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egoludes · 3 years

Text

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out. You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?”

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer?

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though.

Steve hears about it from Bucky.

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself.

That happens on a Saturday afternoon.

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet.

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred.

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow.

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin.

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch.

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back. “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer.

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?”

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way.

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers. So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying.

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs.

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand.

Something tells you this will be a long night.

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes. Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear: ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you.

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed.

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to.

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #tags will come after work!

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gubler-me-up · 3 years

Text

Face It

Request: Are your request still open? I have a really smutty dom!spence idea soo spencer is facefucking the reader while she is on her knees with her hands tied too. Reader starts rubbing herself against the heel of her foot because she’s impatient and spencer notices this and punishes her. He’ll call reader names (but only if you are okay with writing degradation!)

A/N: Thanks for submitting this request, anon! Like I said before y’all be real creative with these requests I love it. Y’all have some really ~spicy~ concepts and I hope I bring them to life for you every time. Sit back, relax and enjoy dom Spence to the fullest!

Couple: Dom!Spencer/Sub Fem!reader

Category: Smut (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Swearing, rough oral sex (male receiving), masturbating (male and female), degradation, fingering, slapping, facial

Word count: 2k

————-

Spencer sat on the bed as he watched you take off the last piece of clothing you had on. He wanted to watch you carefully as you undressed for him. He didn’t want you to touch yourself or even touch him. He just wanted to see you strip. It was enticing to say the least especially since he was still fully clothed. It felt as if you were giving him a show at a strip club after he had finished a long day at work.

He looked you up and down as you stood in front of him. He looked at both your hands which were flopped by your sides. He looked back up at you with still no expression to indicate his next move but once he reached for his tie you knew. He didn’t even have to tell you anything before you turned around.

You placed your hands behind your back and waited. You soon felt him wrap his tie around your wrists. He made sure it was tight so you wouldn’t be tempted to touch him or yourself. It could get a bit irritating when he retrained you from using your hands but when it was only the two of you in the bedroom you surrendered all control over to him.

He slipped his fingers into the gap between your wrists and his tie. He jerked you back and you stumbled backward barely keeping your balance. You could hear a soft yet dark chuckle come from him. Your breathing increased as he stood up and pressed his body against you. He grabbed your chin and jerked it to the side so he could get a good taste of your neck as he kissed it all the way up to your ear.

He roughly played with your left nipple by squeezing it in-between his index and middle finger. You let out a long moan as you tilted your head back. He hadn’t even gone full dominant on you and you were already falling into extreme submission from his touch.

“I’ve trained my whore well,” he whispered in your ear.

“Yes you have, sir,” you replied.

“You know I like my whores fucking filthy and needy for my dick,” he whispered.

“I know, sir,” you replied.

“So I’m going to face fuck you and you’re going to swallow every ounce of my cum. Do you understand, whore?” He asked.

“Yes, sir, I do,” you replied.

He removed his hand from your breast. You soon felt the sting of a slap on your ass. You silently gasped so he didn’t hear you. If you reacted too loudly to him spanking your he wouldn’t hesitate to deprive you altogether.

“Get into your whore sucking position,” he demanded.

You immediately turned around and dropped to your knees. Your eyes looked up to him but you kept your mouth straight with your mouth gaped open. His darkened eyes sent chills down your spine and made you increasingly wet. You could hear him unbuckle his pants and then the sound of them dropping to the floor.

You stared at him with anticipation in your eyes. Your mouth started to become a bit dry as it waited for his dick to enter it. You were tempted to lean forward and try to engulf him whole but again you would get punished for it. The last possible thing you wanted to do was have him leave you high and dry for the night.

He grabbed your hair and finally shoved your mouth onto his dick. He tilted his head back as he let out a relieved groan. He held your head still and slowly started to buck his hips forward. You tried your best not to gag on his dick so early but it was always hard to do considering half of it took up your mouth.

“That’s a good cock sucking whore,” he said.

He started to buck his hips faster as you tried your best to take all of him. You wanted to be the best whore he’s ever had. By the look of sheer bliss on his face you believed you were being just that for him. He looked down at you. He licked his lips as he watched you repeatedly take his cock in your mouth.

“That’s how my whore takes cock,” he said.

You moaned a ‘yes’ before he kicked up his speed. You gagged as he adjusted his speed but you soon got used to it. You let the saliva dribbling from your mouth drip onto your breasts as he continued to shove his cock to the back of your throat.

You watched him ease his head back again as he lost himself to the feeling of your mouth on his dick. You had to admit the combination of his dick ramming into your mouth and seeing him lost in his pleasure made you jealous. You wanted to experience some pleasure as well.

You watched him carefully before you made any move. Even though he had tied your hands behind your back it wasn’t going to stop you from pleasuring yourself. You continued watching him to see if he was going to lower his head. You waited for a minute to see if he made the slightest move. He didn’t.

You slowly lowered yourself down so the heel of your feet was right under your pussy. You continued to look at him to see if he was going to look down. He didn’t. You took that as your cue to pleasure yourself.

You slowly moved your pussy against your heel so you could start rubbing it. You moaned out of relief as you fell into the pleasure of finally being stimulated. You relaxed your muscles as you continued to rub yourself against your heel. You never knew you could be this desperate for touch but he left you with no choice.

As you continued you closed your eyes to imagine Spencer rubbing his fingers up and down your folds. You then imagined two of his long fingers inside of you and rubbing them against your g-spot. He was so good at making you cum that way. The pure thought of what he could do to you with just his fingers made you even wetter.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Spencer said.

He swiftly pulled you by your hair to get your mouth off his dick. You looked at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily as you completely stopped rubbing yourself on your heel. He grabbed you by your face and squeezed your jaw tightly as he stabilized your focus on him. He looked furious and you knew exactly why.

“What were you doing?” He asked again.

“Rubbing my pussy against my heel, sir,” you answered.

He slapped you on your cheek before grabbing your face again. You knew that was just the beginning of your punishment. You knew exactly the type of punishment you would get for your crime. The look in his eyes sealed your fate as he looked down at you unimpressed by your mischievous behaviour.

“You couldn’t stop being a bad whore for a second, could you?” He asked before slapping you again.

You didn’t respond. You just stared up at him speechless as you thought about the right response to say. You couldn’t think of anything that would salvage what you had already done.

“Huh?” He said.

“No, I couldn’t stop being a bad whore, sir,” you replied.

“Get up and turn the fuck around,” he demanded.

You immediately got to your feet and turned around. He untied his tie from around your wrists. He then grabbed your arm to turn you around to face him. He grabbed your face and pulled you close to him, leaving minimal space between the both of you. You held your breath as you anticipated what he was about to say next.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight. A whore like you doesn’t deserve my dick in your pussy. I want you to finger yourself until you cum. I want you to finger yourself so hard you drop to your knees and beg for my forgiveness. Understood, whore?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

He pushed your face back. You stumbled backward but regained your balance quickly so you could start what he asked you to do. You spread your legs apart and inserted two fingers into yourself. You motioned your fingers in a “come here” movement. You could already feel your knees becoming weak.

You looked at Spencer looking at you carefully. His eyes were penetrated on the way you fingered yourself. He stepped out of his pants and pushed them aside with his foot without breaking eye contact from you fingering yourself.

“You finger yourself like a fucking saint. I want to see how a whore fingers herself for being bad,” he demanded.

You decided to switch up your rhythm by pumping your fingers in and out of you and then going back to the “come here” motion. Doing that made your knees extra weak and your pussy wetter. You looked at him stroke his dick as he watched you struggle to keep yourself up.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop either, you whore. I want you on your knees,” he said.

You had to please him. You needed to please him. You continued your pattern as you watched him jerk himself off. You started to have thoughts run by your mind again. You thought about how good a feeling it would be to have his cum dripping down your face. How he would call you a pretty whore for wearing his cum proudly on your face.

Your knees started to get even weaker and you kneeled on the floor. You could feel your orgasm creeping up on you. The tingle up and down your spine alerted you it was almost time. You watched as he walked closer to you so his dick was right in your face.

“I don’t hear your filthy whore mouth begging for forgiveness,” he said.

“P-please forgive…m-me for being a bad whore, s-sir,” you stuttered as you tried to restrain your orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

“Please forgive m-me for b-being bad, sir. I’m j-just a dirty w-whore,” you stuttered.

“Is your whore pussy worn out?” He asked.

“Y-yes,” you said.

“Don’t cum until you tell me what you’re not going to fucking do again,” he said.

“I won’t fucking do it again,” you promised.

“You won’t?” He questioned.

“No, I fucking won’t. I promise I’ll be a really good whore next time, I swear,” you said.

He smirked. “You’re desperate to cum, aren’t you?”

“Fucking yes,” you said.

“Then cum, whore,” he said.

He didn’t have to finish his sentence before your orgasm shot through your body. You let out a loud moan as you let your legs shake as it passed through your system. You closed your eyes as you took a few seconds to recollect yourself.

Before you opened your eyes you heard Spencer gasp deeply. What proceeded was the feeling of his cum on your face. You opened your eyes to look at his dick which had freshly ejaculated. You licked the remaining cum off of it like the good whore you were. You then looked up at him to see a small smile appear on his face.

“You’re such a pretty whore when you’re covered in my cum,” he complimented.

You smiled. “Does that mean you’ll fuck me next time?”

He chuckled. “If you behave next time I for sure will.”

He grabbed you by your face and leaned down to make out with you. You grabbed him by his neck to bring him deeper into it. He soon let you go however and looked at your face for a long second. He softly chuckled.

“Maybe next time won’t be so far away. I’ll get you all cleaned up and fuck you like the whore you want to be. Sound fair?” He asked.

You beamed a wide smile. “Yes. More than fair.”

He chuckled. “I love my whore.”

You smiled. “I love you too, sir.”

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @laneybobeczko-g @littlewierdalien @cynbx

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

May I request sfw and nsfw hcs Yuri x Male Reader on their wedding night? I just wanna see soft Yuri with his husband- (bonus points if Yuri’s husband is bottom-)

Awww how lovely, soft and sexy Yuri coming right up~

Come to think of it, like I said- I'm in the middle of wedding planning myself rn, so by all means, y'all should send me wedding headcanons and prompts for your F/O's~

Yuri (FE3H) x AMAB/Masc Reader

Wedding night headcanons

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

- Yuri had initially figured that, should he ever wed, he would more or less elope. But the more time passed, the more he felt truly connected to those around him, and perhaps with a bit of your encouragement, he does start to think that at least some kind of celebration with your mutual friends and allies would be nice. Plus, Balthus is eager for a chance to drink himself silly, and Constance insists upon the propriety of holding a formal ceremony. So, perhaps less begrudgingly than he wants everyone to believe, Yuri goes along with the whole wedding banquet thing.

- That said, it is still quite an exclusive event. You may be surprised at first that Yuri doesn't see this as a chance to do some "networking" post-war, schmoozing with local nobles at a lavish banquet for the benefit of himself and his goals. But when asked, he wears an unusually serious expression and runs a gentle hand along your cheek, "This isn't about business, darling. It's about us. If I lost sight of that, then I could hardly consider myself worthy of a man like you."

- He stays true to this throughout the night itself. If he's nervous at all, he doesn't show it- from his vows, spoken with clear conviction and an easy smile, to the dancefloor, where he holds you close as he leads you, seemingly oblivious to the eyes watching from all around. While your friends and comrades are eager to congratulate you and spend time as a group, Yuri only indulges them to a degree that still allows him to stay at your side. You're his absolute top priority, and he won't have anyone distracting him from his time with his husband.

- Everything is in excellent taste, if Yuri has anything to say about it. Custom tailored attire for both of you is an absolute must, and of course they'll be not matching, but coordinated to compliment one another. He's not over-the-top by any means, but he'll ensure that the 'mood' and the aesthetic are just right. He finds a lot of the trappings of traditional noble weddings to be garish and tacky.

- I don't have much of substance to add to this point, but Yuri will absolutely threaten the life of anyone who makes a mess of this special day at knifepoint. Even his 'less genteel' friends who may have been invited will know that you are to be addressed with the utmost respect.

NSFW 18+ v

- Frankly, your first night together as a wedded couple has been on Yuri's mind for some time. It's oddly arousing to him- the idea that a roguish charmer like himself would settle down, and be fortunate enough to have such a sweet and lovely spouse. He can't wait to have you in his bed and call you his beloved husband while you look up at him with those gorgeous, lustful eyes. As such, he's going to direct you to his quarters the first moment he can justify excusing the two of you from the festivities.

- "So then- how shall we spend the 'first night of the rest of our lives,' my dear?" he says with a cunning gaze and a quirked eyebrow as he gently guides you back against the wall, "As I understand, among the nobility, it would be customary to consummate our union." Still, for all of his teasing, when he kisses you, it's with an overwhelming tenderness that makes your knees weak and your heart race. He cups your face in both hands, and his tongue massages yours like he's already making love to you.

- As eager as Yuri is to claim his new Husband, he'll start slow with you, helping you out of each article of refined clothing and pressing his lips to each inch of skin that's gradually revealed to him. Then, after a moment to admire you with openly loving eyes as you lay beneath him, he'll lower himself between your thighs and take you in his mouth. He's resolved to service you with his lips and tongue for as long as you like tonight- he wants to spoil his darling spouse, so he'll slowly work his way up and down your length until you're moaning his name and bucking into his throat. Then, at last, he presses a lingering kiss to the tip of your cock and softly says, "Now then, do you think it's time I make you mine, darling?"

- Normally, Yuri likes to take you from behind, squeezing and spanking your ass as he pounds into you. Tonight, however, he tells you to stay on your back. After directing you to coat his cock in lubricant (perhaps enjoying your hand pumping his length for a bit longer than is necessary), he positions himself between your thighs, spreading you open beneath him.

- His surprisingly strong hands keep your legs propped up for him as the tip of his cock begins to push into you. You both moan in unison as he begins with short, gentle thrusts, easing himself ever deeper into you, careful not to hurt you. "How does your husband's cock feel, darling? Mmm... you always take me so well. You're so gorgeous, moaning while I stretch out your cute little hole..." he goes on with a teasing lilt in his voice- but his eyes are glued to your expressions, watching you with open adoration.

- Yuri fucks you at the same luxurious, yet varied pace that he tends to prefer, but his touch is gentler and so much more tender than it tends to be. He kisses you deeply, his tongue pulsing sensually against yours, before pulling away to focus entirely on your mutual satisfaction. His hand begins to stroke your cock, gently at first, but soon a bit rougher, a bit faster. The tip of his manhood drags against your deepest point, now that you've had to adjust to holding him inside of you. With the head of his cock stimulating you from inside and his dexterous hand jerking your member, he'll eventually watch as you cry out his name, arch up from the bed, and spill your cum across your stomach. Yuri gives an appreciative hum at the sight and leans forward, fucking you in earnest now.

- The chance to take you in a position that shows him your wonderful, pleasured expressions as you cum and still continue to take his cock, combined with the emotional high of finally being joined with you fully, all drive him to his climax before much longer. He groans your name as his cock throbs and flexes within you, then shoots a truly impressive load into you. It's more forceful than usual as well- you can feel his cum hitting your insides with each powerful wave, until he utters a sigh of relief and begins to pull out from you.

- Yuri is generally a little tentative about aftercare, being the independent sort himself, but tonight, he positively spoils you. He has a scented bath prepared, and takes his time running his soaped hands across your body, kissing your neck and face, and praising you for how good you are for him and how lucky he is to have such a perfect husband.

#yuri leclerc #yuri x reader #AMAB reader #fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem smut #yuri fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem headcanons #fluff and smut

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diazboys · 3 years

Note

buddie + "it's a texas thing" please!!

a map of your stars | buddie + stargazing | 1.3k words | ao3

I just wanted to write a dorky, space nerd Eddie because both Eddie and space are my weaknesses.

"Hey, Buck?"

Eddie grins, bumping his shoulder into Buck's as he leans against the side of the car next to him. The smile he gets in response is soft and maybe a bit tired but so full of love that Eddie's able to see it even in the almost-dark that surrounds them.

"You see all this white stuff above us?" Eddie continues, grinning even more when he sees Buck rolling his eyes. "They're called stars. It's a Texas thing."

"You’re such an idiot," Buck laughs, quietly. "You can’t just claim stars like that.”

“I can and I just did. See that one?” Eddie points at a random part of the sky. “That one is mine.”

Buck only shakes his head and wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. With something that sounds like a muffled “it sure is” he pulls Eddie closer for a kiss.

“I gotta admit, though. It’s really beautiful here, nothing like that meteor shower in LA we took Christopher to last year. I lived in a few places with clear enough skies but this is impressive,” Buck says.

Eddie hums in agreement, remembering some of the stories he’d heard from Buck over the years. "Did a lot of stargazing on the beaches of Peru?"

"I did a lot of things on the beaches of Peru," Buck admits with a chuckle. "Stargazing was one of them."

Staring up at the sky, Eddie takes a step away from Buck and turns around until he finds what he’s looking for. Squeezing Buck’s hand to get his attention he points up with his free arm.

“See that wonky W near the Little Dipper?” Eddie asks. “That’s Cassiopeia.”

“I’m not sure you can still be believed about those things,” Buck says.

Despite his words, he moves to stand behind Eddie, his arms automatically wrapping around Eddie’s waist as he moves his head close to make sure he’s following Eddie’s line of sight.

“There’s a whole story about a Greek queen Cassiopeia, who was bragging that she was the most beautiful, even more than the sea nymphs and it pissed off Poseidon. Then there was something about a monster and Cassiopeia's daughter being a bribe and a Greek hero, who saved the day but the point is that Cassiopeia ended up in heavens with them all but she was tied to a chair, disgraced because of her vanity that lead to all this mess," Eddie says, then turns his head slightly to look at Buck with a grin. "You should be careful so you won't end up like her."

"Oh, so what I'm hearing is that I'll get stars named after me?" Buck answers with a raised eyebrow and a pleased smile on his face.

Laughing, Eddie fully turns in Buck's arms. His hand comes to rest at the nape of Buck's neck, playing with his hair as he leans in for a kiss.

"If it was up to me, you would," Eddie says.

Buck's smile softens and he lowers his gaze, just like every time he gets a compliment and he's not sure what to do about it. It's one of the reasons Eddie tries to be more open about his feelings in both his words and actions. Seeing Buck smile like that always feels like the best reward and it's worth the struggle of trying to express himself properly.

“Maybe you should take me stargazing sometime, tell me about the constellations and all the stories behind them,” Buck says and then his smile turns back into a smirk. "And I could show you what else I did on the beaches of Peru."

Eddie just chuckles and shakes his head at that. He let's Buck maneuver them so Eddie's being pulled into his warm, broad chest again. He rests his head on Eddie's shoulder as they both gaze up at the sky together.

A small, happy sigh escapes Eddie's lips. He feels as if the whole world has stopped for a moment, just letting them be. Christopher is asleep in the car, exhausted by all the little entertainments that Buck and Eddie had planned for the second day of their road trip to El Paso. About an hour ago Buck suggested that, since he was driving, Eddie should read for them to pass the time. Christopher made it through the first two pages before he was out like a light, even though he insisted he'll stay awake all the way to Adri's place. Soon after that, Eddie suggested that he and Buck should take a little break and switch places, since Buck's been driving for most of the day. They should get to his sister's place soon enough anyway, and Eddie knew the way better than Buck.

After a few quiet minutes, Buck says, his voice quiet as if he doesn't want to disturb the peace. "You seem to know quite a lot about space, stars and Greek queens."

"I learned a lot from my Abuelo, when I was a kid. He used to take this really old telescope and take me to the backyard in their old place, before they moved to LA. I still find it all really interesting," Eddie admits. "Besides, Christopher is really into it as well, so I have the excuse to brush up on the things I've learned back then.”

Buck just hums in agreement, hugging Eddie tighter and letting them fall into the comforting silence for a few moments longer.

Coming home has always felt a bit bittersweet for Eddie. It reminded him of all the good things that happened but also about some of the worst. And dealing with his parents and their constant meddling with his life is something that he can accept just in small doses. As much as he loves his parents — and his sisters, who he misses a whole lot, living on the other side of the country — coming to El Paso sometimes feels like a chore he has to get done sooner or later.

But it feels different now. Having Buck by his side, being able to take this trip with him, seeing him play silly car games with Christopher to keep him occupied — it all makes this so much better. It lets Eddie relax, focus on the joys of the road trip and all the things in his hometown he could show Buck, instead of the anxiety of what will be said about the way he lives his life this time. Because it doest matter. Not when he has a life, a family, a partner in all of it by his side. The way he lives his life must finally be the right one. It gave him Buck, after all.

And standing here, in the middle of nowhere, Eddie feels at home. It doesn't matter that his family home is still miles away and his new home is even further away. Because his home is right here with him, asleep in the car and holding him tight, staring at the night sky with him. And it will be there with him wherever he goes.

"We should probably get going," Buck says, squeezing Eddie a little tighter for a moment before he lets go. "Adriana texted me that she won't let you in if we arrive too late and wake her up."

"First of all, she hasn't replied to any of my texts but she's talking to you?" Eddie raises an eyebrow, turning to face Buck. "And secondly, why wouldn't she let me in, what about you?"

"To answer both of your questions — she likes me better than you because I'm amazing," Buck answers with a grin.

He leans down to press a kiss to Eddie's lips and then goes back to the car, not waiting for Eddie's response.

"Remember what happened to Cassiopeia, Buck," Eddie quietly calls after him as he follows.

He feels a smile tugging at his lips as he gets into the driver's seat and he's pretty sure it won't disappear anytime soon.

drabble challenge

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #911 fic #it took me a while but here we are i hope u like it 💚#and i hope it makes sense #ive written half of it on the train yesterday dhsjsj #my writing #thank you for the prompt! 💚💚

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wlntrsldler · 4 years

Text

Fine Line (Bucky Barnes Falling Series)

A/N: This is the sequel to Falling. This will be the second installment to my Falling (Bucky Barnes) Series. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!

PROMPT: Bucky has been distant lately. Y/N doesn’t know why.

WARNING: slight mature content but not in detail, ANGST, SADNESS, fluff

FALLING | FINE LINE | SHE

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Nat, I’m begging you,” Bucky pleaded, getting on his knees in front of his teammate. “Tell me where Y/N went.”

Nat pitied him. It hurt to see him so broken, begging for her to tell him where you went, but her loyalty was with you. She promised to you that where you went would stay with her and only her until the grave. “I can’t, Bucky.”

“Nat.” His voice cracked, tears slipping from his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do. Her phone is disconnected. I called everyone she knows. Nobody knows where she is. Nat, please.”

“Get up, Barnes,” She sighed, pulling the soldier by his arms. “Y/N made me promise I wouldn’t say a word. I don’t agree with what she did, running away and leaving you with no trace, but it’s what she wanted. She didn’t want you to all of a sudden start acting like you love her again just because you realized she’s not there anymore.”

“Again? What do you mean again?” Bucky questioned, rising to his feet. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe his nose and the tears on his cheeks. “I never stopped loving her, Nat.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“I can explain.”

Nat’s face paled after Bucky’s explanation, realizing that she needed to bring Bucky to you, even if it was the last thing she did. That’s how he ended up in California on your doorstep, with the most panicked look on his face.

You heard the first knock over the loud bass of your breakup playlist. You ignored it, remembering that Nat was the only one who knows where you were and she had you memorize a secret knock for your protection. It was a bit over the top to you, but as an Avenger, she wanted to take safety precautions.

Then a second knock. A third. A fourth.

You pressed pause on your phone and walked over to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw Bucky. You dropped the phone in your hands, not believing your eyes. What the hell was he doing here?

You debated on even opening the door. Leaving Bucky nearly killed you, you almost didn’t do it. It was a shock, a miracle even, that you had the courage to get up and leave. You knew that you were too vulnerable, too in love and too attached, to be able to walk away from him a second time. All it takes is for those beautiful, blue eyes, that you used to wake up to every morning to take one look at you. All it takes is his voice, rough around the edges but soothing, calm, home. All it takes is one touch to reignite the spark that you convinced yourself has burned out between you. That’s all it takes.

You started to back away from the door, having gone through enough breakups in your lifetime to know how it goes. You leave. They beg for you to stay. They promise they’ll change. Things are good for a while. Then they remember why they became distant in the first place. Next thing you know, it’s over all over again. You couldn’t lose Bucky a second time. The first time was painful enough.

“Y/N, please.” His voice croaked out from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there. Baby please, let me explain.”

You gasped upon hearing his voice. Baby. Your heart broke after hearing how broken he sounded, the way the pet name still rolled off his tongue with such familiarity. it was overwhelming.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to see me..” Bucky leaned against the door, mumbling into the wood. “But please listen to me. I know I don’t even deserve that, but please, doll. I’m begging you.”

You stayed silent, pressing your ear against the door. Why are you doing this? A part of you knew that no matter what he said, no matter what excuse, you would open the door and fall apart in his arms. It’s Bucky. It’s your Bucky.

“Okay,” He sighed. “In the small chance that you are listening to me, I can explain why I’ve been so distant lately. I was scared, doll. I-I’ve been doing these treatments with Tony that’s supposed to reverse what HYDRA did. In hindsight, it was supposed to diminish the effects of the trigger words on me and I could become Bucky. James, the one that I would tell you about.”

“But it didn’t always work..” He trailed off, staring at his metal hand, a reminder of the monster that he became. Even after HYDRA, he was still suffering. He had lost so much because of the Winter Soldier, he’ll be damned if he loses you too. “Some days it would make me worse. It was a lot of trial and error, I knew that going into it. I couldn’t tell anybody, not even Steve.”

“You don’t understand how badly I wanted to tell you. All those talks about our future, marriage, kids, all of that, suddenly started to feel like it could be a reality instead of just my wildest imagination.” Bucky chuckled. “But the treatment was a push and pull sometimes. Sometimes I’d feel like it was working and I’d be so excited to come home to you and kiss you. God, I miss kissing you.”

You wiped the tears from your face, missing the way his lips felt on yours. They were always chapped but the minute your lips touched, none of it mattered. You’d kiss him even after missions, lips busted and bloody. You’d kiss him in his sleep, pull away and watch the smile cover his face as he started to wake up. You’d kiss him when you were making love, incoherent words of love and affirmation as you both reached your release. You miss kissing Bucky, you truly do.

“Other times, I would lose control over my arm and it would just crush everything in sight. They’ve had to confine me in a cubicle until the symptoms wore off.” Bucky looked down, remembering the painful memories. “Being tortured by HYDRA was painful but this... Y/N, this was something else.”

