation ceremony, the table of your family and friends loud and rowdy all drinking to celebrate you as you watched on with a smile, your eldest sister knocking her knee against yours.

nodding for you to step outside with her you'd followed, the two of you slipping away to the balcony of the restaurant which given the late hour of night was a lot quieter as you exhaled and relished in the momentary peace.

"so, law school." alexia had started, catching you off guard as the walls you'd had up all night when it came to the questions of your future faltered for a moment. "the scholarship did not go through." again, she was right on target.

"how did you know i even-" you frowned and shook your head in bewilderment as she only shrugged, refusing to disclose an answer. "its the cost nena, sí?" alexia spoke, softer now as you hesitated before nodding and exhaling, the walls tumbling down.

"you have to pay for the first year up front. then the next two years you are put onto a program where you do not pay until you graduate and start to work. like a debt! it gets paid off overtime with interest. but that first year alone, it is too much." you admitted with a shake of your head as alexia only hummed.

"please don't tell mami. she would do something stupid like sell the car or mortgage the house again for a loan, she has already given up so much for us." you pleaded quietly, eyes baring into hers as the taller girl looked away.

"ale please! i am already looking into other scholarships for other courses, other schools, other options." you begged, which wasn't a lie. "no." your sister replied simply as you deflated, looking upwards with a deep sigh.

giving up on the conversation you stood from your chair to head back inside, intending to enjoy one last night of peace before alexia would force you to come clean to your family.

"ay hermanita." your sisters hand grabbed your wrist, nodding for you to sit back down. "no, you will go to law school." alexia corrected as you took your seat, sending her a frown. "ale i already said-" her hand silenced you.

"i will pay for the first year." alexia stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument though you were never one to listen to her. "no you will not!" you scoffed, again trying to stand and leave but she tugged you back to your seat.

"alexia." you sighed deeply as her hands found yours and forced you to look at her. "hermana, you are so smart. smarter than me, than alba, than most people i know! you have so much potential it is a waste for you not to use your mind to learn and to do good because of something like money." your sister spoke kindly but firmly, eyes locked with yours.

"you are not going to drop this, are you?" you asked, lips hinting at a smile. "no, you know me better than that." alexia smiled smugly, dropping your hands to pull you into a tight hug. "and you really need school if you cannot even win an argument with me. some lawyer!" alexia teased softly.

"i don't even know what to say ale." you exhaled shakily as your sister kissed your forehead, lips lingering there.

"start with a thank you hermana. we can call it your birthday and christmas present for the next...ten years." alexia mumbled against your skin as your body vibrated with laughter against hers. "thank you, thank you so much."

"but pequeña promise me you will make the most of it. that you will go and you will learn and do great things, greater than any of us." alexia stared down at you as you nodded, promising her with a smile.

the moment was interrupted by alba bursting outside as you broke apart, slinging her arms around both of you with a cheer and a lopsided grin.

"vamos hermanas! time for shots."

"that is not fair alexia. i never asked you to pay." you spoke up again, standing to your feet with a frown as alexia scoffed. "you might not have asked but you also did not do much to fight me on it, did you?" alexia bit back, squaring up and taking a step forward as you refused to back down.

"are you even going to let me speak? or just talk at me, after all i know how much you love the sound of your own voice capitana." you spat, tone now laced with venom.

"vale! i think we should all just take some time and some space to calm down before we continue." alba stepped in, trying to push her way between the two of you sensing it was bordering on ugly.

"and how could you let this happen! you kept her little secret and you did nothing to try and change her mind?" alexia instead turned her anger on her other younger sister who pulled a face.

"alexia you have not even heard her out for five minutes. i have had three weeks of conversations with her hermana, you are not being fair." alba defended you, having reacted similarly when you'd first come to her and realizing her mistake once you explained yourself.

"fair! whats not fair is her giving up the moment something gets hard. you found school easy but not everything will be easy for you! that is what being an adult is, if you want to be treated like one." alexia attempted to push her way past alba who held firm despite being the shorter of the two.

"ale that is enough. walk away, calm down and hear her out afterwards." alba spoke calmly again, though you knew both of them well enough to see she was near to meeting alexia at the same level of anger.

"no! i have never been so disappointed in you, ever. i thought i was investing in you and your potential but if you are so happy to throw it away and drop out of school? fine! but what a waste it was then." alexia spat, glowering at you as hurt flashed across your face.

"you dropped out of school?" all three of your heads whipped to the door which was now open again, your mami standing there with a face like thunder as you shrunk, wishing a sinkhole would form and swallow you up.

"mami-" you started as alba and alexia stepped away from one another, all the anger which had once radiated around the room sucked out in a second.

"no. come!" she pointed for you to step outside as your body deflated and you made your way out of alba's room, the older girl moving to follow but eli held up her hand again.

"you two stay here, fix this." she ordered, gesturing between them before pulling the door closed as her footsteps sounded in the distance. a pause of silence passed where you could have heard a pin drop, before the sound of eli's yelling echoed through the house and both alexia and alba winced at the harsh catalan bouncing from wall to wall.

neither girl spoke a word sat side by side on alba's bed as they listened in to the entire lecture, not hearing you even say a single word back before a door was heard slamming and there was silence again.

sharing a look both older girls left the room, finding your mami dishing up lunch. "eat please." the woman instructed calmly as they both sat down at the table. "where is she?" alba spoke first as eli took her own seat.

"your sister went for a walk." the woman answered curtly, anger still present in her voice as alexia remained quiet, picking at her food and ignoring the looks sent her way by her sister across the table.

lunch being painfully awkward the silence was broken by the sound of the door opening again as you stepped inside, alba the only one to look toward you and noticing your red and puffy eyes where you'd clearly been crying.

"mami." you tried, the woman ignoring you as she continued to eat. "mami por favor, can we just talk about this?" you requested softly, voice dangerously close to breaking.

"mami please, at least look at me." you all but begged, voice cracking as alba tore her own eyes away unable to watch as yours filled up again with tears.

but when again you received nothing in return you deflated even further, shoulders slumping as you dropped your keys on the counter and silently made your way to your childhood room, door closing with a gentle click.

"mami." alba frowned, the woman pushing her chair back with a scrape, collecting their empty plates and wordlessly walking to the kitchen.

"mierda!" alexia swore as suddenly alba kicked her under the table with a glare. "puta." the older girl spat back rubbing her shin which started to throb. "this is all your fault, big mouth." alba huffed, pushing back her own chair and heading for your room.

but as hours passed she was unsuccessful in trying to coax you out or to let her in, your door remaining locked and the entire family on edge, a frosty silence falling throughout the normally bright and joyous home.

alexia seemed unfazed, laying on the lounge watching the barca men play, arms crossed and a placid look on her face. "ale!" she looked up at the call of her name. "i'm going to the store mija." eli informed as her daughter nodded, the older woman out the door before she could even blink.

"what?" alexia sighed as alba appeared again, blocking her view of the tv with arms crossed. "you know what." her younger sister retorted. "how is this my fault? she is the one who made all the mistakes, mami was going to find out eventually anyway!" alexia defended herself as alba rolled her eyes and grabbed the remote, flicking off the tv.

"alba!" "alexia!" her sister mocked in the same tone, taking a seat beside her. "well if you won't hear her out, i will talk." and with that she spent the next ten minutes explaining everything alexia had failed to hear from you, the blondes stony features softening.

"oh." was all she managed to get out. "oh!" alba repeated sarcastically, shoving the older girl.

"see? now do you see why this is your fault? you didn't give her a chance to speak and you did not see her when she came home before ale, you did not see her break when mami ignored her." alba shook her head.

"you need to fix it. and today! we cannot be like this over the holidays." alba warned as alexia nodded in agreement, at a slight loss for words for once.

when again alba was met with silence as she knocked gently and called out your name, alexia took over and opened your door using a butter knife to easily pick the lock. but when the door popped open, they were only met with an empty room and an open window.

"i know where she will be."

~

"alba leave me be por favor i am not in the mood." you warned with a sigh, hearing the footsteps approach you from behind. your body tensed as they stopped beside you, the taller girl taking a seat on the sand but taking caution to leave a reasonable gap between the two of you.

"no way." you scoffed quietly, moving to stand and walk away before alexia grabbed your wrist. "please. i am not here to argue or to yell, just to listen." the blonde promised softly as you tugged your hand free and gave her a cautious look.

"i promise hermana."

not finding the same burning anger from before present in her eyes you took a seat again, scooting a little further away and tucking your knees to your chest as the wind picked up a little.

"did you pick the lock?" you broke the silence first, refusing to look at her as your eyes remained locked on the horizon. "sí. did alba show you how to sneak out?" alexia asked, also staring out at the water with a slight smile.

"years ago." you answered, having been caught once by alba when you were trying to get out the front door to go to a party she for once had taken pity on you, showing you how to safely climb down the side of the house and out the back gate when you were just fifteen.

granted she did also use that particular instance to blackmail you into doing her laundry for a week, so really pity may have been the wrong word to use.

"good, i showed her first." alexia smiled properly now, pulling her hood over her head in an attempt to block out the wind whistling sharply through her ears.

"so. alba told you?" you again broke the silence which fell, eyes dropping to the ground as you traced patterns in the sand with your fingers. "i would like to hear it from you." alexia spoke, her stomach knotting up at the memory of the harsh words she'd slung at you hours ago.

"you weren't completely wrong, school was hard, really hard." you started with a sigh and a frown, focused on the sand beneath your fingertips. "none of my friends are studying, they all chose to take gap years and travel, together." your tone shifted, a slight bitterness to it.

"leaving you behind." alexia spoke softly, glancing toward you as you nodded. "i just-" you started, clearly struggling to get your words out. "i don't not like school, its hard but i want to be a lawyer, i think." you continued, shaking the sand off your hand.

"all of my teachers speak about how much of a commitment law is once you are licensed to practice and once you start in a firm." you looked back out to the ocean, well aware of your sisters eyes boring into the side of your head.

"i have to do two hundred hours of placement minimum, a hundred hours each year after the first. and i just...i am only twenty one alexia, i like learning about law but i do not want to be a lawyer right now." you admitted, chin resting on your knees as you fingers picked at your shoe laces.

"so you dropped out." alexia had only already put the pieces together but wanted you to know she was listening. "yes. but they hold my place in the course for a year, that is the bit that nobody ever lets me explain." you murmured, voice barely above a whisper and almost snatched away in the wind.

"oh pequeña, i should have let you speak." alexia mumbled, guilt wracking her body as you hummed. "i am so so sorry hermana you were right not to tell me, i just messed everything up." alexia sighed deeply, rubbing her face tiredly.

"yes you did. mami won't even look at me!" you puffed air from your nose, stabbing the sand angrily with your finger. "we can fix that, i will fix this." alexia promised, taking her chances as she moved to be right by your side, relieved when you did not make an attempt to move.

"i have a job you know? thats what i've been doing since i left, just working and saving." you confessed, still stabbing at the sand and refusing to look at your sister.

"i work reception at a dental clinic, not far from your apartment actually." you chuckled a little at that though you were never too worried about running into her. you knew her training schedule too well and the chances of the alexia putellas stepping foot in a public dental clinic was slim to none.

"i am going to save up enough to pay you back, it will take time but i will pay it back, all of it." your face hardened again which didn't go unnoticed by your sister who frowned. "pequeña-" she started, a hand coming to sit on your knee which you pushed away.

"no, you cannot change my mind. i am not having you hold it over me for the rest of my life alexia. i wish i had never said yes!" you warned, finally meeting her eyes though it broke your sisters heart to see the obvious pain and trouble swirling behind them.

"hey i wont-" "you already did alexia. or have you gotten so old you fail to remember conversations a few hours ago? if you can even call yelling at me a conversation." you reminded sharply, frown set back into your face as you shuffled away from her slightly.

"i am not old." was all she retorted back in offence, causing a small snicker to escape from you as your features softened slightly. "you're basically thirty, that is halfway to sixty." you mumbled, hint of a smile on your lips which dissapeared as quickly as it formed.

"i am twenty nine." her arm stretched out to shove you lightly, eyes on the horizon and a smile on her lips. "still old, should be in a museum." your own arm shoved her back, sharing a quick glance of amusement momentarily.

"know what will be in the museums? all of my trophies." she smirked as you rolled your eyes. "they will need to pry them from mami's cold dead fingers first, or get to them before alba sells them all on ebay." you joked, the frostiness from before beginning to melt slightly.

"i should make a list, she really will sell them." alexia sighed with a shake of her head. "probably already has, or some of your smelly boots and match shirts." you smiled, your sister shaking her head beside you.

"i do not want you to pay me back hermanita." the conversation shifted as you now sighed. "ale-" you tried but she cut you off. "no. at least not yet, if you really want to i cannot stop you. if you decide to go back and you become a big fancy lawyer we can talk about it then, but promise me you will not use your savings from the last few months." alexia warned firmly, your head turning to look at her.

"promise me." she repeated, holding out her pinky. "really?" you gave her a look. "sí, unbroken agreement." she wiggled her finger as you sighed and gave in, locking your own with hers as you both leaned in to kiss your hands.

"i really am so sorry pequeña. i said some very nasty things, i did not mean them but i still said them and that wasn't okay. but i love you very much and i did mean it when i said you are smart, so so smart." alexia again moved closer as you kept her gaze.

"but your life should be yours to do with it what you want, and if that is not law that is okay. you could do anything! the world is yours if you want to take it." alexia smiled sincerely which you finally returned, settling her anxiety.

"i think i am going to travel for a little bit, see more of the world." you spoke up, alexia nodding as you both looked back out to the ocean, your head falling to her shoulder. "you should, it is beautiful. so long as you come home afterwards!" she nudged you with a grin.

"maybe, i might fall in love with the world and never want to come back!" you teased as your sister scoffed. "there isn't a corner of the world where you could hide from me hermanita." she threatened playfully, a gentle hint of insecurity in her voice.

"i would always come home. i'd miss alba too much!" you shrugged, alexia pushing you with a glare. "what? we had all those years at home together when you were off playing football to bond, you're second on the list now, maybe even third if we're including mapi." you grinned, your sister pulling you into a headlock.

"i am always number one, i even have it on a trophy!" alexia reminded with a smirk as you struggled to pull away. "i was six when i gave that to you!" you protested, flinching as her fingers dug into your ribs eliciting a loud laugh to fall from your lips.

"you used to follow me around everywhere, my little shadow." the blonde smiled fondly and let you up as you huffed and fixed your hair.

"i didn't know any better!" your eyes rolled as you halfheartedly punched her shoulder. "and besides you hated it! you used to always tell me off and yell at me to go away." you chuckled at the memory.

"now its you yelling that at me, full circle." alexia mocked, pinching your cheek and draping her arm over your shoulder pulling you into her side, a comfortable silence falling once more as you both watched the waves crash.

"do you remember when you tried to drown me here?" you spoke up, a smirk ghosting your lips. "i did not try to drown you!" the older girl protested sending you a glare.

"you dragged me out past the waves and threw me in, before i knew how to swim!" "sí, and what happened? you learned to swim, you are welcome." "that was not a thank you."

"so what happened with mariana?" alexia questioned curiously. "nothing." you shrugged lightly, the look of disbelief having you roll your eyes.

"if she cheated or she hurt you or she left you or anything, i will take mapi and we will take a baseball bat and we will-" alexia started to explain as you pushed her hands down where she had started to demonstrate just what the baseball bat was for.

"no! nothing like that. when i moved in with her after leaving school things just sort of...fizzled. i think we just saw too much of each other and we decided we were better off as friends, we still talk sometimes but not very much." you confessed honestly as alexia pulled you into another hug, kissing the crown of your head.

"vamos pequeña we should head back. i need to speak with mami, i will fix my mistake." alexia promised as she pushed herself to her feet, holding out a hand to help you up.

"alexia!" you huffed as she started to pull you up but let go, sending your body tumbling ass first into the sand with a grunt. "you always fall for that." your older sister snickered, turning and starting to walk away.

"puta." you mumbled under your breath, standing up and brushing off the loose sand before catching up to her. "never gets old." alexia sighed happily sending you a smirk as you shoved her, the two of you falling into step.

"know what is old though? you." "joder, i am only twenty nine!"

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[emmyrosee]

Bakugou gets invested really easily.

He loves to pretend that he doesn’t care about things, or get super interested, but you know better than anyone that when he wants to get his focus on something, it's almost impossible to break it.

When it's in your favor, it's addictive always having him hang off of you, burrowing his face against you, relishing you in affections only his closest friends would believe and having him eat out of the palm of your hand.

When it's on something else, however, it's torturous.

And yes, while you adore Kaminari Denki's enthusiasm for the first book he's read in four years, it now has Katsuki's full enthusiasm that he covers under a shroud of "like hell he's gonna read more books than me."

He's so full of it, it hurts.

Katsuki's read books in three days or less, tearing through them with ease after work; now, its his one-sunday-a-month off, and he seems completely content in sitting on the couch reading his damn book for hours.

At first you had no issue curling into his lap to rest, his big hand resting on your head and massaging your temple while you drift in and out of sleep.

But it's been four hours. You've woken up three times.

You try for a round of kisses, but he merely returns pecks with his eyes still on the book. You nip at his ear, but his shoulders hike up to nudge your face away. You offer him mewls of 'love you''s, and he grunts back.

You're dying here.

Huffing softly, you push yourself up and off of the couch, shuffling to the kitchen for a glass of water. There’s a small part of you that hopes he notices how annoyed you are and he’ll chase after you.

This, he does not.

With a soft snarl in your throat, you finish off the glass and toss it haphazardly in the sink, once again hoping it’ll rise some form of reaction from Katsuki.

He merely sniffles in the background.

You pace in the kitchen for something to break his laser focus. The closest you've come is when your phone rings back in the living room and he grumbles an annoyed 's' the fuckin' nerd.' You stomp into the living room for your phone, and Katsuki barely spares you a glance over his wire glasses.

Izuku's phone call keeps you all of 3 minutes, and your eyes watch for Katsuki's annoyed grumble and slamming of his book to stop reading and scold you.

No dice.

"Sorry, the oven's on fire, I'll call you later," you interrupt whatever he was saying and hanging up, tossing your phone on the couch next to your boyfriend.

"Why's the oven on fire?" He mumbles, turning the page.

"Because you won't give me attention," you snip.

"Ah."

God, you hate his rare nonchalance sometimes.

