#and then he takes deep breaths and the grenade in his hand just disappears | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bakugou imagines #PLEASE SHOW UP IM BEGGING

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thewriterthatghostedyou · 2 years

Text

So I’ve had this written for awhile and am just posting a few chapters since they’re short and to celebrate the casting announcement. I’m working on chapter 12 rn so there will be plenty of updates coming out. I also think there’s something weird going on with e posts since that either take a long time to show up on the tags or aren’t at all.

Shadows and Scars

Chapter 4

“What was tha-“ My question was cut off by the general kicking his horse into a sprint.

My stomach dropped as we heard a couple of gunshots ring out in the silence.

Staying on the bouncing horse was no easy task and I had to hold onto the general as he sped towards his carriage.

I saw a couple of Grisha hiding behind trees and fighting the drueskelle, but the carriage was empty. I heard a scream of pain and saw blood in the clearing.

“I’m going to help them.” I cried, trying to slide off of the horse.

“No.” I felt the general’s hand keep me next to him. “You can’t-“

I shoved his hand off and I not so gracefully fell down from the horse.

“Go find Alina!” I told him, looking in the carriage. “She’s gone.”

At the mention of the sun summoner’s name, the general turned his horse around and sped off to the side, following what looked like drag marks.

I dove into the bushes and hobbled towards the Grisha in the trees.

“Are you ok?” I heard Ivan’s rough voice ask someone.

I couldn’t hear the response, as I finally made it to them. Sharp pain shot up my leg as I scrambled over, but I ignored it.

“Didn’t penetrate.” Feydor gasped in pain. I saw a small burn hole on his kefta. Thank the Saints it was bulletproof.

Another squaller had a knife lodged in his upper chest and I gingerly kneeled over him and grasped the handle.

“This will hurt,” I said while calming the rapid beating of his heart. “But I can fix it.” With that I pulled the knife out of him and blood started to spurt from his mouth.

I put my hands together, took a deep breath, and concentrated on his skin stitching itself back together.

“It’s ok my friend.” I murmured softly as his wound got smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared.

“Listen to the heartbeats. How many are there?” Ivan demanded, giving me only a brief nod of approval.

Another heartrender raised her arms to the sky and a smoke grenade was thrown at us.

Instantly, the smoke expelled from the canister and we started to cough.

“There’s too much smoke!” Someone yelled while Ivan shouted for a squaller.

“I can’t see!” Another shouted.

“He’s out cold!” I hollered back before touching my hands together and speeding up his heartbeat.

The squaller jerked awake and took in some shuddering breaths.

“I know you’re in pain but you need to clear the smoke.” I told him sternly. I gave a heavy cough. “Now!”

The young man jerked his arms together in response and the air started to finally ventilate.

“Get to the carriage! Protect the girl!” Ivan yelled when the smoke slowly started to clear.

“I’ll handle the squaller you go ahead.” I shouted.

“I still can’t see!” Another inferni shouted.

I heard a distant shout from a druskelle and Ivan turned towards the carriage.

“What did he say?” I asked loudly.

The remaining druskelle seemed to start to retreat.

“Darkling.” Ivan responded with a weary smile. “He said Darkling.”

I heaved a sigh of relief as the exhausted squaller finally finished clearing the air.

“You did wonderful.” I told him with a smile. “Now just get some rest.” I slowed his heart beat down so that his body had time to restore what I couldn’t.

“You did good.” Ivan said, offering me his hand. “I assume you rode in with General Kirigan.”

“Yes, we split up when we saw the carriage.”

I looked towards a clearing and saw a dark black figure shoot across it. Midnight and the general. “Where’s Alina?”

“Probably with him.” Ivan pointed to his retreating figure. “You’ll head back to Os Alta with us.” He gave me a hearty pat on the back.

“Is Feydor alright?” He asked, nodding to the heartrender who just got up and hobbled over.

“I’m fine.” He said, giving a pointed look to Ivan. “Is there anyone else?” He asked no one in particular.

“I didn’t see anyone near the carriage still alive. The druskelle must have seen the light from the fold and changed their mission to attack the carriage.” I heaved the fallen squaller onto my shoulder and started to drag him to the carriage. “If there’s anyone else who’s wounded send them to the carriage. I can heal them.”

The surrounding Grisha looked at Ivan. “A good plan. We need to continue on. Anyone who can’t walk or ride goes into the carriage with Miss y/l/n.”

At that the meager group sprang to action and another heartrender, inferni, and guard without Grisha power joined me and the squaller into the carriage.

The squaller was stable so I turned my attention to the inferni who had three bullets in his chest.

Digging in my bag, I pulled out my kit and rummaged through it looking for my tweezers.

“Do you mind a little company?” Feydor asked, climbing in.

“Come on in.” I said with a smile. “I may need help regulating their heartbeats to keep them out of pain.”

“That I can do.” He said with a cheery smile.

I gave a small laugh. “You’ve just been shot and you’re still smiling. I wish I had your demeanor.”

He chuckled. “Well it helps that I wore a kefta.”

“I need you to slow their heartbeats down so they won’t hurt themselves.”

He did as I asked.

I smiled as I opened the wound to dig out the musket ball.

“Saints.” Feydor swore as I pulled out one metal ball and healed the injuries it left behind. The inferni’s eyes fluttered as I started on the second.

“I need you to calm him down. He can’t move or he’ll hurt himself more.”

“On it.” He said and I could feel her heartbeat slow down.

“Ivan said you rode in with General Kirigan.” Feydor leaned back in his seat and opened his kefta to reveal a large bruise that was already black and green.

“I can fix that for you later.” I finished healing the inferni and moved onto the heartrender girl.

Her thigh had a large gash on it and the blood was staining the silk chairs of the carriage.

“That would be appreciated, but you didn’t answer my question.”

I scoffed. “I don’t recall it being phrased as a question.”

“But yes I did ride with the general.” The gash on the inferni’s hip disappeared with a flick of my hands.

“Does that mean you’ll be joining us on his guard?”

I paused. Was that what he wanted me trained for?

“I’m not sure.” I looked over the guard for his injury. He had an arrow in his chest, but I also noticed a large bump on his head.

“He said he wants me to train to use heartrender powers.” I paused. “Maybe that’s why, but I’m not sure how I could be helpful as a guard when I-“ I trailed off and yanked out the arrow.

“From what I’ve just seen you ordered Ivan around and he listened.” Feydor leaned on his knees. “That in and of itself is impressive. My boyfriend barely listens to me.”

I blinked surprisingly. “Your boyfriend?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I had no idea Ivan could feel anything other than contempt.” I joked with a smile.

Feydor snorted at that. “Neither did I.” I waved my hand across the bump on the soldier’s head and then moved over to Feydor.

“You’re next.” With a swift flick of my hands the bruise disappeared and Feydor began to rebutton his kefta.

“I think you’ll do just fine in the Little Palace.”

#fanfic #reader insert #writing #darkling fic #the darkling x reader #darkling x you #darkling x reader #shadow and bone #grishaverse #aleksander x reader #aleksander morozova #darkling #the darkling #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes #darkling x y/n

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polaroid15 · 2 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 1: Head Wound

Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36818467/chapters/91852927

Summary: Peter meets Clint Barton in a fight. It doesn't quite go as planned.

----

Peter is in the middle of the best sandwich of his life when the gunfire starts.

“Aw come on,” he sighs through a mouthful of bread. “Now?”

A couple blocks to his right, a car explodes.

“Right. Now it is.” He sets his sandwich aside with some regret and stands, his legs aching after his short break on the rooftop. He pulls his mask back down over his mouth and stretches his arms out far to get the kinks out of his back.

Then, he jumps.

Right before he hits the pavement he fires out a web that catapultes him to the next block. Three more, and the gunfire becomes so loud he winces against it. What the hell is going on?

He perches on a warehouse overlooking the fight. There are at least two dozen men and women shooting bullets across the parking lot beneath him, though Peter is unsure what they’re aiming at. He pulls his eyebrows together, squinting into the darkness.

And then he sees it.

A shadow running across the asphalt.

Another car explodes and it gives just enough light for Peter to see an arrow fly across the lot. It embeds deep in the shoulder of one of the approaching gang members and as they fall, the shadow disappears.

“No way!” Peter exclaims under his breath. I can’t wait to tell Ned and MJ about this, he thinks, just as his spider sense flares. His eyes connect to one of the gang members on the edge of the lot, her hand fisted around a gray metal ball.

Bomb, his spider sense supplies before he launches himself towards her. He uses one web to hold himself in the air and another to rip the bomb out of her hand. “These are terrible for the environment, you know!” he calls down to her.

The bomb is hot in his hand. He throws it high in the air and seconds later it explodes.

“Holy crap,” he breathes, continuing his swing downwards to kick another gang member to the ground. He lands on one knee and flings up his head, his hand outstretched. Almost every gang member has their eyes on him now. The one closest to him raises their gun level with his forehead.

The trigger clicks and Peter rolls at the same time an arrow hits his attacker in the thigh. Peter pins him down with a web when he falls and web grenades three more to the side of a semi.

“Spider-Man!”

Peter tilts his chin to find the shadow- Clint Barton- staring down at him from the roof of the semi. A rush of adrenaline shoots through Peter, far more than he’s received from actually fighting, and he straightens and waves. “Mr. Barton! Oh my god it’s an honor, sir, I-”

“Get out of here,” Clint says. There’s a cut on his cheekbone and he’s favoring his left leg. “The Tracksuits are no joke.”

“But I can help!”

“I don’t want it and I don’t need it. Leave.”

The gang members- Tracksuits, apparently- don’t wait for them to continue their argument. Peter ducks against a spray of bullets and shoots off webs until all his attackers are pinned to the cement. He loses Clint in the rush and propels himself across the parking lot toward another group of Tracksuits. He meets one of them with his fist and spins to knock another down with a kick. Someone lunges at him with a knife and is knocked back into the wall by another arrow before it can hit him.

“Thanks!”

The Tracksuits begin to scatter, yelling ugly profanities as they run out of the lot, some stopped by arrows and others by webs. When the last one skids across the cement, Peter stands up straight, breathing hard. That was so awesome.

Clint lands beside him. Peter isn’t sure from where he dropped. “Hey man,” Peter says. “What’s… uh, what’s up?”

Clint frowns at him. “You don’t want to get yourself involved with these guys. They’re bad news.”

“Um, I mean. They weren’t that hard to take down if I’m being honest. I’ve definitely seen worse.”

“Go home.”

Peter is left with his jaw hanging open as Clint walks away from him. The disappointment of the hero’s harsh demeanor is swallowed by his excitement of being able to fight beside him. He watches Clint leave for a couple beats before he realizes the adrenaline in his veins isn’t fully attributed to his excitement.

It’s not over.

Peter follows his spider-sense to the right, his pulse jumping in his neck. One of the pinned tracksuits is holding a bomb with his free arm, his face twisted into an ugly scowl. He pulls his arm back, the bomb blinking red.

“Mr. Barton! Look out!”

But he knows it’ll be too late. So Peter does the only thing he can- he springs forward and pushes Clint down just as the bomb intersects. The blast hits him square in the ribs, and oh god Mr. Stark is going to be pissed.

The force of the explosion pushes him far. He tries to catch himself with a web, but there’s nothing to grab hold of. In the split second before impact he shields his ribs, scared any more damage to them will puncture something important.

In hindsight, he probably should have protected his head.

------

Clint isn’t expecting Spider-Man to save his ass.

But he does, and Clint groans from his position on the ground where Spider-Man has pushed him. Spider-Man is down. The bomber is still here. Before he even makes it to his knees, Clint has an arrow drawn back. He holds his breath.

There.

With the last Tracksuit subdued, Clint spins on one knee to look for the vigilante. “Spider-Man?” he calls, coughing on black smoke.

There’s no answer, so Clint rises to his feet and cocks another arrow. He spins in a full circle, but the danger seems to have passed.

Finally, he sees him.

“Damn it.”

He jogs over to the space where the end of the lot and a solidly dented brick wall meet. Spider-Man is laying on his side in a crumpled heap at its base, his suit curling with heat. Clint drops his bow to the side and hovers his hands over the hero’s body, his heart thundering in his neck. “Spider-Man?” he tries again.

Clint shakes the man’s shoulder. Gentle at first, but growing more desperate when he doesn’t rouse. He moves the vigilante onto his back and presses his ear against his chest, drooping in relief when he hears a heartbeat. “Well, that’s something at least.”

After a couple more minutes, Spider-Man groans and fights away Clint’s prodding hands. The resistance is weak, but Clint sits back regardless. “Spider-Man? You with me?”

Spider-Man makes another indiscernible noise before slipping his fingers under the seam of his mask. He struggles at first, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated, but eventually he succeeds.

And Clint is met with the face of a teenager.

“Are you kidding me?”

Said teenager blinks slowly, his eyes squinting and his face screwing up in confusion. There’s blood covering a third of his face, stemming from his left temple and trailing down into his suit. Clint knows head wounds bleed a lot, but that much blood on such a young person scares the living hell out of him.

“Hey,” Spider-Man says, and though it may be due to Clint’s imagination, his voice seems to have raised about three octaves. He just got his ass saved by a literal child.

“Hey yourself. You okay?”

Spider-Man’s squint becomes more narrow. “There’s three of you.”

“I promise you there’s not.”

“Oh,” Spider-Man says, tipping his head back to look at the sky. “That’s lame.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Hmm? Oh, Peter. Parker.”

“You know, it’s not very smart to jump in front of explosives that are aimed at other people, Peter Parker. Don’t they teach you that kind of stuff at school?”

The kid- Peter, smiles. “I’m, like, so dizzy right now.”

Clint hangs his head with a sigh.

“Wait,” Peter says, becoming more lucid with a gasp. “Mr. Stark is going to kill me!”

“Stark?” Clint clarifies, his interest peaked. “You know Tony Stark?”

The sudden burst of energy must not do wonders for Peter because his head lolls back against the cement, his eyelids fluttering. “Sooo dizzy, Mr. Barton.”

“Oh my god.”

Clint wrestles his phone out of his pocket and spends a solid two minutes searching for the right contact. Nerves spread throughout his stomach as the call tries to connect. Then, Tony’s familiar voice fills his ear.

“Clint? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. There’s this kid with me though… Peter Parker? He pushed me away from a bomb and took the brunt end of it. He knocked his head pretty hard and has one foot in the loony bin. He says he knows you?”

Tony curses. “Yep, that sounds about right. What’s your location?”

“Are you coming?”

“Obviously,” Tony says. “How else am I going to pick up my kid?”

“You kid-” Clint sputters, distracted by Peter pointing up at him. Peter giggles. Giggles.

“Now there’s- now there’s four of you.”

“The location, Barton?”

“Right,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll text it over. One sec.”

“Do you mind sticking with him?” Tony asks before he can disconnect the call. “I hate when he’s hurt all alone. Not good for gray hair, you know?”

Despite himself, Clint laughs. “Don’t worry Tony. I’ll watch over him.”

“No more bombs,” Tony says, “capiche?”

“See you soon, Stark.”

Clint hangs up and sends Tony a pin of their location before refocusing on Peter. The kid’s eyes are closed, his head resting on his shoulder.

“Hey!” Clint snaps, shaking Peter once more. “No sleeping for kid’s whose heads are actively bleeding.”

Peter twitches awake. “What?”

“Eyes open. Tony will be here soon.”

“Ah crap.”

“What is it?”

“He’s gonna yell at me. Might get grounded.”

Clint huffs out a laugh. “What is he, your dad or something?”

“Yeah,” Peter says with a delirious smile. Then he gains some coherency with a loud gasp. “I mean no! No, he’s not. Definitely not. God, my brain is scrambled right now.”

There’s a warmth growing in Clint’s navel. Blame it on paternal instincts, but he picks strands of the boy’s unruly hair out of the mess of blood on his forehead. “Whatever you say, kid.”

“Don’t tell him I said that please.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering you saved my life just now.”

Peter smiles. Clint smiles, too.

A familiar blast of repulsors precedes the heavy clang of iron against cement. Clint turns to find Tony walking up to them, his face plate lifted as his eyes soak in Peter’s crumpled body. He crouches beside them, and only after Tony is sure Peter is awake and breathing does he regard Clint with a nod. “Crazy night?” he asks.

“You could say that.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter slurs, raising his fist towards him. “We were just talking about you!”

To Clint’s surprise, Tony bumps Peter’s fist with his own. “Good things, I hope. Now, how about we go get that fountain in your head stitched up?”