“I was being tortured by my own self.” He paused, flexing his metal arm. The mechanical whirring made him cringe. “I was fully aware of what I was doing. I was Bucky but my arm was being controlled by someone other than me. Doll, I was so scared. I-if I were to come home, I wouldn’t have had control over hurting you.”

“I couldn’t live with myself, if that happened. If something happened to you, I-” Bucky broke down, voice shaking as he continued his story. “I just couldn’t come home like that.”

You backed away from the door, undoing the locks. You took a deep breath before opening it. Bucky wasn’t expecting it. He fell over once the door he was leaning on, disappeared.

You tried to hold in the giggle that was threatening to escape your throat when you saw the scene in front of you. Bucky, on his face, a hurt expression on his features. He looked up at you and instantly his demeanor changed. Your Bucky.

He smiled, his real smile, despite his glossy, red eyes, He scrambled to get up and face you. Once he was on his feet, he tucked his hands in his front pockets, rocking back and forth. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Buck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

You couldn’t help it anymore. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried yourself in his chest. Home. He laughed at the sudden contact, not because of your reaction but because he was genuinely happy. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, picking you up to spin you.

He kicked the front door closed and put you down, breathless from laughing so much. “I missed you.”

You refused to let go of him, your arms still wrapped around him as you looked up to reply. “I missed you more.”

Bucky leaned down and kissed you. You let out a broken cry when you felt his lips move against yours. It’s been too long. You missed this so much. This felt like Bucky. You guys were back.

You two only pulled away from some air, goofy smiles plastered on both of your faces when you did. He connected his forehead with yours, eyes closed, cherishing the moment. Bucky would periodically leave pecks on your cheeks and lips, loving the way you giggled each time he did. He missed your laugh.

“I’m sorry for not listening to your explanation before leaving.” You apologized, genuinely feeling guilty for your actions.

“I don’t blame you.” He admitted, hands finding yours. He played with your fingers, taking extra care with the one in his metal hand. “I’m just so happy you gave me the chance to explain.”

“Didn’t really give me much choice now, didn’t you?” You teased, pulling him back into an embrace. “You show up on my doorstep, two timezones away from where you were.”

“I guess I didn’t.” Bucky kissed the top of your head, letting the scent of your shampoo overtake his senses. That’s all he wanted. To smell you. To touch you. To see you. To taste you. To hear you. You. That’s all he wanted. “I can’t lose my best girl.”

“Always a charmer, Barnes.”

You stared at each other for a moment. There was a shift in the air. For months, both of you were deprived from touch. Bucky was never around and you started to distance from him, neither of you were cruel enough to be touched by someone other than each other. You both knew nobody else could fulfill the touch you both so desperately needed.

Bucky kissed you hungrily, his tongue pushing past your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands clawing down the front of his body. Your teeth tugged softly at his lips, a weakness of his. He groaned a beautiful sound as you pushed him, ushering him into the bedroom.

You woke up next to Bucky. You almost cried at the sight, not being able to remember the last time you saw this image.

Bucky was shirtless, a blanket barely covering his body, hair sprawled out on the pillow, and his mouth slightly, agape. He looked peaceful. His arm was under you, pulling you into his gravity. You could feel his heart thumping against his chest, a rhythm you could listen to forever.

You leaned over to plant a quick kiss to his lips. You meant for it to be quick but his lips attached themselves to yours. You kissed back, smiling through the sweet exchange of love. You squealed as he pulled you closer to him, bare chests pressing against each other. He continued to kiss you for a few more minutes, not wanting to let go.

“I want to wake up like this everyday.” He muttered, eyes still shut. “Just like this.”

“Your eyes aren’t even open yet so technically you haven’t woken up.”

He opened his eyes slowly, stretching his limbs out in the process. He stared at your face, his smile getting wider when he realizes you’re staring at him. Bucky’s eyes dart down to your exposed chest, a dirty smirk replacing the innocent smile he had on before. “I can wake up like this everyday.”

You smacked him across the chest, laughing at his words. “You dirty man.”

“You’re hot, babe.” He defended, pulling you close to his body again. “Take the compliment.”

You cooed in adoration, loving the way warmth radiated off of his body. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Bucky replied, not missing a beat. His fingers started to draw shapes on the small of your back, not missing the way you shivered under his touch. You were always so responsive, even in the most innocent way. “I love you, so much. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me.” You said, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry for leaving without giving you a chance to explain. I just thought I already lost you.”

“Never,” He murmured. “I just wanted to become the best version of me for you. You deserve that.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” You half-scolded, tilting his head down so he could look into your eyes. “You are the man I fell in love with. I will love you even if it’s the worst version of yourself, you hear me? You are a good man. You will never lose that. I will never lose sight of that.”

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself that too.”

You laid there in silence, enjoying the closeness of your bodies. It’s been too long. Bucky looked down at you, head on his chest and wondered if in this lifetime, he’d be able to truly live. Enjoy the love that he watched his parents have. See the world as a tourist with you by his side. Grow old with you and have children and grandchildren and pets, lots of them. He wondered if life would be kind enough to give him the life he’s been yearning for since before the war. He wondered if the void that he’s been trying to fill was in the shape of you. It sure seemed like it.

He laid there frozen, not wanting to disrupt your rest. Your soft snores made Bucky smile. He wasn’t able to sleep without the white noise that he grew to love. The nights he fell asleep without you next to him were some of the worst nights. He wished you were beside him. He wished that even now with you practically laying on top of him. He wanted you closer to him, if that was even possible.

You began to stir, eyes fluttering open for the second time today. “Let’s make breakfast.”

You untangled yourself from him, instantly regretting it. You already missed Bucky’s body next to yours. You quickly slipped on his t-shirt and tossed his boxers on the bed for him to put on. He slipped it on and ran towards you as you put your hair up in a low ponytail. “You’re gonna have to cook with me on top of you.”

You threw your head back laughing, placing one hand over the arms wrapped around your waist. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Once you guys got to the kitchen, Bucky excused himself to go to the bathroom. You merely nodded, engrossed in the directions behind the box of pancake mix. You started to measure the ingredients, plopping the batter on the pan. You hummed to yourself as you waited for the pancakes to brown around the edges.

“Y/N..” Bucky called from the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Mhm?” You responded, still focusing on the pancake in front of you.

“Turn around.”

“What’s up, Buck? I’m making panca-” You turned around, the half cooked pancake on your spatula. “Oh my God.”

The pancake fell off your spatula, a blob of batter staining the kitchen floor. You covered your mouth with your hands.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” Bucky started, raising the velvet box while he was on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You nodded furiously, rushing over to him to kiss him. He got up, grabbing your face in his hands to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, the smile returning to your face. Bucky’s hands shook as he tried to put the ring on your finger. You both took turns wiping the tears off of each other’s faces. “It’s perfect.”

You two stood there, repeating your declarations of love over and over again. The pancake batter was long forgotten. You admired the ring on your finger and the man you would vow to love forever.

Marrying Bucky seemed too good to be true. The love you two shared was something you swore only existed in the movies.

It was the vast ocean, deep and unexplored. It was scary, intimidating, and you don’t know if you’ll make it out of it alive. It’s risky and overwhelming.

But your love was also the first chirp of a bird that you hear after a heavy thunderstorm, reminding you that everything will be okay. It’s the love that reminds you of the beauty in the ugly.

Your love was the moon and the stars, the sun and the clouds, the dew on the blades of grass, the smell of freshly baked cookies. Your love was everything grand. It was the big picture of life, but it was also the details, so simple, so subtle, but it was yours. It’s your love.

It’s indescribable but it makes sense to the two of you. That’s all that mattered.

Your serene moment was interrupted by a synchronized knock on the door. Nat.

You furrowed your eyebrows, motioning Bucky to follow you to open the door. You looked through the peephole to see a distressed Nat. You quickly undid the locks, Bucky right behind you when you opened the door.

Nat took a look at the two of you, her signature smirk appearing on her face. “Nice to see that you two worked it out.”

“Thanks, Nat.” Bucky said sheepishly, his hand finding your hip bone and giving it a squeeze. “What are you doing here?”

Her smirk dropped from her face, her shoulders falling heavy. “We have a problem.”

“What happened?” You asked, leaning against Bucky.

“Thanos.” She stated, nervousness evident in her voice. “Thanos is coming.”

“Y/N, something happened.”

You looked at Steve, dumbfounded. “Is he hurt?”

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, half of all living creatures vanished,” He started, looking down at his feet. “Bucky... Bucky was one of them.”

You shook your head, not believing his words. You repeated the words, “No, that’s not true. “Steve, where is he?” “How do we get him back?” You sobbed violently, Nat having to wrap her arms around you to muffle your cries.

Your head was propped up on Nat’s shoulder, giving you the perfect view of the dimly lit bathroom where you were before Nat and Steve arrived. Your mind thought back to the two small lines you saw on the test. Positive.

You fell apart in her embrace, still not coming to terms with the information they delivered.

Bucky’s not around anymore.

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGS:

I wasn’t sure if you guys wanted to be tagged for the second part, let me know if you guys want to be removed from the taglist for the final part! :)

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jq37 · 3 years

Text

The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 2

The Case of the Dismal Dinner

Summary

Welcome back to our flashback/Tisch fight already in progress where we learn what Daisy and Sly’s shared look was about while Rekha and Grant go for the proverbial jugular emotionally. It’s 12 years ago and Sylvester is tracking down a stolen diadem, the very same diadem that he sees Daisy swipe off the thief who has it (a jackal named Roscoe McCoy in case that matters). Sly swipes it back from her and, when she notices, she sniffs it down to his train car where he is sitting in the dark, waiting for her. He doesn’t turn the lights on, opting instead to dramatically strike a match to light his pipe, illuminating himself sitting in a big chair, holding the stolen item.

Daisy tries to bluff like she’s Virginia Chase, the owner of the diadem, but Sly knows that’s not true because he was hired by the real Virginia to track it down. Daisy is usually a better liar than this but she is insta-smitten by this figurative and literal fox and it’s throwing her off her game. But before they can continue their little tete-a-tete, they hear a gunshot ring out from Daisy’s room and know Roscoe and his guys are coming after her. Sly stuffs Daisy in a trunk before the boys show up and they actually seem a little impressed to meet him, him being a famous detective and all, but a Nat 1 deception means they hear Daisy being huffy in the chest and a fight/escape scene that Brennan takes over narration for ensues.

After that, Sly and Daisy become close really quickly and partners in both senses of the word. Daisy tells him she’s an American PI and they work together on cases, travel the world, and become engaged within the year. But, the day before the wedding, when Sly is alone, he discovers all the documentation proving that Daisy lied about who she is, is actually a criminal, and has been using their partnership to sell information to other criminals.

She shows up and tries to pretend like she’s being set up but he replies, “You being duped is the only lie you’ve told I can’t believe.” He says that being with her changed him. He didn’t think he had it in him to actually love another person. He forgives her. He still wants to get married. Daisy is thrown by this reaction. She tells him she’s not gonna change for him and he might as well leave her. She’s being all unapologetic femme fatale about it but he gets the sense that under her bravado she’s low key pleading with him to give up on her. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. He still shows up the next day in his wedding tux. Daisy is nowhere to be seen. When he goes home, there’s a deerstalker cap on his porch and a note that just reads “-D”.

And we snap back to the present where Daisy is trying to figure out if she can take advantage of Lucretia’s fascination with the occult and all the rich vulnerable people present to make some money. Meanwhile, Sly has been totally rocked by seeing Daisy and is drowning his sorrows at the bar with Ollie, the otter bartender. Squire Badger (which is what I’ll be calling William) shows up and, in not so many words, threatens Sly for having not solved the case and making a fool of him. He says, “You’re not gonna rub my nose in this.” Move your nose then bitch, says Sly on a dirty 20 intimidation check. He’s sad about girl problems, not you! Squire Badger is scared off, but he looks like he knows something that Sly doesn’t. That someone is coming for him.

Buckster (and Ian too btw) clocked the above conversation and sidles up to Sly at the bar. See, not only does Buckster know about Sly and Daisy’s history, he knew it was happening *while* it was happening. Sly used up all his cool swagger on the Squire so by the time Buckster shows up he’s a whole mess over Daisy. Buckster starts implying that maybe they can help each other out since they both dislike the Squire and with Sly’s Nat 20 Insight, they can totally clock each other’s double meanings perfectly. It’s a very cool game thing where Sly and Buckster are having an innocuous conversation about the weather or whatever but Grant and Sam are just saying what they mean. It’s like they’re having a telepathic conversation. Sly agrees that the enemy of his enemy is his friend and he’ll go along with Buck’s plans as long as he can keep his hands clean, even if he doesn’t really care for Buck himself.

At the same time Gangie is in the kitchens getting fed (see the notes for a full list of kitchen staffers and other NPCs) and after the staff leaves, Gangie is told by Ambrose Harding (the Squire’s turtle valet) that there’s is business for him to attend to after dinner.

Buckster talks to Lawrence Longfoot--the rabbit photographer from last ep who we learn runs a trash newspaper. He and Buck bond over being trash and he gets a pic of Sly and Buck together.

Vicar Ian goes to talk to the Squire and basically tries to (openly) suss out whether the money was a bribe or a setup or what? Like, people are fully there (including the Lady Fawnbrook and her gossipy cat wife Tabitha). They snipe at each other a bit and then the Squire reveals that he’s talked him up to the Cardinal and the Cardinal agreed that he’s such a good vicar, he should be moved to Siberia. The decision has already been made and Ian doesn’t have the pull in the church to do anything about it. Yikes.

Before dinner, the rat butler catches Buck and asks if he has time to talk to Squire Badger. Buck agrees to go with him and he’s taken to the billiards room where the Squire is along with Harding and James Hawkins, Squire’s Hawk war buddy (a literal war hawk). Buck immediately puts his foot in his mouth by messing up the Squire’s title with his American ignorance of British peerage rules which annoys him, the elitism of it all. The Squire’s friends leave and then Buck starts talking about PR and how this whole situation has been bad PR for the Squire and it would be a shame if his PR got even worse. The suggestion of blackmail sends the Squire into a full honey badger don’t care style rage and he knocks TF out of Buck, flips the pool table, and then catches himself and scurries off. Daisy, Sly, and Gangie all hear this conversation from their positions in the house via the pipes running through the manor. Buck picks himself up and, on a 25, realizes that two of the mouse maids were hiding behind a curtain, hearing the whole thing (specifically, Edwina Thimble and Carolyn Dickory--oh like hickory dickory doc, BRENNAN) . They were playing hooky so he flips them a coin each and they all agree that no one saw or heard anything. “Two blind mice, see how they run,” he quips as they leave (sidenote, what a morbid nursery rhyme to exist in that world--to be fair, it’s pretty morbid as is).

Lucretia decides to turn the séance into a post dinner séance but still brings Daisy and Lars to see her occult room which is full of crap from, as Rekha said, “1800s Party City”. Lucretia does a hilariously vague read on Daisy and says that there’s something happening with her involving a man she knew or maybe still knows but she’s in her feelings about Sly so it kinda shakes her up. She tries to get Lucretia to charge for her “””incredible gift””” (so she can skim off the top of course) but Lucretia thinks it would be a misuse of her ~talents~. She does give Daisy an incredibly broad as to be useless even if magic exists blessing before she leaves.

Once she does, Daisy scopes out the room (which she realizes must have been retrofitted for Lucretia and wasn’t previously a séance room) and sees that the one thing in the room that doesn’t really match the aesthetic is a giant portrait of one of the previous squire badgers. On a 24 she notices two things: (1) the painting has recently been restored with new paint and (2) the frame is bolted to the wall. She wants to check it out but Lars is right there so she makes a note to check it out later and leaves.

Lars, being a very ride or die friend for Sly, bounds after her and basically calls her trash and tries to tempt her with garbage so she’ll lose composure and start chowing down. She drools at the sight but keeps it together and leaves. Lars runs off to tell Sly that they were a good good dog and gives him a full play by play.

Gangie meanwhile is watching a small argument between the butler and Harding in the servant’s quarters hallway and he realizes that he’s being talked about in veiled language. The butler is questioning Gangie’s employment and Harding says that, as servants, they shouldn’t question their master and that Gangie is employed for reasons that Squire Badger is aware of and reasons he is not. Hmm. Gangie realizes that Harding knows about his past which is weird because Gangie’s criminal record doesn’t follow him. There’s no internet. So what reason would this guy have to know about him?

Gangie doesn’t like this and decides to dip and steal some silverware on the way out. Mrs. Molesley (who I’ll be calling Mrs. M from now on) helps him (lol I’m not entirely sure if she didn’t know what he was doing or if she’s just down with stealing) and says that she’s been working there since Squire Badger was in diapers (she was his nanny) and if anyone bullies Gangie, she’ll take care of them. She also offers to make him a sweater so he doesn’t get cold and she’s just so nice that Gangie has to say yes. He looks to make sure no one is around and gives her a dandelion he picked. Cute!!!

And now it’s time for dinner and our very first box of doom roll for the most terrifying encounter of all: how close you have to sit next to your bitter ex! This is of course for Sly and Daisy with higher than a 15 meaning they don’t have to sit next to each other and anything lower meaning they have to sit pretty close. It is the first BOD roll I’ve ever wanted them to fail (mmm, except maybe Adaine’s werewolf roll but that’s a different conversation).

It’s in the 6-10 bracket which means they’re sitting across from each other (below that would have been them next to each other). Everyone is seated based on how on Squire Badger’s shitlist they are. So you have Ian at the absolute back. Sly to his right and Daisy on his left. The Buckster and Lars to the right and left after that. Then Armond (armadillo lawyer guy) and a snail guy because Brennan is a madman who cannot be stopped. Constance (Squire’s daughter) makes a toast to her dad wishing him well even though they haven’t always seen eye to eye (hmmm).

Buckster fills in Daisy on his confrontation with the Squire quietly enough that no one else hears. Daisy then turns to Sly and says she hopes they can be civil. Sly is like, “Sure Ms. DUMPSTER.” They’re the kind of exes who know exactly how to hurt each other but are also super open to being hurt. Emotional glass cannons is how Brennan describes it.

Buckster is given a note by Harding from Squire Badger and, once dinner is over, he takes Daisy off to the side to read it. Gangie follows, unseen. Ian, who recently prayed to God and got not super clear results goes to talk to Luecretia to see if maybe ghosts can help him instead. She is, as usual, not super helpful but does rush out to get her very necessary ritual dagger and declares to everyone that if anyone sees a ghost they have to tell her. As she says this, there is a flash of lightning and, through the window, Sylvester sees just for a moment the form of his nemesis, Fletcher Cottonbotton (who is by the docks).

Anyway, Buckster reads the note. It’s a document from the Squire selling his interest in BB Industries (Buck’s oil company) to Hazel Hogswallop who is another small shareholder in BB Industries. But, in doing so, it names Josiah Jackrabbit (one of his competitors) her proxy which means he’ll be able to vote on things (and with a lot of power with all that stock). The contract was written in fresh ink which means (1) it was probably written after their fight and (2) hasn’t been mailed yet (I smell a heist attempt). Buck rolls insight on the writing (mastermind rogue ability) and with a 27 senses that the Squire has gone off his rocker. This isn’t going to make him any money. Josiah doesn’t have enough liquid cash to pay him what this is worth. And the thing with Hazel would have taken time to set up. This has been in the works for a while and he’s been sitting on it until the time was right. And he senses, like Sly and Gangie did earlier, that someone besides the Squire is pulling the strings.

Then Gangie suddenly hears Constance’s distressed voice through the pipes from upstairs: “Father you’re possessed! You’re a mad man! This will never work. Speak of this to me never again.” And she slams the door (Buck, Daisy, and Gangie all hear). Constance comes downstairs and Squire Badger follows, looking upset. Mrs. M checks in on him too see if he’s eaten and he kind of gruffly has her follow him (along with Mr. Harding) into the drawing room.

There is a scream. Something drops. Silence. Footsteps. A door opens. Then a voice, “My God!”

Everyone rolls initiative. Ian moves first and, upon hearing all the commotion, gathers everyone together to go towards the sound (interesting choice but sure). Daisy recognizes that the scream heard was Mrs. M but barely knows who she is. She goes towards the commotion anyway. Gangie also goes towards the scream. Buckster grabs his gun (well he says “weapon”, but it’s gotta be a gun, right?) and makes like he’s following her but actually hides. Lars and Sylvester go towards the scream.

With everyone gathered, Ambrose opens the door. Inside they see Mrs. M, her hands covered in blood (my guess? From trying to stop the bleeding), kneeling on the ground over the dead body of the Squire. The room is a mess and stuff is scattered everywhere. There is a bloody knife in the Squire’s hand and a stab wound over his heart. Ms. M, who is distressed as hell, says there was something wrong with him. There was a flash, and she looked down and he was stabbing himself. Everyone thinks this is suspicious as hell. She was the only one in the room. Everyone looks to Sly, the famous detective who is not in the presence of a murder case in progress. What does Sly say? “Lady Lucretia. I’ve seen a ghost.”

Case Notes

I have to acknowledge how ON FIRE Grant was this episode. Like everyone was. Buck was great with the Squire. Daisy and Lars sniping at each other was fun. But man Grant had so many good lines. The “move your nose”. The heartbreak with Daisy (ugh, so sad!) And that blackout line!!! I am biased towards foxes as you can see from my avatar so I am very here for this great fox rep.

Based on the way their staredown went last ep I kinda thought Daisy was the wronged party but ugh. Slyyyyyyy. He forgave herrrrrrr. And he still went to the alter. Daisy how you could youuuuuuu?

Also, sigh, Fox and the Hound. I keep getting hit with these after the fact.

I loved Rekha’s “Of the Chase Sapphire’s?” improv.

That racoon/mink line was so sleazy. Weird compliment but Brennan is good at being animal-racist. Sidenote, Daisy makes a comment about being careful being a fox in England which I presume is a ref to fox hunting and like the implication of that are como se dice troubling.

Here are all the new NPCs for this ep and here’s a full NPC guide that also includes the list of names Gangie gave Buck which Buck shares with Daisy this ep.

And on that topic I can’t get over the concept of a married couple named Millie Molton and Mollie Milton. Like, did they get married solely for the bit???

The best Ian-ism of the ep was him talking about getting rejected from Siberia. Poor guy.

Fave OOC moment was everyone at the table getting aggressively patriotic in response to the Squire being dismissive to Buck. There is nothing funnier than someone singing a purposefully overwrought version of I’m Proud to Be An American.

“It’s 2020 for us bitch!”

The moment Mrs. M said she was gonna make Gangie a sweater I was scared for her. Sweaters take a long time to get made. I was like oh no. The plot is gonna stop you from making that sweater isn’t it. I’m willing to be proven wrong (Brennan loves his maids with secrets, see: Cathilda) but she seems super sweet and if anything happens to her I’m going to be upset.

What’s behind the painting Brennan. I know there’s a door. I know this house is full of secret tunnels and revolving bookshelves and all that. Let me see it!

One great little moment was when there was a flash of lightning and the minis for Sly and Lars like stop motion moved to look at it. Just great attention to detail. The work that gets put into this show is incredible.

Edit: A note I forgot to mention. There’s gotta be a secret door in the room where it happened, right? Like, creep in, flash of light to mess up her vision, do some shenanigans, peace out.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #mice and murder #mice and murder spoilers #the case file #(just under the wire! I had a busy week guys.)

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years

Text

Sunshine Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, soft!Bucky, mentions of injury (no graphic descriptions), 3.6k words

Summary: You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish he wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

Two years ago you were supposed to enjoy a solo road trip after years of Avenging, but Bucky invited himself along. Now you’re forced back to New York, and your boyfriend is ready to surprise you once again.

A/N: Bucky’s POV. Sequel to I love my baby to death, but I suppose you could read it on its own. As always forgive any mistakes, English is my third language.

Had to repost this cause it didn’t show up in the tags, hopefully this time it will

“I swear Buck, if I see one more damn corn plant I’m losing it. I am this close” you say pinching your thumb and pointer finger real close “to a mental breakdown. I’m never eating corn again, mark my words. No corn flakes, no corn on the cobble, no nothing. I’m done.”

“We’re in Iowa, in the middle of the corn belt, I don’t know what you were expecting.” he replies, slightly amused by your little outburst and sour mood.

“Well, clearly not ending up on the set of Children of the corn.” you groan, getting back to sulking in the passenger’s seat, seething at the fields that are only a scapegoat to the real problem.

You’d been merrily skiing in Montana when his skis got somehow tangled with yours and he tumbled down on you, dragging you down the slope. Hadn’t you injured yourself, rolling in the snow like it only ever happens in cartoons would have been pretty comical.

“What?” you screech, almost jumping off the stretcher and grimacing in pain when your left foot hits the metal poles at the side. “No. It’s just pain, I’m sure it will go away, right? I mean I was an Avenger, I’ve suffered worse than a fall.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but knee surgery will be necessary, the MRI here shows you’ve torn your ACL and from the looks of it, your left knee was already damaged badly, numerous times at that, probably a result of your time on the field.”

“I can’t, I can’t just get surgery, we’re miles away from home and I-”

You’re almost sobbing and Bucky feels like shit because he’s the reason for all this and all he can do now is pat your back reassuringly.

“Given the extent of the damage, I’m afraid there’s no other option.”

“How long is the recovery time?” he asks, voice unsure.

“Well, it’s my knowledge she’s not an enhanced individual, so like any average human it will take anywhere from 6 to 9 months to recover fully. In the meantime, no more hikes or sports.”

Bucky inhales a sharp breath. Six to nine months. No more hikes. Surely you’ll have to go back to New York.

God, you are so going to break up with him.

Turns out you didn’t dump him in Montana, you didn’t abandon him in one of those auto stops along Interstate 90 in South Dakota, and you don’t seem to want to break up with him amidst the green fields of Iowa, but still, he knows he will drive through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate, driving the same route you did as friends two years ago, along Interstate 80 headed East instead of West, only this time he’s not hoping to be more than the annoying old man who invited himself on your trip; he’s your boyfriend now, but maybe not for long.

“You know, you really are dramatic.” you say in a teasing tone, “I’m not going to break up with you, stop thinking about that, it was an accident, ‘s not like you beat me.”

“I know, I’m just sorry because you’re in pain and it’s my fault and now we have to get back home but I know you wanted to stay more and I did too and if I didn’t-” he’s rambling, and your place your hand on his thigh and squeeze reassuringly, offering him one of those sweet smiles he dies for.