Out of options and minimal patience left, you move one of his crossed legs to rest flat on the floor and crawl into his lap, which automatically situates itself to keep your perch. Despite his subconscious action, he smacks his lips in frustration and merely turns the page in his own act of defiance.

“Can I help you?”

“You’re being annoying.”

This, finally, has currant eyes flicking up to you, a brow quirked in confusion and, maybe, just maybe, a glimmer of bothersome.

“I’m literally sitting here, reading. I’ve maybe taken a sip of my water and kissed your forehead while you napped. How the hell am I being annoying?” At his snap, you pout and cross your arms childishly, and he groans in the back of his throat with exhaustedly. “I didn’t mean to snap, baby. You brought that shit out of nowhere, I didn’t know sitting in silence could be annoying.” He dogears his page to give you finally give you his attention. You pout, and he gives you a small sigh, “come on baby; fuckin' talk to me.”

You huff petulantly, but you soften as massive paws smooth over the slopes of your hips. “It is annoying, when you’re ignoring me.” His hands stall, and you avoid his gaze. “I wanted to spend some time with you today, and all you’ve wanted to do is stay in and read… I know you like quality time and everything but I want to do something fun before you’ve got your hands full with work again.”

He rolls his eyes before rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, “so this is something you tell me, not pout and whine. I ain’t a fuckin’ mind reader.”

You turn your head in defiance, “wouldn’t have to say something if you’d stop focusing on your stupid romance novel.”

“It’s not a romance novel,” he says, trying to hide his amusement. “And don’t be fresh. I ain’t the only one at fault here.”

“But here I am- blaming you.” You try your hardest to fight back the smile tugging your lips.

“And you just can’t let me live for five minutes, can you?” He snarls, lips curled in a smirk as he leans forward to bite at the softness of your jawline. “Always gotta have my fuckin’ attention don’t you?” You giggle and shrink back slightly, but his arms tighten around you to keep you from going too far. “Nah. You wanna make a fuckin’ scene about how you want my attention? You’re goin’ no where.”

“Katsu, no!” You whine around giggles, his nose bullying past your tucked chin to nibble and playfully suckle at the tender skin of your neck, making the signals in your brain cross at the silly affections. Your hands shove at his broad shoulders in an attempt to make some distance, to no avail.

He’s got you right when you wanted to be.

“This is all you wanted huh?” He mumbles into your neck, scooting forwards on the couch to hook your legs around his waist. “You just needed me to snuggle and tease you soooo bad.”

“I do not!” You squeal, and your own fingers try to tickle his neck; it manages to get a few snickers before he gathers them in his own large palms and pins them between you.

“Fuck you,” he sneers. He does stop his torment before resting his head against the curve of your neck, and you mewl happily when you worm your hands out to wrap around his shoulders. “Cant have one fuckin’ second of peace.” He kisses the delicate skin of your neck lovingly this time, letting his hands soothingly run up and down the planes of your back. “Don’t get why you don’t fuckin’ talk to me about this shit, we’ve been together for years.”

You huff dramatically, “because you should know.”

“Yeah, we’ve established that I don’t.”

“Shinsou would know,” you poke, smiling as he tenses up and fists the shirt you’re wearing.

“Don’t you fuckin’ start.”

#dont look at me leave me alone #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x gn!reader #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki bnha #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou x gn!reader #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou bnha #bnha #bnha fuff #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha x gn!reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x yn

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A smile blooms on your lips as you watch Tilly play hopscotch with her friend near the street. Snow’s melted enough this morning to be able to draw chalk patterns on the cobblestones. The young girl woke up excited to enjoy the day. And while you’re nowhere as thrilled, seeing the joy and life return to her gaze is more than enough for you. 

The little girls’ buoyant laughs fill the street and you let yourself bask in the moment. It’s rare that you get time to yourself lately.  Your shifts at the factory take up most of your time. And you’ve been spreading yourself thin, hoping to keep concerns at bay by remaining busy. White wisps surround you as you blow a long breath. You readjust your scarf and rub your gloved hands. Cold air seeps through the tiny holes in your gloves. You’ll need to stay after hours on your next shift to mend them. Perhaps you could even purloin enough throwaway remnants of wool to make Tilly a new pair. She’ll soon outgrow hers.

Besides, her health might have improved for now, but you never stop worrying about her catching another cold, one that might be deadlier than the last.

Lost in contemplation, you draw a sharp breath when an object drops from the sky onto your lap. Your eyes widen as you lower them. A pair of knitted gloves rests in your lap. They’re clearly brand new and the wool quality is unlike anything you’ve ever laid eyes on. You can tell from the thickness and vibrancy of the twining threads. You’re tempted to give it a brush with your fingertips, revel in the warmth oozing from the fabric. But you refrain.

“I don’t want that,” you snap, whipping your head up.

A towering, lanky frame clad in the peacekeeper’s signature blue uniform fills your sight. 

You toss the gloves at him and he catches them with a deep sigh. He sits near you on the steps. The hairs on the back of your neck bristle with his proximity, his broad shoulder grazing yours as he turns to study you.

You shiver as his gaze runs along your frame. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to. You’ve done your best to forget about him these last few weeks, even if his ever-lurking presence is hard to ignore. Whatever you do, wherever you are, he’s never hovering too far away.

He seizes your hands, forcefully slipping the gloves on your frostbitten fingers.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” he says. Your lips tighten as you meekly comply. Arguing with the peacekeeper has never worked in your favor. So why even try? You let him put the gloves on you, cursing the comfort you feel when the warm fabric hugs your fingers. An absent thought drifts in your head as you admire the wool. You never owned anything this nice. The quality evokes the clothes that usually head straight to the Capitol.

All the nice things go to them first while District dwellers beg for scraps.

Coriolanus leans back, his large hands spreading over his knees. His stance is far too relaxed for your taste and you shrink further on your side of the narrow stairs. 

As his icy blue orbs settle on your cousin and her friend, you tense.

“She seems to be doing well. I’m assuming the medicine helped,” he notes, smugness oozing from his words. His attention scorches your skin as you pointedly evade his stare. You loathe the satisfaction he draws from this. More leverage to use against you. More opportunities to make you feel small, helpless.

“What are you doing here?” you curtly ask.

His small chuckle makes your stomach coil.

“Is this any way to greet a friend?” His tone becomes light, playful. “Especially one that comes bearing gifts?” 

Your brows knit. “Friends…”

Hot air tickles your earshell as he bends over you, whispering, “The closest of friends.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He grabs your chin, angling your face towards his. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as stark blue eyes drink you in. “Really birdie, not even a smile? Come now.”

You nudge a tremulous smile onto your lips. 

His thumb grazes your trembling bottom lip as his mouth twists skyward. “Better,’ he praises quietly.

A winning glint sways in his eyes and your stomach lurches. 

“Hi!”

Tilly’s cheerful voice shatters the moment. Coriolanus releases you and relief billows inside your chest. 

He beams at the young girl, replying in a similar tone, “Hi.”

Your young cousin bounces on her feet, excitement rounding her gaze as she admires  the peacekeeper. Your frown deepens at the exchange.

“I’m Tilly,” she announces solemnly, offering her hand to shake.

Coriolanus laughs as he takes it, mirth lighting up his handsome face.

“I know. I know all about you.” A mix of shock and awe decorates the young girl’s features with that information, as if the peacekeeper knowing anything about her was the most extraordinary thing in the world. “I’m a friend of your cousin. My name’s Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus,” she repeats, as if mesmerized by the sound of his name alone.

“Here. I have something for you,” he says. 

He reaches inside the pocket of his uniform and pulls out a bag. Your cousin jumps, her eyes sparkling with joy when he hands it to her.

“Candy!” she exclaims. 

Your face pinches at the sight of the colorful sweets in the bag. These aren’t easy to acquire. 

“Tilly…”

“What?”

The young girl’s expression is dejected as she looks at you, almost like she can sense your disapproval and is preparing to return the gift. Your shoulder sag. You don’t have it in you to refuse her this small sliver of delight. 

You shake your head and smile.

“Nothing.” You hunker in front of her. “We should go back inside.”

“But I want to play…” she pouts.

“You have chores. And Coriolanus…” Your eyes lift to him. Amusement hasn’t left his expression. “is very busy.”

He doesn’t say anything as you shove your cousin inside the house. He lingers by the door and you fidget beneath his heavy stare.

“I’m guessing you have…somewhere to be.”

His gaze drags over you as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Yes, I hear I’m very busy,” he teases. Shock fills you when he leans to brush his mouth against your cool cheek. “See you soon, birdie,” he mumbles, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

You’re relieved when he finally leaves. You chase away the peculiar sensation his closeness sparked as you shut the door.

You don’t get time to collect yourself,  your little cousin immediately asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The pitch of your voice goes high with shock. 

“What? Are you crazy?”

Tilly frowns. “But I saw him kissing you.”

Heat nestles in your cheeks. Maybe from an outsider’s perspective, Coriolanus’ closeness could be misinterpreted, the peacekeeper perpetually crowding your space despite your reluctance. Still, you can’t believe it’s what the little girl thinks from looking at the two of you. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Every fiber of your being burns with hatred for him.

“No, we weren’t. It wasn’t…” you sputter, your embarrassment cresting as the excitement in your cousin’s eyes doesn’t dwindle. “He wasn’t kissing me. We were just talking.”

“About girlfriend and boyfriend stuff,” she insists. 

You sigh. You approach her and grip her shoulders. 

“Tilly, I need you to promise me something.”

She blinks up at you. “Yes?”

You crouch before her so you’re at eye level. 

“You need to stay away from peacekeepers.”

She purses her mouth, glancing down at the bag of candy.

“Yes, but Coriolanus…he was nice to me.”

Your stomach sinks.

“Well, Coriolanus isn’t like the others.”

She nods in understanding. You’re glad she doesn’t ask any further questions. You wouldn’t know how to begin to explain your relationship with him.

Not in any way that makes sense at least.

For a fortnight, you don’t see much of him. You bask in the tranquility of your usual routine, going back and forth, from home to work, and preparing to celebrate the end of the year with your cousin. It won’t be lavish, of course, but you’re hoping to save up enough from your wages to get Tilly a teddy and perhaps even a toy this year.

While most of your family has passed away, you want to cherish the things you still have. Perhaps you can even create new memories for your cousin, happier memories. She has been bedridden for months now and it’ll be the first holiday she’ll get to truly enjoy as a healthy, normal child. 

He appears again as you’re working your usual shift, casually switching places with another guard. While you pointedly avoid looking in his direction, you feel the weight of his unwavering eyes, watching you as always.

Still, you diligently weave the silk on your loom. Your attention cannot stray. One mistake and the fabric will be ruined. 

“Your shadow’s there,” Yara notes from her station right next to yours.

Your eyes flick upward briefly as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs in the air a while before your friend speaks again.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it.”

Her eyes land on the gloves peeking from the pocket of your long skirt.

“By the way, I meant to ask…Is that from him?”

You hesitate a little before begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.”

She moves her head in acknowledgement. 

“I see, gifts now.”

Stepping on the treadle to slow down the motion of your loom, you snap your head to Yara.

There was something in her tone just then, an implication you didn’t like.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head and scoffs, “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“My hands were cold,” you defend.

“You could have thrown them away. I made my own. It’s what we do every year. Make our own.” Her gaze locks with yours. Licking her lips, she seems to mull over something before she asks,  “Is there something going on between you two? I mean other than what I already know.”

Your face grows hot.

“There is nothing.”

She studies you for a few minutes before turning her focus back to her loom.

“Right,” she says.

Your annoyance mounting, you give the treadle a vigorous push and start weaving faster.

You let your friend’s prickly comments fade somewhere in the back of your mind. You have no desire to explore this dangerous line of thought any further. 

There is indeed nothing going on between you and the peacekeeper. You keep repeating it to yourself as your fingers assemble the threads as if your life depended on it. 

It helps you ignore the way your blood races in your veins.

Relief fills you when your shift ends. Tension built in your body and firmly remained since Yara began questioning you. You can still feel it in the stiffness in your limbs, the heaviness in your chest. You make haste as you dart across the hallways, eager to return home.

Your escape is halted by a pair of strong arms pulling you in a dark corner of the factory. 

You look up at him through wide eyes. That teasing smile you’ve grown all too familiar with decorates his lips.

“Why the rush, sweet bird?”

“Coriolanus…” You step back from him. “Can’t you just leave me be, just once?��

He approaches you, forcing you to shrink against the wall. He cages you, his hands on each side of you as he drinks you in. You dip your head, overwhelmed with the scent of roses washing over you. 

“I can’t actually.” Warmth swirls in your belly as his tone lowers. “Look at me.” He puts two fingers below your chin to angle it upward. His eyes narrow. “You’re upset.”

“Just had a long day,” you elude with a shrug. 

He scrutinizes you. Your mouth quakes, his silence unnerving you. 

After some time, he finally announces, “I’m getting discharged soon.”

“Oh, where?”

“I’m getting sent back to the Capitol.”

You gape at him. That’s not what you expected to hear. Though you surmise it makes sense, with him being around less. A strange mix of feelings surges inside your chest. But mostly, relief, freedom. You’ll be able to breathe properly again, without the uneasy attention of the peacekeeper tailing you everywhere you go. 

Though you try not to let your emotions show. You give a tilted smile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You get to go home, return to your life.”

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek. 

“Well…I’ll miss some things about District 8.”

You clear your throat. “I should get back home.”

“Meet me tonight,” he says bluntly. 

“What for?”

His eyes darken, running over your trembling frame. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“I’m leaving. We should celebrate, just the two of us.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You truly hoped to avoid…colliding with the peacekeeper again, in any way, but you suppose it was inevitable. One way or another, he’d have asked for more of you, simply because he could. Your fate is in his hands after all. He could easily make your life here hell just by whispering in the right ears.

Still, you can’t help voicing a feeble protest.

“Is that necessary?”

His eyes flare with danger. Your breath snags as he grips your jaw, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks. Your pulse thrums beneath his palm.

“I don’t want to be mean to you right now, so don’t make me.” Though his tone is soft, his expression is harsh and inflexible. “Just do as I say.”

You give a shaky nod.

“S-See you tonight.”

He releases your face and you take a deep breath. His crooked smile is wide and victorious as he hops away from you.

“I look forward to it, sweet bird.”

You put a hand on your chest as he disappears, willing your thundering heart to slow down. You find comfort in a single thought. At least, after tonight, you will finally be rid of the peacekeeper.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #coriolanus snow

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

I Can Go Anywhere I Want- Just Not Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. I've been BUSY with school and this one took fucking forever. But it means a lot to me, I hope you like it. :)

Word count: 13.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: do me a favor and pretend Bucky didn't disappear in the blip. ok thanks bye.

Warnings: talk of financial struggles, food insecurity, housing insecurity

A familiar shape stepped onto the sidewalk just ahead, freeing itself from the shadows of a rundown motel. The lines and curves of this body forced your heart into your throat. Time seemed to stop. The world round you ceased its turning. You’d know those broad shoulders anywhere, and you’d remember that sharp jaw even after your soul left this mortal coil. 

You stood there, your feet rooted in the concrete, watching him with a longing that tore through your chest. How long had it been since you last saw him? How many months had passed since you last spoke? You made yourself stop counting the days long ago; it was too depressing, too pathetic. But while you forced your brain not to continue the tally, your heart kept count. 

His sudden motion caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. The shape that once resembled home headed down the street, slipping through your fingers a second time. But you couldn’t let him get away- not again. 

Even after you freed your feet and increased your pace, he remained ahead. His long legs carried him away from you as he glided past people on the sidewalk. His hands rested in his pockets, concealing his trademark from the world. His head bowed forward, he kept his gaze down. He didn’t want to catch the eye of the public. But he caught yours. 

“Bucky?” your call came out a desperate plea. Blowing his cover wasn’t your goal, but he was too fast. You had to stop him before he vanished again.

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice. You could’ve sworn you saw his head fall another inch or two, as though he were disappointed to know you’d found him.

But he turned. And for the first time in almost a year, he faced you. 

“Bucky.” It wasn’t a question this time, but an affirmation. A reassurance. An unstoppable smile pulled at your lips, a sigh of relief left your chest. You almost wept. “Hi…” 

The darkness that clouded your mind in his absence parted all at once, making way for a golden glow of twinkling lights. You hadn’t seen him since the battle. Since the shimmering portals. Since everyone returned home after Thanos fell. 

He simply stopped answering your calls. Your texts. He didn’t return your voicemails. 

To this day, you wondered what you did wrong. What you did that pushed him so far away. It wasn’t like him to ice you out, to cut you off without warning. He had baggage, sure, but he never shied away from you. Not like this. At one time, you were his closest friend. His most trusted confidante. And he was yours. You spent every moment together, taking shelter in each other. But not anymore. 

Each night, you recounted the last time you saw him. You analyzed every detail, scrutinizing the minutiae of the interaction. Maybe you said something that offended him. Maybe you did something hurtful. But no matter how hard you wracked your brain, not one single red flag made an appearance. And it made Bucky’s sudden disappearance from your life all the more maddening. More hurtful.

Sometimes, you liked to think that he just used you. That he got what he needed from you and moved on. It somehow softened the blow of his loss. Painting him as a manipulator took the blame off your shoulders and made him the villain. But you could never convince yourself of this narrative for long. Bucky wasn’t the type of person to use others. He gave and gave until he had nothing left. Or until he left.

With a few strides, you closed the gap between the two of you. “It’s so good to see you, Buck,” your instinctive reach for a hug left your arms hanging in the air as he took a small step back. It was then you realized just how embarrassing it was to drop your arms to your sides after an unwanted embrace.

“Hey- hi,” he cleared his throat and cut his eyes to the side, almost like he couldn’t bear to look at you. He stared at the passing cars, the flier-covered streetlight. Anything to keep his gaze from lingering on you. He wasn’t sure he had the strength. 

But he couldn’t help himself- he had to look at you. And as his eyes finally landed on yours, a familiar warmth sliced through his trepidations. He’d been aching for so long now; he’d didn’t know what a life without pain felt like. Every day, he hurt. He suffered. But the biting agony stilled as he stared at you. 

His lungs filled to capacity for the first time in months. The knots in his stomach untangled themselves. He’d forgotten how light he felt around you. You had a way of making things feel so easy, so simple. Everything in his life was complicated, and each day grew more difficult than the last. No matter how hard he tried, he never quite got his head above water. But with you standing there before him, he broke through the surface for the first time in ages.