“Fountain?”

“Hang tight.”

Tony scoops Peter up in one fluid motion. Peter melts into the hold, his eyes losing their battle to stay open. They land on Clint one last time, though the gaze is unfocused. “Nice to… nice to meet you Mr. Hawkeye sir.”

Clint sends him off with a short salute. “Thanks for the help, Spider-Man.”

“Oh. Oh, anytime.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. “See you around, Barton.”

And just as Tony launches up into the sky, Clint swears he hears Peter’s excited voice once more. “This was the coolest night ever!”

#febuwhump #febuwhump day 1 #febuwhump 2022 #diabolik lovers #tony stark #clint barton #irondad fic #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

what is and what should never be [bucky barnes]

A/n: ok, so. Im really fucking insecure about this. I literally poured my heart into this fic. I'm genuinely unhappy with the beginning, but I promise you, it gets better!! I don't have it in me to rewrite it for the 4th time. I really hope you'll still like it though. If you ask me, this is the best fic idea I even had. Please, please, if you enjoyed it, let me know!!!

Summary: It was you and Bucky. An unlikely couple that shared equally disturbed pasts. When you get a day off, your paradise turns into hell as Bucky's nightmares return, leaving you alone to deal with The Winter Soldier. (FLUFF, SMUT, ANGST) 12k

Warnings: 2 smut scenes - they're graphic but not extreme, fluff, angst, violence, mentions of death and suicide, blood, a fight scene - also quite graphic but it was written to serve the angst. I don't want to spoil the ending, but if you really connect with the characters, you will not hate me!!

This day had been long awaited. After months of back to back missions and endless efforts to climb up the greasy pole of US social standards, words failed to describe how ecstatic you were to know, that for the next 24 hours, your whole schedule would fully be in your hands.

You had the freedom to do just about anything you wanted, and the simple fact that the rest of the avengers left to deal with some paperwork excited you to no end. You woke up when it was time for them to take off, and made a snarky remark about heading to the gym - something along the lines of having a productive day centered on self development.

Just about 20 minutes later, you and Bucky, now also alone in the Stark Tower, decided to start off your day on the right foot. He offered to make protein smoothies as you changed into something comfortable and fitting for a workout, but neither of you got their job done.

You had no idea how that happened, but before you knew it you were wearing your sports bra and still had your pajama pants on, moaning on the counter of Tony's kitchen as Bucky had lodged himself between your legs, hungrily exploring the heated skin of your neck, peppering you with bruise marks that represented his adoration for you. "You heal fast anyway" he shrugged, pulling you closer and digging his teeth into your flesh, sucking profusely and eliciting an erotic moan from your lips.

With every new hickey he left, another one would disappear, which in turn would make him even more frustrated, “The hell should I do? Tattoo hickeys on you!?” he groaned, moving up your neck. You caught his cheeks into your palms and kissed him back, smiling as he kept getting more and more aggravated.

It didn't come as a surprise when the blender went berserk, splattering fruit pulp, almond milk and protein powder all over the pristine walls of the room - both of you have long forgotten about it.

The way Bucky cleaned the mess was the epitome of not giving a shit, and you couldn't find it more endearing. He bitched and whined his way through the whole process, and tears formed at the corners of your eyes at the ridiculousness of the half assed job he just did.

You eventually reached the gym - of course, against all your pouting and begging to put off this session. "Doll, you're the only avenger who can't fight. A punk on the street could snap your purse and there would be nothing you can do"

Wrong, he was not. You couldn't fight - but at the same time that didn't mean you were defenceless. It was your immense power that for months on end made your teammates consider you a liability. The energy that surged through your veins had been too great for you to handle, and in fact, it still was, but now, thanks to the joined efforts of Tony and Bruce, there was a way for that power to be contained. Their solution came in the form of two massive shackles wrapped around the length of your forearms. They were made of dimeritium and kept all kinds of energy from leaving your body. But, even so, that energy was in full form, buzzing inside every fiber of your being. And so, while wearing them you couldn't attack anyone, but there wasn't a way for them to harm you either. That field of energy protected you from every kind of damage and wounds you had ever encountered, ranging from fist fights to automatic rifles to guided grenades.

"I'm the only one that doesn't need to know" you huffed and puffed, annoyed but still determined to get this first training session done with.

But that never happened. Halfway through your warm up rounds, your teasing side awoke and it took you about ten minutes to go from batting your eyelashes and flaunting your ass, to nonchalantly cupping his cock into your hand.

No one could blame Bucky for not even trying to stop you. Bless him, he did everything he could, but he was never able to resist you. And probably never will be.

By the time you were done at the gym, both your bodies were coated in lecherous layers of sweat, no of them being from actually working out. It was only a matter of time until you managed to break his self control and he had you sprawled on all fours in the middle of the boxing ring, moaning your soul out as he pounded your pussy.

The momentum made your whole frame rock back and forth, your hair falling around your face, "Holy fuck-"

The room vibrated with the vulgar slaps he afflicted on your bare ass. You arched your back and cried his name out loud, "Come on, Bucky- I- harder please-"

"How are you already so needy?" he chuckled, caging your waist between his strong arms and pulling you up until your back reached his chest. "I ate this pussy this morning before we got out of bed"

"You know I love your tongue-" you giggled out of breath as you tried to look at him over your shoulder. "But it doesn't compare to your cock"

"What does?" Bucky rhetorically questioned before picking up his pace. He kept slamming his hips into yours, fucking you at full force as with each thrust, his cock rammed against your walls hard enough to make you see stars.

"I'm really fucking close, Buck" you whined, feeling your knees start to refuse to maintain your weight any longer.

"Don't cum yet" he panted, "Wait for me"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you cried out loud, liquid pleasure seeping out of you in the form of fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "Please-" you whined, "I can't hold it anymore, I'm-"

"Not yet, baby" Bucky groaned, easily stopping you from wiggling around in his hold. His thrusts became sloppy and the orgasm got the best of him. He buried his face deep in your shoulder as his high forced guttural moans to rip from his throat.

As he filled you up with his cum, as much as you wanted to comment about him making you wait and then not even bothering to tell you you could cum, you couldn't. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your chest heaved as the spiral of bliss seemed to go on and on, tons of ecstasy propagating in long painful waves across your body.

"Fuck-" Bucky panted as helped you up, "I could get used to days like this. We should retire"

"I'm not retiring-" you teasingly shook your head, "not until you find a way to give me a baby"

"I'd give you all the babies" he retorted, tugging your hand.

It caused you to lose your balance and stumble into his chest, "I love you"

"Love you" Bucky kissed the top of your head and spun you around. With his palms on your hips, he started guiding you towards the door, "Let's get you cleaned up"

And then, another wave of unproductivity followed. You showered, ordered pizza, whined about how there was still some smoothie left on the floor, and after you warned him about it, your face fell as Bucky stepped directly in the middle of the puddle of almond milk. He was fuming, the incident wiped any traces of happiness off his face. He mumbled something about that being the last pair of comfy socks he had left and something about Tony's devices being a constant pain in the ass.

He went on and on until you ambushed him with kisses up his neck and shoved your hands under his shirt. In an instant his bickering turned into soft giggles as he innocently relaxed under your touch. You eventually cleaned up the mess and tried to make yourself busy. Nothing worked, you weren't in the mood for anything and at the same time, even though you did absolutely nothing all day, you felt a wave of tiredness envelop you.

At about 4pm, and you Bucky had already been lazily laying in bed, a mess of tangled limbs under the fluffy duvet. Your conversation started from the tactical gear he swore would look better on you than on him and then wondered how you didn't know how to sow.

"I'll hit you" you threatened.

"I'm sorry" he laughed, holding onto your forearm as it was resting on his chest, "But you know how much I love it when you get angry at my misogynistic jokes"

"It's rude" you scoffed - you didn't mean his jokes, but the fact that when he grew up, women were not anywhere near where they are today.

"You know I don't mean it"

"I know you don't" you laughed, "Otherwise I'd have actually hit you"

"Don’t worry" Bucky said, "I'd hit myself if I was that stupid"

"Cute" you smiled, kissing his shoulder. Looking up at him, you promoted your chin against his chest, "Do you miss it? The 40s i mean"

He thought about it for a second. "Nah" there was a bit of nostalgia in his tone, but you believed him. "I've kinda made my peace with the fact that everyone from my old life is gone. I wouldn't want to go back now. I got you. I got all of you guys. I'm good now, really good"

"I'm glad" you beamed, feeling yourself warm up from the inside just thinking of the progress he made. After a few seconds, you spoke up again, "But what about the society? Like the day to day life? How do you like the 2010s?"

"I can't lie" Bucky laughed, "I liked Romania better. Much simpler."

"You lived in a dead beat apartment, hiding everyday" you scoffed, "How was that better?"

"I don't know… maybe it was the simple life. Apparently I'm all about that"

"You'd move back there?"

"If you came with me?" he questioned, looking down at you. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn’t even think twice"

"Maybe one day" you sighed with content. You snuggled back against his side, and closed your eyes. "We're not done avenging yet" you mumbled.

He didn't say anything to that. You didn't know whether he was getting lost in thoughts or if he was starting to drift off, but you would have been fine with either. When he spoke up again, you didn't expect the conversation to take this route.

"About Romania…" he sighed, "What made you come with Steve back in 2016?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean-" he muttered, rubbing his light stubble, "I know why Steve came-" Bucky chuckled, "And Sam's all up his ass, so there's that. But what about you?"

"I-"

"I'm aware of the rift I caused between you guys back then. So that's why I'm asking. What made you stand by Steve from the beginning?"

"I knew how much you meant to him. And I know how this is going to sound, but I felt sorry for you, Buck. I know what it's like to be alone, to have everyone turn against you. You deserved better"

"Love-?" he called softly, his voice nearly breaking. "What do you mean you know what it's like to have everyone turn against you?"

As you maintained the eye contact, you felt tears prickle, "I know it wasn't fair of me to keep my past a secret, but-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-" he said softly, his eyes warm. The pain was readable on his features, he hated how your whole demeanour changed.

"It's not that I don't want you to know, it's just that I hate talking about it. Gives me nightmares."

"Then we can just drop it" Bucky murmured, gathering you closer.

"I wish you could know without me telling you" you laughed, "You make everything better and easier. I should've told you, I know. It isn't fair to you. We've been together for almost two years but as far as you're concerned I didn't exist until I joined the avengers. I don't even know how much they know. We never talked about it"

"Love, listen to me. I'm here whenever you want to talk about it. You didn't do anything wrong. There are a lot of things about me that you don't know either. We're not those people anymore. No one can blame us for trying to escape out past"

"Yeah, you're right" you sighed.

Gathering your power, you pushed yourself up and settled beside him, with your legs crossed. You grabbed his hand pulling it into your lap, and intertwined your fingers with his as you spoke.

"Forget the official story, there's no truth to it anyway"

"I really didn't believe your mum was a criminal and that you were in a mental asylum" he joked.

"Good-" you smiled, his words lifting the atmosphere a bit. "Truth is, I don't know anything about my parents. But I have my assumptions. I grew up in that soviet facility so I never met them. I was told it was owned by a group of socialite scientists who wanted our help"

"Our? Who's we?"

"There were 7 of us"

"Did they have the same power as you?"

"Approximately. When we were younger, we used to comply and do everything we were told but as we grew up, things started to change. We weren't happy. Who could be? Considering we were being held in cells and studied like lab rats. We started to act differently and some might even say we tried to rebel, but that didn't work obviously, and that's when the restrictions began. For the last 3 years I spent there, there hadn't been a day where the temperature passed 0°C."

Your skin crawled as you recaled the endless nights you spent shivering your way to sleep. Everything around you was ice cold. But it wasn't for the sole purpose of torturing you. It was your only weakness. As the temperature dropped, so did the movement of the atoms that made up your body - eliminating your powers to the point where you were barely alive.

"One day, as spring came, we wanted to break out. We made a plan, and figured that as soon as we were out, we'd be fine. We were wrong. We were off about the weather and they got us before we even exited the perimeter. That's when the avengers heard about us."

By now, Bucky's eyes were wide with genuine curiosity, his mouth agape as he took in the information you provided. With every word you spoke his grip tightened around your fingers and his eyebrows gathered even further. There was discomfort and anger in his features, but he didn't interrupt you once.

"After that, the restrictions got tougher. We realised there was no way out. A lot of things came together in that small time frame. I realised what that place actually was days after we tried to escape. My friends - or that's what I thought they were, figured out another plan. Why fight when you can just eliminate the premise?"

Bucky moved his lips but no words came out. He cleaned his throat and sat up a bit, "What- what do you mean?"

"They tried to kill me" you said, plastering a sympathetic smile on your lips, hoping it would make it easier for him to hear.

"What the fuck. Why?"

"I think my dad used to be part of that team. And I think he made me the way I am. Now I don't know why he wasn't around anymore, but that team wasn't trying to get us to do anything. They were trying to make more of me. So if I was dead-"

"There would be no reason to keep the other kids…" Bucky finished the sentence for you.

You nodded.

"And what happened?"

You bowed your head trying to find a way to put your words together. Bucky didn't rush you, just reassuringly rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, waiting. When a tear from your cheek slipped and landed on the back of his hand, you looked up and took a deep breath. "I killed them. All of them."

He didn't say anything. Didn’t move a muscle, as he waited for you to continue.

"I didn't even want to do that, Buck" you sobbed, breaking down. "I killed over 20 people because I was afraid. I didn't even move. I was in the corner of my room the whole time, but everyone who approached me was fried to death. I don't even know how I did that. I was just scared"

"Oh, baby" Bucky cooed, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around you. You fell against his chest, crumbling in his embrace. "I hope you know that was not your fault, ok?" he asked, rubbing your back. "You were just a kid, alone and afraid. It breaks my fucking heart, those bastards. Please don't feel sorry for them"

"I feel sorry for the other kids"

"They tried to kill you, Y/n" Bucky countered, "If you hadn't killed them, I would've gone after them. All of them"

"They were desperate..."

"So were you!"

"I can't help but feel like a monster sometimes, you know? Like I'm reckless and out of control. There are times when I'm all happy and excited about what tomorrow would bring, and then i remember what I did, and I have a hard time fighting away the thoughts that try to tell me I don't deserve that"

"What you deserve is the fucking world ok?" Bucky said, tilting your chin so you could see just how serious he was. "This past couple of years, you saved hundreds of lives and I know for a fact you did it out of the pure kindness of your heart, not because you wanted to make up for anything in the past. You're a fucking angel. You're the embodiment of good, you hear me? I know you. You'll never understand how much respect I have for you, and how in awe I am with the kind of person you are. Please, don't ever think less of yourself. Ever, ok?"

Tears rolled down your cheeks as his words proved to be much more than you were able to hear at that moment. "Thanks, Buck. That's sweet of you to say-"

"It's not sweet of me to say, it's the fucking truth" he scoffed, but he somehow managed to make it sound loving. "You didn't even fucking try, but just being around you made me feel like a person again. You're amazing, Y/n. We're all lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You're gonna make me cry" you sniffled, curling yourself into a ball against his chest, "I know you were in a dark place when we met. I'm glad I managed to help you through it"

"You pulled me through it" he sighed, tightening his hold around you. "I went from wanting to die, to thinking that I didn't even deserve the easy way out. Look at me now."

"Buck, stop"

"I love you so fucking much" Bucky laughed.

His whole frame shook as he pulled you back down, safely holding you between his arms, "You're amazing" he added, kissing the top of your head, "Perfect"

"I said, stop" you chuckled, slapping his side, "I get it, you like me, can we-"

"I adore you" Bucky cut you off after grabbing the sides of your face between his palms. "And thanks for trusting me. I know it wasn't easy for you to talk about your past, so thank you. I'm always here for you. If there's anything ever, I got you, ok? Forever"

"I got you too" you added, kissing his cheek and then moving along his jawline, "No matter what happens, you'll always have me on your side. I'm all yours, Bucky"

"Yeah, you are, doll. All mine"

After that talk, how you managed to fall into a deep sleep will always remain a mystery. Nightmares didn't make their way into your mind, and you settled for a dreamless slumber, actually fully content for the first time in a long while.

But not everybody processed grief the same way. And if Bucky mentioned earlier that he was lucky to have you, as you were pulled out of your sleep, you realised that he wasn't as lucky as you were when it came to the mysteries that creep up on you when you least expect them.

"Wake up sunshine"

The sound reached your ears, but it wasn't Bucky's voice, so you just groaned in response and rolled over to the other side, completely pressing your face into the pillow.

