#all the dirty parts by daniel handler
Text
handler's intro page absolutely delights me ....
Daniel Handler is the author of seven novels, including Why We Broke Up, We Are Pirates, All The Dirty Parts and, most recently, Bottle Grove.
As Lemony Snicket, he is responsible for numerous books for children, including the thirteen-volume A Series of Unfortunate Events, the four-volume All the Wrong Questions, and The Dark, which won the Charlotte Zolotow Award.
Mr. Snicket’s first book for readers of all ages, Poison for Breakfast, was published by Liveright/W.W. Norton in 2021.
Handler has received commissions from the San Francisco Symphony, Berkeley Reperatory Theater and the Royal Shakespeare Company, and has collaborated with artist Maira Kalman on a series of books for the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and with musicians Stephin Merritt (of the Magnetic Fields), Benjamin Gibbard (of Death Cab for Cutie), Colin Meloy (of the Decemberists) and Torquil Campbell (of Stars).
His books have sold more than 70 million copies and have been translated into 40 languages, and have been adapted for film, stage and television, including the recent adaptation of A Series of Unfortunate Events for which he was awarded both the Peabody and the Writers Guild of America awards.
He lives in San Francisco with the illustrator Lisa Brown, to whom he is married and with whom he has collaborated on several books and one son.
books page:
Daniel Handler Writes novels.
The Basic Eight
Watch Your Mouth
Adverbs
Why We Broke Up
We Are Pirates
All the Dirty Parts
Bottle Grove
Poison for Breakfast
And not novels.
Weather, Weather
Girls Standing on Lawns
Hurry Up and Wait
Books for the Holidays.
The Baby In The Manger
The Lump of Coal
The Latke Who Couldn’t Stop Screaming
Assorted and sundry.
Goldfish Ghost
The Bad Mood and The Stick
Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can’t Avoid
The Composer Is Dead
13 Words
The Dark
Swarm of Bees
And one as the Pope.
How To Dress For Every Occasion
All while penning children’s books as Lemony Snicket.
A Series Of Unfortunate Events
All the Wrong Questions
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
sentence starters: All the Dirty Parts edition (part two)
"Get naked, I want you naked."
It's one thing to write love poems. Another, however, to deal with the deity of the river of blood.
“No, you just beckoned me over.”
“You’re kidding about that, right? Lord of Lust?”
They shut all the naked windows.
“To be honest I was masturbating.”
Hard to type “whoawhoawhoaohmygodwhat” so I type nothing.
ripping the wrapper open while they smile with their jeans off and socks on
“Officially together?”
We dance a little but everyone is wondering why we don’t just leave. We have a car. Lords of lust. We should be in it fucking.
They shoved me, a real shove, and then scraped at their eyes a little.
But their friends are me, and guys I wouldn’t ever talk to about anything, and besides they are not, not, not my fucking girl/boyfriend.
“I love your eyes when I do this.”
It feels like finger painting.
I lean into their belly, the smell so warm and strange.
“Just say beautiful.”
“Keep your panties on.”
Nothing’s dirty to them now, not in month four, is it, with [...].
We sit at the donut place all day after school.
I have an English paper I totally spaced and [...] is at their phone and drawing birds on napkins.
[...] wide lonely eyes actually turn my stomach one day in the hall.
Almost laughable how I will never tell any of them any of this.
“But I want--” “Don’t care what you want, keep moving, yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes, yes.”
The Venn diagram of adorable and fuckable.
In the mirror with glasses on and nothing else.
“It’s cute. Like a little slug when it’s done. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot when it’s big. But your little resting cock, so cute. Adorable godhead.”
Then they moved so they were on my mouth and just rubbed there.
We kiss hard in the vitamin aisle and then there’s an old man scowling at us.
We name the babies that have not happened.
“We can’t do it standing up if we’re not the same height. Not really.”
“Other fucks. Better fucks than me.”
“I don’t care if it hurts sometimes.”
Because I don’t feel safe with them I guess. It feels, not dangerous, but with no seatbelt, no helmet.
“Make me spaghetti.”
We are under a blanket with both our pants pushed down but not off.
[...] elbows themself up to look at me like a cheap broken something, not worth the money to fix.
“I really enjoy fucking.”
A girl’s bag is an abandoned warehouse. Stupid people in horror movies are the only ones to venture in.
Rise above the tampons.
“Show me the porn you look at.”
They can draw, and they can draw well, and they can make me come so hard with their mouth, but holy fuck they cannot sing.
I know enough what not to say, but the right thing I haven’t learned.
[...] went and got them a ring, clacky and blue.
“Coupled and laid. It’s a very big happiness. So, yes, we say things. To keep the happiness going.”
“Don’t miss me already when I’m right here.”
Rosy but not roses, some old wives’ remedy tonic, poured into a jar with a tight metal lid to carry with you.
We made up better endings.
They kick their flats off talking, bare feet getting dirty in the mess of leaves and weeds unmowed.
We fell deep truly asleep for an hour and woke up in magic dusky light when it was over.
Ravioli with butter, red wine with don’t tell your parents.
They pull their jeans down, underwear, but keeps them around their ankles, lifts their legs up so my head just fits.
“That wore me out. You can do it yourself and I’ll watch you.”
The waiter already hates us.
That was a very short game of Truth or Dare we just did.