He drank you in for a long moment, taking inventory of the ways you’d changed, and the ways you’d stayed the same. Your radiant smile still poked dimples into your cheeks. Freckles still splashed across your skin. But he noted the all too familiar braid in which your hair was twisted. The letter ‘N’ dangling from a dainty gold chain around your neck.  

Bucky knew losing Nat wasn’t easy on you. Knew that you’d been mourning her all on your own. He should’ve been there for you, should’ve been your shoulder to cry on. He hated himself every day for making you go it alone.

“It’s um,” Bucky didn’t know where to start. “It’s been a while…”

A quiet, awkward laugh rasped out of your throat at his understatement, “Yeah, you could say that.” 

A long pause forced its way between you. Things with Bucky never used to be this awkward, this tense. He was nearly a stranger now. And it killed you. Your friendship always flowed without difficulty, without pressure. It became second nature. The two of you moved together almost as though choreographed, anticipating the other’s actions instinctually.

But those instincts died and were buried, along with your hope of ever patching things up.

“Um, are you- where are you headed?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“I was just gonna- I thought I’d grab some breakfast.”

“Oh! Me too!” Finally, you had something in common. “Can I-” you quickly rephrased, fearing you may scare him off. “Do you wanna go together? Maybe we could catch up?” You knew you were throwing yourself at him, but you couldn’t stop. You were so overwhelmed, so desperate to be near him; you didn’t care how crazed you seemed. 

Bucky’s shy smile made an appearance, “Yeah, that would be nice.” He kicked himself for not appearing more excited, more overjoyed by the reunion. But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than anxious. 

The walk to the diner was less awkward than you anticipated. The conversation flowed a little smoother, the words came a little easier. But it was still clunky. And though more silence than you would’ve liked hung in the air, you breathed easier knowing that he was merely a few inches away. 

Things between you simply needed to thaw. You needed to shake the rust off and find your way back into the groove you carved out for one another. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I thought you said you were getting breakfast,” you joked, “not just coffee.” You sat across from Bucky in a beat-up booth, it’s cracked, torn vinyl dating the restaurant. When the waitress asked for your order, Bucky insisted you go first. And when you’d finished rattling off your perfect breakfast, Bucky dismissed her with a “nothing for me.”

He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, “I’m not really hungry anymore.”

“Wow, I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on people,” you said, only half-joking. Maybe he really did hate you, after all. The months of dead silence suggested as much. 

More often than not, you tried lived in denial. You told yourself any lie you could come up with- anything to ease the pain of missing him. Even after his less than enthusiastic reaction to your reunion, you buried your head in the sand. Surely, he was just surprised to see you. He just needed some time to warm up, to come out of his shell.

But he only ordered coffee; clearly, he didn’t plan on staying long. He had an escape strategy locked and loaded. You knew he planned to fulfill your request for a catch-up session and run for the hills as soon as he emptied his mug. Upon your realization, everything came crashing down. His scant order slapped you with the cold hard facts: he’d cut off all communication, ignored you for months, and seemed to lose his appetite at the very prospect of sharing a meal with you. 

Maybe missing him was a waste of your time.

“No, it’s not like that,” very real concern coated Bucky’s words. “I’m so- I’m really happy to see you.” 

His fingers twitched as the logical side of his brain shut down his attempt to touch you. All he wanted to do was reach out and rest a hand atop yours, maybe stroke your knuckles a few times. It was something he used to do all the time, something that, at one point, reassured the both of you. But things were different these days. He didn’t have the right to be so familiar with you, not after he chose to make himself a stranger. 

He gripped his coffee mug with both hands, stemming any impulses to reach for you. “How have you been?”

There’d been a time when you would’ve told him everything. You would’ve spilled your soul and let loose every ugly detail of your life. Being honest with each other used to be easy. Neither one of you had to fear judgment or ridicule; you were safe in the other’s hands.

But those days were long gone. He clearly didn’t want to be your best friend anymore- he barely wanted to know you at all. He was, at most, an acquaintance whose soul used to be tied to yours. And so, you opted to forego the truth. You didn’t tell him that you cried yourself to sleep most nights. You didn’t tell him that you missed him so badly it caused you physical pain. You didn’t tell him that you needed him. Instead, you gave him what he wanted: an easy, canned response.

“I’ve been good,” you forced a smile to your face and shrugged. “Just been working, doing the whole SWORD thing.”

He raised his brow, “Oh, wow. You work for SWORD now? I had no idea. Good for you.” 

He feared his feigned surprise came off too fake, too forced. But you didn’t seem to clock it. You really believed that he was out of the loop, but you should’ve known better. It was ludicrous to think he’d ever be uninformed about your life. Of course, he already knew you worked for SWORD He knew that you moved into a new apartment. He even knew that you were planning on adopting a cat soon. He asked Sam about you almost daily, scrounging for any details he could get. 

He just needed to know that you were okay, that you were safe. And happy. 

“Yeah, I started a few months ago. It’s been-” You paused a moment, allowing the waitress to set down your food. The table in front of Bucky looked so empty; with no food anchoring him to the restaurant, he could leave at any moment. “It’s been alright. But how about you? What have you been up to?”

He took a moment to formulate his response. He needed to be careful. Precise. Allowing too much to slip could ruin everything. “I’ve just been working with Sam,” he shrugged. “We had to take care of that whole Flag Smashers thing.”

“I saw that!” you said, your mouth full of pancakes. “You guys did a great job.”

“Thanks, yeah,” Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink. “And I had my pardon hearing.”

You nodded, “I watched all the news coverage about it.”

He forced his eyes down to his mug; he never used to get embarrassed around you. “You did?”

“Of course.”

Bucky wanted you there that day. He wanted to rest his hand in yours and experience the peace only you could provide as he waited for the judge to call his name. And when he finally received his pardon, he wanted to turn around and see you- wide smile, eyes brimming with happy tears. He wanted to wrap his body around yours and thank you for being his rock. 

But he didn’t invite you along.

He, instead, sat alone in the hall, with no one to hold his shaking hand, until a bailiff ushered him into the courtroom. Sam wanted to be there, but his nephew begged Captain America to make an appearance for Bring Your Dad to Work Day. And who was he to say no?

When the judge awarded Bucky his pardon, no one cheered. No one ran to his side and granted him a congratulatory hug. He collected his papers and made his way out of the courthouse. Alone. 

He got a heap of texts and calls from you that day, though. He watched his phone ring with your name and picture taking up his screen. He poured over your kind texts and listened to your congratulatory voicemails. Even after he shut you out, you made sure he knew that you supported him. That you still cared. But he didn’t return your messages.

He did, however, listen to your voicemails on a loop. Hearing your voice again gave him an escape, a life preserver. You’d never know how much those messages meant, how often they saved him. He promised himself he’d tell you- one day.

 “Honestly, you shouldn’t have even needed a pardon,” you said with an eyeroll. “I mean, you didn’t do anything. None of it was your fault.”

Bucky had nearly forgotten how unabashedly supportive you were. How you were always on his side, no matter what. He wondered why you still wanted to be on his team after months of silence.

“Well, the US government feels differently,” he sighed out a soft laugh. “And it’s taken care of now, so it’s all good.”

He appeared hopeful, almost optimistic. He had Sam, he had his pardon- he seemed to be doing well. And though you wanted more than anything to be in his life, you just wanted him to be happy. Maybe your friendship didn’t serve him the way it served you. Maybe he felt like you didn’t give him what he needed. Maybe his life was better without you in it. The thought stung. It forced your throat closed, nearly sending you into a choking fit. But you swallowed your pancakes along with your pride, and vowed never to beg Bucky to come back to you. 

“Good. I’m happy for you.” You stopped yourself from reaching for his hand. “Can I ask something that might be a little invasive?”

Bucky’s heart stopped, “Um, sure.”

“I saw you coming out of that motel…” you shot him a suggestive glance. “What was that about?”

Bucky stiffened. He grew tense, anxiety flooding his system. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… was there maybe a little-” you raised a brow at him, “hook up situation going on?” 

He laughed at your overdramatic wink, the way you licked your lips. And he thanked his lucky stars you came up with a cover story for him. “Oh, yeah…” he grew bashful about his fictional sexcapades. “It’s just a- it’s casual, you know. Nothing serious.”

The confirmation of your suspicions made your jaw drop. Bucky Barnes, the old-fashioned gentleman, actually had a friend with benefits. He’d had a secretive, motel rendezvous. Hell, he probably had hickeys and nail marks hiding under his shirt. 

A pang of jealousy tore through you like the nails of his lover. Why did she get to be near him? How did she rank above you? The unsettling feeling of envy almost possessed you, but you pushed it aside.

“Woah, look at you,” you feigned appluase. “I always knew you were a ladies’ man, I just never got to see it in real time.”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker.” He regretted his word choice immediately, knowing full well he broke your heart.

You sidestepped his comment and forced the conversation forward, his comment stinging your open wound. “Seriously, Buck. I’m happy for you.” Once again, you stifled the urge to touch him. “You deserve to have some fun.”

He stared at you for a long moment, a genuine smile on his face. You were so sincere in your support of him, so unashamed of how deeply you cared. Sam was an incredible friend, of course- but you were his soulmate. He was tied to you with an unbreakable thread, unable to free himself even if he wanted to. And he wanted to. But not because he didn’t adore you; it was a simple matter of worthiness. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he still thought of you daily. Almost constantly. He missed you, pined over you, wished he could exist in your world. But he couldn’t- not yet. 

He shook the grin from his face and pulled his gaze down to his mug once again. “I’m um- I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Things have just gotten…” He cleared his throat, “I’ve been really busy.”

A scream scratched at your throat, but you forced it away with a bite of eggs and a swig of coffee. Of course, Bucky was busy. But he wasn’t the only one. It seemed that SWORD wanted to run you ragged. They were always assigning you extra operations and looking to you to solve problems. But even with the mountains of work, even in your sea of grief for Nat, you still managed to reach out to Bucky. You still called, still texted. 

But he clearly didn’t want to make the time for you.

“I totally understand,” you lied. “Shit has been crazy. Don’t worry about it.”

You worried about it every day.

Breakfast wrapped up all too soon. Bucky argued when you paid for his coffee, you hushed him with a promise to let him cover yours next time. And in the blink if an eye, you found yourself standing next to him on the sidewalk, praying he wouldn’t walk away.  

“I should really get going,” he said, taking a step away from you. “I have a meeting.”

“Cool, yeah,” you forced a smile, “this was great- I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

Bucky nodded, “yeah, me too.”

It seemed to you that Bucky couldn’t care less if he ever saw you again. He was disengaged, disinterested, inching ever farther away. He tried to be subtle about it, tried to slowly escape the interaction. But you caught his tiny steps in the opposite direction. His body remained closed off, the space between you growing with each long, awkward pause. 

But even so, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t let him walk away without knowing if this was the last time you’d see him. 

“We should do this again-” you sounded so needy, so anxious, but couldn’t find it in you to care, “but only if you want.” Never had you felt so pathetic. There you were, practically begging Bucky to signal that he gave a shit about you. 

But all he could muster was a nod. 

“Awesome,” you pulled out your phone. “Do you still have the same number?”

Again, he nodded. 

It killed you. All this time, you’d hoped that he got a new number and simply forgot to tell you. That your texts and calls went unanswered because he didn’t receive them. But he did, indeed, receive them. He just chose to ignore them.

With a swell of tears gathering behind your eyes, you sped through your goodbyes. You threw Bucky a hurried “great to see you, I’ll call soon” and quick smile before turning away and heading for a hiding spot, a concealed place to cry. The person you cared about more than anything, the person you adored, the person for whom you’d lay down your life, didn’t want you anymore. The bitter taste of rejection coated the inside of your mouth. And as you ducked into a bodega down the street, you feared you might get a second look at your breakfast.

You were gone too soon. Bucky wanted to call your name, to run after you. Even after months apart, he could still sus out when you were upset. He remembered your tells. Your dead giveaways. The way your jaw hardened against oncoming emotion. The tendency of your voice to grow thin and hollow as tears loomed on the horizon. 

He knew he hurt you. 

But he found himself stuck, his body defying the orders of his brain. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He could only stand there, helpless, watching as you disappeared. 

He knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with him after he abandoned you; he was surprised that you even acknowledged him on the street- let alone invited him to breakfast. And after the way he acted at the diner, he was shocked that you asked to see him again. 

The conversation you had replayed on a loop inside his head, and he kicked himself for being so closed off. So cold. He’d sullied your reunion so severely- it was almost aggressive. He was dismissive. Curt. And he lied to your face- multiple times. 

He was so happy to see you- he didn’t want you to think otherwise. But he didn’t expect to run into you like that. He didn’t expect to be near you for another few months, at least. He had a plan, and he was doing his best to follow it with as few setbacks as possible. If he kept his head down and pushed himself, he could get to the point where he could explain. He could tell you the truth and make you part of his life again if you even wanted anything to do with him. Though he wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

But running into you outside the motel wasn’t part of the blueprint. And he panicked.

He'd held you at arm’s length, never daring to get too close. He kept everything superficial. Surface level. It was the shallowest interaction he’d had with you to date. And it felt wrong. It didn’t fit who you were as people, who you were as friends. Your bond was never the skin deep, small talk type. No, you delved into one another’s deepest thoughts. Bared your souls. He’d never kept a secret from you- nor you him. But that was a different time.

Disappointed, Bucky unrooted his boots from the concrete and trudged off in the direction of his morning meeting. And while he did his best to focus, to participate, he could think of only you. The heartbreak in your eyes. The hurt in your voice. A wave of nausea barreled into him as he replayed the interaction again and again. You deserved better. And Bucky wished more than anything he that could be better. For you. 

But two nights later, your phone rang.

It was late- nearly midnight. You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, neck deep in your Vampire Diaries rewatch when your phone started to buzz. An unfamiliar number popped up on your screen, accompanied only by Siri’s suggestion of who might be calling.

‘Maybe: Kings County Jail’

You stared at it for three rings, wondering how someone from the jail got your number. And just as you were about to deny the call, something in your gut told you to answer it. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was divine intervention. Either way, you hit accept and held the phone up to your ear. 

“Um, hello?”

An automated message responded, “You are being contacted by a detainee at Kings County Jail. The detainee-” the recording paused, leaving space for someone to state their name.  Your favorite gruff voice followed, “Bucky-”

“-is trying to contact you. Do you accept the charges?”

A riptide coursed through your brain. Questions upon questions piled up, each one trying to escape your lips first. But you swallowed them for the time being. 

“Yeah- yes, I accept.”

The line connected, and Bucky’s soft “hey…” came through from the other end. “Thanks for picking up.”

“Buck? Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “Yeah, I’m- I’ve been better. But I’m fine. I was just wondering if,” he couldn’t believe he was doing this. “I was wondering if you could come bail me out?”

He gave no context, no reasoning, for his stint in the county jail. But you didn’t care. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Even after he ditched you and left radio silence in his wake, even after he practically ran from your reunion at the diner- you’d do anything for him. And there was no way in hell you’d ever just leave him there; you couldn’t. Bucky didn’t belong behind bars.

And so, you pulled yourself off the couch, found some shoes, and headed in his direction. 

The bail money didn’t matter to you. Sure, things were easier now that SWORD paid you the big bucks. But even if your account was running on empty, you’d sacrifice your last remaining cents to free Bucky. 

A guard led him down the hall by the arm and shoved him through the door. This wasn’t how he wanted you to see him. None of this fit into the plan he’d so carefully crafted all those months ago. But there you sat in the lobby of the police station, clad in your sweats, waiting for him. The shame nearly tore him apart from the inside out. 

But as he locked eyes with you across the room, he didn’t find the judgement or irritation that he expected. You should’ve been angry with him- why weren’t you angry with him? He’d called in a favor after abandoning you. He made you come down to the police station, made you pay his bail. You should’ve left him to rot in a jail cell. But you didn’t. Because you cared. Even after everything he did, you still cared about him. He wished you didn’t. He wished you’d scream at him in front of everyone- but you were too good for that. Too kind. 

He threw you a bashful wave, but averted his gaze when a warm smile crossed your face. He couldn’t quite stand the way your gracious expression made him feel. Why did you seem so happy to see him? Why weren’t you furious- or even a little frustrated? 

As he waited in line to gather his backpack and personal belongings from the desk, he hoped for something to prolong his time away from you. A clerical error. A massive stack of paperwork. What was he supposed to say to you? How was he supposed to explain this whole mess? He needed time to put his thoughts in order. To organize his lies. 

But, for the first time in history, a United States government agency did things efficiently and without error. And after only a few minutes, he made his way to your side. 

“Hey,” he granted you only a flash of eye contact before dragging his gaze to the floor. “Thanks for- thank you for coming to get me. And for paying my bail…”

You shrugged, “yeah, absolutely”.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear.” It was then he realized that he didn’t want you to be angry with him. Sure, you cursing him out in front of everyone would be easier. Less complicated. But he’d rather die than upset you again. 

“I know. I’m not worried about it,” you granted him another kind smile, “I trust you.”

It was a dagger to the heart. How- and why- did you still trust him? He’d excised you from his life without warning and left you in the cold; he wasn’t worthy of your trust. 

“Are you all good here?” you asked, “Should we get going?”

“Sure- yeah.”

The walk to the car was quiet; Bucky couldn’t bring himself to walk next to you. Existing in your sphere, being seen by you- it was too much for him. Too shameful. Even if he was only in your peripheral. And so, he opted to position himself a few paces behind you. In the safety of your shadow. 

He got settled in the passenger seat of your car as you turned the key in the ignition. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull out of your parking spot. Everything in you wanted to ask how he ended up in handcuffs. He wasn’t a troublemaker. He wasn’t violent. He wasn’t the type to make waves. Something bad must’ve happened- something out of his control.

But you knew it wasn’t your business. He clearly didn’t want you around anymore, didn’t want to clue you in on the details of his life. And you never liked to pry. 

As the seconds passed, however, your resolve crumbled. No matter what happened between the two of you, you’d always care about Bucky. You’d always worry about him. And your concern finally got the best of you.

Before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out of your mouth. “Are you okay?” you stared at him, anxiety brewing in your chest. “You don’t have to tell me what happened- I won’t force you- but I’m worried about you.”

He nodded, “I’m fine.” It wasn’t rude, but his tone didn’t invite further probing. 

With a sigh and an unconvinced “okay”, you put the car in drive and prepared to take Bucky home.

Your blinker clicked incessantly as you waited for a few cars to grant you a clear path. Bucky had ample time to give you directions, but he remained quiet. He didn’t offer up information of any kind, not even a neighborhood. It broke your heart that you didn’t know his address.