"Buttercup, it's time to wake up"

The voice seemed uneasy, as if the person speaking was actually terrified. You opened your eyes wearily, and were met with the usual, complete darkness of your room.

"Come on, Y/n" they spoke again. You turned to see one of Tony's maintenance robots hovering above your body, one small screen lit up on its front. Blinking a few times to rid yourself of the sleep still lingering in your eyes, you managed to make out the faces of Tony and Steve, both staring at you.

"What's going on?" you mumbled.

"You've got incoming," Tony announced, and then shook his head at whatever someone next to him had said. The microphone wasn't performant enough for you to hear what the other person said, but it was not like you cared.

"Incoming what?" you questioned, still confused out of your mind.

He turned his attention back to you, "The asshole"

You frowned and Steve scoffed, "Y/n, it's Bucky. He's not well"

"Wh-" you mumbled, your head snapping to the side, only then realising his side of the bed was empty. You shuffled your arm around the sheets, still warm. "What- what happened?"

"He's gone rogue, Y/n" Steve announced, genuine worry and guilt audible in his voice, "You need to make sure he doesn't leave. You need to stop him"

Tony's workstation. You needed to get the shackles off your arms if you wanted to stand a chance, "Tony? How do I take these off?" you asked, pointing to your cuffs.

"Already taken care off" he nodded, "Get to my desk, it's unlocked. All you need to do is actually get there. If you can"

"If I can-?" you began asking, but a loud explosion sound cut you off, causing the bed to shake as a wind blew through your room. "What the fuck!?"

"He may have found the grenade launchers" Tony smiled bitterly.

"Y/n," Steve called for you, "Please, be careful. And call us. Me and Nat will take the jet but I don't know-"

"Don't worry" you shook your head, jumping off the bed and rushing to your closet. You chose the first clothes you saw laying before your eyes and put them on, ready to go look for Bucky. "I got this, I promise"

"Oh, and Y/n?" Tony said, making you turn to him at the last minute, "Try not to fry my tower"

You nodded and refrained from making any promises you didn't know you could keep.

As soon as you walked out the door, the sound of automatic rifles going off became deafening. Stepping over piles of broken glass, you made your way to the emergency staircase, heading to Tony's lab. You did so with maximal caution, knowing that if you were spotted, there would be no going back.

Descending the last remaining flight of stairs until his work station, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, knowing just how close you were. Silently rounding the corner, your eyes landed on Bucky's frame, easily holding one of the remaining SHIELD agents up by the neck.

He turned to look at you, eyes cold and empty. Not even rage. There was nothing there. No expression, no empathy, no feeling. It was as if he was dead. This wasn't him.

"Buck-" you panted, raising your hands up in the air, signaling surrender. You eyed Tony's desk, determined to stall him until you managed to free yourself of the cuffs.

You took a cautious step to the side, hands still up in the air. Bucky watched you as the man struggled against his hold, legs spasming uncontrollably as he kicked and squirmed, even though it was so clearly in vain.

"Don’t mind me-" you smiled, sweat flooding your pores as you slowly approached your destination. "I'll just-"

"You'll just what-?" Bucky groaned, flinging his victim with impeccable ease. The agent's body flew across the room, crushing into the only device that had the power to help you get through this. As the work station crumpled under his weight, so did your hopes of getting out of this.

"Bucky, hey-" you mumbled, afraid of pissing him off, "I-"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he frowned, starting to march towards you. Your blood ran cold, knowing you didn't have what it took to keep up with him. You were never able to dodge anyone's blows, let alone his. When he reached you, his hand instantly reached around your neck, lifting you off the floor, "SHIELD?" he asked after taking a look at your attire. Although not carrying the emblem, it was probably the only explanation that made sense to him.

"Well, um-" you huffed, holding onto his wrist in hopes of not running out air, "No, not SHIELD"

"Then who are you?" he growled, tightening his hold on your windpipe.

"Fuck-" you gasped, kicking your legs, even through he didn't even flinch when you hit him. "You're not gonna believe this but, um-"

"Try me"

You looked into his eyes, hoping it would serve as some kind of a memento, that maybe he'd remember you. "You know me, Buck. It's Y/n, I'm- your girlfriend?"

Even saying it made you feel weird. This killing machine, apparently hell bent on wrecking havoc, was not the man you loved, and you cringed just imagining his reaction to hearing your words.

And it did turn out to be worse than expected, as he spun around, doing a complete 180° with your body before slamming you down on the floor. The wood cracked under your bones, knocking the wind out of you. The pain of the impact was excruciating, propagating along your body in waves of some physical agony you had never felt before. The sound of your bones cracking made you sick to your stomach. Your ears caught the sound of your arteries being torn as your organs collapsed.

And if you felt every inch of your body being shattered and destroyed, it was God's way of making you pay for your parent's mistakes, as when your wounds healed mere seconds later, the pain did not go away. Your nerve receptors still registered damage to the tissues, and no matter whether you were actually as good as new, your brain couldn't process that.

What consumed you the most was the fact that as you struggled to stand up, the pain of broken limbs lingered on. But you fought through it, gathered yourself and stood up, facing him again.

You winced with every muscle contraction, but eventually your eyes met his. He showed curiosity, along with something else. Something else which you wished wasn't determination to finish you.

"Can we-" you whimpered, extending a hand, "Can we talk?"

"Talk!?" Bucky raged, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm to the point where he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest. "Not here to talk" he growled into your ear.

The hairs on your body stood as you heard his voice. Even though it was technically the same voice you loved more than anything in the world, it made you now shiver with a fear you've never experienced before.

You didn't get a chance to sink too deep in your thoughts before Bucky raised your arm, dislocating your shoulder and busting your humerus into pieces. The pain cut your legs at the knees and you screamed in agony, falling to the floor at his feet.

"Stand up" he commanded, slamming his foot into your side. The momentum made your body roll away, until you settled back on the ground, face deep in the rubble. Your muscles pulled you to your feet with ease, but the pain coursing through you was immense, nowhere near close to what you thought bearable. You felt the skin being ripped from your body and when you looked down, your clothes were torn, soaked in blood, but your skin was intact. It was what you needed to keep going - to get inside your head the fact that you were fine, because at this point, the pain was one bruise away from making you faint.

"Bucky, please-" you cried.

"Stop calling me Bucky!" he yelled, starting to approach you again.

With every step he took, you slowly backed away. "Please, listen to me, just a second, please!"

He shook his head no, a demented smile on his lips as he closed in on you.

"Bucky-"

As a reply to your question, his fist flew up, slamming into your jaw, hard enough to throw you to the ground, "Why do you keep calling me-"

"What else do you want me to call you, huh?" you yelled at him, vision blurred under too many layers of tears. "Tell me, and I'll do it if it'll get you to listen to me."

"I don't want you to call me anything-" he cocked his head to the side, unstrapping a handgun from his thigh. He loaded it as you barely managed to crawl away, "You can take the pain. I respect that. Let's see how well you do with these lead bullets"

You saw them in slow motion, barely managing to duck your head behind the remains of what once was a heavy wooden bookshelf. The bullets missed your chest and face, but you saw them, felt them penetrate your skin, ripping through your muscles.

The sound of your tissues being pulled to shreds made you feel sick to your stomach. As the bullets left your body, your wounds closed back up, leaving you a crying mess on the floor. Your throat constricted due to the wave of shock that hit your body, and your lungs started hyperventilating. Lightheaded and gasping for air, you struggled to crawl away from him, tears marching down your face and ending up on the floor, nothing but diluting the droplets of blood that had fallen from your body mere minutes before. Your heart was in overdrive and your vision blurred as every fiber of your being threatened to let you down. "Please-" you screamed, your voice breaking as you raised your hand for him, "Let's talk, please. That's all I want. Give me a minute"

But he didn't. He didn't even consider it. Instead, the force that controlled the body of the only man that ever managed to make you feel safe, tortured, destroyed and consumed your body for what felt like the better part of an eternity.

You had been thrown through walls, shattered windows, had glass shards lodged into your body from all angles. He unloaded cannon after cannon on you, used up all the ammo he had on him, only growing more and more annoyed when you refused to give up.

There was no way to know how much time had passed. Now you were standing by the window, inches away from the spot where two nights ago, you and Bucky clicked your glasses, smiling at how far you both had come. He laughed, saying he wouldn't have made it without you. And then he kissed you, confessing that the thought that maybe you couldn't have made it without him either, was what kept him going.

And then there you were. 48 hours later, again, just the two of you. But now there weren't any champagne glasses between you, just his metal arm, wrapped around your neck, this time, as he said, for the last time.

"I don't get it-" he scowled, teeth gritted and frustration in his voice, "Why don't you fight me?"

"I can't fight you" you whimpered as your tears poured down against his cold hand, "And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"WHY?" Bucky screamed, and for a second, you thought you saw a crack there, a glister of emotion hidden deep in his otherwise beautiful eyes.

"Because I love you" you cried.

But there was none. He rolled his eyes and pushed you back, your body slamming into the window. You should've thought faster, been more witty and considerate, but terror washed over you and in the heat of the moment, you grabbed onto him for dear life, pulling him down with you, plummeting to the ground from what looked like the 70th floor of the Stark Tower.

If until now you had been afraid of what you'd have to endure, it was now that you met true terror. You'd survive the fall, but he wouldn't.

Even in the air, approaching the ground at a dangerous speed, he kept fighting you. Even in this state, you admired his determination - he had a job and wanted to get it done - even if that job was killing you. A man of his word.

By now, the pain was unnoticeable. If you wanted to keep him alive you had to act fast. Clinging to his body despite his vicious protests and ruthless blows, you used your momentum to turn the two of you around. And you did so at the last second, as before you knew it, your bodies crashed into the boulevard below, sinking down into the asphalt as it crumpled under your weight.

The impact cut your breath away and there was a gnawing feeling all over your body, as if you had blades under your skin, pulling your body apart fiber by fiber. But you snapped out of it.

"Bucky!" you yelled, slapping his cheek.

He had fallen completely on top of you, his head pressed against your chest. He didn't move and the continuous buzz in your ears made it physically impossible for you to tell whether he was breathing for not.

"Bucky, please-" you cried, trying to move him so you could see his face.

Nothing.

"No, no, no!!" you screamed, "You can't die, baby, please! Not like this, love. Please come back to me, Buck, I'm begging you!!"

You remained there and wailed, with him glued to your chest. Your arms had wrapped around his motionless frame, keeping him as close as you could. Nothing could have gotten you to stop. Tens of people gathered around the crater your fall created around your bodies, police showed up, cameras were pointed at your faces, but you didn't care. If he died, so would you.

"You're all I have, baby-" you muttered, voice hoarse and dry from all the wailing and crying, "Please, you can't leave me. This can't be the end of us. Please, I don't know what to do, Bucky, please!"

You were soaked. In blood, and you didn't even know whether it was his or yours. God, how you hoped it all belonged to you, how the pool of blood you laid in was all yours. Tears soaked your face, pouring down your temples as your whole frame shook with your sobs, that was the true agony. You'd rather spend the rest of your days fighting for your life if it meant he got to see the sun again. You wished he'd hate you, rather than not feel anything at all ever again.

"Please-" you said again but this time your voice didn't even reach your own ears, you didn't hold that power anymore, "Please, you need to come back! You deserve so much better than this. You're the best man I have even known, you can't die like this, not today, Bucky. Not today!"

By now, the people around you had scattered. They knew your identities and for all the wrong reasons, feared you both. You were grateful for that now, you were alone with him again, as the sun began to set and a chilly New York night began to settle.

Still, you didn't move. You still had faith. Or you were just stubborn. There was no way you'd pull away until someone either pried him off of you against your will, or someone that you trusted showed up promising they'd help.

None of them came, and you remained there, cradling his frame to your chest begging whatever God was listening, to bring him back. You didn't know if one of them heard you, or if it was just blind luck or fate, but you only realised his metal arm was lodged under your body when he moved it.

"Buck!" you cried, cupping his cheeks in your bloodied palms as literal life cursed through your veins. "Oh god, you're ok, you're alive!! You came back to me!"

You managed to hug him close one more time, before he pushed himself off of you. In the process of standing up, his eyes met yours for the briefest second. Again, nothing.

He gathered himself to his feet, wordlessly bending down to grab your hair. He forced you up and you instantly obliged, following him back into the building.

Once inside, he knocked you through a glass door, your body once again absorbing his fury. The pain had dissipated into a dull ache, and this time, you stood up faster. "I can do this all day" you sighed, the lie slipping past your lips with such ease, as if the energy inside your core wasn't running dangerously low.

"What did you just say?" he questioned.

He seemed taken aback, "I said that I can do this all day"

"Who are you?" Bucky yelled, marching towards you, determined to get answers out of you through nothing else but brute force. He slammed you back onto the floor, only to straddle your thighs and pick you up by the collar of your shit. "Why won't you just fucking die!?"

Circling your fingers around his wrists, you searched for his eyes, "Wanna know what keeps me alive?"

"Are you stupid enough to tell me?"

"I might be" you shook your head, "but I'll still tell you"

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't kill me" you cried, "I know you know me. I know you're in there somewhere. The man I love. I know you don't have it in you to kill me"

"Try me" he laughed, drunk with the power you were so willing to give him.

"These-" you panted, raising your arms in the air to show him your cuffs, "These are what's been keeping me alive but I know you won't-"

But you never finished the sentence. He didn't even think twice before ripping them off your arms and throwing them onto the floor, along with all the other mess you two had made.

You never thought he'd actually spare you. So it wasn't a surprise when the first thing he did after freeing you, was reach for his knife with the sole purpose of driving it through your chest.

But you were faster. You framed his face into your palms, releasing the energy from your body and allowing it to flow through his. It felt weird, wrong and chaotic, and the power surge wiggled itself out of your control, until a blast between your bodies sent you both flying back across the room, falling down onto the floor.

And this time none of you stood up.

"I leave them alone for what, a day?" Tony sighed, walking out of his Iron Man suit.

"Holy shit!" Steve cried out, his knees betraying him as he tried to rush to you.

"No, wait!" Nat stopped him, "You can't wake them up until we get them somewhere safe. We need to make new cuffs for Y/n, and find a way to keep Bucky contained in case, you know… he's still not Bucky"

Steve was fuming with anger, nostrils flaring, "These are my friends you're talking about!" he exclaimed, pointing to your bodies on the floor, "Your friends too, Nat. You see them like this and the first thing you think about is restraining them!?"

"We need to make sure we're all safe" she sighed with sympathy, grabbing his hand for a comforting rub.

"You make sure you're safe-" Steve scoffed, "I'll make sure they're alive"

"Hey-" Nat stopped him, "If you touch her and startle her in any way, you die!"

Her words hurt him but he knew you never would. Steve felt his heart shutter just imaging what you must have gone through. He was ablaze with pure determination to prove Nat wrong, and to do right by you and Buck. "I carried her in my arms while she was passed out when we rescued her from that facility-" he fummed, pointing at you, "She never knew a man that didn't try to hurt her before. And when she woke up, she was afraid. Scared for her life. She cried in my arms and begged me to not let them take her again! She was never anywhere close to hurting me! She's good. So good. There's only good inside of her, I trust her to not hurt me more than I trust myself, ok? If I'm wrong, so be it. I die. I don't care. She deserves someone to look after her. If I had to chose, saving her would be the way I'd want to go"

His rant left Nat speechless. She just gave him a simple nod and stepped back.

Carefully, he picked you up and carried you upstairs, as Tony put his suit back on and carried Bucky.

Never in your life had you woken up this fast. Your eyes snapped open and you sprung to your feet. 3 pairs of anxious eyes watched you, all of them ready to jump into action in case the situation called for an intervention.

"What-" you gawked, scanning the room, "Where is Bucky? Is he- is-"

"He's fine, Y/n" Steve assured you. He stood up and slowly approached you, arms outstretched. Your first instinct was to go for it, but when you reached him, you placed both your hands in his, and looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Are you sure?" you whimpered, "Can I see him?"

Sympathy took over his features, but Tony jumped in, "Absolutely not"

"What-" you turned to him, "Why? Did I-?"

"You didn't do anything wrong" Steve hummed, engulfing you in a hug even though you remained stiff in your spot. He rubbed your back, eager to soothe your worried mind, but you were too out of it.

“Can I just go?” you whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could see how serious you were, “I need to see him, please”

“Are you mad at him?” Nat asked with caution and your face fell.