“Would you do something with a guy? For me?”
“I was just hoping there was someone who, I could find someone you haven’t messed with.”
Lost and leashless. [...] won’t even tell me to fuck off.
I am embarrassed that I am grateful.
Well, I haven’t had an orgasm by these bleachers for a while.
“You came quick when I did that.”
“I mean it. Don’t ever. You’re pretty easy yourself, but I bet nobody says it, yes?”
Another true thing is, they are crying very hard over an orange they unpeeled and it turned out to be moldy.
Keep finding porn they would like, and can’t send it to them.
“Tonight, tonight. I want you to find someone at this party, and fuck them.”
Their eyes look like a demon in a poster.
“This is fucked up.”
A big wild painting of sinners and punishments with everyone looking like an animal. Monsters sometimes.
Upstairs was some little girl’s room. Cartoon sheets.
The kiss was fluttery and sweet, so wrong for what I was doing.
Their eyes were shiny and flat, though, glassy like in old museum tableaus.
A tight fuck quick.
[...] was very drunk, alone on a folding chair backed into a corner, almost passed out.
“You smell like them...” “Let’s go home.”
The street was filthy, after a storm.
“Next time it’s mine. The next turn, belongs to me.”
Such a terrible whisper.
“What rope can you lower to get me out of here?”
“I just didn’t like it.”
“You can’t. I don’t. Please don’t. Please won’t you--”
“I knew you weren’t safe.”
Mid-sentence in the overflowing kitchen.
Fling open one wrong door, the bathrrom, the closet, door after door, too stupid and too frantic.
Their face is bright, a little sweaty, a little shame.
I’m choking something up.
“I just thought it was fun.”
Churned up thinking about the details, disgusted and cold and erect.
“Make this quick. Can you get over this?”
“You were jacking them off.”
“I didn’t give you permission.” “Permission?”
“Are we good,” no we are fucking not.
“You know what slut is? It’s a punishing, it’s a fucked-up word for a girl, only, who likes sex. There’s no guy word for it.”
Heaving, sitting on the edge of the tub fully dressed.
You know it’s some art technique or whatever.
Never find that no matter how you search on your screens, you stupid broken fuck.
”I tried to show you the real person I am. I let that happen when it seemed like the coast was clear.”
I can only say it once, that I miss them so fucking much.
“Poor thing. Too late for you.”
A year later, and fine. Learned the lesson, my comeuppance.
“Whatever happened, you totally deserve it and it’s totally your fault. But I do pity you, if that helps.”
It’s a very tiny smile on their face.
Do it, trembling broken and so hard.
#gender neutral pronouns#writing prompts#sentence starters#all the dirty parts by daniel handler#ASK ME SOMETHING#boom! comics power rangers#mmpr#ggpr#Mighty Morphin Comics#power rangers dino thunder#power ranger dino fury#Power Rangers SPD#power rangers RPM#power rangers samurai#Shattered Grid#power rangers: the psycho path#Power Rangers: Soul of the Dragon#power rangers mystic force
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sexy writing binge
All the Dirty Parts, Daniel Handler
The Poetry of Sex, a Penguin Anthology
Call Me by Your Name, André Aciman
#love#aesthetic#beauty#couple#romance#witing#books#literature#poetry#daniel handler#andre aciman#the poetry of sex#call me by your name#all the dirty parts#novels
28 notes
·
View notes
Video
youtube
Daniel Handler's absolutely filthy coming (ha ha) of age story "All The Dirty Parts" is this week's Dum Dum Book Club selection. Also, I got a new haircut.
2 notes
·
View notes
Quote
Put it this way: if you can’t see the complication, you’re probably it.
All the Dirty Parts, Daniel Handler
1 note
·
View note
Text
Slackin’ with the Sleuth: “All The Dirty Parts”
When Handler announced that he was working on a Young Adult novel that was heavily sexual in nature, I was intrigued. On one hand, its risqué matter elevated the book on originality alone; on the other hand, delivering on that promise involved many ethical risks. Fortunately Handler had already proven to be rather competent at writing sex scenes, and downright excellent when it came to giving teenagers a voice.
The result confirms these impressions, and will no doubt give much food for thought when it comes to issues of sexual fluidity, fidelity, and consent. Although a poorly-worded blurb seems to imply that the book discusses rape, the topic is not explored, and the protagonists never seem to cross that moral horizon. What the book does, however, is present what consent means in theory to people who do not fully grasp what it means in practice, something to which teenagers might indeed relate.
The book centers on the sexual adventures of Cole, a red-blooded teenager with energy to spare. His many sexual experiences have filled him with an earnest confidence that leaves him incredibly naïve to anything erotic that does not directly involves sex — then again, Cole probably does not understand the difference between “erotic” and “sexual”. This cautionary tale takes on unexpectedly dour turns as fuck-puppets slowly evolve into actual characters, and as feelings (or lack thereof) get hurt. Nothing is more dangerous than thinking you’ve got it all figured out. Like most of Handler’s heroes, Cole leaves this story with more questions than answers. This amounts to one of the most emotional climaxes (ha!) Handler has ever crafted.