“Buck, it’s okay” you interrupt his word vomit “like I said a million times before, it was an accident, it’s going to be fine I promise. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise with my mood, I swear I’m just pissed at all this damn corn. We’re never going to a maze again, by the way.” That gets a laugh out of him, and he loves you even more because you’re always there to lift his spirits. “I’m dreading these next months, the surgery, physiotherapy and all, but I know you’re there for me, yes?”

He nods, teary eyed, and you continue, “And I can’t lie, it’s been a while, I’m kind of excited to see everyone again, I mean except for Sam of course,” you say, as if he didn’t “live rent free in your head”, like Sam himself put it, “Jesus that man, how many of our trips has he invited himself on? I’ve lost count. ‘Member when we found him waiting for us in Phoenix? Fuckin’ weirdo.”

You both chuckle at the memory of Sam in your motel room, waiting on your bed with crossed arms like a disappointed parent, pissed off because you hadn’t called in a week and he was worried sick that something may have happened to you, a deadly sniper, and him, the Winter fuckin’ Soldier. Truth is, Bucky was so excited about your new relationship that he rarely let you leave the bed when you were in your room, and when you did you were in no condition to Facetime anyone, with your smudged mascara and swollen lips.

“I’ve heard Clint will come visit us with Laura and the kids. Nathaniel must be so big now.” you add, your eyes glazed over as you think of the little boy who was named after your Natasha.

“God, Morgan is probably all grown up.” he muses, a tinge of sadness in his voice. You squeeze his thigh again. “And the spider kid too, he’s a grown man now.”

“That he is.” you chuckle, “But to me he’ll always be the boy in the red spanx who knocked us on our asses in Berlin.”

He smiles and shakes his head at the memory, and you both fall in a comfortable silence. Now that he’s not consumed by fear anymore, Bucky kind of agrees with you that all this green is, in fact, nauseating.

“You know what, no more popcorn either.”

“Deal.”

A year and something ago

Arizona

“Can you believe there’s a city in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences? We should totally go and visit just for the hell of it, sounds like the type of place Steve Rogers should have been born into.” you state with all the seriousness in the world, and he snorts because after all this time you still haven’t found it in yourself to stop mocking Steve’s righteousness.

You’re walking ahead of him and he’s so distracted by your tiny denim shorts that he, the master of stealth, almost trips over a boulder. You’re always pretty but tonight, illuminated by the orange sky of Arizona, you look like a dream. And you’re so happy, snapping photos at everything you see, that even if Bucky hates the desert and the heat makes him uncomfortable, he won’t tell you, because the look on your face makes it all worth it.

“Baby, look at this big boy here, he’s like 20 feet tall. Oh my god, he’s so cute and beefy, just like you.” you gush at one of the giant cactuses of Saguaro National Park.

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

All he sees are green spiky motherfuckers that he’s accidentally hurt himself with more times that he’d like to admit in all those damn ‘hikes’ you like so much, but to you cactuses are the most beautiful sight in the word. He genuinely does not see the appeal, but he understands now how you feel when he talks about all his ‘nerd shit’, as you call it.

“I’m cuter.” he says frowning.

“Of course you are.”

For some reason you don’t sound convincing at all.

It’s only spring but here in Tucson the temperature is 85 degrees today and he’s sweating buckets underneath the long sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing to conceal his vibranium arm. He’s long past the time when he was forced to hide from authorities or the general public’s judgement, but still he doesn’t want to be recognized and attract attention. He doesn’t do well with crowds, and he doesn’t understand how you can be so calm and collected when people stare at you and ask for photographs while you’re minding your own business.

As soon as you get back to the motel you’re staying at he takes off his soaked shirt, not caring that the air conditioning is probably going to end his old ass.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask, scowling as you analyze the skin around his prosthetic.

He shrugs. “It happens sometimes.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me James.”

You only call him that when he’s in big trouble. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose: why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time? “It’s nothing sweetheart, just sometimes the skin becomes flared when it’s too hot.”

“Nothing?” you shrill, throwing your hands around animatedly, “Nothing? Bucky your whole shoulder is super red and irritated, don’t act like it’s normal. We’ve been in the sun for hours, for days really, why didn’t you tell me anything? I would have driven us back here immediately. Does it hurt?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to ruin your fun, you liked it so much there. And no, it only itches a little.”

Your eyes soften and you move to cup his face in your hands, looking at him with so much love that he feels himself melt away into a puddle, “Baby you don’t need to do that, you know I care more about you than anything else.”

“Even more than the cactuses?”

“Well, now you’re asking too much of me.”

He snorts and playfully hits your arm, then he falls back on the bed and drags you down with him. You stay cuddled like that for a while before you pull back to look into his eyes.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Buck, but you don’t ever need to sacrifice your own comfort for me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But you looked so happy.”

“Don’t be, and I’m always happy with you, I promise.”

“I’m always happy too.”

“We’re such saps. Gross. Anyways, guess where we’re going next?” you ask him cheerfully, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

“The plan was New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana, right?” he frowns. You’d made plans together ages ago and you were so excited about visiting Texas of all places for God knows what reason. He’s predicted already that he won’t stand the suffocating, humid heat of that whole area. At least Arizona was dry as hell.

You on the other hand, everyday he’s become more aware of how much of a lizard you are, seeking the sun and walking around in the scorching heat not even breaking a sweat.

“Guess again baby boy, we’re going straight to Oregon. I mean, it's not Alaska but it’s not as hot as the desert here, right?

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to overheat?” you state like it’s obvious, rolling your eyes, “We’ll do New Mexico and the rest next fall, and now Oregon and Washington because it’s a little cooler there. So what do you say?” You ask with a hopeful look in your eyes.

“Princess I appreciate you doing this for me, but I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to change plans for me, this is your road trip.”

“No you won’t Buck, you’re not doing good and I don’t ever want to see you suffer, you understand? By the time we get to Texas it will be summer and you won’t stand it, it’s better if we visit when it’s colder.”

He smiles softly. He knows he’d do the same for you. “Then Oregon it is.”

You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to shower, “Oh, and baby?” you call out, peeking your head from behind the door, “This is your road trip too, never forget that.”

Oregon

“Why does Thor get to have places named after him and we don’t? We were Avengers too.”

“But are we norse gods?”

“I mean, not yet, but I definitely deserve some nature’s wonder, or at least a star, to be named after me.”

“I’ll call WMO and get them to name a hurricane after you, princess. It seems more fitting.”

“Asshole.”

You’d been camping somewhere in Oregon’s wilderness when he came up with the idea of visiting all of the State’s so called seven wonders, starting from Thor’s Well on the Coast and ending in Mount Hood near Portland. You took a thousand photos of each attraction and sent a video of the water seemingly draining inside the famous well to the God himself, who enthusiastically expressed his appreciation.

Bucky’s cherished every minute of it, from the hot springs of Crater Lake to the chillier temperatures at night that force you to snuggle closer to him to warm up.

You’re in Portland now, and you’re thoroughly enjoying it, but what’s new about that? You’re always so full of life, so genuinely excited about everything the world has to offer that he’d be worried if you weren’t having the time of your life as you usually are.

He likes the city too, which is saying a lot.

“Blueberries are the superior berry and that’s the hill I’m willing to die on.”

You’ve been eating your way through Portland for weeks, and you’ve been discussing pies for a solid thirty minutes now. It’s raining outside and you’re cooped up in a small pie shop, eating more than an average human can and receiving weird looks from the waitress as you tell her to ‘keep ‘em coming’.

“I’m sorry but you’re wrong princess,” he states with a stuffed mouth just for the sake of aggravating you to no end, “blackberries are just so much better.”

It works as you grimace in disgust, both at his statement and his manners.

He’s found out you are weirdly opinionated when it comes to pies: pecan pies are an abomination, pumpkin doesn’t belong in dessert, lemon pie and key lime pie are only acceptable if someone’s grandma is kindly offering them to you, rhubarb pie without strawberries is a threat to mankind and cherry and blueberry pies are the absolute best. Apple pie is too bland to even take the time to discuss it, although the taste is likeable enough.

He on the other hand likes anything pie and anything sweet. And anything that gets a rise out of you.

“Please Buck, this isn’t even a blackberry pie, it’s some sort of inbred experiment that turned out kinda right.”

He shushes you, barely holding back a laugh when he sees the waiter side eyeing you as you disrespect one of Oregon’s most famous dishes, “First of all, it’s called marionberry and it’s a type of blackberry. And second, keep it down unless you want us to be kicked out, you’re offending a whole state.”

“Sorry.” you shrug, “But blueberry tartness level is where I draw the line, anything more than that is unacceptable.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re still a child and haven’t developed adult taste buds yet baby.” He does love his senior citizen card a bit too much.

This earns him a kick under the table and a scowl. “Stop it, grandpa.” you groan.

He grins and digs in your slice of marionberry pie. You resume to people watching.

God, he loves Oregon. And he loves you.

He really is a sap.

Wyoming

Washington was nice enough. You’ve taken him bar crawling most nights, and all of them have ended with him giving you a piggyback ride, per your request, back to the hotel room you were staying at.

It takes 13 hours to drive from Seattle to Yellowstone and you’ve driven all the way. You refused to disclose the destination of the trip and he’s fallen asleep the last 3 hours in the car. He’d mentioned he wanted to see the geysers somewhere in Pennsylvania two years ago and you remembered and took him.

Bucky couldn’t be happier.

He’s still describing the constellations above you when you fall asleep, and he’s so absorbed by the sky that he doesn’t notice until your head falls on his shoulder and he hears your soft snores.

He picks you up bridal style and takes you back to the fancy tent he bought on a whim in Ohio after you both slept in the SUV and woke up with major back and neck pain. He smiles as he removes your makeup with a wipe and does your skincare just the way you taught him, and admires your relaxed state.

He grazes your pretty face with his vibranium fingers, something so unimaginable to him before he met you, as he never thought his arm could bring anything other than pain.

Back when he was a semi stable 100 year old man thrust in another fight yet again, he hadn’t realized the extent of his feelings for you, believing he was only attracted to your beauty and youth. He hadn’t seen the way your smile lights up a whole room, nor the way you listen, truly listen, to anyone who may have anything to tell you, without ever judging them. He hadn’t witness your kindness and patience, let alone experienced them on his own skin. He hadn’t been lucky enough to watch you feed bird seed to the ducks of every pond of the country, or try to rescue a cat from a rooftop and almost falling off to save it.

Then Sam told him you were leaving and he felt like the word was collapsing on him. He’d found the sunlight and he never wanted to be without it.

Now he’s seen it all, all the little things that make you who you are, including your flaws, and he loves you not regardless of them, nor in spite of them, but because even your worst imperfections make you… you.

Bucky doesn’t know if meeting you was a way for the universe to fix all the wrongs that have been done to him, a sort of payback for all the shit he’s been put through, but in case it is, then he’s got no objections. And maybe he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you, but he’s a selfish man, and now that his sunshine girl is with him he never wants to plunge back into the the darkness ever again.

He tucks you both under the sleeping bag and snuggles next to you.

“Buck?” you mumble in a haze, tugging at his t-shirt, “Love you.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but his supersoldier hearing allows him to pick it up. He kisses the crown of your hair as he caresses your back.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

He wants to spend the rest of his time on Earth proving you how much.

New York

6 months later

The doctor wasn’t lying when she warned you that recovery would take 6 to 9 months.

You said the aftermath of the operation hurt like a bitch and that physiotherapy hurt even more. Today’s your last session and Bucky is glad about it for many reasons, like how you’re not in pain anymore for starters, and maybe because of how annoyingly fun, smart and hot your therapist is. Not like he’d ever admit it to you.

“Jesus,” you groan, “he turned me inside out like a sock, I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“Sounds fun.” he deadpans.

“Someone’s jealous of the doctor?” you ask with a mischievous smirk.

“‘M not. He’s not all that.” he mumbles, blushing like a school boy.

You snort and drawl a ‘sure’. He sends you his best death glare.

“Whatever. I hope you don’t mind if we take a stop before going home.” he announces, helping you into the car. His palms feel clammy and he’s sweating despite the chilly winds of New York’s fall.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Actually, that’s kind of a surprise, you’ll see.”

You beam at his words; he knows you love surprises and he hopes you’re going to like this one.

----

You look radiant as you lie on the blanket he’s spread on the grass, surrounded by colorful foliage. You’re sipping some of your favorite wine and nibbling on crackers as you admire a flock of birds migrating south in the sky.

You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish we wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

He’s prepared a long, passionate speech to tell you how much he loves you, of all the ways you’ve changed his life for the better and of all the reasons why he’d be a good husband.

But when you look at him with those bright eyes and beaming smile, he can barely remember his own name. He drops on one knee and holds the box out with shaky hands.

“Marry me, please.”

----

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and comment, don’t be shy, feedback is always appreciated 🥺🤲

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n

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voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

Comte - C, F, J, K, O. Daddy of the mansion.

*Warning: Mentions of sexual activity involving periods.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Finds elegance in giving you a pearl necklace. Whilst your body will be jewelled with expensive bracelets and trinkets, when making love Comte likes to remove the gold chain from your neck and replace it with his seed. The pearly white essence lays against your skin, followed by a charming grin and comment “Ma Cherie, all the money in the world couldn’t buy how exquisite you look right now”.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

In his room there's a velvet armchair encrusted with gold decor, placed in front of the roaring fireplace which gives a subtle glow to the room. Having you straddle him over his chair, cock buried inside you as you rest your hands on his chest, sweating foreheads pressed together. The casting of the fiery glow creates a halo around the outline of your body, the sight of an angel before him as you both take your time to savour the intimate moment. Letting you being in-control of the pleasure, using him almost for your own needs and wants in a unhurried way. A soft exchange of ‘I love yous’ as his hands guide your hips in a slow movement, no rush to find a release, just a tender moment of love and admiration between you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When he was younger, he had a ‘bad boy’ period where he was almost like Arthur, a different mademoiselle nearly every other night. But this period was extremely brief, he went through it in an attempt to calm his sexual desire. The reason this period came to such a sudden end? A young lady who he pressed against the wall, his lips falling to her neck and she let out a cry of “Arthur”. Needless to say, Comte then stayed clear away from any woman out of fear of touching somewhere Arthur already had done. He did not want to be anywhere near where Arthur had been.

So his hand became the next best thing. Not fond of masturbating, ‘its a ghastly thing for a nobleman to do’. So he jacks off when and how he needs too, but when you step through that door and come hurtling into his life... That sexual desire he managed to suppress came bubbling to the surface faster than an erupting volcano. He spent so many nights before you became a couple fisting himself to the thought of you, the scent of you, all of you. You broke the daddy of the mansion.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

*Mentions of period sex

Really into getting busy when your on your period. If you're into it, he’ll camp out between your thighs morning to noon, commenting “Your scent is divine Ma Cherie, I could smell you from outside, now please let me have a good taste”. I mean the mans a fully fledged vampire, he literally drinks blood to keep a live so getting to savour it from you, directly from your core, the man thanks the many gods he doesn’t believe in.

Loves to write dirty letters for you to find, especially if he has to disappear for a few days on ‘urgent matters’. Expect heavily detailed letters about your previous encounters together and what he plans on doing to you the moment he gets back.

“Ma Cherie,

You were practically radiating the other night, the glow of sweat glistened in the moonlight as you slept so peacefully against my chest.

The deepening crimson mark up on your neck is not only a sign of my love for you, but also a warning to the others. They dare come near you whilst I am away and they’ll have wished they had stayed dead. If that flirting-oath even makes an attempt at you, he will regret the day he was reborn.

How I already miss your sweet scent, the hints of rose that linger upon your skin through the day. How sweet your pussy smells for me when it’s dripping for my touch, simply begging for me to fill it.

I know your blushing at this, I can already imagine the red tint dotting cross your cheeks but do not fear Ma Cherie. You have nothing to be embarrassed about when it comes to me.

I’m sure that last passionate night we spent together has been satisfactory enough for you until I return, my you did look radiant as you trembled beneath me. The quivering of you tight walls against my bare flesh, the luxurious taste of your skin which you so beautifully offered.

My dear, I may be the one to grant ever-after life, but your beauty, your smile, your aura possesses the most power of all, you give a reason to want to live forever.

I will return before the week is over, where I will take my rightful place beside you.

My love, Ma Cherie.

Je t'aime,

Comte.”

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Comte is daddy of the mansion, he is always in control so the day you drop to your knees, palms parting his thighs telling him, “You're so good to me monsieur, please let take care of you,”. He sinks so deep into the realms of pleasure to feel your lips wrap around him, he struggles to not fall out apart after only a few moments of your hallowed mouth working over him.

Comte is a god of oral, just ask Leonardo. His tongue works magic as it flickers over your clit, two slender fingers pushing in and out of your core in-time to his moving muscle. As mentioned in K, if you're on your period he will go down on you for days, like the man barely parts for breath as his hands keep your thighs spread.

“C-comte!” It came out in a half groan, half whine, sounding almost inhuman. Fingers tugging at the caramel locks, guiding him to where you ached for him, hips bucking against his face. Walls pulsing as he brought you to a third eye-water climax of the night by just purely his tongue.

“Mademoiselle,” The lingering gaze of his liquid-burning golden eyes found yours, a predatory smirk across his face as the glimmer of crimson dripped from his chin, “You are far sweeter than rouge could ever be, please ma cherie… be good and let me feast upon your heavenly nectar,”. One slow swipe across your folds sent your back arching off the bed, a cry once more of his name from your lips as he continued to devour you like a starving man.

ABC’s masterlist here

#abcs of sex #ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikemen vamp smut #ikemen series #ikevamp #ikevamp headcanon #ikemen headcanons #ikemen comte #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire comte #comte saint germain #ikemen le comte #ikevamp le comte

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orbitariums · 4 years

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟑)

part two

hope everyone is doing so lovely! i’m so excited to post this third chapter and i’m glad we’re on this journey together <3 thank u for reading!!! this chapter is supa long, please get a snack honey lol.

taglist is closed!

playlist

word count: 9.4k

warnings: age gap, sex work, dirty talk, straight filth, smut, squirting, toys, (virtual?) domination, cute dialogue!!!

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

Steve was flooded with morning meetings that whole day. Still you existed somewhere in the back of his mind, while he was filing through briefings and reports. He tried not to let the thought of you creep up, something he was unknowingly resisting because he didn't want what the two of you had to be bigger than it was.

But he was also trying to focus. He knew already, like muscle memory, that it would be impossible for this to become anything serious, anything beyond your work as a cam girl. You might have a connection, but you were just doing your job, and he was just satisfying himself. Right?

And you knew too that this couldn't become anything serious. And it wouldn't, you had convinced himself. So he came out of the blue, so he surprised you. But he was still a customer. And while you had connections with your customers, it never went beyond the workplace. Though he still resided in the back of your mind.

It wasn't until Steve was on break and heading down to the kitchen to make himself some food that he decided to fully address the events that had happened last night. When you asked to see him, he was almost scared at first-he felt that things could shift permanently because you had asked him that. But ignorance is bliss, so he'd brushed off the thought of that happening, and convinced himself it wasn't a big deal.

But it had to mean something right? He could see himself going down a winding tunnel of you wanting to see him more and more, and the end would be catastrophe- that is, if he showed himself. But he knew he had more sense than that, could end things if necessary. It wasn't that serious, not yet.

And while he was nervous, he still thought of you with fondness, thinking of your youthful glow and how it seemed like you were drawn together in perfect timing, how much he liked talking to you and respected you. It wasn't all bad.

The thought was enough to talk to somebody about it, except it wouldn't be Tony this time. Steve knew Tony's response would be straight forward - not to talk to her, and to find another cam girl. And he'd ask why Steve was accepting requests to talk with her about unrelated matters in the first place. And maybe the fact that Steve didn't want to hear that, didn't want things to be so straightforward and disciplinarian, should've been a warning. But he didn't listen. Instead, he went to go talk to Bucky about it.

"Shoot," Bucky said after Steve told him he had something to tell him. Bucky stuffed practically an entire piece of toast in his mouth, his hand on his hip as he sat on the edge of one of the kitchen tables. With a full mouth he continued."'S it important?"

Steve shrugged, holding a cup of coffee just below his beard, feeling it steam up his face. He took a big sip.

"I dunno. I'm trying to decide that myself."

Bucky raised an eyebrow,

"Well..."

Steve sighed, setting his coffee down and leaning against the counter beside Bucky so they could talk.

"I met this girl. Well, met is a strong word," Steve cocked his head to the side, after considering the quirks of his situation. He then started to wonder if Bucky would even know how to help him with this situation, it was so oddly specific. He continued anyway, under the intense, questioning gaze of Bucky. "I... found this girl online. On a cam site."

Bucky nearly choked on his toast, his eyebrows raised as far as they'd go,

"You? On a cam site? You? You're on a cam site?"

The more Bucky repeated it, the more surprised he seemed to become, and Steve could only watch with amusement at his close friend's bewildered expressions.

"You say it like I'm one of the cam girls," Steve joked, shaking his head, but Bucky only stared at him, incredulous.

But then he came back down to earth with a slightly impressed shrug,

"Well. I gotta admit, I never expected this from you, and you're my best man. But I guessed there had to be a reason you've been so much better these past few days, and there had to be some reason you weren't bringing it up. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Steve grinned,

"It's not that I was keeping it from you necessarily. I just didn't think I should put it out there, even if it's just between the two of us."

Bucky smirked,

"Captain America has a dirty little secret. I respect it."

Steve didn't say anything, but that was slightly true. Half of him wanted to keep things under wraps, the other half of him wanted it to be his own little secret, something that was only for him. You could say he wanted you all to himself, which wasn't untrue - during your public show, though he enjoyed it, it felt less personal and thus made him rethink his actions.

He wanted it one on one, wanted to know he was partially responsible to bringing you to that point, and that you brought each other to that point together, just the two of you. So, in some ways, it was his "dirty little secret."

"The girl I watch, she's amazing. I mean, we had a real connection, since our first private session-"

"Private session? Maybe I did teach you well all these years," Bucky nodded.

"Actually, this was all Tony. Anyway, I've been watching her, and yesterday, after her show, she requested to talk to me. Not the other way around. She wasn't even doing private shows that day. Anyway, I accepted, and maybe that wasn't the right thing to do, but it didn't feel... wrong. I talked to her, and she said... she said she wanted to see me. As in through the camera."

Bucky took a few moments to absorb and contemplate, and nodded slowly,

"And you're wondering if that's as serious as your mind wants it to be."

"Basically. I mean, I don't feel like this is something I have to avoid or be careful with. We're not declaring our love for each other. I'm just another customer. That's what I want to believe, at least."

"I mean, you're always gonna be taking that risk. You're talking to someone who's as good as a stranger. And your 'connection', it's exactly what it sounds like. You're another customer, but you've just taken a liking to each other. As far as I'm concerned, that's okay. And as for her asking you to show yourself... it's tricky. I mean, I've been on my fair share of sites like that, but I'm not well versed in it. I don't want to say it's not serious just for it to end up being serious. You know how these things go," Bucky smiled softly, and Steve nodded, though his eyes seemed a bit troubled as he looked down at the floor.

"Right..." he trailed off, folding his arms.

Maybe he just needed to hear that he shouldn't talk to you anymore, to ease his concerns. Maybe Bucky was right. It has the potential to be serious, but it might not be. He didn't know what to think.

"I don't know bud, but the fact that you're asking me tells me it's been on your mind. And I know you, you don't let things stay on your mind long unless they're important. Could be that this is important to you," Bucky offered, but Steve waved his hand dismissively, a little too fast.

"It's - it's not..."

Bucky raised his brows,

"You think about her?"

"Sure," Steve shifted, folding his arms slightly. "But not more than my work or anything. I don't view her as a priority, Buck. It's normal that she'd be on my mind, I mean, this is all new to me. I'm stressing for no reason, aren't I?"

He decided he was stressing for no reason. He wasn't obsessed with you, wasn't head over heels for you. He wasn't placing you over his work. It was just the shock of the new situation, the unexpected, big bang of an introduction of you into his life -- that's what he convinced himself, to put his mind at ease.

Bucky raised his hands up,

"Hey, I'm not assuming anything. And honestly Steve, if you are... thinking about her. I think that's good. As long as it's something healthy, I don't think you have anything to be worried about. You deserve some type of distraction, and maybe that's what she is. You don't have to worry about things getting too serious, trust me. You've got a little time on your hands, that's all."

Steve took Bucky's words to heart, absorbing them so they could soak up all his previous thoughts -- which would be squeezed out in a matter of time as the reality of your relationship revealed itself. He deserved a little distraction, though he valued you on a more humane level.

He didn't have to worry himself about the potential it could have to become something serious and something dangerous. He was smart enough, had a strong head on his shoulders. He just had a little free time. That was all.

✺ ✺ ✺

"I told him 'I wish I could see you through your camera'," you groaned, sprawled out on your bed, just hours before your next show that Friday. "Was that stupid?"

You pouted, your lips glossy and full, shoving chips into your mouth as you bitched and moaned into the phone. You were talking to one of the girls you'd met on girlsonfilm, named Jane, who went by Scream Queen. Her specialty was being an alt dominatrix girl, who attracted lots of submissive men. You admired her work, and you were close friends. She laughed on the other end,

"Hon, it's not stupid. I wouldn't ask or tell a customer that, though. You've been doing this for some time too, but you're still learning."

You frowned, fiddling with your gold rose shaped necklace,

"I know. I don't wanna scare him off."

"Please, you won't. I guarantee he'll be on your show again tonight. Men don't scare from a beautiful woman like you, not easily."

You cooed, smiling to yourself,

"Aw... bitch if you lived in Cali you would so feature on my show, I literally love you."

"I love you!" she exclaimed. "We'd make hella money just by being in each other's presence on camera, it'd be crazy. I gotta fly out to Cali."

"Right?" you chuckled.

You felt a little more at ease now. You hadn't been thinking as much about Steve as he had been thinking about you, but that didn't mean he wasn't on your mind. He was a special customer to you, even though you'd only just gotten to know him. You just liked him in what felt like a more unique way. And ever since you'd brought up seeing him on his camera, you had some regrets. You felt like it made you seem needy, bringing up old habits.

In your last romantic relationship, you were always wanting something, things that you shouldn't have had to ask for. But ever since you got out of that relationship, you had decided to be more self sufficient. That was part of the reason why you were financially independent and constantly did so much work. You no longer depended on others for certain things, not like you had before.

But in addition to reminding you of old habits, you felt awkward about the whole situation because you didn't want him to feel pressured or uncomfortable either. You didn't want it to feel like you wanted something more because you'd asked to see him. As far as you were concerned, the two of you, especially yourself, were far from wanting something more. For your own safety. You might have really liked him, but at the end of the day, he was a customer and that was that.