“No!” you gasped, stepping away from Steve’s embrace, “No, not even one bit. I know that was not him, I know it’s not his fault. But when Bucky wakes up-”

“If he wakes up-” Tony sneered, roaming around the room. He nursed a glass of whiskey, as a mixture of disgust and exhaustion was readable on his features.

“When he wakes up!” you spoke through gritted teeth. Determination coated your words and the hairs on your body stood as you refused to even think of the alternative. “He will wake up. And I have to be there”

“What if the Winter Soldier wakes up?” Nat asked.

“That didn’t stop me last time”

“Oh, no!” Tony butted in, stepping in between you and Nat, arms outstretched, “You know I’m not one to cry after money, but you and your pal left me with $37 million worth of damage. You two are one broken cup away from getting thrown into the streets”

The sum he mentioned made the skin on your back crawl. You didn’t even have $37 dollars to your name, but it made sense. Your body alone crashed through three TV’s, one gamma ray projector and if you thought about it, you remembered Bucky pulling apart one of the Iron Legion robots, and only the thought made you flinch.

“So-” Tony said, “You two? Never in the same room again!”

“Take these off then” you suggested, pointing at the cuff on your wrists.

“Ha” Tony exclaimed, “A big chunk of that money comes from you frying all my electronics up until the 12th floor. Absolutely not”

“Tony, I’m serious” you whined, “He will hate himself. I need to be there! I need to make sure he doesn’t take all the blame on his shoulders”

He frowned, and sighed. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, and you hoped that core deep inside his chest really made up for a heart. And… it did. None of them were happy about it, but they finally accepted. Nat and Tony would have never probably given up if it wasn’t for Steve - right now, like so many times before, he really did seem like your guardian angel.

They ended up monitoring the room, and Tony waited for your signal, one hand on his cigarette, the other on the Iron Man suit. He was all talk - if anything was to go down and you would actually be in danger again, he wouldn’t even think twice before tearing his towers into pieces if it meant he could get you out alive.

And so you left, thanked them in the form of a simple nod, and headed down the dark hallways.

Oh, how you hated this.

What consumed you now had nothing to do with the pain you had endured in the past 24 hours. Its source was not physical, yet your whole body ached. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders - and in some way, it was - Bucky was your whole world, and the fear of losing him breathed down your neck.

It had been about 20 minutes since you stopped in front of the door that led to the room he'd been confined in. When FRIDAY announced that Bucky woke up, you rushed over, only for a hazardous sense of anguish to stop you dead in your tracks. Judging by the way he sat in the corner of the room, his fingers aimlessly tracing every indentation in the handcuffs Tony had restrained him with, you had no problem telling which one of him woke up. He broke your heart. His room was equipped with 5 different cameras and 2 microphones. Completely unaware of them, he sat inches away from one, and your heart shattered, sinking 3 stories below when you heard him whimper.

It was soft and quiet. His whole frame shook as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He was hunched down, brown hair covering his perfect face, but still, his sadness brought you to tears.

You heard him again. He sniffled as he laid back against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, lips almost white and dry as his chest raced up and down. His muscles clenched and his feet bounced against the metal floor, it was a sight you never wished you see ever again.

Softly, you raised a hand, and thought twice before finally knocking.

"Go away," Bucky called, voice all hoarse and dry as it broke halfway through.

You were able to see him on the small screen next to the door, but he had no idea who came to visit.

Out of instinct, you knocked again before typing in the password and ever so slowly walking inside.

Instantly, he looked up. He was surrounded by an air of darkness and despair, ever so obviously tormented to the peak of his capability.

He stared at you for a few seconds as his eyes watered, and then he gathered his lips into a straight line, shaking his head. "Please, go"

"Bucky, I-"

"Please" he cried, head falling forward as he toyed with the metal edges of his prosthetic arm. He shook his head, "Please, don't do this. Just, go"

You took a deep breath, only then entering the room far enough to actually be able to close the door behind you. Slowly turning back to him, your palms sweated as you had no idea what to say to him.

"Can you talk to me, Buck? Please?"

He chuckled, "About what?"

"About whatever it is you think you did wrong, I-"

As he heard your words, his hands instantly flew up to cover his face. He was, however, stopped, as the cuffs on his left wrist kept him from moving too much. While a new row of tears flooded his cheeks, his eyes met yours, "Look at me.. I need to be restrained while you're alone with me"

"Those cuffs would literally do nothing to stop you from escaping, and you know it"

"Maybe it's just a sense of reassurance"

"To who?" you scoffed.

"To them" Bucky responded, nodding his head towards one of the cameras. "I'm a monster" he added, wiggling his cuff restrained hand, "I'm a danger to everyone"

"Oh for fucks sake" you rolled your eyes, marching up to him. With absolutely no remorse, you grabbed his hand and harshly pulled apart the metal that had him restrained to the bed. Before he got a chance to say anything, you bent down, unclipped the microphone from the foot of the bed, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it, until it was nothing but a small pile of shattered plastic.

And you kept going, destroying the second microphone along with the 5 cameras on the walls as Bucky watched you with surprise. You finished by going for the door and locking it from the inside. "You think I'm afraid of you?" you asked softly, "For 6 hours you did your best to kill me and failed miserably. Look at me, I'm unscathed"

"Did you hear yourself?" he cringed, shaking his head, "I tried to kill you"

"Ok, I know I said that you did your best-" you said, mentally scolding yourself for the error in communication. "We both know that wasn't you. That wasn't you, Buck. It was Hydra. It was the winter soldier, not you. My Bucky would never-"

"Y/n-" he stopped you, "I know you don't see things the way I do-"

"But I see them the right way"

"Listen-" Bucky sighed, driving his hands through his hair. For the first time that night you actually saw his full face, his cheek and signature scowl, his blue eyes and the tilt of the corner of his mouth - your soul melted when you associated the picture with the words that came out of his mouth. "I can't blame you for being here. I can't. If the roles were reversed, I'd be doing the exact same thing. But, holy fuck-" he sighed, pausing to gather his thoughts. Bucky looked you up and down. His lips quivered and his head fell to the side as a sad smile appeared on his lips. "Remember this morning? How we talked about our hypothetical child?" he laughed and shook his head, "Even if I know we could never have a kid because we're both sterile, it was still the most beautiful thought that ever crossed my mind, Y/n''

"Mine too, Buck-"

"And what did I do?" he dismissed your empathy, "Two hours later I was unloading an AK-47 into your stomach, like the brainwashed maniac that I am!"

"Don’t say that!" you exclaimed, "Don't you dare think about things like this!"

"Why wouldn't I?" he threw his hands up in the air, "What does it matter whose fault it is? I get to live with the consequences."

"But-" you breathed out, "We can work through this. You did it before. You can't let something that hydra did dictate your life, Bucky. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be happy!"

"I tried to kill you!" he screamed, for the first time losing his calm and standing up to be at the same level as you.

"That was not you!"

"So what?" he huffed, "I was there, Y/n! I will never, NEVER get the feeling of crushing your bones out of my head! I felt your neck snap! I choked you with my arms! That is not something I can live with! I can't live a life by your side if every time I look at you I'm reminded of those horrible things I did to you!"

"Buck-" you cried, looking at him from behind too many layers of unshed tears, "Please, don't say that"

"I'm sorry" he responded in the same fashion, his pain coating every word he said. "When I close my eyes I see you laying in a puddle of blood. I can't stop hearing your screams of agony. Agony that no matter how you put it, was caused by my hands. That's not something we can live with, Y/n. You were not made for this. You really do fucking deserve someone that won't wake up one day and try to murder you in cold blood"

"And what do you deserve, Buck?" you quietly asked, searching for his eyes, "To live your life alone? Forever? If you had been with anyone else, this would have turned out so much worse. That cute barista three blocks down that always scribbles a heart on your coffee cup? She's cute, yeah. You deserve to be loved by someone, but if that someone was her, you wouldn't be drowning in guilt right now, Bucky, you'd be mourning her. Yes, you got troubles. Yes, you've got a past more fucked up than anyone else I have ever heard about. That's the kind of shit you can't change. But whatever you do from now on, is in your fucking hands and yours alone. Don't try to tell me you're not worthy of having someone, because that's the fattest load of crap I've ever heard. You're a good man! With a fucked up past! And a dark side that you need to fight! And you have me! I don't care you dropped Tony's piano on my legs, apparently I can take it! I'm here for you no matter what! You don't want to be with me anymore? Fine. But don't you dare push me away, thinking that a ruined future makes up for a ruined past"

"Who's to say I won't try it again?" he asked, "I don't know what triggered the transition. But what if once a week I end up trying to kill you-"

"Apparently you can't!" you laughed bitterly.

"Ok, so I can't" he nodded in approval, "Is that what you want? I should be your rock, your best friend, I should always be there for you. Do you want to have your whole world turned upside down whenever my brain decides to go berserk?"

"See, Buck" you sighed, "Of course I don't want that. I can't fucking stand here and tell you that I do. What kind of credibility would I have then? But you know what I want? You. You and whatever nazi shit that comes along. I want you. To help you. To have you with me. To see you everyday. If every Saturday at 10am you decide you want to kill me, you best believe I'm sacrificing my morning coffee just so we can kung fu around the living room"

He looked at you for a long second, the corners of his lips fighting a hard battle against the hint of a smile that started to show on his features. Eventually he caved and chuckled, shaking his head, "That was a bit funny"

"And fucking true," you cried, going for his hands and bringing them up to your chest. He winced, but you spoke up again, determined to not let his mind torture him.

"I love you, Bucky"

"How do you not hate me?" he choked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can you seriously look at me and not get even the slightest instinct to run away?"

"Bucky..." you breathed out, cupping his cheek. "How could I run away when I've never seen you in more pain than right now?"

"You're an angel, you know that?"

"I've been called a lot of things" you giggled, "Angel isn't one of them, but if that's what you want, I'll take it"

"Come here" he whispered, wrapping his arms around your frame. He had you nuzzle against his chest, his hold keeping you tight and secure. His heart beat against your cheek and your eyes watered again. There wasn't one thing in the world you wouldn't do for that heart - to make sure it keeps beating, and that it keeps the man you love alive. And content, above all. All you wanted right now was for him to accept the things that happened. You wanted to take whatever weight he was carrying on his shoulders, and put it upon yourself. "I love you so much, Bucky" you cried against his chest as your hold tightened around him, "I hate to see you torn like this. I don't want anything to ever happen to you. It terrifies me. I love you with all that I am. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You deserve the world, baby"

"So do you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You felt his chest shake, a deep rumble echoed from the depths of his lungs. You looked up to see him fight back a sob, his eyes wide open, glossy and red, trained down on you, "I love you too much to do this, Y/n. I'm sorry, I don't think I can"

"No!" you gasped, pressing your face back against his shoulder, "Don't do that. You can't do that. No"

"We won't work, Y/n" Bucky said as he brought you even closer, "I can't look at you anymore. I can't look at you without dying inside. You don't want to live with me like that"

"Yes, I do!" you sobbed. "I'll work with anything you give me, I swear there is nothing more I want. Just you. Just you and me. Bucky, please don't do this"

He held you close for what felt like half a second, but rationally speaking, your legs were getting numb. You just stood there, clinging to his body, taking in his scent and listening to his breathing even out until he pushed you away. Oh, how you didn't want to let go. Ever. But you did, and choked back a sob as soon as you felt the cold air of the room brush against the part of your body that had been pressed to his.

"We should get some sleep, Y/n"

"Are you coming with me?" you whimpered, afraid of the answer he might give you.

Bucky shook his head, "I think I'll just sleep here tonight"

That broke you. The shock and terror cut your breath away. It felt impossible - the feeling of losing him. The amount of pain that surged through you. At that particular moment, you felt like cracking your chest open to grip your heart into your hand and pick apart the broken parts. But not even that felt good enough, you were fairly sure you'd be left with nothing. It felt like a slap across your cheek, like a cloth had been placed over your mouth and your legs cut at the knees. It felt like the end.

Optimistic by nature, not even you could deny the reason he wanted to sleep alone. It was clear as day.

"If-" you mumbled, tears coating your face at their own free will, voice shaking as you barely managed to articulate the words over the violent sobs that ripped their way out of your throat. "If I promise to not do anything to try and convince you to stay… can you promise me that in case you decide to leave, you'll come and tell me first?"

"Oh, doll" Bucky broke down all over again, throwing himself at you again. He collapsed on top of you, molding his body around yours. "I promise, angel"

You just nodded. That was all you could do. It took another few moments for you to gather yourself and stop wailing, but you did, and then, with nothing else other than a sad smile, you left.

Your feet carried you to your room, and you were ready to collapse on top of your bed. Eager to cuddle into his pillows. They smelled like that shower gel you got him and you hated it. You wanted his scent. Not even caring how ridiculous it sounded, you padded over to the chair in the corner of your bedroom, the one Bucky uses to discard all his worn clothes.

You wanted to find a shirt he wore, one that smelled exactly like you knew him, but before you reached the clothes pile, your attention was drawn to the window.

Steve was standing there, facing the busy streets outside, hands in his pocket and his head turned in your direction.

"I didn't see you, sorry" you gasped, as your eyes accommodated to the darkness.

"It's fine" he shook his head, "I just figured you'd turn on the lights, you know, like the normal people. Didn't think I'd scare you"

"Yeah, sorry" you sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "I did even think about turning the lights on"

He didn't say anything, but you saw him nod. He knew your pain. He lost enough in his life, and seeing his best friend sink back into his darkness was surely not easy for him either.

"Is he ok?" Steve eventually asked.

You shook your head, "He's too good of a man to be ok"

"That is Bucky" he laughed, and you couldn't help but do the same. The irony.

Steve's curiosity was palpable in the room. Words could not describe the appreciation you had for him for respecting your boundaries and not pushing you in a moment like this. But he deserved to know.

You opened your mouth to explain to him what happened, but as your mind processed everything all over again, you broke down. "I think he's gonna leave-" you cried.

Steve was quick to gather you in his arms, engulfing you in a bear hug, helping you stand on your own two feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, concern tracing his tone.

"I understand him, I do. And I promised I won't try to get him to stay if he doesn't want to. But- but I should've done more, Steve. I should've shown him somehow how much I love him. But I'm afraid he'll leave, and I don't want to live-"

"Hey, hey, hey" Steve hurried to stop you, petting your head softly before urging you to look up at him. "Bucky loves you more than I ever thought possible, ok? There's no question about it. I'm sorry I'm doing this, but I think he'll postpone it anyway"

"What?"

"The man wants to marry you, ok?" Steve smiled, "He asked Tony if he had any work for him so he could raise money. Can you imagine how that went down? He was red like a tomato, but he didn't think twice. James Barnes used the computer to look for rings for you. The Bucky I know? Never would've done this. You brought to life a part of him that no one else has seen before. He loves you. With all that he is. And trust me when I tell you, he won't stand to be away from you. You're his whole world, Y/n. He's my best friend, trust me when I tell you this is something you'll work through. I'll help, we'll all help. You're not gonna lose him, Y/n. He's so beat up about all of this because he loves you this much. He's all yours. If he decides to leave, I need you to be strong because he will be back. I got him back 70 years later. You just need to trust him. Trust his heart, ok?"

"Oh my god" you cried, "I don't know what to say"

"Don’t say anything" he chuckled, "We've been through so much together. All of us. Even if we try, nothing pulls us apart, ok? How many times has Loki died, hm?"

"God, Steve!" you scoffed somewhat amused and pulled back just to hit him, "Did you seriously compare Bucky to Loki!?"

"It got you to smile, didn't it?" he laughed. "But I'm serious. You've both been through so much worse than this. You'll get through this one too. And in case you ever feel like you won't, I'm here, ok?"

"Ok…"

Funny as it all was, it worked. He calmed you down - to some extent. Gave you hope you didn't know existed. If it wasn't for Steve, you probably would have not been able to fall asleep. And even though dreams didn't visit you, and you never relaxed enough to actually get some rest, you just dozed off. All clothed and curled diagonally on the bed, you cuddled Bucky's pillow to your chest as your eyes slowly fell closed.

When you opened them again, it was still dark out. You had no idea what pulled you awake as you struggled to sit up on the bed, but then you heard Bucky's voice again, from the doorway.

"Y/n?"

“Buck?” you gasped, turning around. Only his silhouette was visible, head hung low and hands deep in his pockets. He was leaning against the doorway, silently awaiting your response.