The work is a breath of fresh air for Handler after the more timidly-received “We Are Pirates”. Many readers were left nonplussed at Phil Needle’s ramblings. This time, Handler’s kept it short and sweet — or rather, short and salty. The story is structured around a myriad of unapologetically abrupt vignettes (the aforementioned “dirty parts”), each of them romantic, erotic or downright pornographic. Whether funny or heartbreaking, they cut right to the bone. This is a practical way for Handler to transcrive the inner monologues of a protagonist who does not fancy himself a writer: Cole is no Flannery Culp. He was not brought up on “The Marquise of O.”, but by the unending cum stream of YouPorn videos, and his writing reflects that. There are times, of course, when this narrative style borders on narrative facility. For the most part, it’s effective, and it does leave some room for poetry.
I read this book in one go. It can only be described as a roller-coaster ride: it will leave you thrilled, dizzy, hyper — and perhaps a tad nauseous. Sometimes the quickest fucks are the best.
Post-scriptum:
Words are not enough to convey my disappointment at this mediocre cover. It’s the kind of half-assed effort Daniel Handler would throw to submit a last-minute, late book report of his own work.
#0528#daniel handler#all the dirty parts#young adult#ya#Lemony Snicket#the marquise of o#heinrich von kleist#we are pirates#homosexuality#Bisexual#The Basic Eight
78 notes
·
View notes
Audio
You might know Daniel Handler as the award-winning author of “A Series of Unfortunate Events,” the thirteen-volume sequence he wrote under the pen name, Lemony Snicket. The San Francisco native took time out of his multi-city tour to chat with Just the Right Book Podcast about his latest book, All the Dirty Parts, which details the erotic impulses of a teenage boy.
#a series of unfortunate events#daniel handler#lemony snicket#authors#author love#book love#bookworm#bookworms#author#i love reading#i love books#books#book#podcast#novel#novels#all the dirty parts#favorite book#reading#currently reading#good reads#reading list
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Daniel Handler will be lauded as one of the great literary authors of our time. Probably not for a hundred years or so, but eventually he will be.
#Daniel Handler#all the dirty parts#the basic eight#watch your mouth#a series of unfortunate events#you can fight me on this#Daniel handler is an amazing literary author who is not appreciated in our time#i just finished all the dirty parts#and God#i cried#it was so good
13 notes
·
View notes
Video
youtube
In which Joe asks his friends Bryan and Amber about emojis and then does the same with one of his childhood heroes...Lemony Snicket!
#lemony snicket#daniel handler#all the dirty parts#emoji#Lemony Snicket emoji#emojis#lemony snicket emojis#can you not#pogiejoe#funny emoji#the emoji movie#Daniel Handler interview#Daniel Handler funny#comedy#funny video
1 note
·
View note
Photo
I really enjoyed the way this book was written. Tiny, filthy, and sometimes heartbreaking vignettes.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
sentence starters: All the Dirty Parts edition (part one)
Let me put it this way: this is how much I think about having sex--
like cookies in the oven to lure me out of bed
sitting there in jeans and naked in my head
it’s the same lineup, isn’t it?
if you lick something off your finger
if you rub your own bare arm
“Give me the details.”
“The sex is the details I mean.”
it’s not the number that matters
“It doesn’t matter how many people I’ve slept with.”
‘Do you want to?’ This is something you have to say
“Hold it like a candy bar.”
glasses, pigtails, busty, fat, shaved--browsing and searching
on their knees looking up at the camera
pants around the ankles
kiss more, kiss wilder, kiss the neck, collarbone
go down on them with fingers inside
go down on them holding their legs open
buy them a stuffed animal
“And you don’t treat them like people.”
they are, I’m realizing, a good spy for me
a weather report from rooms I’m not allowed in
looking at me like I’m a plume of smoke in the kitchen, right before you yell fire!
it was light and miraculous like a moonbeam in a Japanese ghost story video game
“Why do you always take your shoes off right when we get inside?”
we fed the ducks together, but they ruined it all
“My hand’s cold.”
“Pornography lied to us.”
on the phone with their feet up, laundry piled in a basket to be folded
like a creature uncoiling from an egg, half-awake and all-hungry
fake wives, fake lovers, fake babysitters, fake sluts actually fucking
“We’re playing Who Would You Rather?”
go to sleep in this trash can outside the sandwich place
“What do you mean casual?”
“We could try.”
“I’ll just do you.”
kicked their pants on; relieved it could be normal
“We do it again. We keep doing it.”
“My secret lover is you, but you sleep right through it. You know how you wake up on your stomach?”
a gay teen help phone line: twenty-four hours ask any question
“No, because we’re not in a low-budget thriller.”
prior bad acts
“We could call it anything.”
“Sorry, I thought you were kidding.”
this was the first date
someday they’ll learn their lesson
so it goes both ways
their teeth are a little purple from the red wine
“You want me to talk like a whore?”
just had some toast downstairs, hardly talking
#writing prompts#sentence starters#18+#ASK ME SOMETHING#boom! comics power rangers#Shattered Grid#Mighty Morphin Comics#go go power rangers comics#power rangers RPM#Power Rangers SPD#power rangers samurai#power rangers dino thunder#All the Dirty Parts#Lemony Snicket#Daniel Handler#there is sex in here
16 notes
·
View notes
Photo
You may know Daniel Handler by another name: Lemony Snicket, the author of the Series of Unfortunate Events books. When he isn’t writing about the Baudelaire siblings, Handler is penning adult and young adult novels under his given name. We were lucky enough to catch up with Handler at BookExpo America to chat with him about his new novel, All the Dirty Parts. In it, a high schooler named Cole experiences firsthand the complexity of the “uncomplicated” relationship. Check out our conversation with Handler.