“Um, where do you live? Should I turn left or right?” 

You waited patiently for an answer that Bucky didn’t seem to have.

“Actually, do you mind if-” he flashed you an apologetic smile, “could we just drive around for a while?”

Maybe he had some residual adrenaline from being arrested. Maybe being in jail gave him flashbacks to his captivity under Hydra. Either way, you knew he wouldn’t have asked to go for a drive unless he really needed it. Part of you was surprised, though, that he’d willingly spend more time with you. That he’d choose to share a confined space with you. He was all too happy with removing you from his life, and practically sprinted through your reunion breakfast. But after so many months of missing him, you’d take whatever extra time you could get.

The drive was quiet, though it did seem to help Bucky relax some. His leg stopped bouncing; his shoulders loosened up. Being around you had that effect on him; it wasn’t something he could help. But as he mellowed out, the questions swirling around your brain only multiplied.

At a red light, you tested the waters. “Can I ask you something?”

Bucky nodded. 

“What happened tonight? How did you end up in jail?”

A litany of emotions ran across Bucky’s face. Frustration, worry, shame, and sadness tied his expression in a knot. Part of him wanted to lie. He could say it was a bar fight. He could make up an elaborate story and placate you for the rest of the ride. But you bailed him out. You answered his call and showed up for him when he needed you. You sat, clad in your pajamas, in the waiting area of a dirty police station. For him. He owed you the truth.

“I was arrested for sleeping in the park,” he said, his tone flat.

It wasn’t at all what you expected to hear. No answer formed on your lips. You couldn’t pull your eyes from his face. The words sunk in, burrowing their way through your flesh and plunging into your heart. 

“Um, it’s- the light is green,” he said, snapping you out of your trance.

You hit the gas and accelerated on autopilot. And as soon as you made it through the intersection, you pulled over. Bucky’s confession knocked the wind out of you and robbed you of your focus. And if he had more to say, you wanted to give him your undivided attention.

“Why are we stopping-”

“Buck, why were you sleeping in the park?”

Bucky let loose a deep sigh that seemed to come right from his soul. “Because I don’t have anywhere else to sleep,” he shrugged. “I ran out of money.” He was silent for a moment, wondering just how honest he should be. “I’m supposed to be getting some POW benefits from the government, but you know, bureaucracy is slow.”

“Oh, Buck…” After everything he suffered through under Hydra, after the way the US treated him upon his arrival home, the least his country could do was pay him back. Or provide him with a safe place to sleep. But, once again, they failed him.

“You know that motel you saw me at the other day? I wasn’t there for a hook up; I’ve been staying there-” He corrected himself, “Well, I’ve actually been staying at a few different motels. None of them are extended stay, so I can’t be there more than a few nights.” 

He noticed the way your eyes grew sad, the way your mouth fell open the slightest bit. Heartbreak was written all over your face. “Sorry to disappoint you, I know you hoped I was getting some strange with someone from Tinder,” he shot you a wink and flashed a smile your way. But you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

Bucky, of all people, deserved a comfortable home. Someplace warm. Permanent. Someplace he could call his own. Someplace he could feel safe. But, instead, life gave him the short end of the stick. Again. 

“Anyway, no matter how cheap those motels are, paying for them every night adds up, you know? So, now I’m broke,” a rush of heat flooded his cheeks. Admitting to his situation was so embarrassing, so shameful, he thought he might drown in it. He was a grown- overgrown- adult who didn’t even have a roof over his head. “I got a warning from the cops last night -and the night before- for sleeping in the park. But tonight was my third strike, so…” He shrugged, “they arrested me.”

“Jesus Christ, cause not having a place to live is criminal?” you scoffed, “This country is ridiculous.”

“Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying,” Bucky quickly added on. He didn’t want you to think he wasn’t working on it, that he was slacking, that we was complacent in his situation. “I tried for a long time to get an apartment, but I either didn’t have enough money for the deposit or I’d get turned away when they realized who I was. Though it’s not like I could ever make rent…” 

When he learned how much an apartment in Brooklyn cost these days, a suffocating sense of hopelessness swallowed him whole. He knew he’d never be able to afford the one place he ever really saw as home.

“And I tried a few shelters, but they wouldn’t take me, either.” He didn’t know a shelter could turn people away; experiencing it first-hand broke him. “So um, the motels were my only option.”

Sobs blocked your airway and burned the inside of your nose. Tears pooled along your inner lash line; you prayed to god Bucky wouldn’t see them. You could sense his shame, his embarrassment; the last thing he needed was you crying over his circumstances. 

“What um,” you fought to keep your voice steady. “What about Sam?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sam’s been helping me with all the stuff for my benefits and getting my record expunged- he’s been a godsend. And he’s offered to let me stay with him more times than I can count. He’s offered me money- he even snuck some cash into my jacket pocket the other day,” Bucky gave a soft laugh. “But I can’t take any more from him; he’s already done too much for me.”

“I get that…” You knew Sam would happily let Bucky crash. But Bucky wasn’t the type to impose. “Sam’s a good friend.”

“He’s the best. I’m gonna pay him- and you- back, either when my benefits come through or whenever I can get a job. Whichever comes first.” It was a promise, a verbal contract. He didn’t want you thinking he wasn’t good for it- even if he wasn’t good for it quite yet. He knew he would be someday. And as soon as he had the money, you and Sam would be his first priority. 

“I keep applying for jobs on the off chance that someone will cut me some slack, but until my record gets expunged, I’m fucked. Every place I’ve applied to has done a background check, and every time, my name is surrounded by red flags.” He let out a sigh, “I’m still a criminal.”

Your heart buckled. He wasn’t a criminal- he never should’ve been burdened with such a title. He didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t choose to be the Winter Soldier. But people didn’t care about the truth.

“What about SWORD?”

He shook his head, “They don’t want me. Hiring an ex-Hydra assassin doesn’t really work for their image. They’re trying to steer clear of the whole SHIELD thing…”

The two of you sat in silence for a long moment. Bucky hadn’t originally planned on laying everything so bare, he just couldn’t help himself. Opening up to you came naturally. But in the quiet, he felt naked. Exposed. He regretted spilling the details of his pathetic existence for you to see. 

But you’d never judge him. You simply wanted better for him. And wished he’d come to you when times got tough. 

The shards of your broken heart sliced through you with every breath. Imagining Bucky in rundown, roach infested motels or sleeping on an uncomfortable park bench on a cold night made you want to vomit. Waves of utter devastation crashed into you one after another, barely giving you enough time to breathe. But you couldn’t allow yourself to fall apart. Not when Bucky needed you.

When you finally steadied your breathing, you spoke. “Buck, can I ask- and I don’t mean this in an accusatory way,” you prefaced, “but why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I care what you think about me,” he said, almost automatically. “Your opinion of me is important.”

“Well, my opinion of you hasn’t changed now that I know what’s been going on…”

A smile fought its way to Bucky’s lips. Logically, he knew you didn’t think less of him now that you knew the truth. He knew you were too kind to look down on him. But his anxiety didn’t think logically. The smile lasted only a second, as his worries about your perception got the better of him. 

“My life is a disaster,” he said. “I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t have any money. I don’t have a place to live. It’s humiliating.” He ran his palms up and down the length of his thighs, fighting the nervous energy. “I wouldn’t have even called you to bail me out if Sam was in town; I didn’t want you to know about all this.” 

Without a word, you pulled back onto the road. 

Bucky eyed the surrounding street, “Um, where are we going?” 

“My place,” you kept your eyes on the road. “I’m taking you to my apartment.”

Panic bloomed in Bucky’s chest. “Oh, no, it’s- that’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.” A swell of anxiety barreled into him at the thought of you taking him home like a dirty, stray dog. He didn’t want to be a charity case or your good deed of the day. And as much as he would’ve loved to spend time in your home, he wished to do so under different circumstances. Circumstances that didn’t involve pity.

“You can really just drop me off anywhere-”

His words tore through you. “Buck, it’s late,” you cut a glance at him. “And it’s cold out. I’m not just leaving you on the side of the road somewhere. I-” you cleared your throat, “I care about you” 

Part of him wanted to open the door and jump from the moving car. Surely, it would be less humiliating. But the look on your face kept him from pulling the rip cord. Concern pulled your brows together. Worry made you bite at your lip. You genuinely cared about him, genuinely wanted to help. And though he could actually feel embarrassment seeping from his pores, he chose to stay. Because you caring about him trumped any and every other feeling.

“Okay, so, this is my place,” you said as you led Bucky though the front door of your apartment. You flicked on a few lights and kicked off your shoes, “make yourself at home.”

Bucky didn’t know how to do that anymore.

He stood stone still just inside the door, too overwhelmed and unsure to move. 

“Um, so, obviously, this is the kitchen- and that’s the living room,” you said, pointing to an area with a massive suede couch. “My bedroom and the guest room are down that hall, laundry is to the left, and guest bathroom is to the right, next to the office.” 

Bucky was impressed. The apartment was beautiful. You’d decorated to match your warm personality; it made him instantly comfortable. And it was nice- fancier than anything he could ever dream of affording. He was so proud of you. He knew you’d worked hard to get here, and seeing the fruits of your labor brought a smile to his face. He only wished he could’ve been a part of your journey. 

“This is really nice,” he said, taking a few more steps inside. “Is it all yours? Or do you have a roommate?”

“Nope, no roommate. Just me.”

Bucky’s brows lifted as he drank in the space. You paid for this place all on your own, no help from a roommate. He wondered what it felt like to be that stable, that secure. He never knew where he was sleeping from one night to the next, and you practically lived in a penthouse. 

“Um, we can sit, if you like,” you gestured toward the fancy couch, “it’s more comfortable than it looks, I promise.”

But Bucky didn’t go for it. “Actually, would you mind if I took a shower? I’m just- I feel pretty grimy from the motels. And the park. And the jail,” he felt his cheeks flush at the admission. He really was the filthy mutt you brought home from the pound. “I just don’t wanna sit on your couch when I’m gross like this.”

“Oh, sure. That’s- I totally get it. I should probably change my clothes, too.” 

With a wave of your hand, you gestured for Bucky to follow you to the bathroom. As you guided him through your apartment, he admired the art on your walls and the expensive rugs covering your floors. 

With a clearing of your throat, you gestured to the guest bathroom. “Everything you need should be in there but let me know if I can get you anything else. Can I throw your clothes in the laundry? I’ll wash whatever’s in your bag, too.”

Bucky gave you a strange look, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think you want me walking around here in a towel.”

You didn’t necessarily shy away from the idea, but this wasn’t the time for a suggestive response. “Okay, but- what are you gonna put on after you shower?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know. Whatever I have in my backpack.”

You eyed the bag slung over his shoulder and imagined the heap of clothes he’d balled up and shoved inside. “Are they clean?”

Bucky thought for a moment, “Define ‘clean’.”

“Buck,” you laughed,  “just let me put your stuff in the wash.” You gave his backpack a gentle swat and motioned for him to relinquish it to you.

“So, you do want me walking around in a towel,” Bucky quirked a brow at you. “I knew it.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, “just come with me.” 

Bucky did as he was told and followed you into your bedroom. It cloaked him in an instant warmth, a sense of home he hadn’t experienced in eighty years. The whole room seemed to glow with a cozy, welcoming aura. He wondered what it was like to fall asleep here every night, to wake here each morning. Well-loved books populated a large bookcase in the corner, an armchair sat near the window. Bucky could practically see you curled up on its large cushion, your nose buried in Pride and Prejudice. But a photo on the wall near your bed caught his eye. 

“Is that me?” He took a few steps inside your door and found his suspicion to be correct. 

It was a slightly out of focus candid shot of you and Bucky laying on the floor of the war room at the compound. Nat snapped it as the team talked through different strategies to bring everyone back from the blip. In the photo, you sported a massive smile, and had your face smushed against Bucky’s arm to stifle your laughter. Bucky’s eyes were squeezed shut, his metal hand covering his mouth. You were both exhausted, and loopy, enjoying a moment of levity amidst a sea of tragedy.

“That’s my favorite picture,” something about your words came off sad. And Bucky knew it was because of him. The joy, the closeness exhibited in the photo didn’t exist anymore. He’d stripped your friendship of everything warm and left you out in the cold. Alone. 

You made your way over to the dresser and fished around in the bottom drawer, “let’s find you something to wear.”

“Um, I don’t…” Bucky chuckled, “I’m not gonna fit into any of your clothes.”

You cut glance at him, “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you…” With a grand gesture, you unearthed a pair of sweatpants, “your clothes.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open. He stared at the pair of charcoal gray sweats he lent to you ages ago, the pair you loved, the pair he told you to keep. He didn’t say anything when you plopped them in his hands; he was too stunned to speak.

“And here’s this,” you said as you draped a faded blue ‘NYC’ t-shirt over his shoulder. He’d loaned you that shirt so many times back at the compound, you wore it more than he did. Eventually, he started putting it in your closet instead of his on laundry day.

“Now, give me your bag and I’ll throw your stuff in the wash.”

Bucky finally dragged his eyes from the pair of pants and furrowed his brow at you. “Why do you still have this stuff?”

Something in you grew nervous. Was he mad? Or did he think you were a creep for holding onto his things? Maybe it was too weird of a gesture. Maybe you should’ve let him hang around in a towel after all.

“Cause I like wearing it,” you said with trepidation in your voice. “Your clothes were always more comfortable than mine. And I-” you cut yourself off. Saying ‘I miss you’ was too much. Instead, you rerouted, “I like to wear oversized stuff.”

Bucky nodded and gave a quiet “right” before thanking you and heading for the bathroom. At your request, he left his bag in the hall. You scooped it up and dumped his clothes into the washer before doubling back to the bathroom, where Bucky had dropped his dirty jail-clothes outside the door. You changed out of your dirty clothes from the police station and threw them in the laundry with Bucky’s. It was the closest you’d been in months.

Bucky nearly teared up as the water sliced through the layer of grime coating his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a shower this hot. The motels always seemed to have faulty water heaters that only allowed for subzero temperatures. And at some of them, the water didn’t quite run clear. Sometimes, there was a brown tint. Other times, it was gray. And showers like those left only him feeling dirtier. 

But he didn’t want to think about the rust-eaten pipes of the decrepit motels in which he stayed. Instead, he basked in the nearly scalding water, the tiles that didn’t have moldy grout. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like a husk of himself, but a real person. All his time shuffling between park benches and rat-infested motels had stripped him of his personhood. And something as simple as a shower restored it. Though, deep down, he knew it wasn’t the incredible water pressure or the lavender body wash that had him feeling human again. It was you.

With the entirety of Bucky’s wardrobe in the washing machine, you paced lap after lap around the kitchen. Only a few days ago, you feared you’d never see Bucky again. And now, he was in your shower. After your chilly reunion at the diner, you couldn’t help but be mad at him, no matter how much you’d missed him. He was cool and aloof. He didn’t open up. And he didn’t seem at all interested in repairing your friendship.

But listening to him in the car laid almost every piece of the puzzle out before you. And though there were still gaps and empty spots, you nearly had the picture complete. Bucky didn’t ice you out because he hated you or didn’t want you anymore. He was simply too embarrassed to admit what he was going through. 

A sharp twinge of guilt needled at you. You shouldn’t have been mad at him after what happened at the diner. You shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions or assumed the worst. Bucky deserved better. You should’ve known in your heart that he was only pushing you away to protect himself. It was his nature; it always had been. You’d just been too hurt to see it.

“Your shower is unbelievable,” Bucky said as he padded into the kitchen, his hair still damp. “And those towels? They’re amaz-” A stack of Tupperware on the island caught his attention. “What’s all this?”

“Leftovers. I cooked dinner earlier tonight…” You shrugged, “I thought you might be hungry.”

He shifted his wide-eyed gaze from the food, forcing his eyes to land anywhere else. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m fine.”

You quirked a brow at him, “You’re not hungry?”

“No.” It was quiet but firm. 

“Really? Cause the Bucky I knew needed to eat like, six thousand calories a day.” Bucky’s insatiable hunger was a running joke between the two of you back then. He always finished your food when you couldn’t clear your plate, and snacked on anything he could get his hands on. On one occasion, he even fell asleep in your bed with his hand in bag of honey mustard pretzels. Hearing him refuse food was strange, almost alarming. “You always called yourself ‘Earth’s hungriest hero’”.

Bucky gave a small laugh, “yeah, damn super soldier serum will do that to your metabolism.”

You stared at him, “So…” 

“So?”

“So, do you want something to eat?” 

“No, really,” he shook his head, “I’m fine.” 

But you noticed the way his stare always returned to the stack of containers. Even after he’d pulled his focus from the food, his eyes found their way back. You sensed a longing in him, a deep desperation that left you gutted. Any jovial, lighthearted quality your words held fell to the wayside, making way for concern. 

“Buck, when’s the last time you ate?”

Bucky did his best to think back to his last meal but couldn’t find an answer. Part of him wanted to lie, to appease you with details of a made-up dinner from earlier that night. But he didn’t get the chance; his pause was too long for your liking. 

“Okay, if it’s taking you that long to remember, you need to eat.” It wasn’t an offer or a request, but an order. “Help yourself.”

But once again, he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to impose-”

“It’s not an imposition,” your words came out with an unexpected fierceness; it almost sounded like a scold. The idea, the mere suggestion that Bucky could impose on you was ridiculous. You took a breath and softened your tone, “I live alone, and every recipe is for more than one person. There’s plenty.”

Before Bucky could refuse again, you opened the Tupperware and allowed him a look at the fruits of your labor. “There’s roasted chicken with rosemary and thyme, garlic mashed potatoes, and maple-glazed brussels sprouts.” Bucky’s eyes lit up. You could practically see drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. 

A sense of satisfaction enveloped you, like you’d finally banished Bucky’s unnecessary fear of imposition. But just in case he wasn’t sure, just in case you hadn’t won him over, you threw one last piece of information his way. “Oh, and there’s chocolate chip cookies over there.”

Bucky was almost overwhelmed. He took in the beautiful spread and gave the cookies a long glance; it was almost too much. “Woah, you weren’t kidding…” He gave a small laugh, “this is a lot of food.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know how to cook for one.”

With that, you handed Bucky a plate and let him go to town. He filled his dish with chicken, mashed potatoes, and brussels sprouts. But the look on his face signaled more relief than joy, more solace than happiness. You wondered how long he’d been without food, how long he’d worried about where his next meal would come from. As he stood over those plastic containers, that anxiety vanished- for the most part.