Right then and there, you felt your world collapse. Steve’s monologue made you actually fucking believe things would be fine, but here he was, keeping his promise. In the buttcrack of night, he kept his word, bidding you a much feared farewell.

“Is-” you sobbed, jumping out of bed and rushing towards him. You almost knocked him off of his feet when you flung yourself at him, but he was quick to reciprocate, caging you between his arms. “Is this it? You’re leaving?”

He didn’t say anything which frankly made everything worse. You broke down even further, clinging to his shirt as if it was the only source of oxygen keeping you alive - it sure felt like it.

“Look at me” Bucky urged you, tilting your chin up, “Please?”

You slowly lifted your head, your eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry, I will make it up to you” he whispered, a frown settling above his tired eyes, “You’ll see”

“What does that even mean?" you questioned, tired and sick of this ongoing conflict that should not even have been an issue to begin with. "You don't have to make up for anything"

"I know you see things like that" he cooed, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. He spoke softly, his breath fanning against your skin, somehow, even in this situation, managing to calm you down. "But you can understand me too, right?"

"I don't want to" you shrugged, "I don't care. Why does it matter if I understand you or not if you're gonna leave anyway?"

"I'm not leaving, doll"

"What!?" you beamed, pulling away from his hold and grabbing his face in your palms, "You're not- but you're-"

His whole frame softened, "I'm not here to say goodbye, Y/n. I'm not going anywhere"

"Oh god" you gasped.

"Come on, come here" Bucky chuckled softly, bringing you back into his hold, "I'm staying here. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. You're the most badass woman I know and I managed to break you"

"I love you, Buck"

"I love you more, Y/n" he sighed, "I'll make everything right, I promise"

"Oh, fuck" you breathed out relieved, "Just do whatever you want, I don't care. You're here. That's all that matters."

"And we also need to teach you to fight-" he added, "For real. And find a way for you to take those goddamn shackles off in case this happens again"

"Tony won't be too happy about it" you laughed.

"Fuck if I care-" Bucky said strenly, pointing at you, "Next time, you need to be able to stop me. And fast"

"Maybe it won't happen again"

"Maybe not" Bucky nodded, "But if it does, we need to be ready"

"Thank you" you said, "I know I didn't play this right. I know I literally dismissed everything that you must have gone through today. I'm sorry"

"You don't get to be sorry" Bucky stopped you, "Not after-"

"Then you don't get to, either!"

"Meh" he shrugged, "We'll see"

"Bucky!"

"I love you" he laughed, bending down to pick you up. He planted his hands on the back of your thighs, picking you up with ease and walking you over to the bed. You plopped back against the fluffy mattress with a huff, and giggled as he crawled his way on top of you. Instantly, his lips met yours. It was exhilarating, the kind that made your chest ache. You moaned against his lips as love transpired through his touch. It was overwhelming and the first happy tears of the day streamed down your temples as you arched yourself against him.

"I'm so weak for you, fuck" Bucky groaned, his right arm reaching around your back and pressing you against his chest. "You're everything" he added as he kissed his way along your neck, "I'm all yours forever, Y/n. I love you too much"

"I'm here, baby" you moaned, hiding your face into his shoulder, "You're mine, Bucky. All mine."

His lips didn't leave your body as he pushed himself up just enough to be able to reach the buckle of his jeans. The sound made your core ache, and your mouth watered.

There was no patience in his movements. He barely pulled his jeans down to his knees before ridding you of your pajama pants. He lodged himself between your thighs, his mouth instantly back on yours again.

"Come on" you panted, steading your arms against his strong back. Your legs found their way around his frame, ready to pull him closer.

When Bucky guided his hands between your bodies to align the tip of his cock with your opening, you whimpered in anticipation. Agonisingly slow, he trailed his tip along your folds before reaching your clit. With a blissful moan, he reached further up, tapping his cock against your bare cunt a couple of times before returning his attention back to you.

"I got you, baby" he hummed, pecking your lips. "You ready? Is this ok?"

With eagerness, you nodded and wiggled under his weight, your pussy aching for him. "Yes, yes"

When you felt his cock push past your folds, you moaned out loud, your voice cracking with the pure pleasure that took over your being.

He eased himself in, going all the way until he all but knocked the breath out of you, and he stopped. Bucky reached down to kiss you again, his cock motionless, balls deep inside of you.

He bit down on your lip and you giggled.

"Felt your pussy clench around me, doll" he laughed, "You're good to me"

"You may be all mine, Buck, but I'm all yours too"

"Holy shit" he panted, shaking his head in disbelief. It was as if you weren't real. He'd have pinched himself, but if this was a dream, he really did not want to wake up. So he kept going.

Nibbling at the skin of your neck, he started to pull himself out of you. The slow pace was driving you insane. Your need grew so strong you felt everything. His breath, the way his hair tickled your chin, his strong around around your shoulders, his massive thighs rubbing against yours, every small vein along his cock that drove you closer and closer to the sweetest bliss you had ever known.

He got you all worked up at an agonisingly slow pace, before his thrusts became more and more aggravated. You moaned with each thrust despite your struggles to keep quiet.

"You know how much I love hearing you, doll" Bucky shook his head as he drove himself back inside of you all the way, "Moan for me"

"Fuck, ok" you gasped, and closed your eyes as you started to fall apart. You gripped the bed sheets into your hands and pulled as he kept fucking you, deep and hard.

"You're so good, baby" he groaned, "So, so good for me"

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, fervently sucking deep, maroon marks all ice your skin. Gutural grounds betrayed his air of self control as a plethora of curse words escaped his lips. "Taking me so fucking well. I can't keep going like this, you're too fucking tight-"

"Cum, baby" you encouraged, voice low and tender as you spoke against his ear, "Cum for me"

"Don’t have to tell me twice" he chuckled.

His thrusts started to become sloppy and irregular, as his eyes flew closed. You missed the blue of his eyes, but his mouth was slightly agape as he panted his way to an orgasm.

His chest heaved against yours, "How do you feel so fucking good?" Bucky cursed, eyes still closed as he barely managed to mumble his words between the numerous grunts of pleasure that forced their way out of his throat.

You gave him no answer, instead just clung to him tighter, "Fuck, Bucky, I'm close-"

"Come on" he encouraged, hurrying to rub your clit. His fingers found your bud in an instant, working experienced, familiar circles that almost drove you over the edge. "Cum with me, ok?"

You nodded, gathering your lips between your teeth. He kept fucking you, harder and faster until he had turn limp under his weight. You came as his name rolled off your lips, and he followed seconds after, pumping his juices deep inside your pussy.

You felt his absolute pleasure as he breathed heavily against your shoulder. He kept going until you were both spent, and then fell down beside you.

"Bucky-" you whined, turning over and curling into his side, the lack of contact making you more needy than ever.

"Yes, darling?" he panted, tapping your chin.

"Nothing. I just love you"

"Love you too, doll" he huffed, spinning you around so you laid on your back.

He effortlessly helped you out of your shirt and plopped down on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest. His warm, right hand cupped your breast as he closed his eyes. He wrapped himself around you, "Hold me" he muttered, "please"

"Always, Bucky" you said, engulfing him in the tightest hold you could muster. Only then did you feel him calm down completely, and there was nothing in the world you could ever ask for.

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 129

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,050ish

Summary: The separate teams prepare for the battle against Thanos. (gifs aren’t mine)

Y/N was standing in front, staring at space as it whizzed by, when Tony came over and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He pressed a kiss just behind her ear, pulling her closer.

“What are you thinking about?” Tony whispered.

“How I’m suppose to be prepared for something, but I have no idea what,” Y/N whispered.

“The fate of the universe is not on you.”

“But it is, Tony… and there’s—“

“No.” He quickly, yet carefully, turned Y/N around to face him. “This is not on you.” His hands held Y/N’s face to look at him. “Whatever happens is not your fault.”

“You can’t say that. We don’t know what will happen yet.”

“You’re right, we don’t. But I will not let you feel the way you are feeling. And I promise, that I will not let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not worried about me… I’m worried about everyone else… it’s too much… it’s all too much…”

Her eyes were tearing up, and this was all breaking Tony’s heart. He pulled her into his chest, cradling her head. It was killing him to see her like this, but he really didn’t know how to fix it. Tony didn’t understand exactly what Y/N needed to do, and he was coming to the conclusion that she didn’t either.

The two could feel the engines begin to slow. With Tony keeping an arm around Y/N, the two looked through the large window. The ship was approaching a planet. Peter and Dr. Strange joined the couple by the window.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Peter asked.

“I think we’re here,” Strange replied.

“I don’t think this rig has a self-park function,” Tony said, looking around. He left Y/N’s side, waving Peter over to where he was going. “Get your hand into this steering gimbal. Close those around it. You understand?”

“Yep, got it,” Peter responded, quickly following Tony’s directions as Tony put one of his arms in it as well.

“This was meant for one big guy, so we gotta to move at the same time.”

“Okay. Okay. Ready.” Out the window, Y/N could see that the ship was heading straight for the center of some wreckage. “We might wanna turn. Turn! Turn! Turn!!”

Tony tapped his reactor, armoring up. “Y/N! Get over here!”

Before Y/N could reach Tony’s side, the ship clipped a piece of rumble on the planet, throwing Y/N to the side. Peter has his helmet come up as Dr. Strange stepped between them, creating a shield for the rough landing. As the ship, shook and plowed through the dirt, Y/N portaled herself over to Tony. She wrapped her arms around him to keep steady, only for them both to be thrown to the ground. Parts of the ship flew off before it finally came to a stop. Tony’s helmet disappeared as he searched Y/N for any injuries. He quickly noticed that her breathing was fast and her eyes were clenched shut.

“Honey, honey,” Tony called. “You’re okay. Hey, look at me. Look at me.” She shakily looked up at Tony from her position curled up into his side. “We are safe. You are okay. You’re not hurt. Right?”

“I… I’m… o-okay…” Y/N stuttered softly.

“You haven’t had something like that in awhile.” Tony sighed before kissing her head. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise.” Dr. Strange came over and helped them up. “You alright?” Tony asked Strange, who nodded. “That was close. I owe you one.”

“Let me just say,” Peter started, descending from above like a spider, “if aliens wind up implanting eggs in my chest or something, and I eat one of you, I'm sorry.”

Tony pointed at Peter. “I don't wanna hear another single pop culture out of you for the rest of the trip. You understand?”

“I'm trying to say that... something is coming.”

Suddenly, a grenade rolled into view and the foursome was thrown back as it fired an energy pulse. Three beings appeared in the doorway.

“THANOS!” A blue man yelled.

He flung a blade at Dr. Strange, who deflected it with a mystical shield and in return his cloak smothered the man’s face, throwing him to the floor. Y/N and Tony were quickly on their feet. One of the men went straight for Tony. They have a brief dogfight until a magnetic disc pinned Tony face first to a structure. An alien woman came up from behind Y/N, putting her hands on her head, entering her mind.

“Sleep,” the alien woman commanded. Y/N dropped to the floor, unconscious.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted.

The alien walked towards Peter, who was crawling back frantically. “AH!” Peter exclaimed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Please don’t put your eggs in me!”

Peter shot a web at Mantis in a panic, pinning her arms to her body just before the man that attacked Tony flew at him feet-first, kicking him away.

“Stay down, clown!” The man ordered.

The man fired at Spider-man, who extended his spider legs and leapt away. Peter couldn’t get far before an electric-like cord wrapped around him and his six new legs. It set him rolling across the deck.

“Die, blanket of death!” The blue man cried, struggling with he cloak.

Tony pulled free of the magnet and stepped on the blue man’s torso. The cloak pulled free as soon as Tony had the man securely under his foot. The other man had Spider-Man in a head-lock, gun pointed at his head. Dr. Strange had a musical shield up and stood ready to attack. The alien woman struggled to her feet, still covered with webbing.

“Ugh…” Y/N groaned, slowing sitting up while holding her head.

“Y/N,” Tony called. “Are you—“

“Alright, everybody stay where you are!” The man holding Spider-Man in a headlock ordered. “Chill the F out.” The man powered off his helmet. “I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where’s Gamora?”

Tony hid his helmet as well. “Yeah, I'll do you one better,” Tony responded. “Who’s Gamora?”

“I’ll do you one better. Why is Gamora?” The man beneath Tony’s foot fired back.

“Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I'm gonna French-fry this little freak,” the man holding Spider-Man threatened.

“Let's do it!” Tony responded, extending a nano-tech canon at the blue man. “You shoot my guy, I blast him. Let's go!”

“Do it, Quill! I can take it!” The blue man exclaimed.

“No, he can’t take it!” The alien woman replied.

“She’s right,” Dr. Strange said. “You can’t.”

"Oh yeah? You don't wanna tell me where she is?” Quill continued. “That's fine. I'll kill all four of you and beat it out of Thanos myself.” He looked at Spider-Man. “Starting with you.”

“Stop!” Y/N yelled, freezing everyone in place. She stood up. “No one is killing anyone!”

“Why can’t I—“

“She’s controlling us,” the alien woman stated. “She’s extremely powerful.”

“Wait, what? Thanos?” Dr. Strange questioned, realizing what Quill had said. “Alright, let me ask you this one time: What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve?” Quill repeated. “What am I supposed to say? “Jesus”?"

“You’re from Earth?” Tony asked.

“I'm not from Earth. I'm from Missouri.”

“Yeah, that's on Earth, dip-shit. What are you hasseling us for?”

“So, you’re not with Thanos?” Spider-Man questioned.

“With Thanos?!” Quill repeated. “No, I'm here to kill Thanos! He took my girl- Wai- who are you?”

Spider-Man’s helmet disappeared. “We’re the Avengers, man.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the ones Thor told us about!” The alien woman stated.

“Thor,” Y/N breathed out, still keeping everyone in place.

“You know Thor?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Quill responded. “Tall guy, not that good-looking, needed saving.”

“Where is he now?” Dr. Strange asked.

“With our other friends, going to make a weapon,” the woman responded.

“Y/N, you can let us go know,” Tony said.

With a deep breath, Y/N let everyone be free. They all moved to standing positions, Tony beside Y/N.

“So you’re Y/N?” The woman walked up to her. “Thor mentioned you.”

“Really?” Y/N questioned.

“He said you were powerful,” Quill stated. “But he also said you were on Earth.”

“Yeah, guess not all Thor says is true.”

“Star-Lord, by the way,” Quill introduced himself.

“Right,” Tony nodded. “I’m Iron Man. This is Dr. Strange and Spider-Man.” He pointed to the others he introduced.

“I’m Drax,” the blue man said.

“And I’m Mantis,” the alien woman added.

“Okay, now that introductions are out of the way,” Tony started, “let’s go see what’s out there.”

Grabbing Y/N’s hand, Tony led her, and the others, towards an opening in the ship. The planet outside had clearly been through something war-like, and there was no sign of life anywhere. Star-Lord went down on one knee, getting out some sort of device.

“The heck happened to this planet?” He wondered. “It’s eight degrees off its axis.” He stood up. “Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

“Yeah, we can see that,” Y/N commented, looking at Mantis who was jumping joyfully high up in the air behind Star-Lord.

“Yeah, we got one advantage. He’s coming to us,” Tony stated. “We'll use it. All right, I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one. It's pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don't wanna dance with this guy. We just want the gauntlet.” Drax then choose this time to yawn. “Are you yawning? In the middle of this, while I'm breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said, "We need a plan.”” Drax replied.

“Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.”

“See, "not winging it" isn't really what they do,” Star-Lord responded.

“Uh, what exactly is it that they do?” Spider-Man asked.

“Kick names, take ass,” Mantis answered, meekly.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Drax agreed.

Tony paused, looking deeply hopeless. Quietly, Y/N’s breathing hitched as her head started buzzing. Thankfully, Tony didn’t notice to worry about it.

“Alright, just get over here, please,” Tony continued. “Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“‘Mr. Lord’,” Star-Lord repeated with a chuckle. “Star-Lord is fine.” He motioned Drax and Mantis to come closer.

“We gotta coalesce. 'Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude—“

“Dude, don't call us plucky. We don't know what it means. Alright, we're optimistic, yes. I like your plan. Except it sucks, so let me do the plan, and that way it might be really good.”

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe,” Drax urged.

“A dance-off?” Y/N repeated, trying to ignore the buzzing.

“It’s not a… it’s not… it’s nothing,” Star-Lord stuttered.

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” Spider-Man wondered.

“Exactly like Footloose! Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

“It never was.”

“Don’t encourage this, alright?” Tony told Peter.

“Okay.”

“We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here.”