4 notes
·
View notes
Photo
“All the Dirty Parts” is one of those books that you will either love or hate. I’m in the LOVE camp. Warning: Don’t buy this for a kid thinking “Lemony Snicket.” This is not a good present from Grandma, though I can promise you it would get read.
Most of us know what it’s like to wait for the dirty part in a movie, book, story your friend is telling, or even our own lives if we’re honest about it. It seems like that’s the good part. The genius of “All the Dirty Parts” is that is exactly what the name implies: all of the dirty parts of Cole’s life. The problem is, when you only look at that, your perception of him as a person is not very good. He seems like a jerk, and probably is, but you can only he has some redeeming qualities about him since he has friends and good grades. We just don’t know what they are. He doesn’t even know what they are. There are a lot of things he doesn’t know about himself, but I’ll leave it to you to learn them.
This book is listed as an adult novel, and that is definitely the correct classification. That being said, there are a lot of lessons in literature that can be taught using it for the older young adult and new adult crowd. It’s also certain to make some banned book lists and become a coveted book for teenagers to acquire. I’m ok with that. Maybe they’ll accidentally learn something.
Highly recommended!
This unbiased review is based upon a complimentary copy provided by the publisher.
Content Warning:
I don’t normally do content warnings on adult books, but be aware that this one is filthy. The words aren’t minced and the sex is graphic. Proceed at your own risk.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Drunk on You
summary: Bucky has always been nervous around you. When he’s tasked with caring for you after a night of heavy drinking and suddenly you’re kissing him, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly want him sober, right?
pairing: bucky x reader
word count: 5.4k
warnings: dirty(ish) talk (blink and you’ll miss it!) 🌸angsty/fluffy goodness
author’s note: clearly I have a thing for soft and insecure Bucky.... let me know you think, babes!
Bucky rarely got a moment alone. His presence in the tower seemed to act as a magnet, drawing in hesitant, concerned glances and gentle prodding of ‘how you doin’ today, Buck?’ and ‘did you sleep alright?’
Not tonight. Tonight, Bucky sat alone in the dimly lit living room, propped up on the floor with his back pressed against the leg of a couch. He had started the night sitting atop the cushioning but found that he couldn’t stand how soft it was, almost like he was sinking. He had grown accustomed to the harder surfaces, it seemed.
The rest of the team had gone out to McGinny’s to celebrate the engagement of some SHIELD agent Bucky didn’t know the name of. Steve had all but begged him to come along. He had almost given when you had brushed your hand against his shoulder, telling him ‘it won’t be the same without you, Buck,’ before you nodded softly with that sweet smile of yours, giving him the permission he needed to have just a few moments to himself. He wanted to thank you, for noticing the anxiety that had settled in him the moment Steve brought it up, but all he could muster was a tight-lipped smile before he stalked off to his room to find the book Sam had lent him a few days back.
There were only a few pages left in his book when he heard the distant ding of the elevator pulling to a stop on his floor. Loud giggling followed as the doors slid open. Bucky froze, immediately recognizing the laugh as yours. He set his book at his side; his page long forgotten as he turned around the edge of the couch.
Draped against Sam’s arm, you were stumbling on your feet, knees wobbling as another burst of laughter echoed through the hall. You were without the nude heels you had left in a few hours earlier, the thin strap of your top fallen over your shoulder. Sam was doing his best to keep you upright, but he was swaying all on his own.
Your eyes lit up and suddenly Bucky realized he was standing as you took notice of him, arms reaching out in his direction though it nearly threw you off balance. “Bucky!”
“I’m going to sleep, man,” Sam called out to him. He shook his head, but winced as he did so, his right hand jumping up to rub at his temple. “Can you get her to bed? The room is spinning enough as it is without this heathen dragging me down.”
Bucky nodded hesitantly from the living room. He was standing in near darkness as he overlooked the dimly lit hallway. He rubbed at his eyes, wondering for a moment why he hadn’t bothered putting on a light as he read.
Sam shot him an inpatient glare, gesturing quite dramatically towards you as you started to lean your head against the wall. You sighed, eyes closing as you tried to push more of your skin against the surface. It had been a few decades since Bucky had been drunk, but he remembered how flushed it made him, felt like it was always a hundred degrees even in the dead of winter. The wall must feel good against your skin, cooling off the heat in your cheeks.
“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky nodded, half jogging towards the corner where you and Sam were holding yourselves up. The strong smell of bourbon flooded his senses as Sam gently pried your arm from around his bicep, handing you over to Bucky. Bucky didn’t know what to do, holding your forearm awkwardly as Sam stalked away, mumbling under his breath about how he’d never look at a glass of Jack Daniel's again.
“Hmmm, hey Buck,” you slurred, eyes still closed as you leaned against the wall. A soft smile tugged at your lips. Bucky could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. Your cheeks were blushed red, your mascara likely peeled off on the car ride home, makeup smudged onto the back of your hand. Hair fallen softly over your shoulders, a little out of place, but it didn’t stop the twist of nerves growing in his stomach. You had a hold on him he couldn’t quite explain; made him weak in his knees.