A debate raged inside of Bucky’s head. He was famished, literally starving. And you’d given him full access to a massive meal. But he didn’t want to overdo it. He knew he shouldn’t empty your Tupperware and leave you with nothing; he just he didn’t know when he’d eat again. And he could practically feel his body digesting itself. 

Before he could tighten the reigns, though, you spoke up. “Seriously, Buck, don’t be shy. I can’t finish all of this- it’ll just go bad.”

He nearly broke down. For so long, he knew only wanting, only appetite, only emptiness. And you offered him a respite. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in…” Once again, his pause was too long; it crushed you. “Anyway, I really appreciate this.” He pulled his gaze from the food and gave you a long look filled with admiration. “And I’m impressed- I didn’t know you were such a culinary talent. I distinctly remember you burning ramen noodles to a blackened crisp more than once.”

The laugh that erupted from your chest filled the kitchen, “Well, I distinctly remember you eating my disgusting ramen without hesitation.”

Back when things were good between you and Bucky, you’d always volunteer to make dinner. Between strategy sessions and long, complicated meetings, the team simply forgot to eat. But you knew they needed nourishment to make defeating Thanos a realistic option. No one, however, wanted your charred ramen. Except for Bucky. He always accepted your offerings with a kind smile and a mountain of appreciation. He was grateful, no matter how awful it tasted, because it came from you.

“My therapist actually suggested I get into cooking,” you told Bucky as he popped his plate in the microwave. “I was really depressed and stopped caring about eating or taking care of myself. It felt pointless. But she told me some people find comfort in cooking. It’s almost meditative, you know? And if you focus on the recipe, you can’t think about all the um, the painful stuff.” 

Bucky knew he was ‘the painful stuff’.

“There was a bit of a learning curve, but now,” you shrugged, “I love it.”

“Oh, wow, that awesome. So you get some peace and a delicious meal? Sounds like a good deal.” He mulled it over, wishing he had a kitchen into which he could retreat. But the motels only ever had a microwave, and most of the time, it didn’t work.

“I had a therapist- well, a court appointed therapist,” he said, “she was the worst.”

You sighed. Why were things always so hard for him? Why did people treat him so terribly? 

“What was so terrible about her?”

“Honestly, I think she hated me,” defeat coated his words. “She was mean- I know that sounds childish, but I mean, the things she said were biting. They hurt. And she did it on purpose. I left every session feeling worse.” He thought back on his sessions with Dr. Raynor, on how she broke him down piece by piece until he was only a pile of ash. “She said I wasn’t a victim, and that I needed to take responsibly for the things I did and the choices I made.”

Anger surged inside your chest, “The choices you made?”

He nodded. “She was actually so terrible that I thought she worked for Hydra. I thought they were trying to get me back and that she was working undercover with them to manipulate me.” A small laugh broke free from his chest, “But she wasn’t. She’s just an asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, Buck…” You couldn’t imagine anyone being so awful, so hateful, toward Bucky. He was kind and warm. He showed people compassion and understanding. Why the world didn’t show him the same baffled you. “I hope you don’t see her anymore.”

He removed his plate from the microwave, “Oh, I don’t.” 

You sighed with relief, but it was a short-lived respite.

“I couldn’t afford to.”

He dove into his food before you could even usher him to the table. Between huge bites of potatoes and chicken, he praised your cooking. He swore on his life that this was some of the best food he’d ever had. It warmed your heart for a brief moment, but reality put a stop to the fuzzy feeling. Sure, you were a good cook. But you were certain than Bucky’s gushing compliments were the product of his empty stomach. He couldn’t even determine how long it had been since his last meal; of course, he was going to inhale his food with gusto and deem it ‘the best’.

It gnawed at you to see him like this. He laughed as you guided him to the table and settled into the seat across from him, but you didn’t match his lighthearted energy. He’d been struggling, suffering in silence without knowing where he’d get his next meal. For decades, Bucky knew nothing but pain. He was tortured, abused, treated like an animal. Hydra infected him like a parasite and devoured him from the inside out. They saddled him with PTSD and enough demons to fill even the deepest pits of hell. And after all that, life refused to give him a break. It killed you.

“I thought- correct me if I’m wrong, but- I thought court appointed therapy was paid for...” 

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Bucky said with a mouth full of brussels sprouts. “It depends on the situation”. He threw a shrug your way and speared a piece of chicken with his fork, but a thought stopped him from shoveling it into his mouth. “Even if my appointments were supposed to be covered, I don’t think anyone wanted to give me anything for free.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Only the sound of Bucky’s fork scraping his plate interrupted the blanket of quiet. But the stillness made him squirm. Suddenly, he piped up.

“So, I did the required amount of sessions with that therapist and promised myself I’d never go back. It was tough, but I made it work. I scraped by.” His gaze took on a hollow quality, “That’s when I started staying in the really shitty places. The ones with asbestos and mold. And there was this one place where the sheets were stained with what looked like blood.” He grimaced, “I haven’t been back there.”

You forced a laugh, “Good call.”

Bucky shifted his focus back to his plate; he’d sprinted through his meal, leaving only a few bites remaining. The flicker of a frown ghosted across his face. The food was gone too soon, replaced by an empty plate. He was tired of everything in his life being empty- his bank account, his stomach, his heart. But he didn’t dare let himself wallow in self-pity with you sitting mere inches away. Instead, he overcorrected with a large smile, hoping you hadn’t noticed the look of disappointment he wore just moments earlier. He’d rather die than appear ungrateful, even if his hunger pangs had already returned.

“You can help yourself to seconds, there’s more than enough,” you took a look at the containers still sitting on the counter. Even after he’d piled his plate high, not a dent was made. “You can have thirds, fourths- I don’t care.”

Bucky shook his head as he cleaned his plate, “No, that’s alright. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

It was an egregious lie; maybe the worst you’d ever heard. 

“Buck, I can practically hear your stomach rumbling from here.” You knew him. Even after all this time apart, you knew him. You knew he was still hungry, especially after having gone so long without eating. His metabolism burned through fuel at a massively accelerated pace; he needed the calories. “Please, have some more.”

Once again, he shook his head. “I’m okay, really,” he gave you a smile. “Plus, I don’t want you to think I’m a freeloader.”

His words struck you in a strange way. Bucky never used to worry about your perception of him. And you never thought twice about how he saw you. There was a mutual respect and sense of comfort that didn’t fall victim to judgement. You accepted each other without hesitation. But Bucky couldn’t find his sense of security. He shifted in his seat and averted his eyes every so often, fearful of your inner monologue.

“Why are you so worried about what I think?”

Confusion lifted Bucky’s brow, “what do you mean?”

“You just said that you don’t want me to think you’re a freeloader. And in the car earlier, you said you didn’t reach out and ask me for help because you care about what I think.” You shrugged, “I just want to know why my opinion matters so much to you.”

“Because you’re my friend,” his tone was sure, steadfast. “I’ve always cared about your opinion.”

“Yeah,” hearing him call you his friend eased some of the tension in your neck. “And I care about what you think of me, too, but- I was never worried about it.” A sudden thought popped into your head, “I mean, I’ve been worrying about it lately, cause it kinda seemed like you hated my guts for a while there, but…” 

Bucky stared down at his empty plate. He didn’t want you pulling at this thread, didn’t want you unraveling his thought process. He prayed you’d drop the whole thing and move on. 

You didn’t.

“Sam’s your friend, too. Don’t you care what he thinks?” You feared coming on too strong, but you needed answers. “He knows about what you’ve been going through. You let him help you. You didn’t-” you stopped yourself. 

Bucky gave you an expectant look, “I didn’t what?”

“You didn’t cut him off.”

Bucky’s face fell. You never meant to hurt him, to make him feel bad about pushing you away. No matter how badly he hurt you, you’d never throw it in his face- especially after you learned why he did it.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-”

 “No, don’t apologize,” a sad smile crossed his face. “You’re right.” He was quiet for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He planned on having this conversation with you someday, months from now. He didn’t have his script organized, didn’t know how to best express what he was feeling. Worry encapsulated him. What if he misspoke? What if he messed things up even worse?

“Things with Sam are different. He and I became friends because of Steve. We promised him we’d look out for each other.”

It sounded all too familiar. “You and I promised each other the same thing…” It was a pinky promise made on the living room floor of the compound. In the middle of the night, by the light of the fireplace, you swore to be there for one another come hell or high water. Never did you even consider breaking that covenant, that bond. You upheld your end of the bargain without issue. But Bucky fell short. 

He thought about that promise every night, berating himself for breaking it until he fell asleep. 

He sighed, “I know we did, but- that’s not the same thing. You and I became friends when everything fell apart. The entire universe was in chaos, everyone’s lives imploded.” He dragged his gaze downward, “You and I were on an even playing field back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back then, we were equals,” a faint smile flickered on his lips at the thought of those days he spent with you. They were dark, sure, but he remembered them fondly. Those were the days when he never left your side, the days when we woke up and fell asleep next to you. His favorite days. “We slept on the floor at the compound. We lived off ramen and red bull and worked around the clock to try and figure out how bring everyone back. We struggled. Together. But now…” He looked around your beautiful kitchen, “everything is okay again, and everyone has gone back to their lives. You’re doing well- really well. And I’m stillstruggling. I’m in almost the exact same position as I was back then.”

Words formed a traffic jam in your throat. Each new idea of how to comfort Bucky seemed too sappy, too corny. Just as a new phrase tried to exit your lips, you swallowed it. How were you supposed to make him feel better? How were you going to make any of this okay?

Bucky knew you were at a loss. He could see your desperate attempts to come up with a fix-it phrase for his situation, a way to assuage the way he felt. All you ever wanted was to make him feel better. “You have this great apartment and you’re working for SWORD. You found your way out. Meanwhile, I’m scrounging together any cash I can find to pay for a few nights in a rat-infested motel. Or I’m sleeping in the park- and getting arrested for it.”

He was going through a hard time- a really hard time. His life was in shambles and a new hardship greeted him at every turn. But you couldn’t make sense of his departure from your life. If anything, he should’ve grown closer to you, shouldn’t he? He should’ve leaned on you, asked you for help, sought comfort in your arms. 

“I guess I’m just- does that automatically mean we can’t be friends?”

Bucky’s humiliation piled on top of itself. It grew with each breath, with each passing moment. Admitting just how destitute he was, how utterly lacking- it destroyed him. “No, but- who wants to be friends with that guy? Who wants to hang out with the guy who can’t figure his shit out?” A strange mixture of frustration and melancholy dripped from his words. “I have nothing. And I’m just not- I can’t be your friend yet.”

His words hit you like a train. “We were already friends; you were my closest friend-”

“We were rock bottom friends,” his voice was low, hollow. “We were wartime friends.” It came out almost as a recitation, as thought this was something he told himself to justify his actions. 

You swore he made up that phrase right there in your kitchen. It seemed more like an excuse than an explanation. “What does that even mean?”

“A wartime friend, it’s- it’s the person you cling to when the world implodes. The person you’d never actually be friends with in real life, but you lean on them when life falls apart because they’re just- they’re there.”

The day you two met, Bucky found you crying in a supply closet at the compound. You were at the end of your rope, heartbroken over the loss of friends and family. Never had you experienced such an earth-shattering loss. You had no one- nothing. But Bucky was there for you. For a moment, you weren’t alone. You had someone. And he quickly became your favorite someone.

“People get desperate during wartime, you know?” Bucky continued, “They’ll befriend anyone if it brings them even a sliver of peace or comfort.”

“So, you thought-”

“I thought for sure that’s what you were doing.” 

Bucky stood from his chair. Anxiety ate away at him from the inside, leaving him unable to sit any longer. “I mean, you knew who I was. You knew I was a mentally ill, train wreck of a person. I figured we’d buddy up until the clouds parted- since neither of us had any other options- and then when things when back to normal, you’d find your real friends.”

He considered himself a consolation prize, a leftover. He didn’t know that, from the very beginning, you considered him a ‘real’ friend.

“But after knowing you for a few days, I wasn’t okay with that anymore,” his words came out hurried, almost frantic. “I wanted to be friends with you for real. I wanted you to want me around after we fixed everything. But I knew there was no way you’d want me as a friend outside of the shitstorm.” 

The realization played out across his face in real time. You watched happiness turn to disappointment, to despair, to desperation. 

“So, I just resigned myself to enjoy our time while it lasted. I knew it was all the friendship I could ever hope to get from you-” A shy smile pulled at his lips, “though, I was lucky to be close to you for any measure of time.” 

The smile faded, “but then when it was all over, and things went back to normal, you kept reaching out. You kept trying to get in touch with me and I- I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t make sense of it-” 

You gave a small shake of your head, “I missed you. I needed you. I just wanted to see you…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to react. I panicked.” The nervous energy left Bucky’s buddy all at once. He slid into his chair and let his spine rest heavy against the wood. A sense of dejection befell him like and angry, icy sleet. “I didn’t want you to see me struggle in real life. I didn’t want you to see how much my actual life resembled the disaster we’d been living in. Cause when you look at my situation in the cold light of day it’s…” he swallowed the urge to hide from his humiliation. “It’s ugly. There’s no romanticizing what I’m dealing with.”

“I know you’re going through a lot right now.” For the first time in almost a year, you reached across the table for his hand. And for the first time in almost a year, he let you. “But Buck, you are not the only person struggling. I know it feels that way, but there are still so many people trying to get their lives on track after the blip- I’m still trying to get my head right. No one has a perfect life.”

Bucky gave a gentle scoff, “I know, but yours is a lot closer to perfect than mine.”

Again, you found yourself at a loss. No pep talk, no encouraging words, could make Bucky feel better about his situation. And nothing you could say had the power to fix how he felt about the state of his life. Instead of speaking, you opted to wrap his hand in both of yours the way you used to. You only hoped it would comfort him like the old days.

After a while, Bucky spoke again, “I just wanted to get my life together before I saw you again. You know? Cause my situation right now is embarrassing. I was afraid to admit the truth of my reality.”

You nodded, “And that’s why-”

“That’s why I was so weird when we ran into each other the other day,” he confirmed. He cringed at the way he acted, the way he treated you. It was all wrong. “I knew you saw me leave the motel. I knew I couldn’t pay for a meal at that diner. I was afraid that, as we spent more time together, you’d put the puzzle pieces in place and figure out that I’m a mess.”

His sense of frantic desperation reclaimed him all at once. He leaned forward and captured your hands in his own as his gaze bore into yours. “I never wanted to cut you out of my life- you have to know that. I need you to know that.” 

Tears formed along your lash line, creating a haze around your vision. “I know.”

“I just needed time,” he said. “I needed time to prove that I’m not a loser, that I’m good enough- I just wanted to be good enough for you.”

“Buck, you didn’t have to prove anything to me. And what do you mean you needed to be good enough? I’ve only ever wanted you to be yourself...” It was the most certain, the surest you’d ever been of anything. Bucky was exactly enough. He was himself, and that was all you could ever ask.

“And hey, I bailed you out of jail tonight without having any idea what you did- I didn’t even ask. I didn’t care. I was going to be there for you, regardless. Because I care about you.”

The storm clouds in his eyes parted. He hadn’t even thought about that, about how you paid for his release without context. If ever he doubted how you felt about him, that gesture was enough to set him straight.

He bowed his head a moment, thanking his lucky stars for your gracious nature. “I know you care about me. And I’m so sorry I abandoned you like that- I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know what to do…”

“It’s okay,” you sniffled. 

Bucky freed your hands for a moment, allowing you to wipe the tears flowing down your cheeks. He recaptured them as soon as he could, even if your knuckles were still damp. 

“Well, it’s not okay- like, don’t do it again,” you joked. “But I understand now why you felt the way you felt. And you understand that I want you in my life, full stop. Right?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I get that now.”

With the deepest sigh of relief you could muster, you banished the feeling of abandonment Bucky with which Bucky saddled you. You shed your fears, your worries. The deep pit that formed in your stomach all those months ago closed, the prickling anxiety in your chest faded away. And for the first time in long time, you breathed easy.

“Just so you know- and I don’t wanna hear any complaints or refusals on this-” you gave Bucky a look, prompting him to nod in agreement. “You have to have at least one more plate of food.”

A rebuttal brewed beneath Bucky’s surface, his fear of imposing rearing its ugly head. He’d already called in a massive favor, had you pay his bail, used your shower, and eaten your food. The anxiety of overstepping vibrated inside his skull. But he kept his promise and nodded in agreement. 

“And-”

“And?” he gave you an exasperated look. 

You gave a firm nod, “Yes, there’s an ‘and’!” 

Bucky sighed out a tired laugh, “What more could there be?” A sudden darkness eclipsed his expression. His smile fell, his laugh halted. Anxiety had him by the throat. His snaked his hands away from yours and tightened them into tight fists. “I already feel like I’m taking advantage…”

“You’re not. I promise.” All at once, you were fed up with sitting across from him. You needed to be closer, as close as possible. Bucky needed to feel your sincerity, to hear your words loud and clear. In a flash, you gave up your seat across the table for the one right next to him. “You can’t impose or take advantage- not here. Because…”

Bucky eyed you with a nervous glance, “because?”

“Because… you live here now!” A victorious laugh fluttered out of your throat, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Shock overtook Bucky’s expression. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. His heart raced, his hand shook. All color drained from his face. “No, I can’t- that’s too nice…” He stared at you, “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Dead serious. This is your home now, too.” Suddenly, you felt the need to clarify. “But only if you want. This isn’t like, a hostage situation or anything.”

Bucky’s head fell back in a loud laugh that nearly brought tears to your eyes. He hadn’t felt this carefree, this at peace, in a very long time. He didn’t remember the last time he laughed this way. 

“Well, that is a relief,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d love to live here with you, I’d be- I’m so…” Suddenly, his hands found yours. He squeezed your fingers until your pulse throbbed against your skin. His anxiety practically seeped into your bones. “But I swear, I’m not gonna stop looking for a job or trying to get my benefits. I promise. I’m not gonna sit around like a deadbeat and mooch off you-”

“Buck, don’t worry about that right now, okay?” 

He shook his head, “And I won’t stay here too long, I’ll-”

“Hey,” With great effort, you pulled your hands from his and places your palms against his cheeks. “There’s no move out date. There’s no ticking clock. You’re allowed to live here as long as you want- I want you here.” You shot him a smile, “Plus, I’ve missed you- a lot. So this arrangement is good for me, too.”