“Flash Gordon?” Star-Lord repeated. “By the way, that's a compliment. Don't forget, I'm half human.” He pointed at Y/N, Tony, and Parker. “So that 50% of me that's stupid? That's 100% you.”

“Your math is blowing my mind.”

“Excuse me,” Mantis nervously interrupted. “But… does your friend often do that?”

Everyone looked in the direction Mantis was pointing. Floating slightly above the ground, was Dr. Strange clearly using the Time Stone. Strange was cross-legged with green energy forming circular patterns around his forearms. His eyes were closed and his head jerked rapidly from side to side, blurring. The others went to his side.

As Y/N grew closer, a green strand of energy slowing touched her head. She froze and her eyes shone green. Everyone was too busy with Strange to notice though. Her vision quickly changed. It was dark at first, but slowly each of the Stones shined on a gauntlet. The fingers snapped and her field of vision was suddenly filled with people screaming and disappearing into ash. She looked around for anyone she knew, no one was recognizable.

Quickly, the setting changed. She was standing on a war-torn battle, that was vaguely familiar. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people and aliens were battling each other. She recognized many of those people as her family, her friends. They were dirty, bloody, and clearly fighting for their lives. Y/N looked around to see Thanos fighting herself.

“In five years time, the final battle will commence,” the Stones gravely voice filled her ears. “This is where you will be needed… If you try to stop what happens here today, we will stop you.”

Outside Y/N’s mind, Tony had made his was to Strange.

“Strange, we alright?” Tony wondered. Strange snapped out of his trance and fell forward, letting out a cry. “You’re back. You’re alright.” Tony steadied him.

“Hey, what was that?” Peter asked.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures,” Strange Panted. “To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

“How many did you see?” Star-Lord wonders.

“14,000,605.”

“How many did we win?” Tony asked.

Strange stared intently at Tony for a moment, almost sad like. Before looking past him at Y/N. “One.”

Everyone turned to look where Strange was looking. Y/N was still standing, with green eyes and green energy encircling her head. Tony rushed over, grasping Y/N by the arms.

“Y/N!” Tony called, trying gently to shake her out of whatever was happening. “Come on, honey. Push through!”

~~~

The quinjet ride to Wakanda was full of silent tension, silent worry. No one knew what exactly was coming, or how to stop it.

“Drop 2600, heading 0-3-0,” Steve instructed, walking up behind Sam who was piloting.

“I hope you’re right about this, Cap,” Sam said. “Or we’re gonna land a lot faster than you want to.”

From the looks of it, they were heading straight for the trees. But as the quinjet continued on, the tree were revealed to be a camouflage force field and the grand city of Wakanda appeared. Once they landed, Steve and Natasha exited first, with Rhodey, Bruce, Wanda, Vision, and Sam behind them.

“Seems like I’m always thanking you for something,” Steve stated as he reached out to shake T’Challa’s.

T’Challa shook Steve’s hand before looking at Bruce. “Uh, we don’t do that here,” T’Challa said, waving for Bruce to stop. “So how big of an assault can we expect?” T’Challa turned around and the team began following after him.

“Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault,” Bruce answered, trying to push his way closer to the front.

“How we looking?” Nat asked.

“You will have my King’s Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…” T’Challa trialed off, as Bucky walked up to the others.

“A semi-stable, 100-year-old man,” Bucky joked. With smiles on their faces, Steve and Bucky shared a hug.

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asked.

“Uh, not bad, for the end of the world,” he replied with a smile. “Have you… uh, have you heard from Y/N?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Steve shook his head and sighed. “But I have heard she’s been sneaking around with you and Stark. You’re going to have to tell me all about it as soon as this is through.”

Bucky let out a light laugh. “As long as you buy the beer.”

~~~

Leaving Rhodey, Bucky, and Sam to watch from outside, the rest went and met Shuri in her lab. Vision laid down on an exam table while Shuri used her technology to create a hologram projection of the Mind Stone above him. Bruce was on the other side of the table, watching her very movement.

“Whoa. The structure is polymorphic,” Shuri stated.

“Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially,” Bruce told her.

“Why didn’t you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?” Shuri asked. Vision turned to Bruce, seemingly asking the same thing with his eyes.

“Because, we didn’t think of it,” Bruce answered with uncertainty.

“I’m sure you did your best,” Shuri reassured with a smile.

“Can you do it?” Wanda asked.

“Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures.” Shuri turned to T’Challa. “It will take time, brother.”

“How long?” Steve asked, stepping closer to them.

“As long as you can give me.”

A chime went off and Okoye quickly projected a hologram globe into her palm. “Something’s entered the atmosphere,” Okoye informed.

“Hey, Cap, we got a situation here,” Sam warned over the comms.

Almost as soon as his words ended, a forcefield formed over the city. Bucky and Sam watched as alien vessels landed outside the barrier. One of them tried to go through, getting destroyed.

“Gosh, I love this place,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, don’t start celebrating yet, guys,” Rhodey warned. “We got incoming outside the dome.”

The landing vessels emitted shock waves and debris, destroying the forest. The Captain and the King looked at each other, both deeply concerned. Vision struggled to sit up and slide off the exam table, holding onto his side.

“It’s too late,” he said. “We need to destroy the stone now.”

“Vision, get your ass back on the table,” Nat demanded.

“We will hold them off,” T’Challa stated as he and his guards started for the door.

Steve turned to Wanda. “Wanda, as soon as the stone’s out of his head… you blow it to hell,” He instructed.

“I will,” Wanda replied.

“Evacuate the city. Engage all defense procedures,” T’Challa commanded. He stopped before fully exiting the room, turned, and pointed to Steve. “And get this man a shield.”

Steve looked out the window, watching the ships crash land outside the barrier. He couldn’t help but wonder what all this had to do with his sister exactly. But there was a bigger question than that in his mind, a more important question.

“Where the hell are you, Y/N?” He whispered to himself.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #tony stark imagine #bucky barnes imagine #iron man x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #Avengers #infinity war #Avengers infinity war #the infinity stones

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shelby-love · 3 years

Text

KELLY SEVERIDE

Skeletons and Whatnot.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author’s note: I feel like this is rubbish, but I also feel like it’s not. 50/50 (1.6K words - might come back to edit it tomorrow)

Also you can see how tired I am (it's 4:30AM) I mean what is this title??? GOOD NIGHT.

"That's not possible. Check again."

"But I already did! Like a million times!"

"Adam, I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright…" Your colleague mumbled, turning on his chair to run the data yet again.

While he sat on the chair, looking through files he didn't have a clue about, you were leaning against the wall and shaking in your boots. Your heart hammered and your palms felt clammy.

Not possible. I killed him.

"No look it says right there," Adam declared; proud of himself for being able to gather information like this on his own. "Some girl named Lucy Riggs pawned a gun she got off some guy named Jon Prescott.

You squinted your eyes at the information that made no sense. "Get to the point."

Adam visibly swallowed, "Turns out the guy's name isn't Jon. Shocker. It's actually Parker Torres."

Your blood ran cold at his words. A million thoughts raced through your head. You wondered where he was, what he was doing… The questions that evaded your mind are usually normal, but here, when you thought about the dark man of your past, the questions seemed to be anything but normal.

"What about the gun?"

Adam clicked away until a picture of a metallic gun popped out. "Smith & Wesson Model 64 revolver."

Next thing you knew, a chain of vulgar profanities escaped your mouth, and you couldn't stop them. Ruzek's eyes widened ever so slightly at your lack of composure. "Mind telling me what this all about?"

You took a deep breath. "My skeleton escaped the closet."

***

The lack of information you found within the last couple of days was mind blowing. The only lead you had was the gun that wasn't even in your possession, having gotten lost in a misfit of undocumented sales.

Lucy wasn't of help either. The poor girl just wanted to get rid of her husband's gun, saying everything but useful information along the way. "If he wants a gun, then he better get a good one… A new one too! I don't want that piece of garbage in my house. God only knows who used that gun!" Lucy told you, just 48 hours ago. Those exact same words.

She was right about one thing.

That dammed gun went through so many hands and took double more lives.

And you didn't even have a lead.

"You look like crap," Kevin Atwater teased, handing you a steaming cup of coffee.

You didn't even manage to smile, looking at him through your shades that were, so far, doing a great job at concealing the bags under your eyes from the world.

"Rough night?"

"Mhmm."

Kevin didn't know that you no longer lived with Kelly. The temporary solution to your problems turned out to be moving back to your own place. Putting Kelly in harm's way, no matter how much he thought otherwise, was something you didn't want to do. The comfort of his bed and body were replaced by a thin blanked and an uncomfortable dining chair.

Dozens of glass decorations were laid out all over your apartment. On every window still, next to every door… On every surface, really. You slept on the dining chair 5 yards from your front door with a pistol strapped to your back, a shotgun under the chair and a rifle wrapped around your two arms, acting as a teddy bear for every time you dozed off.

Friends from Interpol would call here and there, with nothing more than sad news.

Hank Voight was pulling out every contact from his little notebook, but not even they could solve your years long case.

You wanted to throw up.

"Hey Kev."

"What's up?"

"You still friends with that FBI agent?"

***

"Second floor clear," The grip on your radio loosened after the second you needed to inform your team about your situation had passed and you moved on upstairs. You could hear them respond in the same matter as you held your gun with both hands and carefully climbed up the stairs.

You didn't let a sound slip your lips as you trekked the stairs up to the very last floor, save for the attic. For a drug house, everything was eerily quiet. It didn't feel like someone left in a hasty hurry.

It felt like as though there was no one there in the first place.

Your need to report that to your Sergeant faded away quickly once you saw smoke. It seized your full attention within a few seconds.

Smoke grenade was your first guess. Nasty things but nothing new.

That was, until you took several steps closer and the smell of the source journeyed through your nostrils. It clicked in your head immediately. Three years of being a squad lieutenant's girlfriend can do that to you. The scent of fire is nauseating and sweet, putrid and steaky, or something like leather being tanned over a flame. The smell of it can be so thick and rich that it's almost a taste. Kelly's words rung in your head, and you pulled your radio to your mouth.

"Call CFD! There's a fire on the third floor!" You informed, shielding your eyes. "Stand down! I repeat –"

Things went black after those words.

***

"We have a detective trapped on the third floor," Voight informed the first responders. "That's where the fire started."

Wallace nodded, "Squad 3, take the third floor."

Unlike Wallace, who had found his source of information in Voight, Kelly Severide had found it in Jay, who stood on the street visibly stressed. "Jay where's Y/N?"

Jay frowned, "She went to scope ahead. She was on the third floor when the whole place just blew up…"

"She could be unconscious right now," Kelly muttered. "Squad 3 let's go!"

Kelly Severide was already in the burning building when Chief Boden found out just who was trapped upstairs. "Dammit."

***

"Y/N?!"

Kelly's patience was thinning by the second. Knowing that his time is limited and that the place could blow in a stronger matter at any moment, he paced toward your unconscious body expeditiously.

Noticing the angry streak of blood that came from your nose had his heart in his throat. You were twisted in a way not normal for a human body to be in, catching him off guard the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Despite all that, Kelly still swooped in to grasp your limp body in his arms.

The stress of the last few days he went through didn't come close to a match with this very moment. "I'm coming down chief!"

For a moment Wallace wanted to bark back, but he bit his tongue. Love makes people do crazy things.

He knew that better than anyone.

"Get the hoses ready!" Boden announced and turned to the Intelligence.

"She'll be okay."

***

You were okay.

Maybe even better than you thought possible.

"Kelly wake up."

You smiled cheekily at doctor Mannig, who stood by your hospital bed, waiting for Kelly to wake up with the same thin line of patience as you.

You woke him up with a slap to his shoulder.

Natalie was beaming, her eyes sparkled despite the fact that she was the doctor to the most heavily guarded patient in the whole city of Chicago. "I think congratulations are in order."

"What do you mean?"

She winked before handing you the tablet, "You're 11 weeks along Y/N. Congratulations you two."

You shook your head wildly and pressed a palm to your mouth, acting out what your defense mechanism wanted you to do. "Oh God…"

"Really?" Kelly asked next to you. He had already grabbed your hand and gripped it tightly, holding you to the ground of your new reality. "Are you for real?"

She nodded, "The tests don't lie. I'm so happy for you two."

Natalie hugged you both closely before disappearing back into the crowded ER.

"Hey," Kelly murmured, grasping your chin with his index finger and thumb. "What's wrong? You're not happy? I thought…"

You shook your head immediately, stopping him from saying something that was untrue. "No, Kelly… I'm really happy."

Two heartbeats within one body. Your body.

A child that was going to take after you and the man you loved most in this world…

You felt so incredibly lucky at that moment.

Yet so guilty.

"Our baby could've died today…"

Fresh onset of tears attacked your eyes, pushing through until the moisture was dripping down your face, and you tried to muffle the hiccups with your hands. Everything started to make sense.

"Baby you didn't know…" He tried to calm you.

You shook your head violently, dropping his attempts into the water. "I should've known better. We didn't use protection... Then I felt so sick last week."

"Y/N-"

"But I was so obsessed with Parker Torres that-" You couldn't even finish the sentence because the guilt turned into anger. "God I'm so stupid!"

"Babe, look at me," Kelly's voice hardened yet the hands with which he cupped your face were gentle and comforting. "You didn't know, so none of this is your fault. If you knowingly went in there that's when it would have been your fault."

He kissed your tears away and gave you the softest smile ever. "Do you want to have this baby with me? Because if you don't, we can…"

You stopped him with a kiss.

You were venerable in the moment of the kiss, yet you never felt more at home. In this kiss is the promise of years of love and the sweetness of life. No one mattered at that moment. Not Parker… Not anyone. Only you two and the vow you just shared.

The next few weeks will be hard, that much you knew. You were introduced to a new reality and priorities shifted. The hunt for your skeleton will continue in the hands of the people you trust most and as months go by the light will greet the darkness of your tunnel.

But the next few years, you see nothing but light and happiness.

No skeletons to torture your life, but a baby and a soulmate to make it better.

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#Kelly Severide #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide masterlist #Chicago Fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfictio #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd x reader

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nkp1981 · 3 years

Text

Booker really hates being alone on a mission with Joe and Nicky:

The boys are on a mission alone because Andy meant, they could easily handle 100 rebels, but she is really punishing Booker by letting him be alone with Joe and Nicky for beating her in poker, which cost her 500 dollars and her last bottle of whiskey.

Nicky screamed Joe's name when a grenade exploded next to Joe, who disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Nicky ran over to Joe praying for another miracle, that would bring Joe back to him, and started gently to pat Joe on his cheek, kiss him on the forehead, run his fingers through the curls, and muttering his name, repeating it over and over again.

Booker irritated while trying to cover them: “Nicky, just slap him, so we can get out of here!”

Nicky angry: “I’m not stopping you if you want to leave.”

Booker: “Don’t be surprised if I do.”

Nicky chose to ignore Booker, so he could concentrate on getting life back into Joe.

Nicky: “Yusuf Ibrahim Muhammad al-Kaysani, if you don't pull yourself together now, I’m gonna be really mad and you can sleep on the sofa alone for the next hundred years.”

Booker: “You and I got very different definitions of what mad means, because that's what I'm gonna be if we don't get out of here right now.”

Seconds later Joe finally takes a deep breath and places a hand on Nicky’s cheek, who leans into the hand palm with a relieved smile, while thanking for the miracle, he prayed for.

Nicky relieved: “There’s the ugly face I love.” And kisses Joe.

Booker rolls his eyes: “Hurray, he is back again, but could you two please save that for later? We’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Joe complains: “Ugly face? I don’t know what hurts the most: that remark about my exquisite face or the gaping hole in my leg.”

Nicky with a smile: “And now I know, you will be just fine if you have the energy to start a discussion.” And kisses Joe again.

Booker: “Seriously? We need to get moving because we’re sitting ducks out here.”

Joe pretends to be angry: “Ugly face? Ugly face? Why Nicolo?”

Nicky: “It was you who once called me the most beautiful man that has ever walked on this Earth, which must mean that everybody else are uglier than me.”

Joe: “I was hoping that at least I was prettier than Booker.”

Booker really really irritated: “Please leave me out of whatever it is you two are talking about. Can we get moving now?”

Nicky: “He is right, so let’s save the discussion for later, ok?”

Joe, who can never keep up the utterly transparent pretense for long, when Nicky is around: “Fine, but you would get bored if we didn’t have at least one discussion a day.” And grabbed Nicky’s neck to pull him down, so he could kiss him again.