“Hey there, doll.” Bucky forced his voice to be stronger than he felt, pushing aside the aching in his gut. He reached forward with his left hand, metal fingers draping gently over your forehead. You gasped and Bucky nearly flinched away, afraid he had hurt you, before he heard what he thought was a moan. A laugh escaped under his breath as he carefully led you away from the wall.
“Come on, Y/n/n.”
You collapsed against him easily. Your arms snaking around his waist and he all but lost his breath. He could feel a soft vibration of your sigh as you hummed against him, tucking your face up in to his neck.
“You smell nice.” Your voice was muffled against the collar of his shirt. Breaths of warm air brushed against his neck and Bucky clenched his jaw in a half-ditched effort to cease the pounding in his chest. Surely you could hear it. He was certain even Sam could hear it from a floor under.
“Let’s get you to bed, doll,” Bucky said softly, starting to take a step backward. You kept your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, but you allowed your legs to follow him. Steady, careful steps as Bucky continued to walk backwards towards your room, head tilting over his shoulder to check for the dip in the floor that Scott face planted on a few weeks back after Nat’s impromptu game of beer pong, though at the time she insisted they use a 65 Mckenna.
His hand felt around for the knob of your door and he twisted it open. You had yet to lift your head from the alcove of his neck, sighing contently as he pulled you into the room. Bucky flicked the light switch on at your bedside, illuminating the room in a soft yellow hue in an effort to preserve the sensitivity in your eyes.
“I’m going try to find some sleep clothes for you, alright?” Bucky said, nervously looking around your room. He reached behind him and pulled yours arms from around his waist. The flash of disappointment across your face as your lips tugged into a frown did not slip his notice, though he brushed it off as you missing the cool of his metal arm. He set you against the edge of your bed, a steady hand on your shoulder to make sure you were balanced. He turned back towards your dresser. “Which drawer, doll?”
He didn’t want to go rummaging through your things, not when he could accidentally stumble on a drawer of more personal items. He scratched at his head, tucking his hair behind his ears.
“Doll?”
When he turned back towards you, a gasp caught in his throat to find you standing just inches away. How you managed to sneak up on him in this state, he’ll never know. You were staring at his lips, breathing heavy as eyes slowly trailed up to meet his. If Bucky thought his heart was beating painfully before...
A brush of your fingers at his waist line, playing with the edge of his shirt forced a gulp out of him. You pursed your lips into a mischievous grin, grabbing at the fabric.
“Take this off.”
“W-what?” Bucky stuttered. God, he was never as nervous as he was around you.
You leaned forward, hands releasing the fabric and trailing along his stomach under his shirt. Nails gently dragging over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Before Bucky could say a word, your lips were on his neck.
“D-doll, hold on now,” Bucky started, though he found he couldn’t finish where he was going. He couldn’t remember what he was even going to say, not with the way your lips were sucking so sweetly against that spot on his neck that drove him wild, traveling up to pepper kisses along his jaw. He closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation you left behind with each kiss. He knew he should stop you, but, God, how could he possibly when your lips were on the corner of his mouth?
The moment you pressed your lips to his, he froze, hands out to the side. If only his Hydra handlers could see him now, terrified to move as this woman he cared so deeply for in the dark shadows of his mind ran her hands along the skin of his chest, bringing him to an absolute puddle in front of her. Soft, plump lips kissed at his own, tongue dragging against the bottom of his lip, until you bit down, not enough to hurt but enough that it jarred Bucky out of his trance.
His hands came up to the sides of your face, holding you against him as he parted his lips further for you. It was wet and messy and rushed and nothing like he thought it would be as you moaned into his mouth, sending a jolt below his waistline.
Maybe it was naïve of him, to imagine this differently, to want to brush a fallen strand of hair from your face, to touch you so gently along your cheek, to pull you in towards him even when his nerves threatened to take over, to finally press his lips to yours so soft and sweet that it would make his head spin. The way you were tugging at him, the way his hands tangled in your knotted hair, it was all so much rougher than he wanted it be the first time he kissed you.
But with your tongue sweeping over his, all he could think about was how bad he wanted this, how he’s wanted this for so long, but he’d been so petrified that you’d reject him.
“Baby,” you moaned and Bucky nearly came on the spot. “Baby, please, need you to fuck me.”
Bucky pulled away instantly, panting heavily. Eyes wide as you sat down on the bed, reaching to pull your shirt over your head. He couldn’t believe what he was doing, but hands darted out to grab yours before you had the chance to remove the fabric.
“Wait a second, doll,” Bucky urged, stare caught on your swollen lips. He was screaming in his own head.
You frowned. “Bucky, please. Fuck me.”
The heavy slur of your words. The way your eyes couldn’t quite focus on him. The sway of your body, unable to keep balance even as you sat on the bed. You weren’t in your right mind. He should have known that from the moment you touched him.
“Shit,” Bucky cursed under his breath, the realization of what he was doing flooding through him. He took a step back, brushing his hand over his mouth. “I- I can’t, doll. I’m sorry.”
“Bucky,” you wined, grabbing at his arms and pulling yourself back to your feet. Your lips connected with his neck again and he had to stifle a moan before it came out. His hands set carefully on your shoulders in an effort to push you away. He couldn’t do this to you, not like this. Not when you’d never remember it in the morning or worse, regret ever touching him in this way.