A swirling cloud of worry hovered above Bucky’s head. He was overwhelmed, you could tell. He tensed his jaw, his shoulders. His every muscle went rigid. “But are you sure? This is generous- it’s too generous.”

“I’m sure. Here-” You stood from your chair and gestured for him to do the same, “I thought you might need this.”

With that, you enveloped him in a tight hug. Back at the compound, a hug from you could solve any and every problem for Bucky. And his embrace did the same for you. There was something so warm, so welcoming about the arms of the other. It was salvation, it was solace. It was home. Without a place to live, Bucky could survive. But without you, without his home, he’d been lost. As he wrapped his arms around you, though, his entire world changed. And the severed soul tie you feared would never heal grew back once again, stronger than ever.

-----------------------------------------

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality  @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony  @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl  @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie  @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine  @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather  @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

#bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #fatws bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x avenger!reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

always you

wanted to wish @rozzieroos a very happy birthday! you've been so supportive of me since the beginning and it makes a world of difference to someone who is always just a bit nervous to share the things they write. i am unfortunately not a very crafty bitch, so i can't return the friendship bracelet favor right now, but i hope this is a nice little sappy gift for ya! sending you big hugs and all my love 💕 - mickala

rated t | 1,324 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, the most miniscule hurt and almost entirely comfort, boys in love, side platonic stobin stuff but robin isn't technically there

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Steve always had an adrenaline crash after a visit from Robin. The first time it happened, Eddie was convinced they would have to move to Boston just so Steve could get out of the funk. Luckily, they figured out what to do after a couple of days.

And every time it's happened since, they manage to get him out of it pretty quickly.

But this time seemed worse, and Eddie wasn't sure why.

As far as he could tell, everything about the visit was normal. Robin came for a long weekend, they all went to dinner together the first night, Eddie had to work on Saturday so Steve and Robin had their fun together. Sunday, they all went to brunch together before dropping her off at the airport.

And Steve was fine! That evening he was cooking dinner and dancing to music while Eddie wrote some notes for a campaign he was running with work buddies. They ate together and Eddie did the dishes while Steve went through his nightly routine of locking up.

They even gave each other blowjobs in the shower.

But this morning, as soon as Eddie opened his eyes and smelled the bleach, he knew it was bad.

He sat up and looked out the open bedroom door.

"Fuck."

He got up quickly, throwing on the closest pair of pants he could find, probably Steve's since they felt baggier than his own, and made his way down the hall to the bathroom.

Steve was on his knees, scrubbing the shower like it personally offended him.

"Hey sweetheart, everything okay?" He asked hesitantly.

"Fine," Steve answered, clearly very far from fine.

Eddie sighed and sat on the closed toilet lid. "Stevie, it's okay if you wanna have a sad day. I know it's hard when Robin goes back home. I'm off today so we can just relax in bed if you want."

Eddie would never tell Steve that the reason he was off was because as soon as he knew when Robin was going back home, he'd requested the day off to be here for Steve.

"I don't need a sad day. I'm fine."

"Yeah, that's why you've scrubbed the shower until it's literally sparkling at way too early in the morning," Eddie reached out and covered his shoulder. "It's okay to miss her. I know it's hard."

Steve stopped scrubbing.

Eddie prepared for what was likely to be a very ugly and loud sob.

Steve turned to him with his lips quivering and eyes watery.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie said as he got on the floor with Steve and pulled him into his lap. "It's gonna be alright. We're gonna visit her next month, remember?"

"I know," Steve said against his shoulder, voice wobbling like he was still holding back tears. "I just don't wanna keep doing this."

"What?"

"I hate being so far from her. We were supposed to live close enough to see each other every weekend and have sleepovers and now she's in Boston with her girlfriend who is amazing, and I'm here with you and you're amazing, but I miss her. And I know she misses me." Eddie could feel tears soaking his shirt. "And it's stupid that we're so codependent still, and I feel bad that you probably feel like you're not enough."

"Sweetheart, I don't ever feel that way. I've never felt that way. Have I made you feel like I feel that way?" Eddie tightened his grip around Steve.

"No, not really," Steve shrugged. "It's just I know we're a lot. And I know it sometimes probably seems like I need her more than I need you, but I don't."

"Sweetheart, I know that." Eddie kissed the top of his head and smiled. "You're a package deal. I knew that the moment you kissed me in the hospital room. I was getting Steve and his platonic soulmate Robin, or I wasn't getting Steve at all. I know how important she is to you. Don't you think she's important to me too?"

"I guess," Steve shrugged again, sniffling against Eddie's shirt.

"Well, how could she not be? She helped make sure you stayed safe before I was there to protect you. She knows exactly what to do when you have nightmares, taught me everything she could so I could be there for you. She sends me tapes she thinks I'll like when she sends you care packages. She was the second person I ever came out to! "

"Wait, I thought I was the second person you came out to."

"You were the third. She was a practice run when I saw her staring at the young nurse who checked my vitals the day I woke up. She's the one who told me I should tell you," Eddie nudged him away for a moment so he could look down at him. "I wouldn't be on this floor with you five years later if not for her. She's kinda important to me."

"I just hate that I get like this!" Steve finally said. "I hate that this happens every time. It's not fair to you."

"Love, it's okay. I know how to help." Eddie kissed his forehead. "Go ahead and wash your hands and go get back in bed. I'm gonna grab a book and we're gonna cuddle for a bit."

"But-"

"And then!" Eddie continued, louder. "We'll get pizza delivered for lunch even though we shouldn't. We'll call Robin. We'll take a bath. I'll wash your hair. I'll make us that roasted chicken stuff you like for dinner. It'll be perfect."

"Okay."

"And then-"

"There's more?" Eddie could hear the smirk in Steve's voice even though he'd buried his face against his neck again.

"Of course there's more." Eddie poked his side. "And then we're gonna start talking about moving closer to Boston so we can visit her more than three times a year."

"Eds, we can't afford Boston."

"I know. But we can afford New England if we find the right spots. We'll have her send us some ads for places for rent. I can transfer within the company. You're a teacher, you can work anywhere."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is so easy. Making you happy is the easiest thing I'll ever do."

"But you have to be happy too."

"I will be. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I'll still have you. And let's be honest, it's way more likely that one of the New England states is gonna let us get married before fucking Illinois."

Steve chuckled. "Married? Who said anything about getting married?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention? I planned on spending the rest of my life with you."

"I know that, goofball." Steve let out another genuine laugh. "I just didn't think you'd ever wanna actually get the law involved if they ever let us."

"Steven, I don't involve the law, the law involves me."

"I don't think that's how it works, babe," Steve kissed his neck before pulling away. "I think all that sounds nice though."

"Then hop to it, Harrington! We've got a bed to get back into."

Once they settled in their bed, Steve curled into Eddie's side while he opened the book they'd been reading for a week now, he looked up at Eddie with a soft smile.

"I love you a lot, you know?"

"I know, angel. I love you a lot more," Eddie replied, leaning down to kiss his lips softly.

They'd spend the day exactly as Eddie said they would.

They'd find a place only two hours from Robin and move less than a month later.

They'd get married as soon as it was legal for them to do it.

They rescued a dog.

They even adopted twins.

And every single time Steve wanted to see Robin, they packed up the car and went to visit her.

Because Steve had Eddie, and Eddie had Steve, but they both had Robin.

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #idk i just think we should appreciate robin's place in THEIR relationship more #like you're tellin me she doesn't latch onto eddie too??? #you're tellin me eddie and robin aren't thick as thieves??? #please

[powderblueblood]

Ooooh lacy falls asleep watching a movie with eddie and he hears her having a sex dream

an: LMAO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!! alright MINORS DNI i have no problem sending swarms of bees to your houses and also warning for somnophilia (kinda) and hands free ejaculation

first of all, who the hell falls asleep during the warriors?!

the gramercy riffs have just dedicated 'nowhere to run' by arnold mcculler to the warriors and shit is about to go down and your head is bobbing forward on eddie's worn-out couch.

he rolls his eyes at you-- really? "hey." a finger jabs at your knee from the opposite sagging end of the couch. "wakey-wakey. it's just about to get good over here."

"mm-- i'm awake!" you jump, but your eyes barely flicker back open, lashes all heavy and voice all loopy.

"tough day at the office?"

"you would not believe." he watches you struggle to muffle a yawn and pinch your cheeks to liven yourself up. "christmas returns. you remember all those old men that kept coming in and buying copies of the joy of sex?"

eddie guffaws lightly. "uh-huh."

"well, today i met their wives."

eddie mouths a little 'oh no!' and you chorus back 'oh yeah!' and even then, with your cheek shoved against the heel of your hand, he can see you're struggling for consciousness.

"lie down," he tells you. your brow furrows, because you're always more stubborn than tired.

"but the movie--" "fuck the movie. well, no, it's a great movie but just-- take a load off."

you sit up a touch straighter and eddie's about to give you shit about always being such a little pushback. but then you decide, "okay. just for a sec."

what he doesn't expect is for your head to land in his lap.

i mean, couches, opposite ends, you could have cozied yourself up against the slouching arm, but no. you decided to stretch yourself forward and settle with your head basically in his crotch. facing the ceiling. facing him.

eddie's breath shallows as you look up at him, your expression the closest thing to peaceful he's maybe ever seen you. you don't even have that little hitch between your eyebrows you sport like a uniform. looks like that night in his trailer, when he hid you away in his bedroom, which-- look, memory lane is not on the agenda for tonight.

"do me a favor?" you say, and your voice is this cracked little purr.

your hand blindly tugs at his, resting it on the crown of your head. oh. right. that hair petting thing. that thing he gets you to do when you're not being such a pill or he's worn you out from being such a pill. you're so nice with your fingers, see, pressing them against his scalp in a way that makes his whole body shiver. scratching a little sometimes-- a little too harsh sometimes, which makes him cringe away. but not because it hurts. because it... does other things.

eddie sighs, like it's really putting him out, like you do, and slides his fingers into your hair. but that's nothing compared to the sigh you let out.

fuck you. how can one little puff of air make him want to flip you over and mount you?

but he's trying to be normal about this-- he's trying so hard, because you're friends, right?

he doesn't think before he says it. "that feel good?"

"mm-hm," you mumble, hand sliding across your stomach, tucking under your breasts, getting comfortable. "mm-hm... careful of your rings, though."

"i'll be... i'll be careful."

"thanks, eddie." your fingers rise to brush against his tummy, some physical acknowledgement of gratitude that he's sure you mean as like, a nudge on the shoulder or a slap on the back or a high five or a fist bump but it sure as fuck doesn't feel like that.

especially when your fingers stay there, suspended in position as you've fallen asleep almost instantly. like stick a fork in you, you're done.

which is a relief. because less movement from you means less focus on you, which means eddie can pretend to watch the movie and pray away the halfsie that is nestled at the back of your skull.

problem is, you're awfully hard to stop looking at.

as your breathing deepens, his fingers slow and he just... watches you. the ascent and descent of your chest. the soft flicker behind your eyelids. the way your mouth parts ever-so-slightly. you're exhausted, but you're relaxed and he-- alright, fucking shoot him, he feels a little responsible for that? a little proud, okay? you're never relaxed. you're so high strung and sharp, but the edges of that seem to dull around him a touch. especially on nights like these.

eddie finally deludes himself into chilling out enough to tune back into the warriors, and then you make a sound.

it's a soft one, but enough to pucker your lips out of shape.

"ohmm."

eddie freezes, jaw winching. your fingers flick involuntarily against his stomach-- a twitch. a very dangerous twitch.

you make another noise and fuck him, if it doesn't sound like the first delicious note of a whimper. oh god.

and his fingers are still tangled in your hair. ruffling a little, breathing out heavily through his nose, he goes, "lace-- lacy," but it's zero response from you. just a hitch in those eyebrows.

and so lazily, so feline, he feels you sleepily nudge into his touch. if he didn't know any better (he doesn't, for the record, he's never known anything in his life other than this moment, if you really want to know), he'd think that was a sign to... keep going.

digits move against your scalp and he watches, unblinking, as your lips part. a sigh flies out, and not the kind you make when you're fed up with him, not the kind you make when you get a less-than-perfect grade or snag your tights or have a headache... not that kind.

different. sweet. the way he though you might sound, once all those defenses were smashed down. how much is it to rent a bulldozer.

his dumbass, age-old pajama pants are tightening by the second and they don't hide a fuckin' thing. how are you not feeling this.

well, whether you are or you aren't, he's still moving his fingers through your hair and you seem to like that and he's so, so happy, like he's so, so stoked but-- watching the breath hitch in your chest, watching the way your tits kind of slope out of the neckline of your shirt, watching goosebumps flash across your skin.

jesus christ, he can see your nipples through that thin little top you're wearing. tight and pointed, an illusion through the slinky cotton and binding of your bra.

eddie's teeth tighten into his bottom lip, his free hand gripping the back of the couch. this symphony of quiet, broken sounds coming out of you is a full extended play in and of itself, and he wants you on repeat. forever.

your hips lift the tiniest fraction. your fingers, still curled up by his belly, stretch and catch at his t-shirt.

"oh, fuck," eddie breathes, hoping he's quiet enough.

he's doing everything, and he means everything, not to move his hips even one iota even though his cock is crying out-- crying out for you, for your hands, for your mouth, for the crook of your fucking arm, anything so long as it's you.

"mmnm," you mumble, completely unaware, thighs rubbing off one another.

aching. dashing a wet spot right under your pretty, brilliant, terrifying, pretty head.

oh, fucking wake up-- feel me-- but don't, because what if the illusion shatters, what if the bubble bursts, what if you see him for the filthy fucking pervert that he is, getting off on watching you sleep. stroking your hair, making you make those noises-- the fucking sounds coming from those pouted, pillowy lips of yours.

he throbs, and your other hand jerks up to your chest, and his thumb strokes the right side of your skull and you moan. full-bodied. almost real.

it's so dangerous. he wants to turn you over and plunge his cock past your smartass mouth and weaken immediately because you're you and he's him and he will end up begging you to let him gloss your lips with his cum.

too much! way too much! eddie has to bite down on the shoulder of his own shirt as his body tenses, his balls tighten, his vision blacks out--

his eyes squeeze shut, hand freezing on your head. moisture spreads like guilt across his conscience.

fuck. fuck. fuckfuckfuck!

eddie's eyes snap open and he doesn't waste a second of time. he grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you up and away from him.

"wmwhatthefuck--" "--gotta piss. move."

but he sorely underestimates just how dizzy he's going to be when he stands up. he stumbles to the bathroom like keith richards getting off a ride at six flags.

"eddie?" you huskily mumble after him, and he's like, ready to kill you. ready to kill you. ready to give you a home lobotomy so you never say his name all needy and crackly and lovely like that ever again.

when he eventually slinks back, different pants on this time, you give them a pointed look. you're all criss-cross applesauce on the couch and he, like, fucking hates you and wants to carry you to his bedroom bridal style and tear off your panties in a single mouthful.

"costume change?" you ask.

"you snore like a coal miner, you know that?"

eddie's never wanted to fuck a coal miner before.

#powder room talk #deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth #hai brainrot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #so anyway i'm gonna eat some soup #l. doevski by powder

[pretty-red-garnet]

Never Leaving

Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader • Farm • Fluff

Thank you so much to the anon who requested this! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

When Daryl had left early this morning, he'd promised he'd be back before sunset. You were a worrier, always had been, so he tried to reassure you. But now that the sun was just beginning to dip under the trees, you're staring to get a little worried.

     You and Daryl had been close ever since the quarry. He had found you after all, and you wholeheartedly believe you'd be dead if he didn't. You had just fled from your town being overrun and were totally out of sorts. But he had found you, gave you a little bit of his squirrel meat he had and took you back to his camp at the quarry. That was maybe three months ago now, but who can tell time nowadays?

Daryl was definitely your best friend. Sure, he could get angry and he snapped more often than not, but there was a warm heart under all that rough exterior. You knew now more than ever, with him going out every day looking for that missing little girl. Where he was now.

He wasn't always your closest friend, though. When you first met him, he was always snipe and rude. But he was just so damn interesting, and smart. You always bugged and prodded at him, and after a while, he didn't seem to mind. He even began to seek you out when you seemed just a little too quiet. He had gotten chewed out by Merle for that, for being 'too soft,' or whatever bullshit he managed to stew up.

But now, despite Merle's comments, you two were attached at the hip. Rarely one without the other. You just got Daryl. You understood him, how he didn't really mean his rude remarks or when he just needed to be left alone for a moment. Or when he needed to just be told to shut the hell up. He'd been shocked the first time you told him to, and you still have to laugh to yourself when you think about the face he made when you finally snapped back at him.

You're just Daryl's person, and he's yours. You understand each other on a deeper level than either of you have ever had before. If you're honest with yourself, sometimes you lie awake at night thinking of what it would be like to be even more to each other. Be each other's person in every possible way.

And now that he's been gone all day— when he promised he'd be back quicker than usual because he took a horse— you're panicking a bit.

What if he got bit? Or some other people hurt him? Where the hell is he?

"Rick, I'm going out," you say sternly. The sheriff looked at you confused.

"It's gonna be dark soon, you can't go out now." You huffed.

"Daryl still isn't back. Something could've happened, so I'm going to look for him." Rick shakes his head.

"You and I both know Daryl is probably the most capable one of us all out there," Rick says, reassuringly. You shake your head and your brows furrow. "If he's not back by morning, I'll go with you, alright?"

"No, not alright," you say with anger. "He shouldn't be out there all night. What if he got hurt? What if it was you, Rick, would you want us to leave you out there because we think you can handle yourself good enough?"

"Y/N, listen," Rick says and pulls you away from the tents where everyone is gathered. "I got enough to worry about already. I can't be worried about you wandering off in the woods alone at night, too. So just do me a favor and stay put."

Rick looks at you with a pleading look. You'd probably be more guilty of asking another thing of him on top of everything else if your stomach wasn't doing somersaults over Daryl. Still, you nod anyway with a sigh, and he looks relieved.

"I promise you, morning comes and he's still out there, I'll go with you." You nod again and give him a small smile. Rick pats your shoulder with a smile in return before waking back to everyone else. You cast one last look at the group before sneaking off to the stables. Maybe you could sneak one out of there and go alone.

     There's a horse there that's already saddled up. She looks agitated and stressed, pacing around and huffing air through her nose, occasionally lifting a hoof to bang it on the ground.