Booker even more irritated : “If you two don’t stop with that I will.. oh forget it. I’m leaving.” And starts to walk.

Nicky: “I have to drag you because your leg is still healing up.” And hands Joe a gun.

Joe with a smirk: “Oh, this is your favorite gun. Is that your way of saying sorry for calling my face ugly?”

Nicky with a tease in his voice : “I'm not sorry at all for calling you ugly, but I'm planning on saying sorry for eating your grapes with something that involves you, figs, and Malta once we are finished with this mission.”

Joe lights up in a bright smile: “Oh Babe, I can’t wait to see, what you got planned.”

Nicky: “Then let’s get out of here, ready?”

Joe: “As always, but the next time I wake up please call my face something else than ugly. Do you know, that my mother once called me the prettiest man in all of Maghrib?”

Nicky: "That might be but it isn't the same as the most beautiful man, who has ever walked on the Earth!"

Nicky takes a firm grip in Joe’s bulletproof west, who takes a firm grip around Nicky’s wrist, who starts to drag Joe towards the direction Booker walked and by the time, they have caught up with Booker, Joe's leg is healed up.

My creation.

#andromache of scythia #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastian le livre #sebastien le livre #andy #joe #Nicky #Booker #yusuf x nicolo #joe x nicky #Charlize Theron #marwan kenzari #luca marinelli #Matthias Schoenaerts #the old guard

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delkios · 2 years

Text

[fic][Star Wars, Niner, Boss, NC-17] Paint Your Love

Being back in clone hell, of course I'd also be back on my favorite clone-related dinghy. This was supposed to be quick and sexy armor porn inspired by various other armor porn fics I read, but then they both decided to have 3k worth of feelings on me.

Title from Roxette's Paint.

Title: Paint Your Love Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 3071 Characters: Niner, Boss Summary: Clonecest. Just some armor porn and feelings.

There were, of course, better ways to paint armor but for Niner at least there were none better than having a brush in one hand, Boss’s armor- and Boss himself -under the other. The paint didn’t have to be precise, commandos were rarely subjected to inspections and most anyone else unlucky enough to see a commando’s armor generally didn’t live long enough to worry about an uneven paint job. But Niner was particular in all things and taking the time to paint a strong, straight line was no different than any other task he set himself to.

It helped, of course, few things gave him as much power over his Delta counterpart.

He didn’t know why, exactly, having his armor painted like this was such a turn on for Boss but Niner was not one to pass up an advantage. Boss could never not be in control but, in this moment, he was at Niner’s mercy.

The first time had been an accident, catching Boss fumbling with his armor in the assault ship locker room reserved for temporary troops being transported. Delta had barely succeeded in a mission and just as barely survived, largely through tenacity and Omega’s emergency deployment to assist with exfil. Painting over the marks of his armor, Boss had once said, was almost meditative. Helped him quiet and gather his thoughts. That time, however, obviously wasn’t the case. Boss had a bacta brace on, having fractured his wrist during the mission, and it made removing his armor difficult.

Niner watched him struggle for a moment, nearly asked where the rest of his squad was before deciding to deal with the situation himself rather than pass it off to any of the other injured and exhausted Deltas. Niner smacked away Boss’s injured hand, ignoring the man’s reflexive protests and stubborn pride, forcibly maneuvering Boss into a position where Niner could easily reach the worst of the damage to Boss’s armor.

He recognized the pattern well, a starburst of carbon along Boss’s side and chest from smothering a grenade with his own body. Even starker than Fi’s had been against the bold white and orange of the chestplate. Niner had to force his teeth to unclench and focus on what he was doing rather than the why. The armor was still intact and so was the man that wore it. That was most important.

It was almost addicting, the feeling of paint flowing over the smooth surface of the armor, watching the scratches and dings disappearing, hidden but not erased. It was made all the more peaceful for the fact it was just the two of them, no brothers around them, having to pay attention to when someone’s teasing started getting a little too sharp, a little too personal. He could feel Boss staring at him, feel his breath stirring gently against Niner’s hairline.

Niner switched to the white paint and part of him couldn’t help feeling how… intimate this seemed as he followed the imperfections lower. Down Boss’s chest, down his abdomen. Boss shifted, straddling the bench and leaning back so Niner had more room to work and when Niner took a deep breath- because his lungs, among other things, suddenly felt so constricted -he felt his his belly press against Boss’s codpiece and his mouth went dry.

Daringly, because he was afraid Boss would recognize the arousal in Niner’s face but wanting to know if Boss hadn’t already caught it, Niner risked glancing up at the Delta and found Boss’s face had been turned away. His injured hand was up by his cheek, as if trying to shield himself from Niner’s view and he was visibly trembling. At first he’d thought that the mission had finally caught up to Boss and he was ashamed to be caught breaking apart by a man that was as much a rival as he was friend.

But then Niner, inadvertently in his alarm, pressed against Boss’s codpiece again and felt Boss press back. The man let out a moan between his teeth and Niner realized that Boss’s thighs were trembling and what skin he could see was flushed.

Boss was aroused. Even more than Niner was and Niner wondered just how hard he was beneath his armor. Experimentally he put his hand on Boss’s crotch, just to see what he would do and immediately Boss thrusted upward, as if he could feel it, as if it would offer him some sort of relief. Then Boss, almost timidly, lowered his hand and looked down at Niner.

Niner had wanted to scoff and ask where all that pride Delta was known for, that Boss was known for, had gone to. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blush darkening Boss’s cheeks, the sweat beading across his forehead and the sliver of amber around the blown out pupils. He’d said Niner’s name then, softly, like a secret, and Niner had realized in all their encounters, even with Boss’s dick in his hand, he’d never seen Boss so vulnerable. How could he have done anything other than surging forward in a clumsy, desperate kiss, noses bumping, teeth clacking. He clawed at Boss’s codpiece, finally finding the latches and tossing it away and the two rutted against each other until they both came in their blacks.

They slumped together uncomfortably on the bench and Niner came back to his senses with Boss’s fingers running through his hair, nipping lightly at his earlobe until Niner shuddered at the scraping of teeth. “I’ll never be able to paint my armor around the boys again,” Boss’s voice was a low rumble and Niner’s breath caught at the feel of it under his cheek. “I’ll only be able to think about you.”

Niner had never been more grateful that Omega decided on black armor as it required little aesthetic maintenance. Because he’d never be able to paint armor again without remembering the way Boss looked at that moment.

Part of him wished Boss would always look like that: relaxed, sated, a curl on his lips that could’ve been called fond and looking at Niner as if he were something amazing. And Niner couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to, stretching up to press a kiss to Boss’s lips, listening to him hum, feeling the fingers curling against his scalp almost possessively. “Guess that means I’ll have to do it for you from now on.”

The sigh against his mouth couldn’t have been anything other than an agreement and so the practice started. Whenever their schedules allowed a day to themselves, a day that could be spent together, Niner would spread Boss out on a seat with paints and brushes set next to them. Then he’d devote hours to going meticulously over Boss’s armor, stealing glances at Boss’s face whenever he would shiver or sigh. And every time he did, Boss would be looking at him, lower lip caught between his teeth, transfixed by Niner’s work, his hands, the focused concentration on his face. He’d shudder and arch as Niner worked, as if he could feel the movement of the brush through his armor, as if Niner were painting on skin instead.

What would that be like, he’d wondered more than once, to have Boss’s bare body as his canvas. Marking him with teeth and lips as often as he would a brush. A gloved hand carded through his hair, the rough material scratching along the skin and stubble of his jaw and Niner resisted to urge to bite the thumb, to pull it into his mouth and suck.

He supposed they all had their strange kinks.

“Niner,” Boss’s hand moved to the junction where Niner’s neck met his shoulder, trying to give him a guiding push further down. Niner refused to budge. He still had work on the pauldron to complete and Boss wasn’t nearly desperate enough for the Omega lead to give him the release he was asking for just yet. “Ner’ika.”

Niner had to pause a moment, closing his eyes and taking a breath that smelled more of paint than Boss. That was unfair, calling him that. Sounding like that. “Stop that, you’ll mess up my work.” He vainly ignored the fact his voice came out much breathier than he intended.

Boss chuckled, a low thing that Niner could feel vibrating in the air between them and that, too, was unfair. “You’re just looking for work. The damage isn’t as bad this time around.”

“I guess you finally learned how to use cover.”

It had actually been a little less than two months since they last did this. Perhaps Zey was trying to get the commandos more downtime.

“There are other things you could be focusing on.” Boss’s thumb moved back across Niner’s jaw, stroking over Niner’s lower lip and then pressing ever so gently inward until Niner had no choice but to open his mouth. He immediately nipped at it, attention never wavering from the stroke of his brush.

The taste wasn’t great- like any other synthetic armorweave but with dirt from all points of the galaxy grounded into the fibers. He was grateful Boss made an effort to clean his gloves regularly once he realized how much Niner liked the feel of them on his body, liked biting down on the thumb, palm, whatever part Boss dared to put near his mouth. That effort only did so much against all the abuse those gloves regularly went through, however.

Niner’s jaw dropped, his tongue sliding down the length of Boss’s thumb and they both groaned. Perhaps this once Niner didn’t have to be so meticulous. He shifted backwards, letting Boss’s thumb fall from his mouth and gave the orange painted armor a once over to see if there were any major markings he still needed to get to. Satisfied that it looked good enough for now, Niner capped the tin of orange paint. In his periphery he could see Boss’s triumphant grin. It fell when he grabbed the white paint.

“Niner- seriously?”

Deliberately holding Boss’s gaze, Niner slid off his perch to kneel between Boss’s knees. The other commando automatically spread his legs out, giving him space. Niner let the tip of a clean brush caress the inside of Boss’s thigh. His leg jerked in response and Boss swallowed hard. “Oh.”

The armor there didn’t really need painting. The worst it had gotten in the last two months had all easily been washed away, but Niner wasn’t interested in covering anything up. He dipped the brush into the paint, carefully running the bristles along the edge of the tin in order to get the excess off, shaping the brush into a point, letting the anticipation build as Boss watched. Niner placed the brush down by Boss’s knee and, ever so lightly, drew the brush up into a long stroke, followed by two short. Then another long stroke and two short, two long lines, gradually making his way further up Boss’s leg. By the time he’d finished the word, Boss was leaning back on his elbows, head stretched back and biting back groans. Niner didn’t know if Boss knew what he was writing- he hoped not -but so close to his work, Niner could see the already drying brushstrokes faintly. The realization hit Niner harder than he anticipated- his words, his marks, the things he couldn’t bring himself to say being carried into battle with Boss.

He wrote more and once he started, Niner couldn’t seem to stop. Fi had once said all Deltas must have a praise kink- Niner resolutely did not dwell on how he would have found that out -but Niner had never had the courage to see if that was true. Boss already had an ego the size of solar systems, he’d told himself, but the truth was this relationship between them, what had started as stress relief between two squad leaders, had quickly developed into something much more. At least on Niner’s part. And he was afraid to find out if it hadn’t for Boss.

So he wrote them out of Boss’s trembling thighs: his feelings, his hopes, the longing he held in his most private thoughts, all of it until the armor was covered in Mando’a, hidden to all except the sharpest eye. At some point in his writing, Boss reached down to grab Niner’s free hand, lacing their fingers together, thumb rubbing circles against the skin. He hadn’t even noticed until he’d finished pouring the depths of his heart out.

Niner watched the movement of Boss’s thumb, as if that was an answer to a question he hadn’t asked. Boss’s hand squeezed his and Niner squeezed back, finally looking up at the other man. Boss looked wrecked. “Ner’ika,” he breathed out, “gedet’ye.”

Niner couldn’t deny him any longer- couldn’t deny himself -and his hands felt practically numb as he pulled the armor from Boss’s crotch, found the seam in his blacks and pulled his cock out, soaked through with pre-cum. Niner took a moment to let it run along his lips, remembering the feel of it before letting it slide into his mouth.

It was one of the many things Niner wouldn’t admit, how much he loved having Boss’s cock in his mouth. He never cared about being intimate with another clone or being but, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the thought of Boss’s dick made his mouth water. The moment the taste of him hit Niner’s tongue, his eyes slid closed and he hummed. It was as much a feeling of rightness as that damn smug grin Boss often sported, or the way he always seemed to know when Niner needed to vent even when he stood quietly in full armor.

Familiarity, he supposed. Despite having had different trainers, the two squads worked with each other more than they did with any other commandos. It certainly wasn’t the only reason- Niner had no compulsion to suck the dick of any other Delta or any of the Nulls, after all. Perhaps this too had to do with power. Boss was always mouthy when he had Niner on his dick, spewing filth with his voice low and rough until Niner trembled to hear it and even when he was being split open by Niner, Boss would goad him, challenge him until Niner fucked the air out of his lungs. But there was something about Niner being on his knees, cheeks hollowing as he sucked Boss’s dick that left the man speechless, reduced to soft noises, biting his own hand and watching Niner like he was helpless to do anything else.

Something touched his cheek and Niner’s eyes shot open. Boss was leaning forward, brushing a knuckle softly, almost tenderly from the the corner of Niner’s eye, down across the cheekbone. He was looking at Niner as if he were a wonder, as if he were in awe. As if he thought this… whatever it was between them was as incredible as Niner did.

That had Niner slamming his eyes shut again, pulling his hand away from where it had been wrapped around Boss’s dick and shoving it down into his own blacks to wrap around his aching member. It was a little more difficult without a hand keeping the base steady, pumping the length of cock that Niner couldn’t get into his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Boss’s hand. It was suddenly all too much. He needed it to end, chasing after… after something, he wasn’t sure what but it made something in his chest flutter and he held onto Boss’s hand like a lifeline.

He lost all semblance of finesse, sucking harshly, not being careful with his teeth but from the way Boss moaned, pushing up into Niner’s mouth, clearly he didn’t mind. He never did, could always take whatever Niner threw at him and was always willing to take more, no matter how hard Niner pushed, no matter how he tightly he wrapped his more tender feelings in cold bristles and selfish need.

Boss came with a hoarse cry, spilling over Niner’s tongue and down his throat and Niner sucked him dry until Boss’s thighs shook and jerked and his belly quivered from the sensitivity. Then a hand cupped against his jaw, so gentle despite the tremble, and Niner became undone, Boss’s cock falling from his mouth as he gasped and shuddered, spilling into his own hand.

He braced his forehead against Boss’s hipbone, flaccid cock still wet and sticky brushing against Niner’s cheek as they both sucked in air. Boss’s hand fell from where he’d been petting Niner’s hair and Niner sat back on his heels. He couldn’t look up at the other commando, inexplicably afraid of what he might find in his expression and equally unsure of what he wanted to find.

“Did you get off?” Boss asked, still breathless and boneless. Wordlessly, still trying to find his voice, Niner held up his hand covered in spunk. Just as wordlessly Boss waved a hand and Niner put a knee onto the seat, all but crawling up Boss’s body.

The moment he was close enough, Boss grabbed Niner’s soiled hand, pulled it up and began sucking it clean, one finger at a time, licking across the knuckles and sucking at the palm. Niner nearly collapsed on top of him. When he deemed the task complete, Boss pulled Niner’s hand back with one last, lingering suck and scrape of teeth to a finger. “You know,” he said, almost conversationally save for the coarseness of his voice, “I don’t mind repaying you.”

The image of Boss between his knees, obedient and pliable as Niner fucked into his mouth was so powerful Niner had to tuck his face against Boss’s neck. “I know.”

Fingers massaged at the base of his neck and Niner fairly purred. “Next time I’ll show you my appreciation for all your help.”

He took a centering breath. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

Boss’s hand was heavy, not like a restraint but with warmth and it may as well have been the same thing for all that Niner couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He dropped his hand to Boss’s thigh where he’d began his writing and almost believed he could feel the brushstrokes that made up the word cyare.

#fic #clonecest #boss #niner #republic commando

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firemedicdiaz · 3 years

Note

Hi babe <3 can I please get either 17 or 50 with Buddie, can be NSFW or not, and any other characters or not. Basically, do what you will, because I know it will be amazing no matter what :D

The silence was deafening as Buck dropped his head, pointedly looking anywhere but at Eddie in the wake of his words. Eddie’s stillness cut like razorblades, damaging the artfully drawn facade Buck had crafted for himself over the years they’d known one another.

“What did you say?”

All of the venom was gone from Eddie’s tone. All of the anger that had been bubbling up inside of him, threatening to swallow Buck as the younger man pushed and needled and tried to get into Eddie’s head, had disappeared, its point of origin forgotten, buried in the ash fall that blanketed them both after Buck’s confession had burned through the room.