Your lips came back to his own and Bucky pulled away reluctantly. It killed him to do so, tore at his chest in every painful way imaginable, but he did it.
“Not like this, doll,” Bucky urged. He pushed softly against your shoulders, keeping you at a distance. Your eyes searched his, confusion evident across your features. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. This isn’t how I...”
Pictured it. Wanted our first time to be. Dreamed it would be.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Bucky gestured towards the bed. You followed his gaze, and nodded slowly. All of your energy seemed to drain away in an instant. He had to nearly carry you to the side of the bed. Lifting the covers and tucking two pillows under your head to aid in the dizziness, Bucky helped to tuck you in. A warm smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you closed your eyes, just barely visible, enough so that he would have missed it if he wasn’t watching you so closely.
He leaned forward, hesitant for a moment, before he pressed his lips to your forehead. A couple pain relievers and a glass of water by your bedside were left for you. He took a seat in the arm chair in the corner of your room, plopping down with a heavy sigh. His fingers brushed up at his lips, the sensation of you still tingling there.
He’d stay here through the night, he decided, had to make sure you were alright with the amount of liquor you consumed. It was what he told himself away. He’d be gone before you woke.
***
Bucky couldn’t fathom how people took so much cream and sugar in their coffee. The time he accidentally took a sip from Wanda’s mug, he had nearly coughed it back out in shock, lips pursing at the unbearable sweetness. Looking back, he should have realized sooner it wasn’t his own. The tiny cartoon avenger logos running along the handle in vibrant coloring should have been a giveaway. He stared down at his simple white mug; black coffee filled to the brim. He tapped on the edge of the cup with his cereal spoon. It was his third so far this morning.
“Boy, if you don’t stop that...” Sam grumbled from across the counter top. He was barely keeping himself upright, head in his hands as he rubbed at his temples.
“What are you gonna do?” Bucky taunted, his face void of emotion. Sam narrowed his eyes. “A few loud noises and a bright light and you’d be on the ground.”
“Don’t test me, tin-man.”
Spoon in hand, Bucky was only a moment away from clinging it against his empty cereal bowl until Sam begged for his life when the sound of shuffling feet caught his attention.
Bucky looked over his shoulder to find you bumping along the furniture as you made your way to the kitchen, eyes drawn down in an effort to avoid the overhead lighting. You had changed into something he imagined was more comfortable than the jeans and silk top you had fallen asleep in. Bucky felt his stomach twist in knots just looking at you, flashes of what he had done the previous night drowning his senses.
His mind had been racing all morning, unable to catch even a wink of sleep after you had passed out. Thousands of scenarios ran through his mind; wondering if you’d hate him for kissing you, for giving into you so easy when you were clearly vulnerable, if you’d be disgusted with him for how long it took him to push you away, if you’d even remember it happened. Bucky wasn’t sure what was worse.
It didn’t cross his mind for even a second if maybe – just maybe – you'd still want him in the morning. Why would it?
“Someone remind me to curse out Tony for putting florescent lighting in this place,” you grumbled. A wince pulled at your features as you bumped into the chair Clint hadn’t pushed back in after the poker game a few nights ago. Your hand gripped at the backrest and shoved it back against the table with a grunt.
“At least you don’t have this asshole threatening to torture you with his friggin’ nervous tapping.” Sam rubbed at his eyes, oblivious to the wave of panic that coursed over Bucky’s features when you finally caught notice of him.
Your eyes widened, deer-caught-in-the-headlights kind of look upon your face, like the very sight of him terrified you. Bucky did his best to force out a smile, but it barely lifted the corners of his lips. The knots pulling in his stomach were enough to make him sick. He watched as your feet stumbled back until you hit the wall unexpectedly.
“Oh, hi, um,” your eyes fell to the ground, the coffee table, to Sam, anywhere but Bucky. His stomach was churning. “Wanda has my, um, my creamer, so I’m gonna,” you backed towards the elevator, clearly desperate to escape the room, escape him, “go.”
Then you were gone.
Bucky closed his eyes, burning in the ache that settled deep in his stomach. He knew this was going to happen. He knew that you’d never be able to look at him again. God, why did he let himself think for even a moment that you could possibly want him? The bourbon had messed with your inhibition, that’s all. You were too good for him, too kind and sweet. The very idea that you could want a washed-up soldier him was laughable.
And now he’d gone and messed up one of the only good things he had in his life.
Fuck.
“What the hell did you do?”
Bucky shot a glare over at Sam who was eying him curiously.
“Mind your business, birdbrain.”
“Oh, so there’s business to mind?”
Bucky shook his head, his stool sliding out from under him as he stood. He threw the rest of his coffee down the sink and set the mug in the dishwasher, albeit a bit forcefully, which Sam clearly noticed.
“Listen man, just talk to her.” Sam had his eyes closed again as he rubbed his temples.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grumbled under his breath, though it was loud enough for Sam to hear.
“All I’m saying is I have never seen Y/n flustered like that a day in my life. You two clearly got up to something last night,” Sam said, sending Bucky a knowing look that only seemed to irritate him more. Sam narrowed his eyes, waiting for Bucky to crack. When Bucky only stared back, clear with no intention of responding, Sam shrugged. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’m going to find a windowless room and go back to sleep.”