     You walk up carefully and put a hand on her nose. She exhales roughly, but seems to calm at your touches. You're confused as to why she's already set to go, before you realize and your eyes widen.

This is Daryl's horse.

     She came back without him. Why? Where is he? You rush her back to her stable and close the gate. You had to go now. Forget Rick looking in the morning, and never mind setting up a horse, Daryl needs help now. He could be hurt out there.

     You bolt out of the stables and look towards the tents. Most of your group is still gathered over there. You couldn't go to your tent and grab anything, forget going to get a gun, they wouldn't let you go. You just have to hope your knife attached to your hip will be enough. Luckily, Daryl had taught you how to kill walkers with just a knife, along with some self defense.

     You sneak off the farm and into the woods in the vague direction you saw Daryl go in that morning. You aren't the best tracker, but you knew the basics. Daryl had taught you that too after you'd annoyed him too much with your begging.

     You could see some spots where leaves where moved, but you didn't quite know if it was Daryl. It looked like it could be horse tracks, seeing as it was multiple prints right in front of the other, but you aren't totally sure. It was the best you had for now.

     You followed, nervously walking amongst the tall trees. You kept your feet light and quiet, following the tracks you could make out. After a while of walking, the tracks seem strange. There's a weird shuffle in the leaves next to a ravine. Then the tracks are on top of each other like the horse backtracked.

Weird. You walk some more, but now there's no tracks to follow. You aimlessly wander for another minute, looking around for any sight of the hunter.

     You grab a tree and lean over to look down the ravine. It dips down into a creek, but no sign of Daryl. You sigh and are about to keep moving when you hear heavy panting. You look around trying to find the source, before walking in the direction you hear it come from.

     "You best shut the hell up!" That's Daryl! You rush towards his voice and find him struggling to get up the cliff. He's panting and his face is smeared with blood.

"Daryl!" You yelp at the sight of him. He looks at you with wild eyes, covered in blood, and has walker ears around his neck. You would've been scared if it was anybody else.

You drop to your knees and reach down to grab his hand. You pull him up at hard as you could, and eventually, he drops down next to you. You take a deep breath and sit next to him.

"Are you ok? What happened?" You ask. His tank top was blood soaked and had a scraps of his flannel binding what you can only assume is a bad wound. He lays on his back, breathing heavily and doesn't answer. "Daryl?"

"Damn horse threw me off," he says, finally, unfocused eyes looking in your direction. "Fell down the cliff. Twice."

"Twice?" Daryl shrugs.

"Fell on my own bolt, too," Daryl says and motions to his wound. Your eyes widen and you immediately go to look at him. He flinches when you touch his stomach to move the binding.

"Can I look?" You ask, taking your hand off him. He nods, but he's looking at you with a careful expression. You pull the fabric away to see a clean shot, completely through his side. You grimace and gently put the fabric back over it. You tighten it a little and Daryl lets out a strangled groan, his eyes falling back a little. "I know, I'm sorry. We have to keep it tight, though."

You stand and reach a hand towards Daryl, who grabs it and stands. He stands unsteadily and sways. You put your hands on his shoulder and back to try and keep him upright.

"Good?" You ask. He nods, and the two of you begin the walk back to the farm.

Daryl holds up pretty well. Much better than you would've if you were in his position. The pace is slow and Daryl has resorted to dragging his crossbow on the ground by the strap.

"I could carry that, you know." Daryl shrugs.

"I got it," he says. You roll your eyes.

"You really will never trust me with your precious baby, will you?" He snorts and his mouth quirks in a smile, but he doesn't confirm nor deny. "I'll get my hands on it one day."

Daryl wouldn't let you help him walk at all, too nervous that he'd fall and take you down with him. So he stumbled his way back to the farm by himself, in more pain than he let on. Occasionally he'd let out a small, pained sigh, but would just say that he's fine and that you worry too much when you'd look at him.

     "I'll run ahead and let Hershel know your hurt," you said, once you finally exited the trees and entered the paddock of the farm. Daryl was lagging behind you, and you wanted to make sure Hershel was ready for him when he finally made it to the house.

     "Mhm," Daryl hummed. His brows were furrowed in a pained wince, worrying you even further. "'M fine, go on ahead."

     You nod and turn away from him, jogging slightly to the house. You'd send Rick to Daryl, he'll make sure he gets to the house. Daryl is too stubborn to let you help him, hopefully Rick could.

     "Walker!" Andrea shouts from the top of the RV once you get a little closer to your group's set up. "It's following Y/N!"

What? You turn around to no walker in sight you could just barely see Daryl staggering his way to the house. Honestly, from this far, Daryl looks like he could be a... uh oh.

     Before you could get a word in, Shane, Rick, T-Dog and Glenn fly by you with weapons in hand. You can see Andrea has that damn rifle firmly pointed in Daryl's direction. Your heart drops to your stomach in panic.

     "No! Wait!" You rush to run towards them. "It's Daryl!" By the time you make it to them, everyone is breathing heavily.

     "Third time you pointed that thing at my head," Daryl says, annoyed. "You gonna pull the trigger, or what?"

     Before anyone can say anything else, a loud gunshot rings out, and Daryl drops to the ground. Your stomach twists and your eyes widen, Andrea fucking shot him.

    "Oh my God!" You screech and drop beside him. "Daryl?"

     "I was kidding," Daryl says before falling unconscious. The bullet grazed his head, leaving a bloody stripe near his temple. You quickly check for a pulse and is relieved to find one.

     "He's unconscious," you say. Rick moves you aside and hefts Daryl's knocked out figure with Shane's help.

     "Oh my God!" Andrea's voice rings out and your face heats with anger. "Oh my God! Is he dead?"

     "Unconscious," Rick replies.

     "You could've killed him!" You shout, following behind Rick and Shane carrying Daryl.

     "I thought he was a walker!" She yelled back. "I was trying to help!"

     "Even if he was, it was one! There was a whole group going for him!" You stop to scold her, Rick and Shane helping Daryl up the stairs to the house. "That gunshot could send walkers right to us!"

     "With the trees and hills, the gunshot probably just echoed. They can't find us," Dale says, always trying to be the voice of reason. Typically, you respected it, but now it just pissed you off.

     "Daryl will be fine, Y/N—"

     "That's not the point! He could've died! And you're too goddamn stupid and caught up in your own problems to realize you're putting people in danger!" You huff and take a step back, turning around and running a hand through your hair. You're about to leave and check on Daryl, but Andrea steps in front of you to get in your face again.

     "I said I was sorry, you don't have to insult me—" And you couldn't take it anymore, and you smacked her right in the face. Her face instantly has a viscous red mark, and you don't know if you should feel remorse or pride.

     There's a chorus of 'oh's in the back from the others that gathered. You instantly feel guilt when you see Carol is there looking anxious, and so you turn to go in the house. You run into Hershel in the hallway nearing where Carl used to be, now where Daryl is laid up.

     "Is he ok?" You ask.

     "He's resting now, exhausted and recovering from blood loss. He would be much better if he didn't steal my horse." You groan internally at the comment and instead just smile and nod slightly awkwardly. "You should let him be, come back later when he's up."

     You agree and turn back to head to your tent. You keep your head down to avoid the others, but luckily most have scattered to their own areas.

     After a while of brooding alone and even missing dinner, you decide to go check on Daryl. You've been thinking about him, but didn't want to wake him up if he was still resting. But after dinner time, you didn't want to wait anymore.

     You quietly make your way into the house and to Daryl's door. You knock quietly and is surprised to hear a quiet 'come in.' You poke your head in to see Daryl laying on his back, looking back at you. He's all cleaned up with a bandaged around his head and side.

     "Hey," you whisper before closing the door behind you. "How're you feeling?"

     "'Bout as good as I look," he says with a shrug.

     "You must feel like shit then." Daryl snorts, his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

     "Pretty much." You sit down next to him on the bed. “I hallucinated Merle…”

“You must be crazier than I thought,” you joked, but Daryl didn’t smile like you thought he would. “You miss him?” He nods.

“He ain’t dead,” he says after a moments silence. “Don’t know where the hell he is though.”

“I’ve seen Merle kill like, 10 walkers while high. I don’t think a little blood loss will kill him.” Daryl smiles, snorting out a little laugh. You congratulate yourself on the inside for lightening him up. “Is that who you told to shut the hell up?”

“Yeah, he was talkin’ shit like always.”

“What else is new. I’m just glad you weren’t talking to hallucinated me, then I’d beat your ass,” you say, smiling and nudging him. He just lets out a scoff.

“Like you could.” He nudges you back.

You both fall into silence for a moment, you looking at your hands while Daryl is looking at you. "What's wrong?" He finally asks.

     "Nothing," you answer and give him a little smile. He doesn't look convinced, and nudges you with his foot.

     "S'it about Andrea?" Daryl asks. "Saw her face, looks like she got rocked pretty hard. Was that you?"

     "Maybe..." Daryl scoffs.

     "Maybe?" He teases, a soft smile that's reserved for only you on his face.

     "Ok, definitely."

     "That what's bothering you?" He asks. You shake your head. "The hell is it then?"

     "I was just really worried about you today," you confess, looking back down at your hands to fumble with them.

     Losing people is always on your mind, and Daryl was way too close today. You've already lost friends and family, people from your group. But Daryl is Daryl. When he found you in the woods, you were just about to give up. He gave you reason again.

     The thought of losing him terrified you. You don't want to think about what would've happened if Andrea had shot just a little more to the left, or if a walker found him bleeding out while he was out there. You couldn't lose him too.

     "'M fine. Told you that already." You nod.

     "I know." Daryl bites his lip a little and nods back. He looks like he has something on his mind.

     "You know," he starts. You look at him, waiting for him to continue. He seems nervous. "I'm always gonna come back to you."

     Tears well up in your eyes before you can stop them, and your hands tremble. Daryl looks panicked.

     "Sorry," you say with a little laugh, wiping at your eyes. "I just don't know what I'd do without you."

     Daryl has an unusually soft expression when he looks at you. He lets out a dramatic sigh and opens his arms.

     "Come on, once in a lifetime opportunity," he teases, pulling you down. You giggle and comply, cuddling into his body in a way that wouldn't hurt him. "M never gonna leave you," he whispers.

     "You can't make a promise like that," you say with a sniffle.

     "Like hell I can't." He hugs you tighter, but you can sense apprehension. This was Daryl's most outwardly show of affection since you've known him. He's always a little awkward about physical affection, he shows his care through action and doing things for others.

"You know why I can?" He asks, his voice quiet and hesitant. You hum for him to continue, but he doesn't. His fingers trace nonexistent patterns on your back and tap anxiously.

"Why?" You ask, pulling your face away from his chest to look at him. His face is flushed and his lip is pulled in between his teeth. He moves his hand up your back, sliding it to the back of your neck to play with your hair there. "Why?" You ask again in a whisper, too affected by the heavy tension in the room to be any louder. You didn't want to break it.

Daryl doesn't answer again, just pushes your head towards his to capture your lips. His lips are chapped and rough but you don't mind a bit. Your head is spinning but perfectly clear at the same time. There's not an ounce of appreciation or hesitation from either of you, both right where they know they need to be.

When you part from him, your eyes blown and faces heated, you don't break eye contact. His hand is on your face now, other on your back. Yours are splayed open on his chest. Daryl's eyes flit between your eyes before moves to rest his forehead against yours, unable to part from you completely.

"'M never gonna leave you, alright?" Instead of refuting him again, you just nod, and return your lips to his.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff

[mo0nfairy]

😍😍 OMG, I'm gonna be needing a part four to that Leon post stat.

(Love your writing it's amazing just like you are) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎

part 1. part 2. part 3.

tw :: re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, violence, knives, tasers, guns, explosives, framing, murder, abuse of power, death of a character, physical restrainment, noncon touching, thoughts of suicide, being knocked unconscious, shit goes down basically.

⸺ thank u, honeybaby !!!!! i've been vv busy these past few days, but this man has been HEAVY on my mind. i've also been listening to playing dangerous by our lord and savior lana del rey on repeat and it had my brain conjuring up some ideas... (also this part is long so buckle up friends)

you see, you've been praying everyday to earn back those damned memories that slipped from your mind 6 years ago. but in a attempt to do so, all you can feel is a gun against your head, an explosion against your body, and dust permeating your lungs. all before the classic cut to black welcomes you. no crying mouse-ley, no crying guard-dog. just empty darkness. through the abyss, however, you are now able to unveil memories that were buried deep within you. and whether the return of these past events is a good thing or not is up to you.

you remember a late august evening. the cool air and descending leaves would calm you, but your current circumstances prevent you from any serenity. an anonymous tip to the RPD claimed that you were in possession of illegal substances. and somehow, those said drugs had magically appeared into existence within your home. this leaves you here, being driven to the station by the officer of the month, marvin branagh. despite everything, you're grateful marvin was the one to arrest you. you happen to favor him and his basic understanding of boundaries, as opposed to a certain mutt you know far too well.

it's safe to say you've now got quite the reputation in the RPD with how much trouble you get into. and especially with how quickly the problems seem to fade away. you're being escorted through the station until another officer complains to marvin about some kids with fake ID's. he leaves you by yourself at an empty desk with one hand cuffed to the armrest. the desk right beside leon's. you look to the blonde beside you. his head is rested against his arms folded upon his desk, deep in slumber. his cheek is squished against the surface of his arm, pushing his lips out into a duck-like pout. your mugshot peeks out from beneath his sleeping form. you swear through his unintelligible murmuring, you hear a gentle whimper of your name. marvin had mentioned during the drive how he was up all night looking through your case (wouldn't be the first time), but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad for him. you don't trust him. even several years ago, something within you has always prevented you from trusting him.

you fiddle with a mr. raccoon toy as 20 minutes slowly tread by. completely overcome with boredom, you peak over leon's shoulder to see your case file beneath him. maybe you could find something useful inside, like the bastard responsible for all these false claims. using your free hand, you manage to slyly slip your case folder from under his weight. not without a quiet whine of "no, y/n/n... don't leave me..." good god, was he cuddling your mugshot? (it would be the closest he could get to you physically, after all). you ignore him entirely, thanking the heavens that this man is such a deep sleeper.

opening the file, you find standard information about your case. you read through the notes leon left behind, which causes nausea to then stir in your stomach. he jotted down his worries of your case closing and not being able to keep you in the station any longer; there was ideas of any potential loopholes in the system he could take advantage of and prove your innocence. beside his rambling, there was a long list of certain ways he can frame you for crimes to reel you back into his clutches. what in the actual fuck? and just when you thought this situation couldn't get worse, you find he used pictures of your friends at the shooting range, bullet holes piercing through their paper faces.

you read through the evidence in shock, until a sickeningly-sweet tone gasps your name and pulls you out of your trance. you look over the folder to see those familiar blue eyes peering into yours. leon lights up like a golden retriever with a bone when he wakes up and you're the first thing he sees, metaphorical tail wagging and all. to dream of you and to be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, it is pure heaven! only, instead of the early morning, love-drunk haze within his dreams, he is instead met with the heartbreaking look of horror on your face. his eyes trail down to see you holding his notes and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this! it was never supposed to be like this! you were supposed to fall in love with him! you are supposed to be with him forever!

you are supposed to love him! you have to!

and you thought you've seen the worst, you thought you reached the bottom of the iceberg. but you were so, so wrong. it had been 2 weeks since you learned the truth about leon. since then, you were able to find solace within an old friend, claire redfield. not only do you adore her, but the layer of protection she had given you when you complained about the clingy cop on your hip was just the cherry on top. without leon, these 14 days were the most peace you have felt in what feels like months. you didn't know how the man who acted like he needed your presence more than air felt about this sudden separation. and to be completely honest, you didn't really care.

now, with your arm hooked around claire's, you two walk home after a night out in raccoon city. you're repeating old inside jokes and clutching your chest in heaps of rib-straining laughter. everything is full of high-spirits until you notice a certain cop car sitting in the street. claire enters your estate first, guarding you protectively while you follow her footsteps. you find (you guessed it!) no other than leon kennedy rummaging through your belongings. and the look on leon's face when he sees you with someone else is nothing short of pure anguish, sheer betrayal. he is jealous — so much so that it practically suffocates the room. you've seen plenty of emotions expressed by leon and the consequences that followed, but you've never seen first-hand what jealousy may compel him to do. considering the pictures of your friends he used as target practice, you feel as though the outcome won't be any good.

claire breaks the silence, "you disgusting pig! i'm calling my brother down here and he's gonna kick your-" her roar of anger is cut off with a sharp groan.

leon stands, taser gun in hand, as the electrodes strike into claire's body. she then falls to the ground with a loud thump, her form convulsing from the electric shocks waving through her. rushing to her side, you attempt to help her. but, you then cave into yourself when leon walks over in three large strides. and you now realize he is absolutely terrifying when he is jealous. his voice drops to a low husk as he demands you tell him who the fuck this is, a major contrast to the bubbly-puppy you're grown familiar with. you are left flabbergasted and are unable to mutter even a syllable.

you aren't even granted a mere second to compose of yourself before leon pulls a knife, plunging it deep into claire's chest. a scream of pure terror erupts from your throat. you're painted red as he relentlessly stabs your best friend, curling yourself into a corner and hiding your face in your arms. through your tear-stained vision, you see the lifeless body of claire and leon standing above her, huffing with fury like some blood-thirsty creature. something in his gaze perceptibly softens when he sees you, so scared and feeble. and it shatters his heart. after all, leon would take every life on planet earth just to see your lips curl into a smile, even once more. but, nothing could have prepared you for the words that would then leave his mouth.

he turns his body cam on. "y/n l/n, you are under arrest for the murder of... whoever this was. you have the right to remain silent. anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." you stare at leon entirely flabbergasted, but you're too exhausted to fight against him.

he bends down to you, light whispers of "you're ok, it wasn't your fault" and "i've got you, sweet angel" doing little to comfort you. with his gentle hands against you, leon proceeds to cuff you with the same softness you would use to handle a baby bird. and you let him take you away, because you are too caught up in looking at your best friend who was laughing with you just minutes ago now dead on the ground. you cry to yourself in the backseat of the cop car the whole way to the station.

by the time you get there, you are entirely in a state of shock. tears of dread stream down your cheeks, but your face is nothing short of emotionless. you are so caught up in your head, you don't even notice the whispers of other officers there. they gossip about how considering your track record, it's no wonder you'd end up here for good. a sharp glare from the man guiding you through the department is enough for them to shut their mouths. you're then brought into an interrogation room, with cameras off and no other presence besides you and this mad-man at your beck and call.

cuffed to a chair once again, leon locks the door behind him. he then drops to his knees and ties his arms around your waist, burying his head into you. it takes several seconds for reality to hit you, but you soon realize he is crying. and if you weren't restrained currently, you would've pushed him off and made him suffer a fate far worse than what claire endured. now, the two of you are sobbing together, but for entirely different reasons. you, full of grief over someone you love being murdered just moments ago. leon, full of agony over how the gleam of emotion he was so infatuated with left your eyes. all because of him.

you muster enough strength to plead to the blonde, your voice coming out through hoarse, slurred sniffles. but much to your dismay, your cries fall on deaf ears. if only leon had more morality than he did love for you.