"Well," you flopped onto your stomach. "I feel better now, so thanks. I'm doing a couple private shows after my giveaway, maybe I'll see him again. Or... hear him, rather."

"If he does end up showing himself, keep me posted. I wanna know if he's as sexy as he sounds."

"Oh trust me, I will. Honestly, if he keeps watching my shows, I wanna teach him how to dirty talk. I think then it'll be something serious," you joked, shaking your head. "Alright, well I gotta get ready. Bye bitch!"

"Bye biiitch, have fun tonight, I'll be tuning in."

You blew her a kiss and hung up, your spirits lifted after your brief conversation. You started getting ready for your next show, hoping that Steve would continue to tune in. Unbeknownst to you, he was anticipating your show tonight as well, though a small part of him was hesitant - should he continue to watch regularly? He'd let himself indulge. One more night couldn't be an issue.

When you came on, you were excited to see that the amount of viewers had increased. You figured that since you were advertising a giveaway of your underwear, more people would feel inclined to join, take their chances. You smiled when Steve joined and waved,

"Hey, Steve! How's it going?"

Steve — GrantRoberts Good. How are you?

"I'm good, thanks for asking. Alright, hi everyone, thank you so much for joining! I see we've got some new viewers tonight, so nice to meet you. I'm sure you all know that today is a very special day, because I'll be giving away —" you stood up so the camera could see below your waist, showing that you were wearing a pair of purple lace panties, the pair you had been boasting about the week before. "These!" you chimed.

Steve raised his brows at the cheeky way you operated, looking over the pair. They were cute, looked expensive. The butterfly design on the underwear was detailed and there were white gems on either side at the top. You had said last week that these were a favorite among your viewers, he understood why.

You explained the rules of the giveaway and how it would be working, and explained that there was a link pinned in the chat box to sign up for entries. Once you posted that link, tokens and sign up notifications came flooding through. You watched with a full smile, before slowly getting to the show.

Steve decided he wouldn't be entering the giveaway, to keep his own discretion, and because although he definitely saw the appeal, he wasn't big on keeping someone else's underwear unless he knew them in real life.

You started by rubbing yourself through your panties, making a big deal of how wet you were, how you were soaking through the panties and wouldn't be washing them. That was how you knew you'd get people to pay up and enter your giveaway. Steve watched in amazement at the way you moved, your delicate fingers gently running over your clit through the lace panties, slipping the panties to the side every once in a while to dip your fingers inside of yourself, proclaiming how tight you felt and how much you wanted more than just fingers inside of you to stretch you out.

Needless to say, you put on a show, and you really were soaking through your panties by the time you were done. Steve lost track of how many times he came, and it was then that he realized that maybe he liked this side of you more than what he had seen before. It was teasing and tantalizing, almost theatrical, except you were really taking your time to please yourself.

And for some reason, it practically made him short circuit. The idea of him realizing that he had more sexual interests than he was aware of basically seduced him. And knowing that he was coming to these realizations because of you made him feel hungry and crazed.

He liked how you were barely touching yourself, teasing yourself yet still dripping through your panties, making a show out of a little thing. He kept a slow pace to match your own, edging himself and feeling grunts get caught in his throat each time he stopped himself from coming.

You were absolutely mystifying, drawing him in more and more in every way. Your soft moans, quieter and more needy than usual, were like music to his ears. He loved the way your legs shook when you had to hold off an orgasm for the purpose of the show, so that you could hold off and increase the value of your giveaway, lengthen the time you gained tips and coins. By the time you were done, he had cum on his chest, legs and a little on his bed sheets, which he cleaned up gingerly, watching as you signed off.

You slid out of your panties and held them up to the camera, practically purring when you finally spoke,

"Look what I did to them. Soaked in all my juices and cum just for you. Well, for one lucky winner! Tip up to increase your chances."

You giggled, biting down on your lip, and continued,

"Well, thank you for watching. Now, I do wanna do some private shows with a few of you. So, send in those requests and tokens and I'll pick a lucky few."

As you waited for the requests to go in, you noticed Steve's name and his large donation — of course you'd go on private with him, but you wanted to talk to other customers as well. So you queued up a list of who you'd be talking to and placed Steve, the best, for last.

Steve got a notification that you'd be talking to him, and while you signed off, he stayed on the site waiting for his turn. Each show you did was only about five minutes, and he had twenty five minutes to spare before he got the chance to talk to you. Those twenty five minutes he used for contemplation and thinking like always.

If he wasn't spending his spare time with you, he was either thinking or distracting himself from thinking by spending time with his fellow Avengers. And now that there was nothing to do, all he could do was get lost in his thoughts. He thought of his conversation with Bucky - though he had come to the conclusion that he shouldn't worry so much and that he deserved a distraction, there was still some part of it that tugged at him.

The fact of the matter was that, he did think about you. A lot, actually, and it had only been a few days. He thought about the kind of unhinged pleasure you gave him that you had allowed him to tap into for the first time. He thought about the need you fulfilled. He thought about how he liked you, how he felt like he knew you on a personal level and that he sensed that you were truly a good person. He liked that about you, all those thoughts. But ever since last week, the thoughts slightly intimidated him at the same time.

Take a breath, Steve, he thought. Maybe it was old age making him nervous about everything. If Tony could do the same things before becoming Ironman and still live the way Tony was currently living, Steve could have his own little pleasures. His brain just kept doing the back and forth.

You were happy when Steve's time came along. You were so caught up in your other customers that you had nearly forgotten what you were looking forward to. When it came to Steve, all your nerves were due to excitement, and the good kind. You weren't worried about the strength of your connection and if it would become overbearing, and you had reassured yourself that you weren't being needy or pressuring him. You felt at ease.

You clicked his name feverishly, waving your hands up at the camera when the log opened. Yet again he wasn't showing himself, but you didn't let that bother you. You had all the time in the world to talk with him, because you didn't put a limit on the time. You didn't do so pointedly, you just did it so you wouldn't have to be preoccupied with the time limit.

For you, talking to Steve at the end of your list was like de-stressing and winding down, nothing more and nothing less. You weren't viewing him as more than a customer. It wouldn't be inappropriate to talk for a while.

"Hey, Steve!" you waved, grinning toothily.

Steve chuckled when he saw you and heard the genuine happiness in your voice. There was something sweetly innocent about you, despite the fact that your job was anything but innocent, and the fact that he had seen every part of you within the first day of getting to know you.

Still, he knew that didn't take away from the bright personality you seemed to have. Your duality as a focused businesswoman and giggly young college girl both impressed him and held a special place in his heart.

"Hi, Moonrose. How are you?"

"I'm lovely, and yourself?"

Steve let out a deep sigh he didn't know he'd been holding in. Talking to you relieved a lot of unconscious stress, and with that deep sigh he found a lot of relief,

"I'm good. It's been a long day. Lots of labs, lots of meetings."

It wasn't entirely a lie - he did have lots of meetings that day, and you were in the back of his mind throughout all those meetings, but no labs. He wouldn't tell you he'd been thinking of you though, and you decided that you wouldn't tell him you'd been thinking of him either.

"The life of a scientist," you joked playfully.

You felt comfortable, even more comfortable with him than the last time, simply because it felt like you had both gotten past that awkward stage.

"I mean, you can relate. Must be busy having all the jobs you have. I mean, you're a student, you're working on clothing, you work with a state rep, you're doing this every other day. That's gotta take a toll on you," Steve listed off everything you'd told him about.

He kept that in mind, how busy and occupied you were, because you still carried yourself so well. Maybe it was just for the purpose of customer interaction; he wondered if you acted or felt the same outside of this private world of yours.

You blushed slightly, flattered that Steve remembered everything you did and that he even held it in close regards to what he did on a daily basis. You knew you juggled a lot of things, but to hear someone else say it felt so much more validating, whether it came from your best friend Aaliyah or from Steve.

"Aw, that's nice of you to say," you smiled warmly. "It can be a lot, honestly. Sometimes it feels like I'm doing too much, but... it's what I have to do! And for the most part, I like doing too much. It keeps me focused. Helps me cope with... life."

You got a little sheepish. You didn't want to get too into the things you were really coping with.

"I can appreciate that," Steve nodded. He raised his brows to himself as chose his words carefully. "My job can be... demanding."

"Oh totally, I'm sure. Lots of math and shit. What gets you through it though?" you asked, and Steve chuckled slightly to himself at your vernacular - it reminded him how young you were.

Steve breathed out a heavy sigh, taking in the question thoughtfully. What the hell got him through it? He supposed it was knowing that he was doing good for the world, knowing that he had a team to work with and back him up at all times, and the fact that he was in control for the most part. But as for actual coping, he was almost at a loss. Almost.

"Honestly?" he rubbed at his beard, and you bit down on your lip, giving him a flirty smile.

"The cold hard truth," you ensured him, puckering your lips and putting on your best game face.

"Honestly, talking to you, probably. I don't really know how to destress," Steve felt suddenly insecure about putting this detail out there.

He didn't want to make you uncomfortable (though you had heard worse from men who were wound up like Steve), and he felt like he was delving into a personal topic. Not that you didn't already know that he was stressed out, but he didn't want it to seem like you were his saving grace. Though, you weren't far from it.

He continued,

"I just mean... ever since that first time with you I've been feeling lighter on my feet. I mean— I don't really... I just don't have a lot of coping mechanisms. I don't really get to have fun."

Once he spit the words out, he felt even more stupid. He had just let you know that you had basically changed his entire mood since the day he'd met you, and something like that felt almost like a confession. Like you were delving into more serious topics. He had made his problems clear since the first time, but telling you how much you helped him felt like he was putting deeper trust in you.

But of course you didn't see it as a deep confession. You saw it as him being true to his feelings and being honest with you, which wasn't a big deal to you since you were in a business that involved making connections and basically building men like him up. You grinned, a sparkle in your eyes as you listened to him stammer over himself. It was no wonder he was a scientist, he had this sort of nerdy charm to him.

"I'm glad to hear that Steve. And maybe it's less that you don't get to have fun and more that you don't know how."

Steve shrugged. He had always been called boring by Tony, and Natasha took jabs at him about loosening up, getting out there and enjoying this modern world. And while he had insecurities around the fact, he still wasn't a happy go lucky party person as a result of the jabs. He was same old Steve, with the same old struggles. He looked regular on the outside (as regular as someone as big as him could look), but he felt like an outsider.

"Maybe."

"Have you ever tried?" you prodded. "I mean, outside of this. And honestly, kudos to you for putting yourself out there like this. I mean, you literally jerked off with me your first time here. I take it back. You do know how to have fun. You just... don't know where to find it."

Steve's face got hot. Even as he watched you more, talked to you more, nothing could compare to the first time being with you. It was definitely out of his comfort zone, doing something as extraneous as he had, and with a stranger. And when you described it like that, it seemed so much more inappropriate, but in a way that made Steve's pants bulge. And the fact that you could talk about it so casually intimidated him in the best way.

"I guess you're right," Steve replied, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized you were actually spot on. "I'll keep that in mind."

He grinned, and you giggled,

"Good. I'll be your therapist. But like a sexy one. A sex therapist."

You and Steve laughed at your stupid joke and Steve raised the question,

"Okay. What gets you through it all? You're a young college girl, I'm sure you know how to have fun."

You raised your brows playfully at the suggestive nature of the question, although clueless Steve had no clue it would sound a certain way to you,

"Oh yeah, totally. College girls, you know us. Drinking, partying, having sex with all our friends. I'm kind of a total slut." A beat passed, Steve trying to figure out what to say — like he was rerouting. You chortled, unable to hide your snort laugh. "I'm kidding, Steve."

Steve laughed hesitantly. He didn't know what young people did these days,

"Yeah, silly me."

"You're so cute," you blurted, shaking your head playfully. "But, honestly? I do know how to have my fun. I mean, I do it mindfully though, 'cuz I have shit to do, you know? Party hard, study hard. I go out with friends for drinks... and between me and you, I was doing that before I was twenty one."

Steve nodded understandingly,

"Some part of me wants to reprimand you for that, but I don't wanna rain on your parade."

“You don't have to rain, you could just spank me if it's that serious," you scoffed with a laugh, again saying the dirtiest things nonchalantly, unbothered. You were constantly flirting with customers, but with Steve it came much more naturally.

"Spank you?" Steve choked out.

"Yeah, you know? Like a little slap on the ass," you turned around, your ass in the camera, and gently smacked your hand against your ass, which was clad in a sheer bodycon dress that you had made yourself.

(looks something like this)

You were being playful, acting the precocious, girly way that you would with your friends. You thought nothing of it. Steve on the other hand, was getting incredibly warm, fidgety, and was trying to ignore the growing tent in his pants.

"Like- like that?" he stammered, breathless, and you nodded, seemingly unaware of his pain.

You turned back around and sat down in front of the camera,

“You must not be a dom, huh. You don't strike me as one. But I'm sure if I pressed the right buttons, you could be."

“Dom?" Steve repeated, as if the word were from a foreign language.

"My, my, my, Steve. I've got a lot to teach you. Oh, but actually, I do have a hobby that gets me through my stress. Besides, you know, masturbating and going out with friends."

Steve smirked, he was intrigued,

“And what's that?"

You bounced up onto your toes so that Steve could see a full view of you on the camera. At first, when you were just sitting in front of the camera, he could only see your head and shoulders. Now he could see all of you, and he could see the dress you had designed.

"Making clothes!" you chirped, so adorably that Steve couldn't help but smile, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest. You spread your arms out, letting the fringe on the dress spread. You placed your hands on your hips and swayed slightly in place. You smiled gently. "For my brand of course. But making the clothes is kind of therapeutic. When you work really hard on something and it comes out with the result you want, it's just this fucking... amazing, gratifying feeling. I love it."

Steve grinned, watching you show off your clothes. He was glad to hear that from you, he believed in you and truly thought you were capable and would succeed in what you did.

"That's beautiful," he complimented your dress. He knew nothing about fashion, but you looked good in whatever you wore - it was a plus that you made it. "Even with all I know, I don't think I could do that."

“Oh, don't be silly. You probably could. You just have to try, remember?"

“I know, I know."

As you stood there twirling and swaying, just letting him enjoy you, he could hear the faint sound of music playing in the background. He squinted, leaning closer to try and hear more. It was a nice song, with an upbeat electronic twist although it was R&B.

"What's this song?" he asked.

You paused, delightfully surprised by the question, unable to hide your ferocious smile,

"What, the one I'm playing? It's called Lost by Frank Ocean."

“Frank Ocean," Steve repeated slowly, so he could remember the name of the artist. You were encouraging him to try new things - why not start with music?

"Have you heard of him?"

"I'm afraid I haven't," Steve replied, and you chortled again.

"'I'm afraid I haven't'," you repeated, putting on his deep voice. "So proper. You like this song?"

Steve shook his head playfully when he heard you mocking him, then answered,

"Yeah, never heard it before."

You squealed excitedly and ran to turn it up, then ran back into the frame.

"I love Frank Ocean, seriously. He's one of my favorite artists. What about you?"

Steve was almost taken aback by the question and took in a deep breath, shrugging as he tried to come up with an answer,

"Gee, I don't know. I think I listen to too much old crap, probably."

"I can get down with that." You scoffed. "Quit bullying yourself."

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in Steve's head. He was enjoying talking to you, but what better way to combine a regular conversation with pleasure? He was feeling his need building up, the longer he talked to you. You said such outrageous things and you were so gorgeous - it was hard for him not to want you. And maybe you could both have some fun with this, and his request wouldn't feel like work, though it would definitely help him get off.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You mind... dancing? To this song, I mean?" he asked, slightly nervous to ask because he didn't want to feel pushy.

You raised your brows in surprise, a wide mouthed smile showing up. It seemed like Steve was discovering what he wanted to see, what would make him feel good.

"You wanna see me dance? Uh, yeah, I would love to. It's hard not to dance to this song. What, you want me to dance like a stripper or something? I don't have a pole - yet, but I can—"

Steve laughed, cutting you off and shaking his head,

"Nah, you don't have to dance any specific way. I guess, just dance how you feel."

You lit up at the suggestion, and laughed, already beginning to sway,

"Is this gonna get you off, Steve?"

Steve blushed, coiled like a turtle going into his shell,

"Maybe."

"Oh, don't be shy. I want it to. I wanna hear your moans, I want it to drive you crazy and bring you release. Is that what you want?"

You twirled slowly, dragging your hands up and down your body, dancing to the beat of the music. Steve watched, already entranced with the way your body, perfectly caught in the tight dress, moved. It almost scared him how perfect you looked, just swaying your body to a song,

"That's what I want, baby."

The words spilled out of his mouth, just like last time. This time it felt much more natural though, easier, as he watched you on the full screen. You smiled, rolling your hips and bringing your hands up in the air to match your motions. You hummed the words to yourself, sang the lyrics,

"Girl you know you're lost, lost in the thrill of it all."

The song was so sensual and felt so personal to you - your job was so sensationalized and it was easy to get lost in the idea of it, the aesthetic. But it was hard work. This song felt like a celebration of that. Steve's spit got caught in his throat watching you sing along, watching your body loosen up and relax as you continued dancing around your room, your body moving freely and in such a hedonistic manner. He liked watching you enjoy yourself, liked watching you in what seemed to be your element. You were so confident, so unbothered. It wasn't awkward that you were dancing alone. Again it felt intimate, felt like he was there with you.

"I'd tell you to dance, but what I really want you to do is touch yourself. Can you do that, Stevie?" you purred, and he grunted at the sound of the nickname you had donned for him.

"Yeah, doll," Steve began to palm himself over his boxers, his breaths becoming heavier as he watched you. It felt so gratifying, so closed off — just for the two of you.

You giggled, as if you hadn't just said what you had said, and got down low on the floor as you danced away, on your toes, and came back up again.

"Hmm," you sighed. "Can I take this off for you?"

Steve's jaw clenched, you already looked so good in the dress, but to see you take it off and continue dancing would probably make him come right then and there.

"Yeah, take that off for me."

You were practically teasing him as you began to lower the sleeves of the dress, still dancing and running your hands up and down your body. You wanted him to savor the moment, and savor it he did. You removed the top half slowly, your breasts tumbling out as you cupped them with your hands. You sighed again, biting down on your lip.

Steve was breathing hard through his nose now, slowly taking his cock, which had been hard for too long, out from his boxers, where it sprung up hard and veiny against his stomach. It twitched painfully, he almost couldn't bare to touch himself. But he palmed the head, slippery with precum, with a few mindful fingers.

"Is that good, baby? You wanna see everything?" you gestured to the bottom half which still hadn't been removed, and Steve exhaled sharply.

"Fuck, yeah I wanna see everything. Take it all off, doll."

You felt your body react to the nickname as you slid out of the dress, clad in a g-string underneath this time. The skimpy nature of the g-string, glittery and glamorous just like you, made Steve moan under his breath. You noted his reaction with a playful smirk, tugging gently at the straps and letting them slap against your glowing skin.

You bit down on your lip and let your entire palm run against your clothed center, swaying your hips in all directions as you slowly pulled down the straps and revealed what was underneath, Steve letting out an audible sigh as he wrapped his hand around himself. He bit down softly on his lip, eyes dark and his lids heavy, trying to restrain himself. He wanted to be at the same pace at you, wanted to see you tease yourself the way you had during your live show.

You sighed out in pleasure, using two fingers to rub at your clit in circular motions while you stood, Steve watching silently. Then you lowered yourself to the carpeted floor, spread your legs in front of you and continued, bringing your fingers to your lips to suck on them before you went back down. The way you did it was tantalizing, so erotic and intimate. You weren't trying too hard, you never were, but this way - slow and lustful, was like you were there with him all over again.

Your eyes became dazed and almost glazed over just at the slight tingle of pleasure. You had been stimulating yourself for over an hour since the start of your public show, but with him you didn't feel tired or worn out. And you still hadn't had the orgasm that you knew would absolutely finish you. You knew how to navigate so you weren't exhausted by the time you were through with your shows and your private chats, but still, with Steve it felt like the pleasure was amplified by a hundred.

"Oh," you moaned, your voice going up a pitch. You wanted more, and you decided you wanted to bring a toy into the mix. "I wanna ride you, Steve."

Steve grunted in response and you slowly got up, crawling on all fours as you dragged out your fuzzy chest full of toys, lube, and other random things for your shows. It was like a cam girl treasure chest. You returned to the frame, smiling devilishly as you sifted through all your materials, finally pulling out the dildo you wanted to use. It was a good size, six inches, and pretty realistic. You waved it around in the air,

"This how big you are?" you asked with a seductive gaze in your eyes.

Steve stroked himself slowly as he let out a sharp almost barking laugh, a surge of sudden and unexpected cockiness running through him (because let's be honest, a supersoldier like him was certainly bigger than six inches),

"Little more."

You grinned obscenely, appreciating Steve's noticeable boost in confidence. And in the back of your mind you thought about the three fingers you had used to accommodate him last time. He was pretty consistent - you wondered just how big he really was. If you knew him in real life, you'd probably jump at the chance to fuck him.

"Think it'll suffice? I'm not sure if I can take that much more right now," you asked teasingly.

Steve chuckled, a warm, deep chuckle that made your insides churn. It was incredible how much a voice could turn you on, how much you liked hearing his voice and wanted to hear it,

"I'll go easy on you, doll."

You raised your brows in pleasant surprise,

"You'll go easy on me, huh? Steve, you're getting feistier by the minute. I like it."

Steve laughed, slightly embarrassed. He just wanted you to do what you were comfortable with, wanted to see real pleasure,

"I just want to make sure you feel good."

"Little ol' me?" you snorted, bringing out your mirror to place on your carpet so you could place the suction dildo on top. You stuck it in place and kneeled before it. "Well, you don't have to worry about that, Steve. You always make me feel good."

You winked at him and focused, beginning to lower yourself and arch your back, your ass in the air as you went face to face with the dildo.

"I just wanna make you feel good," you huffed, eyeing the camera as you cupped your lips around the head of the dildo, pushing your hair behind the ear and looking down as you bobbed your head slowly. Your lips wrapped perfectly around the toy, suctioning and sucking and making it wet enough for you.

"Wow," Steve breathed in slowly, truly in awe of you. He had really never seen anything like it, how dedicated you were to the performance. You were like an artist, a beautiful, twisted artist, and you knew just how to sell your show. And somehow you did such a salacious act with so much grace, made it so sexy and purposeful.

He paused touching himself just to watch you, but that didn't mean he was any less hard. You moaned around the toy, looking into the camera as if you were making eye contact with the man you couldn't even see, as he goaded you on, his voice gentle and deep,

"That's it baby, you look so good sucking that dick."

Your felt your pussy throb around nothing just at the sound of Steve dirty talking. You could tell that the more you did, the more you coaxed him into it, the more comfortable he got with everything. He had surprised you multiple times tonight. You brought your head up, lips making a popping noise as they slid off the toy,

"It's yours."

Steve licked his lower lip, bringing it slowly into his mouth and sliding his closed fist up and down his erection.

"It's mine?" he asked, his voice going an octave lower.

"Mhm, your cock. You ready, baby?" you hovered over the dildo, squatting above it as you readied yourself.

"Yes, go slow," Steve instructed.

"Is that what you want?" you breathed out in pleasure as you teased your slick folds with the head of the toy, rocking your hips slowly back and forth. "You want me to tease myself with your cock?"

Steve let out an unbridled moan, pumping gently,

"Yeah, please. I want this to be real, baby. Like your live show."

You laughed quietly as you lowered yourself down onto the dildo, moaning as you took it in slowly, stopping a quarter of the way and just rocking back and forth, taking his request into consideration. And then, you had an idea.

"Honestly, if he keeps watching my shows, I wanna teach him how to dirty talk. I think then it'll be something serious."

That was what you had said to your friend Jane over the phone, and now was your chance to manifest it. You'd been kidding when you said it would turn your relationship into something serious, but if hearing Steve dominate you and dirty talk to you didn't make you want to fuck him even more, you didn't know what would.

"Tell me what you want Steve. Tell me how you want me to do it. I don't wanna do a thing unless it's under your control," you smirked, waiting for him to come up with something on his own.

In that deep, husky voice of his he spoke,

"Yeah? I want you to tease yourself, and go slow. Match my pace."

You moaned at the thought of him stroking himself at the same pace as you, and lowered yourself a little further,

"Is this allowed, Stevie?" you questioned curiously and innocently, prompting him further.

He got some idea of what you were trying to do, though he didn't have much experience doing it himself - at least not in the bedroom. While he wanted you to please yourself at your own pace, he also thought this might be interesting. You could do both.

"Yeah baby, little more." You slid down further until almost all of it was inside of you, and he pumped himself a little quicker now. He groaned, the noise he made almost guttural. "Yes, that's it Moonrose. Now stop."

You whimpered, your heat throbbing as he commanded you. You were almost losing sense of the fact that this wasn't all real, because it felt so good. You liked hearing him get more dominant with you, though you adored his regular state, which was almost needy.

"Yeah, you can be the boss. You tell me what to do, baby."

Steve grunted, holding back an orgasm as he watched how well you gripped the toy, imagined what it would feel like to really be inside of you. He'd be much bigger, no doubt, and make you howl with pleasure.

"Ride it for me," he ordered. "Slow, then pick up the pace."

"Ride you?" you repeated, beginning to lift yourself up, then back down again, slowly like he told you to. It was big enough to hit all those good places inside of you, make you wetter and hotter, give you those real time reactions. All the panting and moaning, the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you bit down on your lip with fervor.

Steve watched you ride it, pumping himself at the same pace, feeling himself throb and twitch inside of his hand, speeding up when necessary. The both of your moans were loud and unhinged, filling up your respective rooms with righteous release. Steve loved how he could tell how good it felt for you, how you weren't holding back at all, your pussy gliding easily around it, leaving a trail of arousal along the shaft of the toy. You were bouncing fast and hard after a while, gasping and panting and moaning while Steve did the same in the form of groans, grunts and heavy breaths. Like you, he felt lost in translation in the best way - like nothing else was there, just the two of you and your needy bodies.

"You feel so fucking good, baby, don't stop," Steve moaned, breathing harshly through his nose. He felt close, his stomach twisting and turning with yearn.

"Fuck, Steve," you gasped out. You hardly sounded like yourself, in such an ecstatic state. "I'm so fucking close, baby. Steve, can I come?"