Bucky stood slumped against the sink as Sam exited the room, grabbing onto every surface for support.
What did he know anyway?
***
It was nearly a week of constant, exhausting efforts to avoid you. How you managed to show up in every room he walked into never ceased to amaze him. He’d find you in the gym during movie night when he was sure you’d be on the couch with Wanda or on the rooftop at dawn drinking your coffee curled up on a lawn chair under a thin blanket or on his favorite bench down by the water reading. He’d make up some half-assed excuse and back out the room as quickly as he’d walked in.
He’d catch the way you’d nervously evert your eyes, unable to even look at him when he was so much as within eyesight of you. It was so obvious to him that’d you’d regretted that night, felt ashamed and embarrassed for touching him, kissing him, for what you had asked of him. Of course, you did. You were drunk out of your mind. You’d never want him like that if you were sober. He was certain of it.
And now he’d gone and ruined whatever semblance of a friendship you’d had by giving in, even if it was only for a moment. An impossibly short moment he couldn’t seem to shake from his mind no matter how hard he tried.
Bucky was sitting on the edge of his bed, attempting to get through the last few pages of his book. Once he read and reread the same paragraph a few times without processing a single word, he tossed the book across the room with a frustrated grunt.
Then, a knock at the door. It was soft, hesitant, and he almost missed it.
“Buck?” your voice called from the other side and Bucky entire body clenched up. “Can we talk? Please?”
Oh God, this is it, he prepared himself. He knew this was going to come. The moment you’d ask him to move to a different floor or tell him you were transferring to a new team, anything to just get further away from him.
Bucky swallowed, running his fingers over his hair to tame it in some way. “Y-yeah, come in.”
He cursed at himself for sounding so nervous. He couldn’t seem to help it around you.
The hinges creaked as it opened and you slipping inside, pressing your back against the door to close it shut. You gave him a forced, tight lipped smile as you nodded towards his bed, asking permission to sit next to him. Bucky brushed the wrinkles of the comforter out and gestured for you to sit.
The silence in the room nearly killed him. He was certain you could hear how fast his heart was beating, or maybe you’d notice his breaths were coming in shorter than they should. Either way, you sat on the very edge of his bed, hands curling at the sheets nervously. Your stare trained at the bottom edge of his dresser. He felt like he hadn’t seen your eyes in years and it was tearing him apart.
You swallowed. “I hate that we don’t talk anymore. I miss you.”
He wasn’t expecting that.
Brushing a fallen strand of hair back behind your ear, you slowly turned to face him. You tucked your left knee and let your right leg swing over the side of the bed, hands wringing nervously in your lap. A deep breath lifted your chest. It was uneasy on the way out. He knew he was doing this to you, making you feel so uncomfortable it was hard to even look at him. It didn’t used to be like that.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky blurt out before you had a chance to say another word.
A flash of what appeared to be confusion washed over your features. You raised an eyebrow. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”
Under your stare, Bucky could feel his anxiety spiking. It was rare that someone looked at him the way you did, with kinder eyes than he deserved and a genuine concern for the mess rummaging through his mind. He scratched at the back of his neck, eyes darting to everywhere in the room but your face.
“For, um, for that night,” he confessed, his arm falling back to his side as he pulled together the courage to face you. “For taking advantage of you when you clearly never would have wanted-”
“Is that what you think happened?” Your words had fallen on the back on a heavy breath. You bit on your lip, chewing at the dry skin there before you stilled the clenching of your hands, more defiantly now, “Buck, I came onto you. I practically forced myself on you.”
“I could have stopped you sooner,” he countered. It was easy for him to hold blame. It felt like second nature. He’d take it for you at every opportunity if he could.
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked tentatively. “Because you think you took advantage of me? Not because you... regret it?”
“Regret it?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, confused.
Why were you asking him if he regretted it? There were a lot of things in his life he wished he could take back, but kissing you, holding you the way he did, wasn’t one of them. Even knowing that it was only a piece of you, one he’d never get back again, was enough. He’d hold onto that memory of how you felt against him, how soft your lips were, the feeling of your hands running along his chest for as long as he could. He’d long for more the rest of his life and he’d hold onto that memory until it killed him.
Regret it? He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Doll, I-”
“We can pretend it never happened,” you said suddenly, swinging your left leg back over the side of the bed, turning away from him. You bit at your lip, nervously paying with the ends of your hair. Your gaze was focused on the carpet as you let out a shaky exhale. “We can be normal again, if you want. We can never talk about it. Move on.”
There was something in your voice, a lingering sadness he didn’t expect. There was an ache in it, one he had grown familiar with in his own voice. He’d find it crept into him when you’d talk to him about that SHIELD agent who wouldn’t stop asking you out for coffee, or when he’d catch up with after a party where Thor had his hand on the small of your back the entire night, or when he’d tell you he’d had a good day when you’d ask because he hated disappointing you. It had grown to be a part of his voice. He never thought he’d hear it in yours.
Maybe there was more than what you were saying. Maybe you were just as terrified of this as he was. Maybe you were so afraid to lose him, any part of him, that you’d swallow back the pain in your chest and pretend to move on even if it killed you. He didn’t know if he could stay silent on a maybe.