"i'm so sorry, y/n, i just needed to hold you. even for just one last time” he picks his head up to look at you, face breaking out in a pitiful smile. “and i can't lose you. not again.” he grabs hold of your hands from behind your back and begins caressing the digits of your fingers. and the contrast between his smile and the crazed look in his eyes has you shuddering in apprehension.

"you're stuck with me to the end."

your eyes then flutter open to see a blinding white light; you begin to hear the quiet chant of a monitor beside you. where the hell am i? despite your current confusion, all you can think about is how you grieved for your best friend in the grimy cells of the RPD, how everyone turned into undead creatures just a week later, and how leon protected you from anything as small as a paper cut. you remember how several zombies overpowered him and how you took advantage of the opportunity, running like hell away and out of raccoon city. you remember the burning of your lungs, the rain on your skin, the hope of getting far, far away from this nightmare. you also remember the fear you felt when umbrella snatched you into their possession, to where you would soon forget everything that happened. including leon kennedy.

you're in the present now, as you can tell by the sheepskin jacket around your form and the hospital bed you're laid upon. it takes you too long to realize that you're safe, out of the hellhole that is los iluminados. looking down, you find a gun sitting by your hip (leon made the declaration that if you were to never wake up again, he wouldn't hesitate to end it all right then and there). you shift your train of sight to see leon at your bedside with his head in his hands while his entire body trembles with trepidation. the sight of this lovesick maniac at your side causes you to spring forward with a harsh gasp. his heartbeat skyrockets at the sudden occurrence. you're alive, and leon can't stop the tears of relief that fall from his eyes.

"hi, pretty... i'm here, you're safe now..." the smile on his face is borderline terrifying. his hands cup your face, practically clinging onto you like a lifeline.

"i remember... i remember everything..." the statement is entirely said to yourself, your gaze distant and not entirely there.

his eyebrows scrunch upwards, gaze softening (if it can even soften more than it already has). leon then pulls your face to his and molds his lips against yours aggressively, desperately. it isn't soft, sweet, or romantic in any sense. it is inexperienced, but overflowing with raw passion, need, and obsession. he only stops when the two are you are breathless and gasping for air. a dreamy sigh escapes leon's lips once he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as if you were something holy (which you are, obvi, but i digress). leon is so horrifically, irrevocably, disgustingly in love with you. and you can feel everything in his all-too overwhelming kiss.

he then engulfs you and melts into your arms like a noodle in boiling water. his light-headed, lovesick laughter fans against your neck. leon somehow pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost as if he were trying to morph the two of you together. it is too much; he is all you can feel, smell, touch. but, without a sliver of strength in your body, you are entirely vulnerable to him and his captivation.

"ashley... she didn't make it..." there’s a certain tone in leon's voice you can’t explain, but you shudder beneath it, anyway. he tells the information softly, but his voice is full of too much exhilaration to be normal. with these newfound memories, that dread returns to your stomach at the thought of what leon is capable of. what leon may have done to ashley while you were out cold.

through the abyssal darkness, your wish has been granted. you have now retrieved all lost memories.

and now, you know why you never were able to trust leon kennedy.

the end !! hehe, thanks for the fun ride babes.

HOWEVER……….. this is surely not the end of my resident evil stained brainrot. so i will not be continuing this series, but i will most certainly be pouring out everything in my RE-obsessed brain. only if u would like to see it, of course. if u do, pls send me some asks!! and thank u again !!!

#this is the end hehe #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

[citruslullabies]

I'm aware that you get like... Lots of requests, and I'm not sure if you are still taking them, but if you are, would you do mine, please? It's very simple: Dogday carrying reader on his back after reader stiched his legs back to his body because she's very tired and he wants to thank her for carrying him on her back before he was able to walk again 🥹

Awh I love this! And don't worry your pretty head about the amount of requests I get

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic: unspecified 

Requested by: anonymous 

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): dogday x reader

Word count: 313

Leg For a Leg

Dogday admired you, he truly did. You were such an amazing person that deserved nothing but the best that life had to offer, you were the closest to an angel that could exist on earth's surface.

He would've been fine had he not gotten his legs back, he would have just felt guilty for being a burden to you. But you? You went above and beyond. You found his legs and stitched them back on with such love and care. You treated him with such respect and love, you truly were from above. He was still adjusting to his legs being attached to him again, but he loved walking beside you rather than making you carry him.

The hounds tail shakingly wagged as he walked side by side beside you, feeling safe in your presence. He was caught out of his train of thought when he glanced down at you, seeing your mouth open and a yawn escape. He cocked his head to the side, concerned. “Are you alright, angel?” He asked softly, hesitantly rubbing your back.

You nodded and covered your mouth as you yawned again, nodding your head as you struggled to answer for a moment. “Y.. yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.” You murmured, smiling up at him. His worry grew the more tired you seemed. “Would you like to take a break and rest?” He asked softly, frowning slightly when you shook your head no. “I'm alri- AH!” you yelped in surprise when he suddenly picked you up and placed you on his back like he used to do the children. “Dogday what are you-!?”

Dogday quickly shushed you and supported your legs, feeling your arms wrap around his neck in fear of being dropped. “Relax, I'm simply carrying you so you can rest. Just trust me, angel.” He reassured you softly.

He was glad to finally return the favor.

Thanks for requesting!

#smiling critters #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #dogday poppy playtime

[luckycharms1701]

[slides into your ask box like a very suave ninja]

i see you doing thoughts on mating seasons [eye emojis] how about... Bay Leo in mating season?<3

hmmm... a very suave ninja you say? is he wearing blue perhaps?

i... might have a few ideas for bay leo's mating season. maybe a couple of thoughts. some headcanons, you might say

as always, yadda yadda, lil sexy, spice emoji 🌶️

The thing about Leo is, he is not used to doing things for himself. Everything he does, every skill he learns, is for his family, for his city. For you. Even the things he enjoys doing, he does because he knows they are an outlet that will help him control himself. It’s… something he is working on. So when he is unusually shy while asking you to share his mating season with him, you know that he is asking for himself. That in itself is everything.

He stutters a bit as he walks you through what to expect during his time. It’s adorable. To him, though, this is the most intimate thing he could ask of you. Mating season is when he struggles the most with the loss of his iron control, when he’s at his most vulnerable. Asking you to share this time with him is the strongest way he knows to tell you that he loves you. He’s nervous, okay, don’t tease him!

Leo’s season comes on slowly, so gradually it’s barely noticeable. You find it in the little details. The way he scents you for longer than normal when he hugs you hello, beak nuzzling into your hair. The way he stands closer to you, especially when his brothers approach. The way his hand slides lower on your back as he escorts you to the lair exit. It gives you more time to prepare, something he is very grateful for.

The other thing about Leo is, once he decides something is his, it’s his. Man is incredibly possessive. This manifests in a unique way during his season. He makes you a nest. It is very soft and cozy and you are not allowed to leave it unless you need to use the facilities. For the entire duration of his season. There’s no need for you to brave the outer world and all the people out there. That’s what he’s for. (He got into an argument with Raph about this once. Once. Raph never brings it up again.)

At the beginning of his season Leo is very sensual in his lovemaking. He is all slow, smooth thrusts as he holds you close and buries his head in your neck. He can spend hours just making out with you while you finger each other. It gets a little more intense each time. As Leo realizes that you’re enjoying yourself, he lets go a little more and more until both of you are absolutely feral.

He never forgets your preferences in favor of his own pleasure though, not even deep in his season when he’s more instinct than anything else. Many of your preferences are in line with his own anyway. He always, always makes sure that you finish at least once first. Sometimes that means he has to beg you to come while he holds off on his own orgasm.

He is generally a quiet lover. However, to both of your surprise, you find he likes to talk when it’s his season. He likes to talk a lot. The things he says are… well. He might not be in complete control of himself, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be in control of you. Rather than manhandling you, he likes to sit back and tell you what he wants you to do. Of course, if you misbehave all bets are off. You will be doing whatever he wants either way. He will also say absolutely filthy things when he’s deep inside you. You find that you enjoy being called a little slut as long as you are Leo’s little slut.

As his season tapers off, he becomes increasingly affectionate. He returns to the smooth thrusts that light a slow fire in the both of you. He’ll spend a lot more time cuddling with you, beak buried in whatever body part of yours is closest. He might sleepily mutter about how happy he is that you smell like him. Sometimes he will just run his hands over you, watching them travel over your skin as if he can’t believe that he is allowed this, that you will let him have everything and more if he asks.

Once his mating season is over, Leo becomes a little bashful. He gets a bit of a guilt complex about every bruise and mark on you, and he’ll cringe remembering some of the things he said. He requires assurance that you are okay, that you haven’t been scared off by his… more primal instincts. You will have to hang out at the lair for a few extra days, because he gets anxious when he doesn’t know exactly where you are. He will make sure to carefully care for each bruise until it’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic

#bayverse leo #bayverse leo x reader #tmnt #talking tag #theory tag #mating season #pspspspsps leo girlies #have fuuuuunnnnnn #winky face

[mcdynamite]

If you asked most people who know Eddie Munson, they’d tell you that he's a loud, theatrical man. They might tell you that he's always bouncing around, full of chaotic energy and wild ideas, eager to share what's on his mind with anyone who will listen.

And for the most part, they would be right.

But Steve Harrington knows that there's more to it than that.

Steve knows that Eddie is loud, most of the time, except for when he feels most comfortable.

It's a realization that comes to Steve slowly in the weeks following their final battle against Vecna and the Upside Down, during the time they spend sharing a hospital room while they recover from their bat bites.

Steve is there to witness Eddie's cacophonous reunion with the kids - rife with hollering and boisterous laughter and some very stern (if relieved) scolding from Erica Sinclair. But he's also there to see the way Eddie motions Dustin over once everyone settles down and begins to trickle out of the room. Steve watches as Eddie pulls Dustin into his arms and mutters something Steve can't hear into the kid's ear - something that makes Dustin smile with teary eyes.

It's the first time Steve has seen such a soft display of emotion from Eddie Munson, and he finds it strangely fascinating.

Then, it's the same with Wayne a few days later, when he's finally allowed to visit Eddie in the hospital. Steve expects something a bit dramatic from Hawkins' most notorious Dungeon Master, to be honest, but it's not dramatic at all. The reunion between the Munson men is soft and subdued, nothing but quiet sentiments Steve can't quite make out. Eddie is still as full of energy as ever, but with Wayne around, he loses that frantic edge. And so Steve eventually realizes...

The more comfortable Eddie is, the less jagged his edges get. Loud, raucous laughter becomes soft chuckles. Booming declarations give way to quiet promises. Eddie Munson is softer when he feels safest, and Steve quickly decides that while he likes any and all versions of Eddie, he's particularly fond of this one - the one who's shed his emotional armor in favor of comfort, and perhaps a little vulnerability.

He wants to see more of this Eddie - the one who seems closest to Eddie's truest self.

And overtime, Steve gets his wish.

It starts with quiet, late-night conversations filling the space between their beds in the hospital, when they finally begin to dismantle every misguided preconceived notion they've ever had about each other in order to forge a friendship from the ground up.

Once they're released back into the real world, it continues. There are soft, amused comments murmured into Steve's ear during movie nights, and cheeky observations about the kids they practically share custody of on days at the arcade. There are relaxed conversations over a joint passed back and forth on nights when neither of them can sleep at three in the morning.

The closer they get, the softer Eddie becomes, and it only becomes more obvious when they finally stop dancing around each other and start dating.

Eddie's voice is careful and kind when he asks, "Can I kiss you?" for the first time.

He's practically whispering a week later when they both admit to wanting more than just a casual fling with each other.

When Steve makes him come for the first time, Eddie is all soft gasps and quiet whimpers... breathlessly chanting Steve's name like a prayer. And when Eddie returns the favor later that night, it's with the sweetest, filthiest things whispered into Steve's ear, working him into a frenzy until it takes him over the edge.

And four months into their relationship, one of their most important milestones is said so quietly, Steve almost misses it entirely.

They're laying in bed together, chatting away just like they do almost every night. Steve is basking in the feeling of Eddie's arms around him...of Eddie's bare chest against his back as they trade warmth back and forth. He always loves cuddling with Eddie, but he thinks these nights are his favorites. The ones when he gets to be the little spoon, tucked safely into the arms of the boy he thinks of first every morning and last every night.

Eddie tells him about the way Mike wouldn't stop bitching about his sunburn during the D&D campaign Eddie ran with the boys earlier today, and Steve can't help but roll his eyes.

"God, I told him to use sunscreen yesterday!" Steve insists. Behind him, Eddie snorts. "I did! I told all of them to use it, and most of them listened to me, but did Michael Wheeler? Of course not, because that little shit is hellbent on giving me grays before I turn thirty!"

There's another snort from Eddie - this one louder than the first - and Steve playfully smacks his arm where it's wrapped around Steve's abdomen. Eddie just catches his hand and traces circles across the back of it with his thumb.

"This isn't some laughing matter, Munson!" Steve hisses. "We're talking about my hair, here!"

"Oh, woe be upon he who dares threaten the integrity of your glorious mane, my liege," Eddie drawls dramatically. He nuzzles into the aforementioned mane and presses a soft kiss to the spot just behind Steve's ear.

"Exactly, see? You get it," Steve scoffs, choosing to ignore the sarcasm in his boyfriend's voice.

Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve's neck and makes a vague humming sound.

"Seriously, though, next time, I'm putting sunscreen in a spray bottle and ambushing him with it, or some shit. I’ll be damned if he survived the apocalypse just so his pasty ass could be taken out by the sun," Steve continues to vent.

Eddie just laughs softly. "You're ridiculous, sweetheart," he murmurs. Steve feels him brush his lips against Steve's pulse point and has to suppress a shiver.

"Yes, and?" Steve huffs, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

"You're ridiculous," Eddie repeats. Then, his voice goes impossibly soft - barely a whisper, and a bit hesitant - but Steve feels the words ghost over the shell of his ear. "And I love you."

Steve's breath hitches just as Eddie seems to realize the gravity of what he's let slip. Eddie's thumb, which has been rubbing gentle circles into the back of Steve's hand ever since he grabbed it a minute, suddenly pauses. For a moment, neither of them move.

It's Steve who unfreezes first, slowly rolling over until he's facing Eddie, still wrapped in his boyfriend's arms. He takes in Eddie's wide eyes and vaguely anxious expression before reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of Eddie's face.

Steve's voice is raspy when he finally manages to speak.

"You love me?" he asks hesitantly, hating the half of himself that's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he misheard. Maybe Eddie said something else. Or worse, maybe Eddie changed his mind immediately after saying it and is now regretting saying it in the first place. It wouldn't be the first time someone changed their mind about loving Steve, after all.

Eddie doesn't correct him, though, or take it back. Instead, he nods hesitantly, as though he's afraid Steve will hate him for it, and bites his lip.

"I- yeah," he says, still whispering. He looks terrified, and it makes Steve's heart ache. "Is that...okay?"

Steve wants to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Mostly, he wants to tell Eddie that it's more than okay - that he loves him, too, and has for a while now.

"Say it again," Steve begs, instead.

Eddie blinks, his gaze transforming into something so devastatingly tender that Steve doubts he'll ever recover.

"Stevie..." Eddie murmurs, bringing their foreheads to rest against each other. His lips curl into a smile. Steve smiles back. "I love you."

Steve is only slightly embarrassed by the way his heart is rabbiting against his ribs, surely loud enough for his boyfriend to hear.. "Really?"

Eddie smiles and lets their noses brush. "Yeah, baby. I really do."

"Oh," Steve breathes. His disbelief finally gives way to wonder as he allows his hand to move on its own accord - fingertips brushing against the soft skin of Eddie's cheek. Reverently, he traces the shape of Eddie's nose, of his eyebrows, of the little scar on Eddie's temple that's only just begun to fade.

Eddie presses a barely-there kiss to the pads of Steve's fingers when they finally drag across his lips. The action leaves Steve feeling so fond it aches.

"I love you, too," Steve whispers, because it's the truth. He's not sure exactly when he started to fall in love with Eddie Munson, but he does know that he's never stopped. He thinks he'll probably keep falling in love with Eddie until the day he dies.

It's a disgustingly sweet sentiment, and Steve can't bring himself to care.

"Fuck, Eddie," he laughs, breathless. Eddie's eyes are shining with joy. With love. Steve moves closer, until their lips brush against each other when he murmurs, "Love you so much."

Steve's heart has never felt as full as it does right now - as it continues to feel when they collide in a flurry of heated skin, soft lips, and quiet words of adoration. It's not the first time they've had sex, but it's the first time it's felt like this - like being wholly and completely cared for, for the first time in his life. Steve has tears in his eyes by the time they collapse against each other, sated and utterly in love, and Eddie devotedly kisses the tears away when they begin to fall.

In the aftermath, once they've both been cleaned up and caught their breath, Eddie pulls Steve into his arms so Steve's head can rest on his scarred chest. The soft thump of Eddie's heartbeat beneath his ear - proof that they survived everything they've been through, and that their reward is this beautiful, brilliant love - brings a smile to Steve's face.

He turns his head and presses his lips to Eddie's chest, just above Eddie's heart. Eddie's arms tighten around him.

"Love you, Eds," Steve murmurs, settling in and closing his eyes as sleep begins to beckon.

Eddie just holds him and runs nimble fingers through Steve's hair, bending to press a kiss to Steve's temple.

"Love you too, Stevie," Eddie whispers in his ear, voice perfectly, beautifully soft.

Written for the prompt "things you whispered in my ear" from this prompt request list I posted a couple of months ago! If you want to request another one of the prompts on the list, drop me an ask and I'll write it as soon as I can!

#steddie #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #they're in love your honor #and i love that for them #prompt fill #send me a prompt request! #mcdynamite writes