You were still leading him, wanting him to be even more dominant and controlling with you, but you hardly needed to. You were basically giving in, you were fully committed to the act of being submissive now. Everything in and around you felt so good, "so fucking warm", as stated by you. And no doubt, Steve felt it too. Watching you take it, watching you moan in pure ecstasy as you threw your head back, your hair tumbling against your breasts, the glint of sweat forming on your forehead, the way your stomach flexed as you moved up and down. You were fucking invincible, Steve thought. Always gorgeous, somehow.

But Steve thought he'd let this last a little longer. You wanted him to be in charge, he'd take that seriously. Like an order.

"No, doll, hold it in for me," he huffed, though he felt himself growing close as well, and couldn't help but cum, feeling it leave him with a satisfied groan. "Fuck, I'm coming."

You whined, pouting,

"Steve, I wanna be able to come with you."

Yeah, it was definitely easy to be submissive.

Steve chuckled slightly,

"That's okay, I can last a long time, darling. Keep riding that dick for me, don't come until I say so."

With a shuddering moan you kept going. When you looked down at what you were doing, the toy disappearing inside of you each time you bent down, you swore you had never been more turned on in your life. Your brows were crossed and your mouth dropped into an o-shape. You were moaning and almost sobbing, the build up feeling unbearable. You brought your hand down, rubbing frantically at your clit,

"Fuckkk, Steve, please let me come."

He came again with a sharp exhale and vicious grunt, but still wanted to hold off for one last one, in tandem with you. He almost felt bad, but the pleasure was so unbearable, and he knew you were enjoying it,

"Ah, god. Hold on, I promise I'll let you come soon if you just wait a little."

You stifled a moan, cupping your breasts as you rode it without the support of your hands on your knees,

"Y-yeah, you gonna let me come, Stevie? Please let me come, oh my god," you felt almost lightheaded with the overwhelming sense of fulfillment, rolling your head back, your eyes rolling back in your head, your glossy lips dropped open in the most sensual of ways. You didn't know what you did to Steve, how much you made him want you.

"Go ahead, doll, come for me," Steve resolved, and when you came it was like a waterfall was crashing down on you. Both because of the intensity and because of the fact that you were squirting, letting go of all that held back release. You knew it was coming yet you whimpered in surprise when it happened, still continuing to ride the toy even as you were coming, watching as it flowed out of you, onto the mirror and more.

"Fuck," Steve cursed, pumping fast and hard as he came again, and again, watching as you rode out your high. He could hardly even process the fact that you had squirted - completely natural, and yet a huge turn on. He slowed his hand, still hard as a rock, but coming down himself.

You were blubbering and saying things that didn't even make sense, Steve slightly grinning to himself as you spiraled out of control. You got off the dildo with a final moan, covering your eyes with your forearm and fingering the rest of your cum out of yourself with two fast moving fingers.

"My god," you groaned, sliding your fingers out of yourself. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were, how aroused you still were, throbbing like crazy from the aftermath. The comedown was a process, you breathing in deep and heavy.

"That's it, doll. So good. It's okay, doll," Steve murmured, helping you come back down.

"Mm," you hummed, removing your forearm from your eyes and forehead and instead covering your face with your hands, giggling. "Oh my god, that's so embarrassing."

Steve laughed,

"Not embarrassing. You did so damn good, baby."

You groaned,

"Ugh, don't praise me, that makes me wanna go again, and I think if I do I'll explode. On the other hand, please do keep praising me."

You laughed again and winked. It was true, because you were so turned on by his voice, especially when it was praising you and telling you how good you had been. Sure, other guys could be dominant, but with Steve it actually felt so real, it made you lose all sense of reality. It didn't feel forced.

"Really, you were amazing." Steve tipped again - he had been tipping the whole way through. And of course his big tips were an incentive, but they weren't the only reason you talked to him. Not at all. "Jesus. I don't get worn out, but..."

"You tired, Steve?" you smiled, teasing. "God, I don't know how I'm gonna clean this up. This is all your fault, you know."

You laughed playfully. To be fair, you had came, like, a lot. Steve's jaw clenched at the sight of it all, but he grinned.

"My apologies."

"Please," you shook your head, wiped the sweat off from your forehead and slowly started packing everything up.

You and Steve chatted for a while longer after that, about trivial things. This was a little unusual. Usually when you finished, you wrapped it up. But you had time, and he had time. And you both wanted to stay and chat. And it was also unusual because usually when you finished, your customer was done too, and there wasn't really room for "chatting" after that. But Steve seemed to want to talk.

"You're fucking hot as a dom, by the way," you noted, pointing a finger at him through the screen.

"Me?" Steve pointed a finger at himself in return. "I hardly even knew what it was, but I've got an idea now."

"Oh, trust me, you're gonna wanna learn more. You're made for this, honestly." You sighed, and looked at the time. "It's late. This was... really, really great. Thanks again."

"Thank you."

A beat passed, a silence between the two of you, though it was almost like you were still communicating. Maybe this really was different. Maybe it really did mean something. You were so in sync, could snap in and out just like that, and still have great conversation. You were both thinking the same thing - this was a real connection. And you were both beginning to give in to those thoughts you wanted to push back, just slightly. But this time, it didn't bring any worry. It just felt nice, blissful. Still not too serious, but still something. What you both didn't know was just how much it really would blossom.

"Well," you said, a sigh of contemplation. "Think I really like this, Steve."

"Me too," he swallowed hardly. He was feeling something, that same butterfly-like feeling he'd felt the first time. "I'm so glad we... uh..."

You waved your hand with a grin,

"It's late, I better go. It was great talking to you again, I actually look forward to this. Weirdly enough. I think I should go, though, I got school."

"I-I got work," Steve stammered, thinking of how you said you look forward to this. He wasn't just another customer, and you weren't just some random girl. The realization was hitting him like a ton of bricks. "I'll see you."

"Yeah," you cooed. Then, with a silly face, your eyes crossed and tongue hanging out you waved goodbye. "Byeee!"

And just like that, there was a shift in his world, in your world. Steve didn't know what he had coming next.

🙈oof how was it y’all!!! i hope not too long LOLLL i had to fit a lot in... next chapter will be some tea! reply wit ya thoughts <3 thank u for reading, stay safe!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers series #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel series #girls on film #orbitariums

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

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Longing to Hold You Again

Written as an early birthday present for @crownofstardustandbone (i don’t know what it says about our friendship that i think porn is an acceptable birthday present but it definitely says something) and @starkbucksbingo (bingo details are below the read more)

Hopefully the read more works because this is 2.7k words of porn but if it doesn’t, I sincerely say “my bad”

Also on ao3 here

There’s a gasp.

Soft, quiet, too low for Tony to hear over his own whimpers. But Bucky does. Bucky hears it and half-glances up to see Steve standing in the sliver of space left open by the door, eyes riveted to where Bucky is slowly pushing a glass dildo into Tony’s sloppy ass.

He hides a grin in the curve of Tony’s shoulder before using his grip on Tony’s leash to pull him close enough to take his ear between his teeth. Tony whines, rutting his cock against the soft flannel of Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky stifles a groan at how good it feels. He’s not supposed to be affected by this. He’s supposed to be calm, collected—or at least, he’s supposed to look that way because it drives Tony absolutely insane.

“He’s watching you, baby doll,” Bucky hisses into his ear, low enough that Steve won’t be able to hear. “You gonna be good for him?”

Tony nods frantically. “Wan’ be a good boy,” he slurs.

“Then you gotta stay still for me, baby. Gotta let Stevie watch me wreck your pretty hole.” He punctuates his words with a hard thrust of the dildo, angling it directly into Tony’s prostate. Tony cries out, head jerking back, but his hips don’t move even an inch. Still, Bucky tightens his grip on the leash and yanks Tony’s head back down. “Stay still, baby,” he snarls.

“’m good,” Tony sobs. “I’ll be good.”

He presses a kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw, soft for what they’re doing, thinks about offering up some reassurance. Tony is always good, even when he’s being bratty, and Bucky knows that sometimes, he needs that praise. But soft, gentle, isn’t right for what they’re doing right now, not when he’s trying to prove to Steve what Tony looks like when he’s being utterly wrecked.

Across the room, Steve groans lowly. Tony whimpers and Bucky just knows that he catches the sound this time. He grins viciously—let Steve make of that what he will—and hooks his chin over Tony’s shoulder to watch his hole spread wide around the dildo.

It’s taken them months to get to this point, months of futile flirting because Steve apparently can’t believe that there’s room in this relationship for him too, that Tony and Bucky would even want him in their relationship. Months of Tony peeking out from under his eyelashes, stealing furtive glances at Steve, until Bucky had pinned him down, snarled, “Say his name,” and refused to let him come until Tony had screamed Steve’s name. Steve wants them too. Bucky is pretty sure Steve has wanted him since even before the war and to hear Tony talk about it, he thinks that Steve has wanted Tony since the Battle of New York. But Steve has never been the kind of guy to make the first move, too used to rejection as he is, so it’s been up to Bucky and Tony—except that their advances keep flying over Steve’s head.

He doesn’t think Steve is that oblivious as to completely miss them so he must be feeling guilty—and isn’t that just like Steve? To have Bucky and Tony, the two hottest Avengers if he did say so himself, hitting on him and he just feels guilty about it? For a while, Bucky had been surprised that Steve hadn’t come to either of them to apologize for being hit on but then he’d realized that Steve hadn’t apologized because he wasn’t guilty because he was being hit on. He felt guilty because he wanted it too.

That realization had changed everything. They’d redoubled their advances, making it painfully obvious that they both want him, but Steve has stayed away—right up until Bucky heard him outside their door last night, listening to them fuck. He doesn’t know how long Steve has been doing that or if last night had been the first time but it had given him the idea for this.

He screws the dildo in and Steve groans and Tony whimpers. “Pretty Tony,” he whispers. “Pretty, sweet boy who lets me put a collar on his neck and cuff his hands, just so I can do whatever I want to him.”

Bucky slides down the bed, clothes rucking against the sheets, until his head is just below Tony’s cock. He purses his lips around the head, slides his lips down, and sucks. Tony wails, hips twitching like he wants to move he doesn’t and he doesn’t come either, knowing better than to come without permission. Bucky pulls off and licks at the pre-come beading at the tip. Above him, Tony is trembling as he tries to keep himself from thrusting into Bucky’s mouth.

“Could share you,” he mutters, just loud enough now for Steve to hear though his gasp is muffled under Tony’s desperate cry. He breathes out slowly, warm air on Tony’s cock, and then pushes back up, pulling Tony back into his lap. There’s a wet spot on his pants from his own cock and Tony’s leaking dick leaves a shining trail on his stomach between the buttons of his shirt, gaping open from his movements.

He wraps Tony’s leash tighter around his hand and pulls him down for a hard kiss, tongue invading his mouth, as his other hand toys with the dildo, pushing it in and out of Tony’s ass. He imagines the sight Steve must be seeing right now and wishes he had a third hand to give his dick some relief. Tony takes a cock so prettily, better than anyone else Bucky’s ever fucked, and he’s aching to get himself off at the sight. Not yet, he reminds himself. Not yet but soon.

“Could get the whole team in here,” he continues eventually, fucking him harder. “Let them all see how fucking gorgeous you are, how goddamn needy. Whaddya think, baby doll?” He stills his hand again, traces his thumb around Tony’s swollen, puffy rim, and then slides it in just to hear Steve moan. Tony whimpers, dropping his head against Bucky’s shoulder. He could punish him for that, usually would if this had been any other night, but Steve’s here tonight and Bucky doesn’t want to push him too far. Instead, he pulls his thumb back out and says, “Hmm? Get ‘em all in here, let ‘em see how fucking desperate you get for anything in your hole?”

“No,” Tony gasps and Bucky grins because he knows what’s coming now.

“No?” he queries. “You don’t want them to see your greedy hole?” He punctuates his question with a hard thrust against Tony’s prostate. Tony cries out, sobbing even as he arches back into the dildo.

“Just one,” he whispers.

Bucky’s smirk gets filthy, the look in his eyes dark and heated as he glances back toward the door. He can just barely see Steve through the crack in the door, the darkness of his pupils, the way he’s palming his dick. Oh yeah. Steve wants them. They just need to get him through the door.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says, pitching his words loud enough for Steve to hear them. “I know you’ve been screaming his name when I fuck you. He’s watching you right now, doll, can’t hardly take his eyes off you.”

Steve stills, cheeks going bright red with embarrassment and this—this is crucial. Here’s where they’ll either lose him entirely or things will go very, very right.

It’s Tony who makes that choice for them, who thrusts his hips back and moans, “Steve.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Tony, then back up to Bucky, a little worried and Bucky can’t really blame him. He knows he’s possessive—who could blame him when he’s got Tony Stark in his bed—but Steve is his brother. He’s got nothing to worry about. Bucky steadily meets his gaze and pulls the dildo out of Tony’s hole, tossing it aside. He lets go of Tony’s leash to palm his ass with both hands, spreading his cheeks to show off his gaping hole. The dildo had been big, not as big as Bucky, but not small either.

“Look at him, Stevie,” he commands.

Steve’s breath hitches and he takes half a step into the room, eyes fixed on Tony’s ass. It’s nearly silent in the bedroom, the only sound coming from Tony’s shuddering breaths and the clink of the cuffs around his wrists as he squirms.

Bucky slaps him once, hard, across one cheek, biting back a self-satisfied grin as the skin beneath his hand reddens, leaving a pretty mark across Tony’s ass. “Thought you wanted him to fuck you,” he whispers into Tony’s ear. Steve’s head jerks to face him and Bucky winks. There they go; now Steve’s starting to get it. “He’s not gonna fuck you if you’re not being good.”

Tony lets out a single desperate sob but he’s visibly holding himself still now, waiting for Steve’s decision. Bucky pets his hand over Tony’s side, gentling him, and looks right at Steve as he says, “We’ve been waiting for you. Got a little tired of being subtle.”

“I can see that,” Steve chokes out, a little amused but mostly overwhelmed.

“Whaddya say?”

Steve’s eyes flick to Tony again and he takes another half-step into the room.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Bucky says fondly. He wraps Tony’s leash around his hand again and pulls him in for a filthy, messy kiss that leaves Tony panting and limp, held up only by his hands fixed to the headboard and Bucky’s grip on his ass.

“Buck—” Steve starts to say.

He glares at him. “Isn’t he?” he repeats.

He sees it, the moment Steve surrenders, turning fully to Tony like a flower seeking the sun. “Beautiful,” Steve agrees quietly.

“Got him all ready just for you,” Bucky says. “He wants this and so do I. Come on, Stevie, we’ve been waiting for you.” He’s almost whispering by the end, desperate for Steve to come to them, unsure what he’ll do if Steve doesn’t. He feels like he’s been waiting for this his whole life, since they were boys, since Tony tracked him down to an apartment in Romania, smiled at him, and took him by the hand to lead him to where Steve was waiting for him. He loves Tony to pieces, absolutely adores him, and if Steve turns them down, he thinks he’ll be able to be very happy with just Tony for the rest of their lives but they—they’ve been building to something, haven’t they? Building to this moment, to this decision, and now that they’re here, he can see what’s beyond it and to him, the future looks incredible.

“Steve,” he says again, softly. He holds out his hand.

Steve looks at it, at him, over at Tony again. He takes another jerky step and then another and then he’s stripping off his clothes, leaving them scattered behind him. His eyes have gone still darker, his cock harder than diamond, and when he climbs up onto the bed to palm Tony’s ass, it’s with a rough grip.

“This is mine?” he asks gruffly.

“Yours,” Tony mewls, shoving into his hands.

“Ours,” Bucky swears.

Steve looks at him and Bucky is nearly bowled over by the want in his expression. “We’re going to talk about this later,” he firmly says and it’s as much a promise as it is a threat—there’s a reason Bucky and Tony went with this way instead of just plainly telling Steve that they wanted him—but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before Steve is lining himself up and snapping his hips forward, burying himself in Tony.

Tony nearly screams, hands scrabbling for purchase on the headboard as he’s jerked forward, only to stop when Bucky tightens his grip on the leash. Steve leans over, pressing a kiss first to the side of Tony’s neck and then to Bucky’s lips. It’s almost chaste, completely at odds with the way his hips are harshly pumping into Tony.

“He’s gorgeous, Buck,” Steve murmurs, “and you’re incredible.”

Bucky will forever deny that he blushes but his cheeks heat anyway and he kisses Steve again, happy with just the thought that he can. Tony whines as they break apart and Bucky places a finger under his chin, lifting it so he can kiss him as well. Steve buries his face in Tony’s neck again, licking and sucking and biting and Tony—Tony is gasping into Bucky’s mouth, less a kiss than their mouths smearing together.

“Bucky,” Tony pants. “Bucky, please.”

“You’ll have to ask Stevie, baby doll. He’s the one fucking you.”

Steve groans at that, head dropping against the back of Tony’s shoulder. Bucky gives him a wicked grin and reaches for Steve’s hand on Tony’s hips, wrapping the leash around his fingers. He leans back when he’s done, tucking his hands behind his head, lounging as he watches Steve take over. Steve’s a natural at this, knows exactly how tight his grip on the leash needs to be, exactly how Tony likes to be fucked. Bucky could watch them all day and never get enough.

Tony looks at him with big, wet eyes and Bucky doesn’t know whether he’s crying because of how long he’s been teased or because of how hard Steve is fucking him but either way, it’s a fucking gorgeous sight.

“Go on, baby,” he urges. “Ask him.”

Tony strains to throw his head back over Steve’s shoulder and only when he finds that Steve’s grip is too tight, does he drop his head back down and ask, “Please, sir, can I come?”

Steve moans again. Fuck, Bucky moans. Tony has never called him “sir” before; it’s never felt right between the two of them. But with Steve there, it’s just right. It’s exactly right for those two and when Steve snarls, “No,” that just makes it even better. Bucky has never been good at denying Tony anything—tying him down, yes; edging him, absolutely; giving him orders, oh fuck yeah, but not outright denying him—and seeing someone who can is just about the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Tony gives him those pleading eyes again, keening as he wordlessly begs for what Steve has denied him. Bucky kisses him quiet, holding him still as Steve chases his pleasure, fucking into Tony again and again and again until he lets out a strangled groan and his hips still. He slips out from underneath him just as Steve is pulling out of Tony’s body, leaving a trail of come dripping out of his gaping hole.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans at the sight, dipping his thumb into Tony’s hole. Tony is warm and dripping as he thumbs him open and he finds that he can’t resist pulling his cock out of his pants and jacking himself off until he’s coming in white stripes across his open hole.

“You can come now,” Steve says as he pushes two fingers in beside Bucky’s thumb, shoving his and Bucky’s come back inside and petting over Tony’s prostate. Tony comes almost immediately, mewling and trembling as he spills over the blankets.

Tony is still shaking when Bucky gets up to find a water bottle and a washcloth and when he comes back, Steve has uncuffed him, removed the collar, and pulled him into his lap, crooning soft words about how beautiful he’d been, how perfect. Steve glances up at him when Bucky climbs back onto the bed to start wiping the sweat off Tony’s back, expression a little worried but then Bucky wordlessly hands him the water bottle and Tony asks, “Are you going to stay?” and he relaxes again.

“For as long as you’ll let me,” Steve says quietly, holding the water to Tony’s lips.

Tony takes a few small sips and then tilts his head back so Bucky can see his satisfied smile. “Guess you’re staying forever then.”

Bucky laughs, presses a kiss to Tony’s cheek, and agrees, “Guess he is.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Guess I am.”

Title: Longing to Hold You Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318036 Square Filled: I1 - Steve Rogers Ship/Main Pairing: Established Winteriron, Future Stuckony Rating: E Major Tags & Triggers: Explicit sexual content, voyeurism Summary: It’s taken them months to get to this point, months of futile flirting because Steve apparently can’t believe that there’s room in this relationship for him too, that Tony and Bucky would even want him in their relationship. Steve wants them too. Bucky is pretty sure Steve has wanted him since even before the war and to hear Tony talk about it, he thinks that Steve has wanted Tony since the Battle of New York. But Steve has never been the kind of guy to make the first move, too used to rejection as he is, so it’s been up to Bucky and Tony—except that their advances keep flying over Steve’s head, driving them to this point. Word Count: 2.7k

#winteriron #stuckony #nsfk #alle writes #if you like please consider reblogging #starkbucksbingo2020

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sulkybbarnes · 4 years

Text

“They laugh until laughing makes them kiss. They kiss until kissing makes them laugh.” — Sarah Ruhl (The Clean House)

Eddie was sat on the floor when Buck walked in, his back resting against the couch and legs stretched in front of him. A worrying look in his eyes. Buck had knocked first, more to announce his arrival than anything else, then waltzed into the Diaz household as if he lived there. Buck reasoned that he was there often enough the place felt like his own. First he deposited the dinner he picked up on his way on the kitchen table, then walked into the living room in search of Eddie. He did not expect to find him sat on the floor with a pained expression on his face.

“Hey,” Buck started jokingly upon seeing Eddie “You know that’s not how you’re meant to use couches right?”

But then Eddie had looked up at him, troubled expression clearing into something only less pained, and any dredge of humor drained out of Buck’s voice. Eddie didn’t look injured or panicked, so Buck eliminated the possibility of any immediate danger. Eddie wouldn’t be sat with his back to a couch, staring into space, if something was wrong with him or Chris. In fact, Buck knew that Chris was currently sleeping peacefully in his bedroom, because Chris had called him before going to bed and made Buck promise that he’ll stop by earlier tomorrow.

“Real funny, Buck.” Eddie said with an eye roll, making no attempt at moving. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Thought you’d be a bit later.”

Buck examined the space -the little table pushed to the side to make space in front of the couch, the cushion by Eddie’s side- and decided to tread carefully.

“You alright?” Buck asked as he moved closer, opting to do the logical thing and take his place on the floor to Eddie’s left, back against the couch, shoulder almost brushing Eddie’s. “What’s going on, Eddie?”

“Just making some life altering decisions.” Eddie shrugged. The movement causing his shoulder to momentarily press against Buck’s. Upon closer inspection, the look on his face was more resigned than anything. A little tired.

“Oh. Nothing big then.” Buck smiled, and it had the intended effect of making Eddie look at him and smile back, if only for a few moments before Eddie turned to stare back ahead. “Wanna share with the class?”

Eddie hummed his assent. And then, “It’s why I asked you to come over.”

“Thought you just wanted my pleasant company,” Buck joked, trying not to let worry bleed into his voice. This whole thing was starting to feel really serious all of a sudden.

“That too,” Eddie smiled again, and this time the expression he gave Buck made something clench in his chest. “I want to talk to you. It’s nothing bad, don’t look worried.” He said, catching Buck’s clouding expression. “Let’s have dinner first.”

Eddie hauled himself up without waiting for Buck’s response. Offering his hand to Buck to help him off the floor.

“I’ll get us plates and beer,” Eddie offered, hand still loosely clasped with Buck’s. “You choose something to watch?”

Buck nodded silently, his expression puzzled. Part of him hated that Eddie was drawing this -whatever this was- out, while the other part felt the need to hold onto their comforting routine for a little longer. He could sense something big threatening to crash over them.

Eddie nodded back and released Buck to head to the kitchen. Buck stood staring after him dumbfounded. His hand tingled where Eddie held it a moment ago.

-----

Dinner was a quiet and unusually tense affair.

They both made attempts at normal conversation throughout the meal, talking about Chris’s day at school, their shift the night before, Maddie and Chim’s list of baby names, but Buck could see that Eddie was on edge although he hid it well, and that put Buck on edge too. His mind spiraled with worst case scenarios on why Eddie wanted to talk to him. Maybe he needed help with something simple, but because he’s Eddie, he was overthinking it. Which would be the easiest thing to deal with. Buck would help Eddie without a second thought. But Eddie knew that, and so that scenario didn’t explain the look on his face when Buck first walked in.

Or maybe, Buck’s treacherous brain provided, he started fighting again. Maybe he had decided to take Chris and move back to Texas. Maybe he figured out that Buck is in love with him and wanted to tell him thanks, but no thanks. and gently ask Buck to give him some space. That last possibility hurt almost as much as the idea of Eddie and Chris moving away. Buck let his fork clatter down to his plate.

“Okay, I really can’t take this much longer, Eddie,” Buck said, voice trembling only a little. “We’re done with dinner. What’s going on?”

Eddie tilted his head to the side, expression contemplative, before he put his fork down too and sighed. He gave Buck a look that could only be described as soft, something warm and liquid in his eyes, but still so worried and sad. So unlike Eddie.

“Come on, we’ll talk over washing the dishes. I need something to do with my hands if we’re doing this now. Grab the beers, Buck.” That last command was given as Eddie gathered the plates and walked to the kitchen sink.

Buck almost groaned with frustration -it was a close thing- but bit it down and followed Eddie.

Buck offered his help with the dishes but Eddie declined, on account of there being a total of two dishes to wash, so Buck stood with his back to the kitchen counter with a beer clutched in his hand and eyes boring into the side of Eddie’s face, willing him to just start talking.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about where I’m at right now personally. Where I’ve been. What I want in life?” Eddie glanced sideways at Buck, no doubt noticing his confused expression. Buck still had no idea where this was going. “The whole thing with Anna put a lot of things into perspective.”

Ah, Anna. Chris’s gorgeous English teacher, who Eddie dated for two long excruciating months before they broke it off. Two months of Buck having to grit his teeth through it, fake smiles, and pretend not to be hurt when Eddie chose date night with Anna over going out with the team or over having a drink with Buck. They didn’t get serious enough for Eddie to even “introduce” her to Chris, but she had made Eddie smile at his texts and ask Buck what to wear to a date, and that had been more than enough to break Buck’s heart.

“I thought it was what I wanted, you know?” Eddie continued, unaware of Buck’s spiraling thoughts. “And in a way, it really was for a little while. She is an amazing woman, and she was kind and beautiful but. It didn’t feel right, Buck. Not in the way that I was expecting it to.” Eddie’s smile was self-deprecating, even with half of his face hidden away from Buck’s view as he finished drying the last of the cutlery. “I had to think a lot on why that was. Why I couldn’t let her into my life the way she wanted me to. Why it sometimes felt off. It was good with her, but it never felt enough.”

Eddie paused, reaching for a towel to dry off his hands. Eyes resolutely fixed on what he was doing.

Buck put his beer down and brought both arms up to cross over his chest. There was something burning low in his stomach. Anxiety or anticipation or a mixture of both. A twisted sense of hope poking at his stubborn heart.

When Eddie looked at him, Buck nodded in encouragement for him to go on.

“Did you figure out why?”

Eddie smiled at him, the same look on his face from earlier. Warm. Contemplative. Soft.