“What if I don’t want to forget?” Bucky whispered before he could bite his tongue, shocking himself as the words spilled out. Your eyes snapped up to his, lips parted slightly. He continued, “what if it’s all I can think about and asking me to pretend it didn’t happen would be asking me to cut out a piece of my chest?”
“Bucky,” you gasped, his name falling so sweetly from your lips that he nearly broke in two.
“If it’s what you want,” he said slowly, eyes tracing yours for some flash of a reaction, “I’ll wipe it from my mind. But I… you have to know that pushing you away that night was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“Why did you?” you asked carefully.
“You were drunk,” he said simply. “Didn’t know if you really wanted it or not… wanted me, or not.” He clenched his flesh hand into a fist to stop the shaking. Then, “You weren’t in your right mind, Y/n/n. I couldn’t take advantage of you when you’re vulnerable like that. It wasn’t how I pictured it going, anyway.”
“You picture it though?”
Bucky gulped. He hadn’t meant to say that. It crossed his mind to lie to you, to laugh it off and claim he misspoke or insist you heard him wrong. But the way you were watching him, almost like you were studying him, with such a longing behind your eyes Bucky never thought he’d see in his direction eased the waves of doubt coursing through his mind.
With a renewed courage, his right hand reached towards yours, setting gently over it as you continued clenching at the sheets. Your hand stilled and he tucked his fingers beneath your palm, settling between warm skin and the bedding.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day we met.” Bucky could feel the jolt of your heartbeat under his fingertips. He took a steady breath, moving slowly until he sat next to you at the edge of the bed, hip to hip. “You were, um, coming out of the gym with Steve and he had just given you a huge shiner. Punk wouldn’t stop apologizing but you just, you couldn’t stop laughing. It might have been the first time I smiled since I got here. You make me... nervous, doll, but still somehow you make me feel like I can be happy again one day. When I’m around you, I just, I feel like myself.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” you whispered, so soft he had to strain his ears to hear it.
“’Cause what chance did I have with you?” Bucky half-heartedly chuckled. He stopped when he felt your finger intertwine with his, squeezing at his hand gently. His found his eyes staring down at your hands. Was it silly to think they fit so perfectly together?
You exhaled, almost as if from relief. “More of a chance than you thought.”
Bucky thinks for a moment that he’s thankful for the serum, because his heart surely would have given out without it. He noticed now as he turned to look at you, that there was a little flake of gold hidden in the burning hue of your eyes. Imprints and scars so small they must’ve come from childhood, speckled in tiny marks in your skin by your hairline. There was still so much beauty in you he hadn’t noticed and the possibility of finding more only made his stomach weaker.
You smiled, soft and sweet, as you took notice of the way he was studying you. A pause, and then, “would you kiss me if I asked?”
Bucky held his breath. Before he could give into the anxiety threatening to take him over, he found his left hand reaching up towards your face. He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes and tucked it gingerly behind your ear. He didn’t know this hand that had seen so many horrors could be so gentle as he let it sit against the side of your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. You sighed; eyes closed for a moment as you leaned into his palm. You smiled, corners of your lips curving ever so slightly as you looked back up at him.
“For you?” Bucky was only a breath away. “I’d do anything.”
Then, like a thousand years had sat in the span of only a few second, he pressed forward and his lower lip brushed yours. He paused, warmth of your breath upon his skin as he held your face so tenderly against his. Eyes opened, he gazed into yours seeking permission he so desperately craved. He needed it again, more than once, at every moment, because how else was he going to stop the voice in the back of his mind tellin’ him he wasn’t worth this. Your breaths were coming in quicker and you nodded, the movement so slight he could have missed it if he wasn’t studying you so closely.
With every ounce of courage he had in him, he pressed his lips to yours. His head was spinning, almost dizzy at how perfect you felt, as he parted his lips further to deepen the kiss. Freeing your intertwined hands, Bucky’s skin started to prickle with goosebumps as you ran your fingers along his flesh arm until you reached his shoulder, moving slowly to the base of his neck where fingers twirled and played with his hair. He could feel the moan leave him before he could stop it, and it only was followed by the soft laugh of your voice against his lips. It was angelic.
God – was this what heaven felt like? Bucky was breathless and he still couldn’t find the will to pull away from you. If he spent his last moments kissing you, he was sure he’d die a happy man. You peppered sweet kisses along his cheek bones, grasping the sides of his face to keep him still as you kissed his nose, his forehead, his eyelids, every part of him until he felt lightheaded. You paused, panting slightly from the lack of air as you held your face so close to his, he could kiss you again if he’d move forward even an inch.
“Promise you won’t disappear in the morning?” Your eyes bore into his, searching for even an ounce of hesitation you'd never find lurking behind shades of blue.
“You’ve got me, doll,” Bucky stole a quick peck from your lips and you started to laugh. He was smiling so wide his cheeks had started to hurt. He let his forehead set delicately against yours, his thumbs running gentle circles against the red of your cheeks. “I'm yours.”
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#marvel#marvel imagine#mcu imagine#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fic#reader insert#my writing#bucky fic
5K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mugento
Mugen
doolkat
On my way becoming lps awoo god
wheresurboytonighthelookslikeenj
world's leading expert on bobby brackenreid
evanstan
Lilly, no.
ernestogtez
Ernestland