“Yes, I did.” Eddie sighed, now turning to mirror Buck’s position, so that they stood side to side, shoulders nearly brushing. “I figured out that I had already let someone else into mine and my son’s life. Into my heart. And that there wasn’t space for anyone else in there.”

And God. God! If this meant what Buck thought it meant.. He wasn’t above crying with relief.

“And who’s that, Eddie?” Buck asked, the crack in his voice more pronounced now. He thought that the entire world could probably hear his thundering heartbeat at that moment.

“You’re not dense, Buck,” Eddie sighed, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. He still looked worried but he also looked lighter.

“I want to hear it.” Buck insisted. He couldn’t take any chances, not with this.

Eddie looked at him with determination in his eyes. His voice was still gentle when he spoke.

“I have feelings for you, Buck.” Eddie started carefully, then shook his head with a small laugh. “Strong feelings.” Eddie announced in a steady voice, and now he was fully looking at Buck, watching his reaction.

Buck felt dizzy with emotion. And Buck, with all of his loud personality and inability to stay still usually, was currently at a loss for words. He couldn’t think. Could do nothing but blink rapidly at Eddie, feeling the telltale start of a smile slowly pulling at his lips.

“I’m not telling you this because I expect something in return, Buck,” Eddie went on, “I know that you’re my best friend, and I know you love Chris more than anything. So I know that this won’t make you turn away from us,” and here Eddie’s voice betrayed that he wasn’t as confident about this part as he would like Buck to believe. “But I needed you to hear it. You are my best friend, and for the past four months, the only person I’ve wanted to talk to about all of this was you.” Eddie let out a long breath, his hand rubbing at his eyes as if he was all of a sudden very tired. “So. You can take your time thinking about it. Take your space too. And whatever you decide, Buck, I will follow your lead.”

“There’s nothing to decide,” Buck finally found his voice, and it came out tinged with a smile. He turned so that he was facing Eddie, and nudged at his shoulder until Eddie turned to face him. “I made my decision a long time ago. I was just waiting for you to get here, Eddie.”

Buck’s palm found its way to the side of Eddie’s jaw, cradling Eddie’s face as if it were something precious. His other hand came up to rest upon Eddie’s shoulder, his finger trailing from there to the side of Eddie’s neck. The moment felt so fragile around them. The entire world holding its breath while they stared at each other.

“Buck?” Eddie said in a measured voice. Hope was creeping into his warm brown eyes, and he was starting to smile too in something akin to disbelief. Buck knew his expression must have looked the same.

“You’re not dense, Eddie,” Buck grinned, repeating Eddie’s phrase from before, and relishing the exasperated smile it got him. And that smile was what finally snapped Buck into action. It was so achingly familiar, so beautiful and tender and fond, that Buck found himself surging forward without a second thought. His lips finally brushing against Eddie’s. His breath hitching when Eddie brought his hands to Buck’s waist and pushed them closer together, all the while kissing Buck back senseless.

They kissed for long moments, unaware of anything else around them. Their breaths mingling whenever one stopped to breath and the other peppered kisses along lips and cheeks and jawline.

“Buck,” Eddie breathed out, and Buck thought he could die happy just hearing Eddie say his name like that for the rest of his life. “Are you sure about this?”

Buck has never been more sure about anything in his life, but he knew that Eddie needed the reassurance. Needed to hear it too, because he -just like Buck himself- had known too much loss and pain to take anything for granted.

“I want this. I want to be with you. To be your best friend and your boyfriend, if that’s what you want too” Buck said, eyes boring into Eddie’s and then fluttering shut as Eddie’s thumb brushed gently against the side of his face. “You and Chris mean the world to me, Eddie. You must know that. I’m all in.”

Buck loved them both so much, his heart ached with it, and he knew that that love was written all over his face for Eddie to see.

“I want that too, Buck.” Eddie rested his forehead against Buck’s temple and laughed with what sounded like pure relief, and Buck found himself laughing along with him. The kisses they traded sloppy and more teeth than lips with how hard they were both smiling.

“I want you, and I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” Buck murmured, once they had laughed until they started kissing again.

“Everything, Buck,” Eddie answered against Buck’s lips, smiling into the kiss. “I want to give you everything.”

Note: This is my first ever fic in this fandom, and my first fic in general in a very very long time so please be gentle! Comments, reblogs, and tags are so appreciated <3

Read on Ao3

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buck x eddie #terryjeffordss #dimshums #my stuff

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years

Text

Baby It’s Cold Outside

This is my submission for @mypassionsarenysins‘ #mypassionsaremysins1k celebration. Congratulations!

Prompt: Baby It’s Cold Outside by Michael Buble and Idina Menzel

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 3656

Summary: Bucky wants to see his girl again and begs her to come over.

This is a continuation of my 1040s!Bucky story Here in Your Arms

The phone on the kitchen counter rings. An obnoxious sound, disrupting your breakfast. You frown at the machine, wondering who would be rude enough to call you so early.

You set your toast down and cross the creaking hardwood floors, picking up the heavy receiver before they hang up.

“Y/L/N’s residence.” You answer politely.

“Doll.” Bucky’s voice greets you, relieved. “I was startin’ to think you might still be sleepin’.” He says softly and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“James.” You sigh, amused and teasingly annoyed. “I figured you wouldn’t be up until at least noon.” You reply.

“And miss spending the day with my girl?”

You can hear the party line getting restless, other people trying to make their own calls and you cringe at the thought of anyone overhearing your personal business.

“Bucky, the point.” You remind him.

“I have some decorations to put up and because I have, how’d ya put it?” He thinks for second before snapping his fingers. “Boy brains, I don’t know how to do anything useful. I was hoping you’d come over and help me put ‘em up.” He says, his nervousness just barely audible over the ridiculous amount of charm. You want to chuckle at the reminder of your conversation the night before, but the chatter on the line is distracting you.

“You don’t even have a tree.” You say, glancing around your kitchen. “And I have so many things to do, and it’s supposed to storm real bad.”

“Please? I need your help, sweetheart.” He begs.

Begs.

You let out a long suffering sigh. “Fine. I’ll be there in a little bit. I expect hot cocoa.” You say and he laughs lightly.

“I am yours to command, doll.”

You huff and hang up the phone, setting it down a lot harder than you mean to. “Curse it all, James.” You groan before going up to your room to get dressed.

You look around your bedroom, it hasn’t changed much over the years. A desk added for your school work, a lamp for you to read by so you don’t have to strain your eyes, an expanded closet that your father installed years ago.

You have it decorated for the Christmas season, small holiday lights strung up around your window and over your bed. This is one of your favorite seasons and you readily decorated the rest of the house in your parents’ absence.

You open the closet doors, looking through your dresses. Something simple, but something you know he’ll like. You have a dress to match his perfect, sky blue eyes, but that’s not his favorite color; not on you.

No, his favorite color on you is a deep emerald green. So lush, so full of life. You pick up your favorite dress, long sleeved, white lace collar, white lace trim on the bottom, heart shaped buttons from the waist up.

You had been wearing it the first time he saw you, and in a way, you’ve come to consider the fabric your lucky dress. Something good always happens to you when you wear it, mostly concerning that daft idiot you’re so in love with.

You lift the hanger off the bar and hold it up against your frame, looking at your reflection in the full length mirror positioned in the corner of your room.

Perfect.

You discard your robe and pajamas, pulling on the soft fabric over your undergarments. You find your favorite Christmas thigh high stockings, a thick white set of thigh high things with fur lining, just the perfect thing to keep you warm on your walk to Bucky’s neighborhood.

It isn’t far, a dozen blocks or so, but with the bitter December wind blowing, it will feel like a lot longer. You’re a little nervous that the romantic atmosphere from last night will have dissipated, leaving an awkward tension behind.

You sit at your vanity, applying your subtle makeup. A touch of blush, your wickedly sharp eyeliner wings, mascara, and a small bit of red lipstick. Nothing outrageous, but it compliments your skin tone nicely.

A quick brush through your hair before pinning your long curls up with some bobby pins, not much effort put into taming it today, you’re too eager.

You head down the stairs and pull on your white boots, lacing them up your ankles. They’ll protect you from the snow covered sidewalks. You pull on your thick, white coat and pause to check your reflection in the front hall mirror.

Satisfied, you pull your ear muffs on, followed by your leather gloves and your purse. You open the front door, stopping short at the sight of the big man in front of you. His hand is raised awkwardly, clearly ready to knock, and just as surprised as you are.

“Brock.” You start, recovering your wits and stepping outside.

“Am I catching you at a bad time?” He asks. His voice is rough, a smoker’s voice. He’d be good looking enough, if it weren’t for that rotten attitude. His eye is swollen and bruised badly. Bucky got him good.

“Actually, a little bit. I’m headed out. Was there something you needed?” You ask, pulling your door closed behind you and quickly locking it.

“I was hoping to talk to you about last night at the dance. I wanted to apologize, my behavior was unacceptable.” He says, walking down your front steps with you.

“Oh. Well, apology accepted.” You say, knowing full well it’s going to happen again. He’s too much like his daddy.

“And I’m sorry if I hurt you. I know I got a little rough.” He adds sheepishly.

More than a little, but you nod all the same. “Apology accepted.” You repeat.

He doesn’t say anything about the names he called you. “Are you going to see Barnes?” He asks, almost managing to control the annoyance on Bucky’s last name.

“Not sure what business it is of yours, but yes.” You reply.

“I’ll walk you there.” He offers.

It’s simple, casual. There’s no hint of malice, or bad intent. But you’ve been burned too many times by Brock Rumlow to ever fully trust him.

“You don’t have to. It’s not that far.” You say with an offhand smile.

“It’s no trouble. And I’d rather make sure you got there safe and sound.”

“Also, irritating Bucky?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Just a perk.” He admits, scratching at the back of his neck.

The walk is quiet. He seems unsure what to say to you. Snowflakes start to fall about halfway there. You look up to the sky, seeing the dark clouds gathering.

“Gonna be a nasty storm tonight.” He says, following your gaze.

You nod in agreement, walking just a little bit faster. You turn onto Bucky’s street and Steve is standing on the corner, chatting with another man. He looks cold, nose all red, cheeks wind-blown. He looks up at the movement as his blue eyes get wide.

“I’ve been spotted.” Brock chuckles.

“You should probably go.” You say, glancing at him.

“Y/N.” Steve calls, heading towards you, his big feet wkicking puffs of snow out of his way.

“Hey, Stevie.” You reply, folding into his hug easily.

“Bucky’s been waitin’ for ya.” He says, the way he glances at Brock makes it clear he said it for the other man’s benefit.

“He was just walking me.” You say, linking your arm through Steve’s big one. “Bye, Brock.” You add, feeling it would be rude to not say something.

“Are you going to the dance this Friday?” Rumlow asks.

“I’m not sure.” You answer honestly. The last one took the fun out of them. And the only reason you had been going was to flirt and dance with Bucky.

Steve gently tugs your arm, guiding you towards Bucky’s house. “He’s gonna be pissed Rumlow was with you.” Steve says quietly.

“He showed up at my front door. I couldn’t exactly get rid of him.” You sigh, reaching up to brush snow out of Steve’s hair.

“What did he want?” He asks, slowing down just a little.

“To apologize for last night, and if he hurt me.”

“And you believe him?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“I believe he means it for now. Until he drinks again.” You say honestly. You know he’s going to tell Bucky, you won’t try to stop him. You just hope that Bucky will choose staying with you over chasing down Rumlow.

Steve stops in front of the Barnes’ house. “Stay behind me.” He says with a wink and climbs the stairs. I follow his footprints and stand behind him, his massive frame hiding me from view.

He knocks sharply on the door and it yanks open, the latch catching roughly on the wood.

“Steve.” Bucky sighs, voice deflated. “I’ve already told you, I can’t hang out today.” He says. You peak very carefully and Bucky is distracted, eyes searching down the street for something.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve got plans.” Steve says with a smirk.

“She should’ve been here by now.” Bucky mutters, running a hand through his normally neat black hair. Today it’s a mess, frantic.

Sexy.

You like this look on him, rough at the edges. Not so composed. It’s more real. You love the charm and the way he smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world. But this side of him, worried that you might choose not to show up, not knowing that he already has you wrapped around his finger. So... unsure.

You find this just as attractive.

“You mean this beauty right here?” Steve asks, reaching behind him and grasping your hand. He gently pulls you into view and Bucky’s beautiful eyes land on you.

“Rogers.” Bucky says flatly.

Steve is snickering. “Yeah, Buck?”

“Get the hell off my porch.” Bucky snaps, holding his hand out for yours.

Steve cackles and you grin, tugging on his jacket collar. He leans down, still grinning and you press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.” You say before stepping inside. You set about taking off your boots while Bucky stands outside for a minute longer, talking to his best friend.

“Rumlow walked her here. She said he was apologizing.” Steve says quietly. But you can still hear.

“Fucking hell.” Bucky curses and you glance at the door.

“She’s fine, right in there with you. He didn’t do anything, Buck. He just wanted to talk.”

“I’m gonna kill him. I warned him.”

“I know. But you’re not gonna just leave her here all by herself. You’re gonna go inside and decorate your house with your girl. We can deal with Rumlow later.” Steve says firmly and you quietly thank god for Steven Grant Rogers.

“Fine. But he will be dealt with.” Bucky says. The two men say goodbye and you struggle to kick off your boots. He shuts the door and turns towards you, a bemused smile on his face.

“Oh, doll. What am I gonna do with you, eh?” He asks, kneeling down and deftly untying your boots. He lifts your leg, his big hand cupping the back of your calf intimately as he slowly slides your boot off. He makes quick work of the other one, his hands lingering not nearly long enough.

He stands up and gently removes your earmuffs, setting them on the radiator to dry. Your gloves follow and then he helps you out of your coat.

“Damn.” He mutters, draping your coat over the radiator to warm it up.

“What?” Your hands fly to your face, worried that your makeup got messed up in the snow.

He captures your wrists gently. “Stop, you’re perfect.” He promises. Any fear about the separation from last night vanishes as he looks at you. “Perfect.” He mumbles again.

“Then what are you cursin’ about?” You mutter.

“Weren’t you just listening?” He grins at you, linking his hand in yours.

“I’m not sure we were hearing the same conversation.” You sigh, lifting his hand to look at the bruises. Dark purple splotches cover his tan skin, veins spiderweb out from the center and your heart twists slightly. You trace them slightly, frowning.

“Doll?” He starts, drawing your gaze away from his hand.

“You shouldn’t have hit him, Buck.” You bite your lip.

His thumb is gentle as he carefully frees it. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Nothin t’worry about.” A mischievous spark in his eye flares and you know that look well. “Well, nothing a little kiss won’t cure.” He grins and you roll your eyes.

“I should have seen that coming.” You sigh dramatically, but you lift his hand to your mouth, gently pressing your lips to his bruised flesh. Your kiss is tender, soft. It’s a slow second before you lower his hand, flicking your eyes up to his.

“Better?” You ask, trying to refrain from smirking.

“My hand is.” He answers and you frown, not understanding the distinction.

“I don’t-“

“I promised you hot chocolate.” He says suddenly and the brightness of it makes you take a step back.

“Right. You did.” You nod, following him into the living room.

Boxes fill the space, looking new, at the very least, not used a lot. He steps around them into the kitchen and you look at the big tree taking up space in the bay window.

“Buck, how did you even get this thing in here?” You laugh, looking at the perfect tree.

“Steve and some of the boys helped.” He says, coming back in with a mug for you. He turns it around so the handle is ready for you to take.

You look at all the boxes, the brand new tree and up at his handsome face. “If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” You ask, setting the mug down on the coffee table.

“You sound so serious.” He shifts nervously.

“Why do you want to do this? Why ask me?”

He stares at you, his eyes getting wide as his cheeks twinge pink.

“I thought it was obvious.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I remembered you sayin’ Christmas was your favorite holiday. You couldn’t stop talkin’ about how you were gonna decorate your house and how you have your own decorations for your room. I bet it looks like a frosted winter wonderland in there.” He smiles, his beautiful eyes crinkling at the corners. “And, god, doll, I just want to spend time with you. This house hasn’t been decorated in years, not since Becca left, and I thought, why not? It’d be nice to feel like it was a home again for a while and since you love doin’ it so much, it won’t feel like such a chore.” He lifts a shoulder, staring at his feet.

You’re quiet for a long time, watching him shuffle nervously, hands fidgeting with his hair and his shirt.

“Can you say somethin’ please?” He sighs and you crack a smile.

“James Barnes, you’re sweet.” You say finally and he looks up at you.

“What?”

“How can I resist helping a knight in distress?” You grin. “But, you don’t have to make up reasons to see me. You think I would walk across town for just anyone?”

“Doll,” he closes his eyes with a small smile.

“Let’s get started.” You clap your hands, rubbing them together.

Pointing to a box of string lights, you start there. You screw the light bulbs in as he wraps it around the tree in a near perfect spiral.

“Is your sister coming home for Christmas?” You ask, watching him work.

“Nah, she’s spendin’ it with her new family.” He sighs.

“So, you’ll be alone?” You frown.

“I’m okay, darlin’.” He flashes you a charming smile, but it’s his empty one, the one he uses to get out of trouble.

You hand him a twist of loose garland and together you start draping them over the branches like silver icicles.

Your mind is racing. You can’t let him be alone. Not Bucky.

“What’s Stevie doing?” You ask and he shrugs.

“Same as me, I s’pose.”

You take the left over garland from him, your fingers brushing against his and you can’t shake the overwhelming feeling of your heart breaking for him.

“Doll, you’re staring at me.” He says, tilting his head.

“Admiring the view.” You say offhandedly and his lips part in surprise.

“Very bold, miss Y/L/N.” He says teasingly and you shrug.

“Not like I’m hiding how I feel about you.” You say, picking up a bag of hooks

“You’re not?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Am I being too subtle?” You reply, handing him an ornament to hang on a branch.

“Hmm, coy. I think that’s the word. Isn’t that what women are supposed to be to ensnare a man?” He asks and you look at him, bewildered. “I know nothing.” He amends quickly, holding up his hands in surrender.

You hang your head for a second, eyes falling on something in the boxes. A ball of mistletoe. Perfect.

“Well, are you ensnared?” You ask, handing him the ball and pointing to the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

He takes it and goes to hang it up. “Definitely.” He answers.

You follow him over, standing a little behind him in the doorway, waiting until he’s done before tapping him on the shoulder. He turns and smiles a little.

“Then the time for being coy is over. Are you really not sure?”

His hands cup your face gently, thumbs tracing your cheeks. “A guy can hope, but does anyone really know what goes on in a dame’s head?” He asks teasingly.

“No. Least of all the dame. But I know I want you, James Buchanan Barnes. Never doubt that.” You reply. “Now, tradition states-“ he cuts you off with a searing kiss, lips stealing your breath away, his gentle hands cradling your face.

Your fingers rake through his hair, making a mess of his dark locks as you cling to him. He pulls you against him, crushing your tiny body against his muscular frame. He pulls away sharply, eyes dark, breathing hard.

“We should finish... b-before the storm gets bad.” You mutter, feeling a little dazed. You never thought kissing a fella could feel like that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Your lips are swollen as you turn back around, taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

The decorating is fun, he makes you laugh and asks you a thousand questions. Things that time in the school yard can’t answer.

Honestly, you could spend forever talking to Bucky and it just wouldn’t be long enough.

It’s not until the wind rattles the windows with a particularly hard gust that you realize how late it’s gotten.

“I should get goin’.” You say, pushing yourself up.

“We aren’t done yet.” He protests.

“Bucky, the storm is rollin’ in. I gotta get home before it’s too late.” You head for the door, pulling your boots back on. “I’ll come back over tomorrow and we can spend all day together again. Okay?” You promise, wiggling your foot into the fur lined boot.

“You’re gonna freeze out there, sweetheart.” He says. “Just stay here. It’s warm and there’s no chance of you losin’ fingers or toes.”

You shake your head. “What would people think?”

“Let ‘em think what they want.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Easy for you to say. My dad will kill me if he ever heard that.” You mutter, lacing up your boots again.

“Doll, please don’t go?” He whispers. “I like when you’re here.”

You turn to face him slowly, taking in his face, slumped shoulders. “James Buchanan Barnes.” You say softly, cupping his cheek. “What are you so worried about? I’m comin’ back tomorrow. First thing, just like I promised. And I’ll spend all day with you.”

“I’m not worried about anythin’, doll. I just don’t want ya to go, is all.”

“Is this about Brock?”

“I warned him to stay away from you.” He clenches his fists.

“James, promise me you won’t go lookin’ for trouble. Rumlow isn’t worth it. I like you in one piece and not in jail.” You allow a soft smile to creep up your cheeks. “I can’t kiss ya if you’re in jail.” You remind him, reaching for your coat.

“That’s a good point.” He sighs. “Are you sure you can’t stay for another cup of hot chocolate?” He asks, catching your hands and pulling you close.

You trace the collar of his shirt, fixing it slightly. “I’m sure, Bucky. I need to go before it gets any worse.” You let out a small sigh and rest your forehead against his chest.

“I should walk you home.” He mutters.

“Nonsense. I’ll be fine.” You pull on your coat, reaching for the buttons, but he beats you to it. His long fingers take their time buttoning you in.

“Baby, it’s cold outside.” He insists and you can’t help the smile.

“All the more reason for you to not make the walk twice.” You say, pulling your earmuffs on. “I’ll call you when I get home, alright?” You say gently, sliding your hands into your warm gloves.

“I don’t like this. I should at least walk you home if you won’t stay.”

You pull him close and kiss him sweetly, feeling him relax in your hands. “I’ll be fine, my love.” You promise and turn towards his front door.

He opens it for you and you stop dead in your tracks. Snow is piled as high as your waist on his front porch. There’s no way you can walk home through that.

How had the storm gotten that bad this fast?

You clear your throat and slowly turn to Bucky who’s doing a terrible job of hiding his grin. “You said something about some more hot chocolate?” You mutter and his perfect smile cracks through.

“I’ll put on the kettle, gorgeous.”

Tags:

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @moli1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @thirstybitchqueen @xxloki81xx @stuckonjbbarnes @browngirlmagic @geeksareunique @nicoleplacee @lexshead @gambitsqueen @cake-writes

#marvel #1940s!bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #romance #Sequel #mermaidxatxheart-writes

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maaaaarveeeeel · 4 years

Text

They Can’t See Us If We Move

Summary: Alexander Pierce is in the process of opening a new park. However, after a horrible accident the safety of the park has raised some serious questions. Now, in order for his beloved park to open, he must get the opinions of three renowned experts, Dr. Steve Rogers, Dr. Bucky Barnes and Dr. Tony Stark, to sign off on the safety of the park. But what happens when everything doesn’t go as planned. And what happens when his grandchildren are in the middle of it all?

A/N: So I got excited and decided to post chapter 1 early. I’m going to work on this more tomorrow. Few things, anyone that only knows the movie you’ll notice I stole a lot of dialogue from it in this first chapter (I promise I don’t do that in the later ones, just this first part has a lot of science stuff that I’m not about to fake.) Anyone that knows both the book AND movie, I’m sure you can appreciate why I picked Pierce for Hammond (he was actually a huge ass in the book.) As for the deaths, remember this is an au, so just because it says “lives/dies both” doesn’t mean I’ll actually follow that, or have to. Enjooooooooooooy! (I’ll add tags and warnings as I post chapters)

Warnings: Only one in this is Pierce being an ass and slightly transphobic towards Bucky (it’s very subtle)

Characters:

Grant (paleontologist, lives both)- Steve Rogers

Ellie(paleobotanist, lives both)- James Buchanan Barnes (trans, woman to man)

Malcolm (chaotician, lives both)- Tony Stark

Hammond (InGen CEO, dies book, lives movie)- Alexander Pierce

Muldoon (game warden, lives book, dies movie)- Sam Wilson

Gennaro (lawyer lives book, dies movie)- Bruce Banner

Wu (chief geneticist, dies book, lives movie)- Dr. Stephen Strange

Tim (kid dino knowledge, lives both)- Peter

Lex (kid hacker, lives both)- Morgan

Arnold (chief engineer, dies both)- Nick Fury

Nedry (computer programer, dies both)- Brock Rumlow

____________________________________

Chapter 1

Steve wiped the dirt off his face and gave a happy sigh as he looked down at the newly dug skeleton. It was a big find for them, an important one too.

"They're ready to try again babe."

Steve turned towards the voice and smiled. Bucky, his boyfriend, was walking towards him with a small smile on his face. He grunted and started walking towards the man, letting the diggers know where he was going.

"Think it'll work this time?" Steve mumbled.

"One can only hope." Bucky sighed, rubbing Steve's back and kissing his cheek.

As they approach where their team was set up Steve frowns. Some of the volunteers have, once again, brought their kids with them. He doesn't understand why they feel the need to bring them. It's not like the kids are allowed to do anything. The bones are far too fragile for them to be handling. In Steve's opinion they shouldn't even be here, but Bucky says if he wants the volunteers to come help he has to accept the kids.

"Ready to try again?" One of the volunteers, he thinks his name is Clint, asks from where he's sitting in the chair.

Steve just nods and turns where two others are standing with the machine. A moment later a loud noise, like a gunshot, echoes through the canyon.

"How long does it usually take?" Bucky asks, looking at the screen.

"Should have an immediate response," Clint replies, "shoot the radar in the ground, then the image bounces back."

Suddenly the screen lights up with an image, and the group lets out sighs of relief.

"Amazing," a volunteer shouths, "in a couple years we won't have to dig anymore."

Steve frowns at this. "Where's the fun in that?"

Bucky smiles and pats the man's arm before looking back at the screen. "Postmortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments." He turns and looks at Steve. "Velociraptor?"

"Yes, good shape too." Steve smiles and points at the screen, then frowns as it goes fuzzy.

"What happened?" Clint asks.

"Dr. Rogers isn't machine compatible." Bucky chuckles.

"They've got it in for me." Steve mumbles. "Look at the half-moon shaped bone. Hard to believe they never learned to fly." The group behind him laughed and he rolled his eyes before turning towards them. "Well, we've found that dinosaurs have more in common with present-day birds than they do reptiles. See, look at the pubic bone," he turns and points at the screen, "it's turned backwards, just like a bird. The vertebrae is full of hollows and air sacs, just like a bird."

A kid steps forward and looks at the screen then towards Steve with an unimpressed look. "That really doesn't look all that scary. It looks more like a six-foot turkey."

The group's eyes go wide and Bucky sighs. Steve's jaw clenches and he steps forward, eyeing the kid.

"Alright. Let's try something. Try to imagine yourself in the Jurassic Period. You get your first look at the, what'd you call it? Oh yes, the six-foot turkey! As you move into a clearing, but the raptor, he knew you were there a long time ago. He moves like a bird; lightly, bobbing his head. You keep still, because you think that, like a T-rex, his visual acuity's based on movement, and he'll lose you if you don't move. You're wrong though. Not with a VELOCIRAPTOR. You stare at him, and he just stares right back at you. That's when the attack happens. Not from the front, oh no, from the side, from the other two raptors that you didn't even know were there." Steve walks around the kid and wipes his face. "See, Velociraptor's are pack hunters. They use coordinated attack patterns, and they'd slash at you with this," he takes a claw from his pocket and holds it in front of the kids face, "a six-inch retractable claw, like a razor, on the middle toe. They don't bother to bite the jugular, like a lion, they just slash here," he uses the claw to fake slash at the kid's chest and thigh, "or maybe across the belly, spilling your intestines. Point is, you're alive when they start to eat you. So, you know, try to show a little respect."

The kid held back tears and just nodded. Steve smiled then turned and started walking back to the dig site, Bucky close behind.

"If you wanted to scare the kid you could've pulled a gun." Bucky chuckled.

"You want one of those?" Steve snorted.

"Not that one, but a breed of Dr. Rogers would be interesting." Bucky laughed.

Steve stopped and looked at Bucky. "Buck, you're a man, you can't have kids."

Bucky smiled and leaned up and placed a small kiss on Steve's lips. "While I appreciate the endless support, I was born in a woman's body. Might as well make use of it."

Steve snorted, but before he could say anything Bucky stopped him. "Women aren't just baby makers, I know Rogers. Don't get started, you know what I meant."

Steve rolled his eyes and opened his mouth but was cut off by the sound of a helicopter. The two spun around and started running towards the dig site.

"Cover anything that's exposed!" Bucky shouts.

Steve runs towards the helicopter and yells at the pilot that just stepped out, he just points to a trailer on the other side of camp. Steve then turns and runs there.

He slams the door open and growls when he sees a man rummaging through the fridge. The man turns and smiles at him, popping the cork of a bottle of expensive champagne.

"Hey, we were saving that!" Steve growls.

"For today, I guarantee it." The man says with a smile.

Steve steps forward and points at the man's chest. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Alexander Pierce, and I'm pleased to finally meet you in person, Dr. Rogers." He shakes Steve's finger, then blows the dirt off and turns back towards the kitchen area. "I'm glad to see my fifty thousand a year is being well spent."

The door slams open once more and Bucky walks in yelling about the asshole who just covered their bones.

Steve quickly turns and grabs his arm. "Uh, this is our paleobotanist, Dr. James…"

"Barnes." Bucky finishes, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

Pierce raises an eyebrow at that. "I thought Dr. Barnes was a woman?"

Bucky's jaw clenches. "I'm a man."

Pierce raises his eyebrows. "Well someone back at the company is going to get an earful for that one." He says as he pours the champagne in his cup.

"Buck, this is Alexander Pierce." Steve whispers.

Bucky's eyes go wide at this. "Um, hello Mr. Pierce, I'm sorry for my outburst-"

"It's fine," Pierce smiled, "I can't imagine my entrance was all that good. Anyhow, I'm in need of your assistance." Pierce offered a glass to Steve.

"What kind?" Steve asked, accepting the glass.

"Well, I'll get right to the point. I like you," he looked at Bucky," Both of you. I can tell instantly with people; it's a gift." He sipped his drink before continuing, "I own an island, off the coast of Costa Rica. Leased it from the government, and I've spent the last five years setting up a kind of a biological preserve down there. It's really spectacular. I spared no expense." He sighed, and leaned against the sink. "No doubt that sooner or later our attractions will drive kids right out of their minds."

"What are those?" Steve asked.

"Small versions of adults, baby." Bucky chuckled.

"Not just for kids, adults too. We have plans to open next year. If the damn lawyers don't kill me first. I don't like them. Do you?" Pierce laughed.

Steve and Bucky looked at one another and shrugged. "We don't know any."

Pierce laughed again. "Count yourselves lucky. I have a particular one that represents my investors, and he says they insist on outside opinions."

"What kind?" Bucky asks.

"Well, your kind." Pierce says.

"Why would they care what we think?" Steve asks.

"Well, it's right up your alley. Why don't you both come down for the weekend? Have a look around? I'd love to have the opinion of a paleobotanist as well. I've got a plane standing by."

Bucky and Steve looked at each other. They weren't all that impressed with the vague answer.

"Now isn't really the best time. We just dug up a new skeleton." Steve said.

"I could compensate you by fully funding your dig." Pierce said, pouring himself another drink.

"This is an awfully unusual time…" Bucky mumbled.

"For a further three years."

Bucky and Steve look at each other with wide eyes and smiles then instantly hug one another and cheer at this. Pierce smiled and sipped his drink when he heard Bucky ask where the plane was.

Tags (open):

@xblackboard-monitor-vimes

@buckyssbabyy

@honestly-dontknow

#stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #alexander pierce #marvel au #marvel story #jurassic park au #transphobe tw

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lamalefix · 4 years

Text

A whisper of smoke 2/5

[Buddie fic; Heavy Angst; Angst with a Happy Ending; Hurt/Comfort; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Established Relationship; Major Character Injury; Blood and Injury; Eddie’s POV; I don’t know how to English; I Don’t Even Know how to tag; I don’t even know why; Author.exe has stopped working]

read ch1

[read this work on ao3]

Eddie proceeds by the sheer force of inertia.

Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and it’s been months. In a blink of an eye and at the same time in what seems like an eternity, it’s been months. Something changed there’s a new life: Maddie and Chim’s baby girl, but something didn’t change.

He no longer sleeps. Or, at the very least, he’s exhausted when he wakes up every morning. Three hours a night is enough, three hours a night is enough to be able to work, the least that he can do at work. At night he reads scientific articles, inquires, studies, reviews, meta-analysis. And now he knows there was a woman in 2017 who recovered completely after a month-long coma after a severe cardiac arrest and hypoxia. And even if he knows Evan is out of time, but maybe he’s just as resilient. He read and re-read that article on communication in comatose patients, the one Evan read just before the fire, just before the accident, just before hell broke loose.

Everything changed in those months, and yet everything it’s still the same.

He goes to wake Christopher before turning in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, and looks into the fridge and pantry, and decides that today is a good day to go shopping, he’ll go to the hospital in the evening before coming back home. Today needs to be a good day. Maybe he should also buy the pancakes mix, although Christopher has stopped asking for them by now, but maybe this is due to Eddie’s disastrous culinary ability rather than the fact that it was Buck who made him the best pancakes in the world. But Chirstopher will never say it aloud, rather his child who was once sunny preferred to stop asking. He stopped with pancakes, with movie nights, with ideas for school projects, all he does is play with his Lego and do homework in his room. He has stopped being the usual ray of sunshine, the usual cheerful and courageous child, he has lost that light in the eyes.

And Eddie’s heart became a little smaller and perhaps he just must find the courage to react, to take that step that is delaying and postponing and postponing, ignoring Maddie and what his conscience continue to suggest.

Days have passed. Weeks. Months.

Months, Dios.

He must find a way to get his shit together, to go on for him and for Christopher. For Christopher who does nothing but play with his Lego, do his homework and draw in his room, who has become quieter and has lost that sparkling light in his eyes. He no longer has nightmares, or at least they are not as intense as before, and not even so frequent, but he has lost that light in his eyes. And the only flash of joy is when he goes to visit Buck, in the hospital, in the hospital in a long-term intensive care unit that certainly isn’t a place for kids like him, and chooses his books and gets help to get on the bed as close as possible to Buck, and with a disconcerting delicacy he takes his place near his Bucky and begins to read, the book open for both to see. Even if Buck has his eyes closed.

But Eddie can’t let himself go, astray, he must stop feeling that way. He must go back to having control over his life, otherwise he will bring Christopher down too.

It was difficult to find the words, but Chris understood, because Christopher is so smart and resilient and is a fighter. And he said to Eddie with his big grey eyes, “Then let’s fight with him”.

“Mornin’ daddy” mumbles his child as he drags himself with the unmistakable ticking of his crutches in the kitchen. He is already fully dressed, and although he slept tonight, even his sleep doesn’t seem to have been restful, beneath the slightly fogged glasses there are dark circles under the eyes.

“Hey buddy! You are all ready for school!” he says ruffling his hair, deliberately upsetting something he has so painstakingly combed. He wants to see him laugh, he doesn’t want to think about his eyes that are so distant and empty and tired, he wants to get his son back.

“Oh, come on daddy...” Chris snorts, moving his hand, but squeezing his fingers in a comforting way. “I-I co-combed,” he mutters, chuckling, softly.

“Oh, I see it! That’s why I had to you,” Eddie replies, smiling. "Come on, let’s have breakfast otherwise we arrive late to school and Miss Flores scolds me."

Christopher climbs the chair without too much effort, he’s grown a couple of centimetres in the last few months, and now these movements that were more tiring before, are way easier. He stretches to retrieve the cereal box and pours them into his cup.

“Here is the milk...” Eddie says, pouring a little over the cereals, and with his other hand she brings the sugar close to him. “Before going to work I’ll go shopping, do you have any special requests?” he asks.

And Christopher shakes his head. “C-Can we see a movie tonight?”.

Eddie smiles at him and reaches out to retrieve two tablespoons of cereal for himself. “Sure!”.

And Christopher’s eyes light up, shine like two little stars. “Really?”.

Eddie can only clench his jaw and pretend that the weird, painful thrill that gave him the unbelieving tone in Christopher’s voice is attributable instead to the coffee that returns hot and bitter in the throat. He heaves a small cough. “Sure,” he replies. “And we are together tomorrow too, I’m off… I received the newsletter from your school, there is an exhibition on the stars at the science museum, would you like to go?”.

Christopher smiles for a moment, but then his eyes turn sad, dull, empty.

“Hey, if you don’t feel like it, we’ll go again another time. We can have a quiet day only you and me. Maybe we can sleep late and play all day... maybe we can organize an exit to the park with Denny and Nia?” he mumbles.

Christopher shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, let’s go”.

“Great!” Eddie nods, jumping to his feet. “We have to hurry, you have to finish breakfast and brush your teeth. I’m going to prepare your backpack”.

“Everything is ready,” he replies.

“Oh really? But you’re all grown up then!” mutters Eddie bending over to kiss the top of his kid’s head. “Look here, you’ll grow taller than I am in no time!”.

Christopher snorts and continues to eat, without saying anything.

And Eddie maybe should go deeper, maybe he should ask him something, but for now he decides to let it go and let his son come to him. He never was a pressing father, he is apprehensive, but never pressing. “I’m going to finish getting ready, it will end up you’ll have to accompany me to work and do the shopping if you get so big all together!”.

Eddie slips into his room and finishes getting ready. He doesn’t look at the bed, at the absence in his bedroom, he decides to take a last look at the school newsletter. The science museum labs should give Christopher some light back, he likes the stars, or at least that’s what he thought a few nights ago, when he was in bed and couldn’t sleep. And all the videos on his phone, the videos of the three of them together, broke his heart again, the emptiness pressing in the bed, the silence so loud and oppressive in that room. He had found a good reason to avoid that particular activity, actually, that night, but right now he doesn’t remember what it even was. Perhaps because he has decided that today must be a good day, or perhaps because it was not a good reason, the one that he had found. It was just another way out, but for himself, not for his son, his marvellous and resilient son. In any case, he doesn’t remember now.

When he returns to the kitchen, he doesn’t expect to see Christopher staring at his cup still full of all moist cereals, the straw in his hands while his shoulders shake as he sniffs.

“Chris? Hey buddy?” Eddie calls him softly, and is a little afraid to identify how much his voice is trembling as he says his son’s name. “What’s going on, mijo?”

“I don’t want to go. At the museum… we… we had to go with Bucky” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, daddy but… but Bucky will enjoy it and… I like it when he explains everything and… and I want that, I want to wait for Bucky, can’t we wait for him?”.

And it is the first time he has seen him, his strong, beautiful kid, so broken, so shattered, so fragile. Small, so tiny, he sees behind that mask of strength and resilience that has been built around him or that perhaps is precisely his character. And then Eddie crouches next to him and embraces him, and his son breaks himself into a thousand pieces in his arms and cries louder and sobs and sniffles. Here was his good reason. They had to go with Buck. They even talked about it, about the exhibition about the stars with thematic workshops. One evening, while they were out in the backyard looking at the stars, Evan who, with his gentle low voice, had Christopher in his arms and pointed to the sky. And Eddie’s heart aches in his chest. He forgot. He forgot Evan, he forgot his soft smile when he said they could bring Christopher to the science museum.

“We won’t go there, it’s fine. Okay, let’s stay home tomorrow,” he replies, the air that scratches the back of his throat. “There is no hurry. We’ll go to the show when we’re ready, okay? When he comes back to us,” he says slowly. And he was so wrong to believe that they were ready for a good day, both of them. “Come on, finish eating, and let’s go. Or your teacher will be angry with me if we are late”.

“Can I go see him today?” Christopher asks quietly. “After school, it’s Friday so aunty Maddie doesn’t work today, can I go, dad?”. It’s like a plea, a prayer.

And Eddie nods. “Okay, after school you go read your book to him, huh?” he decides “Then I’ll come pick you up after work and we go eat a pizza, mh?”.

And Christopher lights up, as if he had told him something incredible, as if he had said that he would take him to a theme park, to Disneyworld or whatever it is. Instead, he only gave him permission to go to the hospital, to visit him.

He drives silently, then, all the way from home to school, Christopher looks out the window and occasionally sniffs. He chose a book to read to Buck and put it in his backpack, before getting into the truck.

When they arrive at the school gates, his son takes the backpack and gets down without help.

Eddie bends down to hug him, as every time and Christopher strokes his cheek and looks him in the eye for a moment. “Be careful at work,” he says slowly, in a shaky voice.

This is a new thing that tells him since he has been in therapy or, better, since Buck is in the hospital. It’s all different, since Buck’s is there. And this little charm, his small words, murmured while he cups his cheek, are like a small blessing. Buck doesn’t have his back at work, but he can do it even without stretching out his hand to get Evan’s, he just needs to be careful.

Eddie mimics his gesture and strokes his cheek in return. “You pay attention at school,” he winks.

And Christopher snorts a small laugh and begins to stroll towards the entrance. “I am a good student!”.

Eddie doesn’t reply, while waits there see him enter and then he gets back in the car, but pulls straight in front of the supermarkets, he decides that he must see him today too, in the morning, before his shift. He too must go to Evan.

He sends a message to abuela, to ask her to do some shopping for him, which means that she will fill the fridge and the pantry with real things to clean, season, chop and cook like an adult, and a lot of homemade meals already ready to be put in the microwave. (He can already imagine Tìa Pepa groaning, but that’s okay).

And then he calls Maddie. He never calls her, they have a kind of silent non-aggression pact, they have divergent views on Evan’s condition and no, they don’t talk much.

Maddie’s speeches are yielding, they have the bitter taste of defeat. But she always likes to accompany Christopher to visit Evan.

“Eddie?” comes her voice.

“Hi Maddie, Christopher would like to come with you to the hospital this afternoon, if you’re available,” he murmurs, as monotonous as possible.

“Sure! Sure!” she says, her voice ringing. “Eddie, listen...”.

“I know, Maddie, I’m not ready” he mumbles softly. “I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want... I don’t want to, even think about it. I don’t” he adds more categorically.

“Eddie...” she sighs. “Let’s have coffee before you have to go to work, mh? You’re coming to the hospital, aren’t you?” and it’s rhetoric question, of course. When Maddie stays there at night, Eddie is the one who takes over in the morning.

Eddie has never loved hospitals, and he is more than certain that anyone who has ever proclaimed said love has never found in a situation like his, like theirs.

It’s very hot in hospitals, and waiting rooms are always so oppressive, sick.

They all have that unmistakable smell of plastic and disinfectant, and scots pine to cover the stale smell. And no matter how accustomed he is to waiting, now, no matter how quickly his brain adjusts to the smells, and no matter how much he believed he would get used to spending hours in there, there is still that mixture of smells pinches his nose. And he decides not to focus on that stinging pain in his chest.

Hours have passed, days have passed, weeks have passed. And if Eddie really concentrates, he could even say how many minutes, how many seconds have passed since they brought Evan in there, in that hospital. Or at the very least since Eddie, after collapsing, woke up, half sedated in the triage area, a small concussion and some bruised ribs, the verdict of his condition. A week off. And he hoped he would bring Buck home with him at the end of the week.

Instead, that week went by followed by many, many others, and he sees people whirling and murmuring in that waiting room. His condition is a strange one, he knows and doesn’t know, altogether, how long he spends there in the waiting room. He could say he knows all those faces that move around him, all those voices, and at the same time he doesn’t know anyone. Or maybe he just recognizes nobody, other than the worried, devastated, tired expression that is perhaps the same one he wears.

Whichever time Eddie is there, every time they chase him out of the little room where Evan is sleeping, there is always a constant swirl of people. People who come and go, who are welcomed and accompanied by doctors and nurses, and every time Eddie sees a white coat, his heart jumps in his chest. In hope and fear, in fear and hope. He hopes that they tell him that he is awake, that he finally responds to treatment, that soon, soon they will finally see the end of this continuous limbo in which they find themselves. And he fears, with all that he has in his body, every inch of his skin, every little cell and its micro-organisms, he fears that they will tell him that there is nothing more to do, that their time together is over, no tomorrow.

And when someone speaks to him now, Eddie responds in monosyllables, he answers because he goes with the current, shipwrecked by that sea of unspoken things, of lost time, of decision made too late, of movements that he may had made wrong.

And if he closes his eyes he feels his presence, he feels strong and clear even when Eddie isn’t sitting in that oppressive little room in which they put him, in which he is all grey, including him who is usually colorful and flamboyant, who has that infectious smile and those warm hands, the cheerful eyes and the clear and strong voice, the chatter that fills the air are now just an old memory that digs inside him with such precision, with such diligence that it seems like a torture. And gradually his heart becomes smaller and smaller and his knees tremble, inciting him in his constant escape, even if he is motionless and stands there and waits.

And waits.

For days, weeks, months, for so long it hurts.

There is a moment, in the morning when he wakes up, those few times that he has the courage to go to bed, in their bed, that he forgets that absence. Because even if he isn’t there, even if Evan isn’t there at home with him, even if he is distant, and he sleeps and at the same time doesn’t sleep in a hospital bed, he is still so close. There is that moment, that wonderful and painful moment when Eddie doesn’t remember, doesn’t remember that he went to bed alone and that if he reached out, he would feel the mattress, the sheets, Evan’s place in the bed cold, so cold and empty. Perhaps it is because it’s their routine, his continual repetition of their routine, which anchors him to reality and also makes him live in a series of gestures, makes him retrace all those gestures that he hasn’t done for hours, days, weeks, months. And so he imagines, or maybe it is his brain that grants him this feeling of peace, he imagines that it is always one of those mornings in which they have more time, that they do not have to run to the truck and take Chris to school, and can afford a lazy morning in pyjamas, a pile of waffles, puffy and soft, in front of them on the coffee table, while more than looking at something they just browse the Disney + catalog and end up, like all the other times, looking at reruns of Avengers Assemble.

Then, then after that perfect moment of blissful ignorance, clouded by fatigue, he remembers that the bed is empty. And it’s been hours, days, weeks, months and the bed is always this cold. And hi breath hitches at the back of his throat.

Nobody can fix his heart, nobody can unbreak all those bits, nobody except Evan.

And that’s why he proceeds by the sheer force of inertia, the old routine that kicks to take back its rightful place. A few exercises in the morning, showering, breakfast, and in a hurry at school and then, if he has time, he can pay a quick visit to the hospital, before the shift at the station, like today.

And when his day is awful, and he can’t reach out and take Evan’s, because the shift is too long and he sleeps too little, and Buck is not there to make his day better, to tell absurd facts, talking continuously and filling his head with thoughts, stealing that little peck in front of the lockers, or chaining a series of kisses on his neck, as soon as they come back from a bad call, he goes over their morning routine again and again.

He retraces their morning routine, retraces every single step with his thoughts and does his best not to think, not to look at his hands, the blood that is encrusted in the beds of his fingernails, and at the same time too much time has passed for him to see it, but he feels like Lady Macbeth, and can swear he can still see those marks on his hands. And as much as he disinfected them, his hands, soapy and clean, in all those days, until they started to hurt, he can swear to still see the stains of his blood, crusted at the base of his palms.

And every time he thinks about their morning routine, then he comes to think about that push, Buck who kicked him out of that house just in time to prevent both of them from being crushed by debris. He goes through everything that happened afterwards, he thinks about the fact that maybe, with the right sling, with a rope, he could have thrown himself in there and pulled Evan out, intervening first.

And they needed to move quickly, because in these cases it is the timing that matters. A minute can change things. And they wasted time, they wasted a lot of fucking time. Dios.

And every time he hopes, that little, big selfish voice that murmurs under his skin, he hopes to have gotten Evan in the hospital in time, anyway. He hopes it for Evan and for his own heart, for Christopher and for Maddie, but above all because Eddie will never have the strength to overcome this thing. If he doesn’t come home, Eddie is done, finish, caput. And it’s not a figure of speech, because as long as Christopher isn’t big, and strong, and able to look after himself on his own, Eddie will have to continue to exist, his world will continue to turn as he did in that huge before, in that part of his life before Buck.

With Shannon it was already over when her life came to an end. But with Buck it was just started.

And Eddie could list them, the days they spent together. Nights, he could count them in his hair, he could remember them one by one. Every single moment since that evening, an evening like many others when Buck was at home, after a gruelling shift of thirty hours, and Eddie was at work instead. And Eddie had made a shitty, a very big shitty fucked up decision, which now he doesn’t even have the courage to remember. When he doesn’t think he usually makes fucked up moves, and this one he did to do his job, to be a hero, and maybe a jerk.

And it was like going back, like ending up in that fucking field hospital again, after the accident with the helicopter, it was like ending up on the ground with a series of burning wounds. He doesn’t remember it, and maybe this is other material for Frank, because he remembers everything else.

He remembers never having seen Evan so pissed, the halogen light of the hospital casting a golden glow behind him, he was quivering in anger while his eyes were shimmering with tears. And he remembers having thought, clearly that he looked like a kind of avenging angel, his giant-like physique broken by sobs while shouting at him, his hair curled in a corner, because clearly when they called him, he was sleeping.

That was when Eddie realized how beautiful Evan truly is. He had never thought anyone could seem so wonderful.

He remembers thinking he had wasted time, while his arms didn’t respond to him, while his body was unable to react, however much he wanted to hug him. And Eddie is certain that it was at that moment that he managed to give a name to what he felt, to what he feels even now. And maybe he asked himself or said it out loud, he doesn’t remember it, his heart on his lips, since when, Evan, how long have I fallen in love with you? And when Evan brought him home a few nights later, the two of them spoke. And their feelings found themselves halfway, in a gurgling of sounds never heard, in a rumbling of swearing and insecurities.

It was like finally getting home, his heart finally at peace.

And now…

The cafeteria at that time of morning is already full of people, doctors and nurses having breakfast, relatives who spent the night there, as Maddie did this time. She does it when she has the next day off, she gets off from work and goes directly there. Then in the morning someone usually takes over. Usually it’s Eddie who takes his place, sitting beside Evan and then when he has to go to the station leaves him with one out of Carla, abuela, Pepa, or Athena.

It doesn’t take long to find Maddie, she sits at the usual small table on the corner, in the corner of the two windows overlooking the prehensile garden of the hospital.

They talked several times there, every time Evan doesn’t respond to medications, every time there is a small improvement, every time he has a fever, every time he gets worse, every time he seems to get better. And they always end up talking about cutting off the life support, turning everything off and letting him go, letting him make one last heroic gesture. Let him donate his organs, because that’s reasonably what Evan wants.

“Hey,” she says, smiling, with that affable smile of hers, which must be a family trait, and gestures for him to take a seat in front of her. She has a takeaway cafe in her hands and another that is clearly waiting for Eddie.

“Maddie, thank you for bringing Chris here this afternoon.” murmurs. “I’ll take him back, when I get off work, today I have a short shift...”.

“Eddie,” she begins to say, holding out the other coffee to him. “I read the article you said, that one about brain activity and communication in comatose patients… and...” she sighs softly. “We can try, I thought we can try, we could ask the doctors to do that procedure, to let them perform an MRI, maybe tomorrow, so ... so we are present and...” she continues to say.

Eddie looks at her. And he knows it, that it hurts him as much as it hurts her to see Evan like this, so motionless, dull, empty, like a shell.

“But Eddie, you know that if they confirm that there is no more brain activity, we have to let him go, right?” she mutters, looking at him with her soft brown eyes. “He would like to donate his organs, saving lives in the process, his last heroic act. But I think he left us the choice” and before Eddie can object, argue, that he knows it, he knows that Buck would like to donate organs and save lives, and so on, Maddie continues “He wouldn’t want to live like that, attached to a ventilator, to leave us to dumbing down out of waiting... Eddie it’s been months, you know... the percentages... every single day he has very little chances, and yet I know, I know if one could survive this hell, this thing… that definitely is Buck.” she adds, looking down at her coffee.

“We have to fight,” Eddie declares, stoic. He doesn’t like resigned speeches like these.

“Eddie...” she calls him.

“We aren’t leaving him, not yet. The doctor said it, all the doctors who visited him... we are not sure... he... Evan is strong and...” he mumbles slowly, trying to keep calm, trying to keep calm because what she is saying, what she’s trying to say is… heinous, atrocious, excruciating. And Eddie doesn’t want to hear it. And anger mounts in his throat, a hallucinating, frightening anger. And in his heart he knows, what Maddie says, she says it because she loves him, as much as Eddie does, on a very different level but... but it’s throwing in the towel, it’s abandoning him, it’s letting him go. And it’s early, too early, and they had so little time together. And Eddie knows this isn’t going to last forever, but he just has to try. To do something about it. He never seems to do enough.

She purses her lips and heaves the air out in an almost irritated sigh. “Eddie ...”.

“We can’t abandon him, Maddie. We can’t stop fighting. Give him some time, give him some more time.” he says, and in his ears this rings like a prayer. “Please, Maddie. Let’s give it some more time”.

“Eddie you know, his condition... at the moment is...” Maddie stops and her voice trembles. “If we do this MRI thing and it confirm that there is no brain activity, we have to let him go,” she replies, a monotonous tone, such a resignation in her voice.

“But we don’t know yet, maybe they do this one more specific MRI and he reacts, so what do we do? The doctors said that we can’t know for certain, there was this case, this woman in 2017...” he begins to say but Maddie tries again to stop him.

“Eddie” she calls him again, moving her hands onto Eddie’s holding them for just a moment.

“No. No.” he replies, and maybe growls, maybe shouts. He doesn’t know it either, he only knows that his voice scratches his vocal cords, and it comes out strangled at the end. “You want to abandon him, you always leave him.” It gets away from his lips and he doesn’t have the courage, the strength, to look at her, after saying that bullshit.

Maddie moves back in her sit, and holds the cardboard cup in her hands, closing her eyes.

And Eddie has an immense need for air and really needs to start thinking before speaking.

“You’re right,” she murmurs in a whisper. Her eyes full of tears, before blinking and wiping the corners of her eyes with the fingertips. “You’re right I... I always leave him, I abandon him... I... I promised and yet… I’m giving up on him” she shakes her head. “We have to fight for him, with him. You’re right...” she nods. “But, we have to face reality, Eddie… if there is no brain activity, we have to follow what we know he would want, we have to...” she sniffles a bit and moves to retrieve a couple of napkins to wipe her tears off her face. “We love him so much Eddie, I know it. I know how much you and Christopher love him… how much the rest of the 118 love him… but we have to let him go, Eddie, to allow him to make one last heroic gesture. He... would be happy. Even if that means he’ll leave us, even if that means that at least half of our hearts will go with him”.

Eddie clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. He knows, he knows damn well that Evan would want that. “I just want more time, Maddie”.

“I also want that, you know. I want to see him happy with you, I want him to accompany me to my wedding. I want him to know my kids, when and if I’ll have them... I want a lot of things for him, I want him to be here when these things happen. I want... I want him to finally understand how important it is for all of us,” she adds and her eyes are all shiny, she wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes again, and sighs. “But, Eddie you know, you know he’s getting worse. He doesn’t react to somatosensory stimuli... he is no longer here” she finally says, her lips trembling and her voice breaking at the end.

“That woman too, in 2017, she also did not react yet...” he continues to say, this time in a whisper. In his head, his rationality murmurs that Maddie is right, but Eddie is selfish and he’s not ready. He never will be.

“Eddie,” she sighs, shaking her head.

“Give him some time, Maddie.” he murmurs. “We need time, Maddie”. And it sounds like I, I need time. And maybe as unspoken as it is, it’s true.

“Let’s do this test and that’s it, okay? It’s wearing us out, Eddie. It’s wearing him out. ” Maddie decides and swallows hard before standing up. “We have to start thinking about what he would like for us, as well as for himself... and while he’s slowly fading away, we are doing the same with him. It isn’t good for your son and it isn’t good for you, and it isn’t good for me. Knowing that he is, Eddie, he...” she shakes his head. “If there is no brain activity, we’ll let him go, and we’ll make him be the hero he is one last time”.

And Eddie would like to tell her that she can’t decide, for Evan and for himself, but in reality she has allowed Eddie to bask with his broken heart and in this abyss, in this dark and painful limbo, all this time. But he just nods. “It will be hard. But I’m good with bottling up everything”. He won’t need a heart anymore, if they’ll let Evan go.

“It will be hard,” she sighs. “You were the best thing that could happen to him, you know, right? But we can’t fight this battle for him”.

And Eddie purses his lips and gets up too, he has another place to go, perhaps for the last time. He bids her goodbye with a nod and tries not to feel how bad his heart hurts when it breaks, again and again.

It’s frightening how he knows that hospital by heart, now. And he could arrive in the waiting room without even thinking. He shouldn’t even stop by there and wait, he could just go in and go to him, but every time he stops there to collect thoughts and tries to pretend to be in control of this situation. As if Evan could see him, all broken like that or not.

And every time Eddie is there, that Eddie waits, no matter how much his legs tell him to run away, no matter how the voices of his insecurities, and all his unspoken words vibrate under his skin, it’s a continuous fluctuation of thoughts, memories and his head always goes to some fucking hideous place, then. After the calm there is always a storm.

Eddie has been present at countless deaths. First some of his closest relatives, who had left peacefully, the luckiest with so many happy years behind them, then civilians and soldiers, when the red sand burned his face and the air smelled like dust and flames, then of the victims, when it seemed that it could no longer hurt, and instead they still cloud some of his worst nightmares, the impotence of not being able to help them enough, to never be enough that still weighs on him.

Death first takes away the power to speak, people begin to rant, and perhaps he clearly remembers a young lieutenant on his first tour, when he was still not very familiar with the war zone, who had talked for hours without saying nothing, asking and asking and asking to bring it back to her. Whoever she was, until he lost his voice and the pain clouded his vision. His last words swallowed by the ventilator and the morphine. And then he stopped seeing, moving. The only thing that remains, until the end, and this he had discovered when he was still a child and his abuelo was dying in a hospital like this, is hearing. Even if the person has lost consciousness, it isn’t that unusual for familiar voices to elicit smiles or tears. Abuelo, a big persevering man, had listened until his last breath abuela’s sweet words, a 260 lbs and over 6 ft extremely severe man, had listened to abuela’s latest recommendations with a small smile on his lips, she had never said goodbye to him, only small recommendations as if he could be stubborn and uncooperative even in the afterlife.

And Eddie does not want to think about that terrible eventuality, which is more and more palpable, every day, the more hours pass and the more the abyss swallows him. In the continuous fluctuation of improvements, of high and inexplicable fevers, of positive responses to medicines, and rejections, of fingers that tremble when Eddie holds his hand, and sudden stillness, of those times that he seems about to wake up, and then nothing, his condition just worsens.

The only thing that matters is that he is still fighting, that the doctors still haven’t given up, they try and try to find a way to make him come back, but... but hope is scary, hope is scary and one shouldn’t never find himself in Eddie’s shoes, in Eddie’s very position, three steps back with someone, with Evan who would never want to go away who runs away from his hands, all that enormous love that slips between Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie has seen many, has seen more than he wants to admit, of wounds like Evan’s. And even if he wants to silence that voice, the field doctor in him knows perfectly well that if not treated quickly, sucking chest wounds can be lethal. Taking a quick first aid in the first few minutes and taking the injured person to the hospital can save lives and prevent long-term complications.

Evan came out on his shaking legs from that terrible hell, and now he is in danger of dying because they, because they didn’t move fast enough, they didn’t have the courage to run in there and get him out. Timing is important, and they’ve thrown everything, all of Evan’s efforts down the drain.

Eddie does everything to remain at the helm of his emotions and navigate calm waters, without having to go through them, those storms that cloud over the horizon, because if he were to give free rein to what he feels, the best thing that could happen to him is ending up in jail, after head-butting the centre of Bobby’s face. And this is the best-case scenario.

Because they wasted time and it’s Bobby’s fault. In every sense, that day, as before. They wasted time, a time that will never come back. And even if the doctors have been explicit, even if he knows those complications painfully by heart, those consequences, now more than he knew them before, with his work, with his previous life, he wants to ignore them.

Eddie definitely doesn’t want to think about the consequences, the complications, those horrible names they have, as they ring deep in his head. Because he is sure he has seen at least two or three symptoms of two or three different complications in an ambulance, and he doesn’t have the courage to remember. All that blood will cloud his nightmares for the rest of his life, that noise, that strangled noise of his breaking breath, his cough, will be forever in his mind, will accompany him for the rest of his life. And this is enough for him to have his sleep ruined forever, to no longer be able to work, to end up drifting, astray, he really doesn’t need to know anything else, to know more than he already knows, that the situation is a great fat mess and one has limited chance of surviving all that shit that is thrown at him. He must not think of whose fault it is, as far as he knows perfectly well that it’s theirs, that is all their fault. Them, who stalled, who waited too much, who could find a solution, but actually couldn’t.

But if one can get by, if one can survive all of this, that’s Buck. And if he struggles, if he struggles then they must fight too. But he almost immediately stopped reacting to stimuli, his electroencephalography, has only a couple of curled waves. And if Eddie would listen to his rationality, maybe he’ll just accept what Maddie has already accepted: the machines are what is keeping him alive.

But Eddie, Eddie who always runs away, is in for this fight.

And whatever happens tomorrow, whether there is brain activity or not, his life will return as before, as before Evan, or not. And as much as he wants to stay in control, he wants to stay at the helm, for himself and for Christopher, it’s so hard. Because if he loses Evan, he’ll lose himself a bit more.

He already lost himself, a part of himself when the doctors came back that fateful day, when hell broke loose and Evan stopped breathing in the ambulance.

The doctors, an elderly sixty-something doctor with the solemn posture of someone who has seen these things a time too many, and a young surgeon instead, almost like a young girl just out of med school, with the flat and dim and tired expression of someone that puts everything she has in the job, they were very direct. They spoke with Maddie and with him the first time, and every subsequent time, with a certain kindness, they listened with kindness to the questions, which only Maddie asked, extremely punctual and technical, while grasping at Eddie’s hand firmly .

They talked about complications, all with high-sounding and frightening names. They spoke about pneumothorax, pleural effusion, a perforated and collapsed lung, they spoke of respiratory and cardiac arrest. They talked about further surgeries, which were necessary, but he was too fragile back then, he and his athletic six feet tall body was too fragile and might not survive. They spoke about saturation, about pressure, spills, transfusions, and cardiac activity. They talked about the need to defibrillate him, several times, because at least twice he flatlined but came back, Evan came back. They spoke about ataxia, hypotension, fluids that have accumulated in the chest cavity, and something that has a chilling and frightening name, something that concerns the brain and doesn’t give much hope, hypoxia. They talked about damage to vital organs, heart, and lungs. They spoke about the accumulation of smoke.

And they used, they still use, all those medical terms that are monotonous on paper only, but they are so fucking scary. They talked about coma, before he even went into a coma, about how his body could have reacted to all that stress, about how normal it is that, after a resuscitation, the body gives up and goes into reset. And later, sometime after that first surgery, after that chain of long operations, to bring him back without any success, they talked about solutions, to disconnect the machines, to donate the organs, to let him go.

And Eddie remembers, the sound of Maddie’s breath, her breath that broke between her teeth, as she collapsed on him and sobbed softly. When the possibility of never having him back with them has become increasingly palpable.

She who has been a nurse in a previous life and knows, knows what this means. Something Eddie doesn’t want to think about.

The young surgeon who then hastened to say more, her voice still heavy, of tiredness and shared pain, a pain that perhaps, with a little hope, she might not know as well as them.

They had stabilized him, she said.

And Eddie remembers having wrinkled his nose, and if he still thinks about it his eyes burn, because it’s clear that Evan still wants to fight today, that he is so strong and resilient, and… and…

But Eddie already knew then what they meant, even before entering there in that little room, even before hell broke loose and that... that he...

They had stabilized him to give him time.

They had stabilized him to give Evan time to recover before the next surgery.

They had stabilized him to give them time. That’s it, that’s how it sounded, and how it sounds in retrospect, as if that were the right time to bid their goodbyes, that maybe Evan would hear them say goodbye.

They said more, back then, but Eddie didn’t want to listen. Or maybe he heard, but he didn’t have the courage to process all that amount of information.

Thankfully, even now, when the doctors talk, they also talk to Maddie, and therefore he can’t listen, he can silence rationality and think only about Evan, abandoned in a bed in a long-term intensive care unit. And now even if he doesn’t want to listen, he knows the percentages and how they thin out every day that he is there on the bed, unconscious. Of how his response to medicines, to stimuli, to everything else, of how unique and different each patient is, and how young and strong Evan is.

But basically, the more time passes, the more it is difficult for him to return.

Eddie doesn’t have the courage to hope.

Indeed, he always tries to listen to that voice, his rationality, which mutters in his head. That he is intubated, and that can further aggravate his already precarious situation, as far as he knows, that he probably won’t wake up, they can talk, not him. But he can hear, like abuelo, he can hear. And Eddie hopes that Evan’s brain lights up like the night of the 4th of July, like in that article, every time he hears his voice, as well as all his loved ones’.

And every time it’s like the first time he got in there. Each time it’s like the first. Even today, of all the other days.

The first time he stayed three steps behind, he followed the doctors and Maddie over the panic door of the surgical intensive care unit. Evan had just come out of an operating room, after hours of surgery, and therefore they got them disinfected, and that smell entered Eddie’s skin in that moment and never went away, and the surreal heat of that place crushed his chest, and still steals all the air from his lungs, every step was heavy, every step is heavier than the previous one, today as then.

In a medication room, a nurse helped them get prepared. Now this is no longer the practice, now that he is in another unit, but Eddie still disinfects his hands every time he goes to him. No longer follows the protocol of the SICU, he doesn’t have to wear gown, gloves and cover shoes, mask and cap, Evan’s situation is stable there, but they had to follow a much more strict protocol in the post-surgery to limit the germs that can be brought in there, in such a delicate space.

Eddie let her go in first, and Maddie, and walked behind her, with his head down because he didn’t have the courage to look, because he knew already know what he would see.

And every time it’s like this, and every time he doesn’t want to see him like that. He would never have wanted to find himself in this position, standing in a fucking hospital, waiting, hearing all those horrible words bubbling in his head in a chilling echo.

And every time before entering, he feels his knees fail, and he clearly remembers the strangled sound of Maddie’s hiccups when she first entered. He can feel his fingers tremble and tears in his eyes, every single fucking time. And every time he doesn’t focus on Evan, he doesn’t focus on what’s on the bed, he doesn’t even look at the bed, maybe he sees it, but he doesn’t perceive it.

Evan is perhaps the human embodiment of the concept of enthusiasm, vitality, joy. He manages to bring incredible light wherever he goes, he bonds with anyone, he is always so radiant. That’s it, Evan is the sun, he is the sun and all the stars, and it’s all this and much much more. Eddie doesn’t even have the words, the right property of language to describe him. He doesn’t even want to find them, the right words, in all honesty, he’s something transcendent. Transcendent is the right word. Evan is like a concept, a concept behind Eddie’s sanity.

And maybe Eddie has a lot of that fear and devastation in his eyes, even today, after all those days, weeks, months, there is nothing but devastation and dread, anxiety, his breath burns in the back of his throat, which tightens, and the voice that gets caught in the vocal cords every time, in that exact moment before crossing the threshold.

And then he enters, slowly.

A step.

He focuses on the noise of his shoes, which almost creak on the linoleum. He doesn’t hear anything else, he doesn’t even hear the noise of the machines, the heart monitor, the ventilator, he doesn’t hear anything else because he has his heart that hammers in his ears, that fills his head. He feels his own breath, he feels himself living, he feels his life running through his veins, and Evan’s running away with every step, in that painful limbo.

A step.

Evan is no longer colourful, no longer flamboyant, no longer cheerful, no longer noisy, no longer enthusiastic. He is no longer him. That’s not Evan, on the bad, it is some kind of ghost.

Eddie focuses on hearing the sound of his own heart, he feels his jugular throbbing against the collar of the shirt he wears. He feels himself living, and he feels like dying at the same time, his breath that becomes shorter screeching at the beck of the throat.

If he was alone, back then, when he entered there, in that other little room in the SICU the first time, he would never have been able to stay there, to enter, if Maddie hadn’t been there, Eddie would never have entered alone. Because Eddie is someone who runs away, someone who runs and lets his fears get the upper hand. And this is perhaps one of his biggest fears. Yet perhaps, in his heart, he would never have found the courage to leave. Perhaps he would simply be annihilated in his own dread.

And there is no sound in that room, besides Eddie’s heart beating fast, rumbling in his head, in his ears, murmuring on his neck. There is no noise, or perhaps there is, in that almost sacred and silent environment that looks like a chapel.

The room is very small, and it smells like disinfectants. In front of the door there is a long and thin window, that takes horizontally almost the entire wall, and in the morning it lets in a soft natural light.

The air is thick and smells of medicines and something ferrous and sweetish.

He moves his gaze from one wall to the other, against which is placed the white bed. It’s only with extreme slowness, that Eddie drinks in, every time, all the details of the room. The canary yellow dye that breaks into a thick white strip, to then turn straw yellow to the ceiling. The metal arm to which the various bags full of transparent solutions are attached full, each bag releases droplets at different times, at a very precise and distinct rhythm. The cardiac monitor tracks time in a very particular way. The ventilator that roars, the sound of the pump rising and falling and pushing air into his lungs.

It is strange how Eddie perceives things, he doesn’t identify immediately Evan, lying in that bed. He knows and doesn’t know at the same time what he will see. Like the first time he went into that other room, and looked at him, but he didn’t really see him, not immediately.

Now the room is more colourful. On the walls there’s a patchwork of Christopher’s drawings, on a thin shelf there are books for children and something that Chim and Hen are certainly reading to him, scientific publications, magazines of all sorts, and a vase with flowers, always fresh and colorful which abuela brings every Tuesday and Pepa changes every Friday. There is an unspecified number of stuffed animals, which Christopher brings him when he knows he won’t be able to stay long, and will have to leave him alone, and he doesn’t like to leave his Bucky alone. There’s that multicoloured patchwork duvet that Athena brought him to make his bed more welcoming. There are pictures, of May in college with a large group of friends, of Nia who is now older and chasing Hen and Karen’s dog with Denny, of Harry with Michael grilling ribs on the Grant house patio, of Christopher’s latest science fair, complete with a blue first prize cockade attached nearby. There are all the moments that he’s lost. Maddie keeps a journal and leaves it there, open for everyone’s update.

And after appreciating each time a small, new addition, without wanting to, because he is one who runs away, for the hills, approaches the bed, one step after another, and the sound that reaches his head is now the cardiac monitor’s that keeps telling him, that keeps reminding him that Evan is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive…

It doesn’t look like him, that thing on the bed, doesn’t look like him. Because the hospital changes you, it changes you as soon as you enter, but at the same time it’s him. And he’s been there for so long, that his hair is long and all curly, and opaque, a thin veil of beard caresses his now sharper profile.

He is there.

He is simply there in a bed that looks just barely longer than he is, that looks like a cage for a bird, unable to fly away.

Evan is intubated. And when a patient is unable to breathe for himself intubation may provide lifesaving airflow, oxygen. However, the process itself is painful and carries its own risks, and ventilator adjustments are important for reducing lung injuries. There’s always the same nurse, a old caring woman, who takes care of him, that provides clinical management for him, that monitors his vital signs frequently, and adjusts the levels of oxygen, and uses a moistened gauze over his eyes. She is so patient and caring with him, that Eddie’s heart aches every time he sees her. And with her wrinkled face she shots Eddie a bright soft smile and murmurs something along the line of a blessing, because he is still fighting, he is still struggling all the way back home. And Eddie hopes that she’s right, that Evan is coming back home with him.

But when the old nurse leaves, he focuses on something else, he tries to remember that he can’t hope, that he must not hope because hope is scary, hope hurts. And he doesn’t have this luxury, they don’t have this luxury. Yet he is selfish and hopes, he hopes he won’t have to grow old without him, he doesn’t have to spend another night alone, he hopes he won’t have to tell his son, that maybe loves his Bucky more than Eddie, that his Bucky won’t come back, he hopes he won’t have to put the pieces of his broken heart in a bottle, he hopes to have more time. Time to live with him.

He moves his gaze and every time the first thing you can record is that big needle that keeps him connected to those bags hanging nearby, and every now and then moves gradually on the length of his arm, leaving a constellation of bluish bruises on his skin.

Evan’s hands, his wrists, his arms, Evan himself seems so slender, so thin, so tiny in that bed he hardly fits in. The skin is paper-thin, especially the skin on his hands is so fucking thin like tissue paper, almost transparent and the veins are swollen and bluish on the backs. The tattoos look like marbling streaks in alabaster, his birthmark seems extremely darker, on that skin so pale, almost whitish, and the always dark circles, always swollen, under his eyes are like bruises.

Eddie sits nearby, usually in that shoddy metal and plastic chair, but sometimes he has the courage to sit on the bed, near his bad leg, he touches his hand with his fingertips and barely intertwines their fingers, with a delicacy that perhaps he only used with Christopher when he was just born.

Eddie never has the perception of how long he stays there, sitting, with shortness of breath, the air that burns at the bottom of his throat, the silence that is pure noise in there, that absence that rains down on him every time, even if Evan is there, within his reach but at the same time miles away. But then he starts talking to him slowly, because maybe if he can hear Eddie, Evan finds his way home, he speaks to him slowly, sweet nothings or something more deep. He doesn’t know what he tells him, really, but at least he must have changed a bit what he said at the beginning. That constant apology, that constant murmur of not having been enough, of not having done enough. In all senses, but perhaps Evan doesn’t even think it, that Eddie didn’t do enough in all senses: that he didn’t love him enough, that he didn’t support him enough and not only that day, but all the others times.

And he talks and talks and talks. His voice an indistinct murmur for his ears, his lips against the almost transparent skin of his hand, and he looks at him, Evan sleeping and not sleeping at the same time. Once upon a time seeing him sleep was a source of unspeakable joy, being able to see him at a time when his defences were all lowered, where he was abandoned in a peaceful sleep, his neck relaxed, his jaw soft, the small expression that occasionally ruffled his forehead only a memory.

And Eddie hopes, every single time he sits there, that it will happen again. That what happened the first time he entered that small room in the SICU, he hopes it will happen again and permanently this time, that Evan will open his eyes and look at him and never go away.

“Come back to me,” he murmurs on his knuckles, against his swollen bluish veins, under that transparent veil of paper-thin skin. “I need you”.

The other time Evan had grasped his hand, as if to stop those words that gushed like a waterfall from his mouth, apologies, remorse, fears. Eddie remembers losing all his words, forgetting the thread of the speech, a hope that sprouted in his heart. For that moment, at that moment, it didn’t matter, everything Eddie didn’t do to help him, to make him feel loved, to make him happy, it only mattered that he was stirring slowly, that he was waking up slowly. He remembers his voice as he tried to get him back to him, broken, all trembling, loving and kind, and something different, something more. And those small movements, very weak, under the eyelids, were their little miracle. And he remembers Maddie gasping softly, all tearing up.

That time, months, weeks, days ago, Evan opened his eyes. And it was the last time Eddie saw those eyes. His kind eyes, yet so different from the usual. Evan opened them slowly, with a disarming, painful effort. The inside of the eyelids was marked with an unnatural and bruised red, the irises were pale blue, almost greyish. But when Evan saw the two them in the periphery of his visual field, he seemed to smile: he who smiles with his whole body, his face that lights up, even if in that moment he could move only his eyes, he was smiling. Eddie and Maddie could have said that he was smiling.

He remembers the total absence of any noise coming from him, not even a slight groan, suffocated, and Eddie could remember thinking that he was awake, yeah, yet miles away. A concern rose in Eddie’s throat, in the back of his head, swelled in his chest and to which he hadn’t wanted to give name, to listen. Evan was clinging to him, yet his grip was so weak, it was like he was about to let go. And an impossible fear mounted deep in his whole body, something similar to what he had felt back in the ambulance. It was as if, as if... but he had decided not to think about it, to talk to him constantly, to tell him everything he could to convince him, to make him stay there, stay there with him, with them.

But it had been only a handful of minutes, his and Maddie’s voices a constant fond murmur, because he was awake, he had managed to come back, which got lost in an echo of beeps and screeching sounds, the same sounds that did the cardiac monitor in the ambulance.

And he will never forget the way Evan stiffened a second later, collapsing. And the world collapsed on Eddie. And, before they could do anything else, he and Maddie had been tossed out.

All those complications, all those ominous words, all those horrible eventualities. And trivially the voice of his rationality murmured in the back of his head, that he could only get worse.

The swirling of voices, the confusion still fills his ears, the high-pitched whistle of the cardiac monitor that goes further and further, but still pungent, while a nurse accompanies them outside those panic doors, will always remain with him, he will darken his dreams until his last breath.

And days, weeks have passed and Eddie is so tired, so tired of sleeping alone, so tired of not being able to hear his voice, and he’s so afraid of not remembering everything, of not being able to remember every single thing that Evan did for him, every single moment they shared, every tiny bit of their short love. And he is afraid that if he stops watching videos, hearing voicemails, he will forget his voice, the way his words roll up on his tongue, the feeling of his lips on him. He forgot about the science museum, already, he already forgot him.

And so, this time, slowly, as if it’s their last long goodbye Eddie speaks to him what he doesn’t really want to give voice.

And when he looks up and sees him, so pale and thin, so dull, Eddie feels like an empty shell too. A piece of himself will go away even with this infinite farewell, in a whisper of smoke. And Eddie hates himself because nothing is sure, maybe tomorrow they’ll know that Evan is still experiencing something, that his brain reacts on a different substrate, he just needs more time, he always sleeps like a rock so, maybe… maybe he can still hope.

And there’s so much left to say, there’s so much more he would say, but…

“I love you” he murmurs softly his lips on his forehead “I always will”. And in Eddie’s ears it sounds like grief. I’ll never love like this again. But he doesn’t want to tell him this, he wants to be like his abuela, comforting him, and not actually bid him farewell.

He kisses his forehead slowly, before leaving. Christopher told him that if Bucky is like Sleeping Beauty, then a kiss is enough to wake him up and every time he hopes it is enough, that suddenly he wakes up in a somewhat theatrical and dramatic way, a little cliché, like the romantic movies, like Hallmark movies, like Disney fairy-tales.

And when he leaves, he leaves him there, in that bed and today breathing is harder than usual.

A/N:

If you reached the end of this chapter, you are now (and again, I hope?) my favourite person! Before the usual closing rituals, can I be brutally honest with you? I imagined this chapter way differently in its first draft. I have it written in two (three, lets be honest, there are 3 different drafts of this chapter here) and none of them were of my taste. I don't think this version is better than the others, but I had to chose if I should have posted a middle, passageway chapter, right after the "incident", or something like a time jump chapter. It occurred to me that while I was writing the second draft I didn't have a line of dialogue in its whole 10k words, you can imagine how I panicked *ahahah*. In the end I opted for this solution that's somewhere in between the other two(?). I'm not a fan of telling and not showing things, but I guess I'll have to set my heart on this half show & half tell (???) thing XD So, please let me know if this is as shitty as I think it is (it probably is). I don't think it is clear enough in some points, and maybe a little heavy in the narrative (and that's more likely the case XD).

As always, stay safe and take care of you!

tagging @buckleystrand; @sparksfly-buddie; @chrrlees; @lieselfh and whoever wants to be tagged!

#buddie fic #9 1 1 fic #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #heavy angst #angst with happy ending #trust me i'm a sucker for happy endings #there will be one #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship #major character injury #lamalefixwrites #freaking long thing #over 10k words #sorry this isn’t that good #let's be real

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