The weight on the couch shifted and Buck worried his hands in his lap, chewing his lip.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Buck.”

Eddie’s voice was so soft, so gentle that Buck thought he might break. If Eddie was speaking to him in that tone, it meant he knew how precariously Buck was balanced on the edge of reason. Buck wasn’t sure if Eddie’s mildness was a product of pity, or apology, or worse.

Gentle fingers brushed the underside of Buck’s chin and he gritted his teeth, resisting their coaxing. Eddie wasn’t so easily dissuaded, though, and eventually Buck turned his head up to look at the other man, blue eyes shining with anxiety and unshed tears.

“Buck, what did you say?”

Buck swallowed around the lump in his throat, still wringing his hands. Eddie’s fingers against his skin were warm and soft and yielding, and Buck knew that if he really wanted to, he could take the out. The fact that Eddie was giving him that freedom, though, was what pushed him not to.

“I said I want to know what’s got you so worked up because -” a lick of his lips, a soft sigh, an even softer chuckle, “- because I love you.”

A moment’s pause. A half-dozen heartbeats of silence before -

“I love you, too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet and unassuming, far from the kinds of tones Buck had heard in movies and songs, but it didn’t make the reciprocation any less monumental. He let out a nervous breath, staring at Eddie. When Eddie smiled, shy and unsure, the corner’s of Buck’s mouth twitched up, too.

“I’ve been waiting so long to say that,” Buck said quietly. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it, but I guess it was just that easy, huh?”

Eddie laughed, deep and rich, and Buck felt the sound in every molecule in his body. His heart beat excitedly in his chest, fueled by a spark of joy and the fading static of his slowly-quieting anxiety. His hands shook just a little bit from the nerves, but Eddie’s hands were on his in a flash, grasping, stilling.

“Easy for me, anyway,” Eddie said wryly. “All I had to do was listen. I don’t know if I could have said it first. I’m not that brave.”

Buck rolled his eyes, his nerves long-forgotten as an opportunity to tease Eddie a little presented itself.

“You survived two tours in a warzone, pulling a live grenade out of a man’s leg, being buried alive, and you walk through fire every day,” Buck said with a shake of his head. “I don’t think it’s bravery you’re missing.”

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t I say it sooner?”

Buck turned a hand over in between Eddie’s where it was clasped, twisting until he could twine their fingers together and giving Eddie’s hand a squeeze.

“Because I don’t think you believed that anyone could ever love you again after the way things with Shannon ended,” Buck said with a shrug, plowing on before Eddie could argue. “And I realize that’s a lot to unpack and this is neither the time nor the place, but we’re going to talk about it sometime; you and me, together, so I can show you all the ways that you’re wrong.”

Buck hadn’t thought it was possible to stun Eddie into silence, and yet there they were. The air around them was still, but Buck could feel wave after wave of emotion rolling off Eddie, clouding the air. He smiled, biting his lip a little as he leaned closer.

“If you’re not going to say anything, would you mind if I kissed you?” Buck asked cheekily. “Silence isn’t really my strong suit.”

The joke snapped Eddie out of his stupor, and Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t think it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, even as it was cut off by the meeting of their lips.

Send a request!

#9-1-1 #fanfiction #Buddie #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #fireladybuckley #jules answers

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 4

Title: A Different Type of High (part four)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst in the first half, some fluff in the second half

Content Warning: mentions of death, talks about parent death, relapse scare, suicidal ideation, talks about drug usage and drugs, anxiety/panic attacks, explanations of nightmares/night terrors, swearing, intrusive thoughts,

Word Count: 4,514

Summary: Reader nearly relapses because of the anniversary of her mother’s passing.

A/N: this one does deal with some heavier topics (see CW's), so please proceed with caution. I originally had t his as on big long part, but, uh, it was too long. So it’s two parts… anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

last part series masterlist next part

{***}{***}{***}

I sat in the living room with my eyes on the coffee table. Several orange pill bottles sat lined up on the edge. The way the light caught the plastic caught my attention, mostly in a bad way. I was already on edge, and my day was already ruined. Any number of things could have made my day bad, but we can easily put the blame on my mother. And, I’m not just saying that because she’s an easy target. No, I’m blaming her because she died a year ago on this very day.

I was hungry, and not for the food in my fridge. No, I was hungry for the high and the nothingness. The high that was dangerous and could likely kill me. Maybe that’s what I wanted. I mean, the only person I have in life to keep me grounded was Spencer… And we’ve only known each other for a short time. What if he’s faking it all? He doesn’t really care about me. He just says he does. Saying stuff I want to hear.

My body was on autopilot as my hand moved towards the bottles. The grip I had on the lid was tight like my life depended on it. Mostly because, in that moment, my life did depend on it. That was until a slip of paper caught my eyes. An unfamiliar handwriting was scribbled across the paper, but a more familiar name was at the bottom.

Just because I’m at work doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you! Please call me if you need help with anything!

-Spencer

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at the note. I have no idea when he would have written it and put it there. But it was the exact sort of pick-me-up I needed to stop me from making a stupid mistake.

I stood up and shoved the paper and bottle of pills in my pocket before making my way to the door. My keys and a small stack of quarters sat on the side table beside the door, they ended up in my pocket.

My feet moved themselves, and I soon appeared at the laundromat down the street. There were a few people there, and I could tell they

hadn’t been there for very long. I just hope my phone call to Spencer wasn’t too long and they didn’t listen. Although, why would they listen to a random girl’s phone call? They don’t care, they won’t care.

I quickly made my way towards the payphones, going to the furthest one to ensure my own privacy (again, they won’t care). I fished out the quarters as I sat down. It was kind of amazing how quickly I dialed Spencer’s number, and more impressive how fast I remembered it. It was the next number I remembered after my address.

The phone only dialed for a few seconds before he answered. I would have assumed he was busy with work or something. But, I guess, like his note said, even if he was busy, he was thinking about me. I’m pretty sure he was just saying that though.

“Hello, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” he spoke calmly like he didn’t know what was happening. Well, that was probably because he had no idea I was on the verge of a breakdown. “Hello?”

“It’s… It’s me… Spencer, Spencer, I…” I swallowed roughly as I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. I could feel my heart beating a million miles an hour and hear the beating in my head. It was nearly deafening to me. Being alone didn’t help the anxious feeling. “Are you home?” My voice was a light whisper, and I wondered if he even heard me ask. I don’t even know why I asked if he was at home. I knew he was at work. It’s only 3 pm. Maybe I was just hoping he’d be home, and he could come over and save the day, make me feel better somehow. How though? I’m not sure. Spencer’s a fix-it type of guy, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

“I’m still at work. But I should be home soon. Why? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with concern. It was that moment that I realized he did care about me.

I closed my eyes and brought my hand to rest over my mouth to muffle any sobs. “Are you okay? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” He asked again when I stayed silent. I let out a deep sigh and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

“I, uh, I… I want…” I let out another deep sigh, hoping he’d know what I was getting at. “Please don’t make me say it,” I whispered and looked at the counter. My fingers rapidly tapped against the smooth surface. We both knew I had to say it and admit my defeat and the fact that I was sitting in the laundromat, with a bottle of whatever drug I had hidden in my bathroom. “Fuck,” I shouted before slamming the phone down on the hook. The other few people in the laundromat looked at me with caution in their eyes.

“What?!” I looked at them before I tightly tugged my sweater around my body before storming out of the laundromat. The pill bottle in my pocket rattled with each step I took, and it was getting very difficult to move without wanting to take anything. Tears sprung from my eyes, blurring my vision the longer I was outside.

When I finally made it back to my apartment, I stormed to the bathroom. My reflection scared me. I almost didn’t recognize myself. It was a little horrifying, seeing myself as so unrecognizable. So, I stared at myself, my hand in my pocket, rattling the contents inside.

I scoffed before shaking my head. My hand came out with the bottle, and my eyes looked down at it. My thumb fidgeted with the lid, wanting to pop it off and pour the contents into my mouth. But, instead, I chucked it to the sink, the lid popping off and pills flying everywhere, before I ran to my bedroom.

I pulled the blankets over my body to hide from the world. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and face and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. That’s a shame too… Nearly two months clean and all I wanted to do was not exist and ruin everything.

{***}{***}{***}

I jumped awake when a very loud banging came on the front door. I looked around my room before swinging my legs off my bed and leaving the room. I dragged my body across my apartment and to the front door, where the banging hadn’t stopped.

I pulled the door open and looked up. Spencer was standing there, looking at me with a frantic expression on his face. I stared at him with wide eyes, my earlier fears and anxieties quickly returning. I had nearly forgotten about calling him too. Damn it.

“You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t take anything?” He asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath and shook my head. I stepped to the side and silently invited him inside. He stepped inside and looked back at me, before looking around my home. He was probably looking for any signs of current drug use. The only real sign was in the bathroom… Where the bathroom had a grenade of pills explode all over the place. We’ll just keep him out of there… For now...

“No, no, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I, uh... I took a nap and cried it out,” I rubbed the underside of my nose. I pressed the door shut before turning around to look at him. He was looking at me, he still wore a panicky expression in his eyes and it made me feel sick. He doesn’t believe that I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t believe me either.

“What happened?” Spencer finally asked as I walked up to him. He opened his arms up and allowed me to hug him. I honestly didn’t want to answer him. Everything about today was already awful, and I just wanted it to be over. “Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a moment of silence. I let out a deep sigh after he pulled his arms away from me. He noted my deep breath and wrapped his arms back around me.

I turned my head away from his chest so I could have a coherent sentence. Er, well, as coherent as it could get. “My… It’s the anniversary of… Of my mom's death,” I swallowed roughly. Spencer looked down at me before squeezing me harder. I pressed my face into his chest and shook my head. “And, I just…. Wanted to disappear. I don’t know…” I spoke, my words being muffled into his shirt. One of Spencer’s hands cradled the back of my head while the other held me closer to him. “I didn’t want to be alive at the moment,” I whispered.

“Don’t say that,” he returned the whisper. His voice vibrated in his chest, and it felt good against my head. The way he squeezed me made me feel safer in the moment. “Please don’t ever say that again,” his voice cracked at the end. I bit my lips together as I started to cry. “Don’t even think like that,” his voice got even lower, probably because he was also crying and he was just trying to mask that fact.

“You don’t get to think that way either,” I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. He looked at me as he remembered when he was gone for a week and how he stood in front of several people with loaded weapons.

“This isn’t about me… It’s about you,” he whispered, bringing a hand to my face. His thumb brushed away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, but that was basically useless because I couldn’t stop crying. But it felt good to cry, to be honest. “You’re still young and have so much to live for. Someone has to save you,” he looked down at me, his hand still holding my face. I feared that he was only doing it to make sure I was still here and alive. Which was a weird fear for me to have, and I suppose for him to have.

“So are you, Spencer,” I whispered as I leaned into his touch more. He swallowed roughly as he kept his eyes on me. His eyes grew glossy the longer he stared at me. “You save everyone… But who saves you from yourself?” I furrowed my eyebrows. Spencer sighed deeply before hugging me again.

“You do,” his whisper was hardly audible, so I was happy I heard his words. I wasn’t so sure what he meant by that. I mean, obviously, I was the thing that kept him sane while he was home. But, I don’t exactly know how I save him though. So, I was unsure as to why he told me that. “It’s just been difficult for me recently. But, I’m working on getting better,” he spoke softly. And, I swear he said ‘for you’, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure. Even if he did say it, I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.

We stayed silent for a while, and we just stood in each other’s arms for even longer. Being in his embrace made me feel safe, and I know I said that earlier. But it’s true. I wonder if he felt the same.

“You alright?” Spencer looked up at me. I looked down at our hands and nodded. “You look like you haven’t slept in a couple of days,” he spoke, his tone was soft and gentle. I could tell that he really cared and was trying really hard not to sound mean. I didn’t mean to take it to heart the way I did, but I did.

“Not really,” I grumbled and looked down at the ground. I shrugged and quickly glanced at him. He was looking at me with an apologetic look on his face, silently telling me that he was sorry for suddenly offending me. I shrugged it off like it was nothing. It wouldn’t be the first or last time someone offended me over something so… small and unimportant. He shouldn’t be sorry, it’s my own fault. He was just asking if I was alright.

“The last few days have been rough for me, ya know? Especially with this whole thing,” I sighed deeply and shrugged again.

“If I stay here, will you promise to get some rest,” Spencer offered, grasping both my hands. I looked at our hands with a dullness in my eyes. I was beginning to zone out because of how tired I was getting. Spencer lifted a hand and gently rubbed my shoulder. I sighed and looked down before looking up at his face.

“I’m having nightmares, and they’re really realistic… That’s why I’m losing sleep,” I whispered. Spencer looked at me before pulling me into a hug. “And they’re about everything. Me, my mom, you, drugs, dying, death… I don’t know,” I mumbled into his chest. I pressed my chin into his chest and looked up at him. Spencer looked down at me with a smile on his lips. We were really close to each other’s face, and I know he noticed that too. “I like when you spend the night,” I noted, changing the subject to something lighter, even though it was that much lighter.

“Really,” he asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling lightly. I nodded and returned the smile. “Why’s that,”

“Because then I’m not lonely, and left with my thoughts,” I whispered as I stared at him. I’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, with their golden and greeny color. He looked at me like he saw something, but I was clueless about what he saw. “And, whenever I’m with you, I feel safe and at home, in some weird way. I’m sorry. I don’t know. The exhaustion is starting to hit me now that you pointed it out,” I sat back away from him. I pressed my hands into my face and shook my head. “I just never sleep anymore and I’m honestly used to it at this point. But I’m tired all the damn time,”

“I’ll be here, you can rest. You don’t have to worry about anything hurting you,” he whispered before wrapping an arm around my body. I looked up at him and nodded. “Let’s lie down?” he asked softly. I nodded before going to walk to my bedroom. Before I even got the chance to step a foot away from him, Spencer picked me up and carried me. I looked at his face and furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m fully capable of walking, you know,”

“I know,” Spencer smiled as he readjusted his hold on me. He was carrying me like a backpack, but on his front instead of his back. “But you’re tired,” he hummed as he held me tightly.

“Yeah, I am,” I looked at him with a smile. Spencer laughed at me and shook his head. Our faces were close again, closer than before. And, for some reason, I really wanted to kiss him. Which, again, is weird. He’s my best friend… And I want to fucking kiss him. It just felt like the perfect moment for us to kiss. But, I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I can’t lose the one thing that’s keeping me grounded. And he can’t lose the thing keeping him grounded.

Spencer carefully kicked my bedroom door open and walked in. He laid me down on one side of the bed before going to the other side. The blanket was pulled over both our bodies and Spencer was close to me.

“Please get some sleep,” he whispered, brushing hair away from my face. I looked up at him and nodded. “Do you want me to rub your back?”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” I laughed before rolling onto my stomach. “My bestest friend ever,” I hummed as he started running his hand along my back.

“Aren’t I your only friend?” Spencer joked lightly.

“Ah, not only that. My bestest friend,” I looked up at him and smiled. Spencer shook his head before brushing his fingers across my eyelids, somehow getting me to close my eyes.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. I giggled and nodded before moving closer to him. Spencer returned the laughter before wrapping an arm over me.

{***}{***}{***}

I wrinkled my nose as I noticed a weight across my body. It wasn’t like an emotional weight like I’ve been so used to waking up to recently. No, there was something actually on top of me while I was asleep. So, when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t too surprised when I saw something on me. However, I was more surprised that it was another person. That’s right, Spencer stayed the night.

His arm was strewn across my torso, and his legs were entwined with mine. His head was resting on the same pillow as me. The way he slept so soundly and restfully made me mildly jealous. How come he gets to sleep so peacefully and I don’t?

I hope he was as peaceful as I thought. There was probably not a bad thing he was dreaming about. Unfortunately for me, I was freaking out because I dreamt that I watched my best friend being killed.

I laid back, pressing my head into the pillow before turning to look at Spencer. His nose twitched as he stirred lightly before hugging me tighter. I held my breath, worried that my breathing would wake up. But, it did. There was no need for worry. He must be having a good dream with all the humming and hugging he was doing.

I looked at his face, mesmerized by the way he slept so soundly. The way his eyelashes pressed against his cheeks, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. His lips pouty and slightly parted. I didn’t even realize he was awake and I was staring till he said something.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling me closer before nuzzling into me more. I smiled softly as I looked up at him again. “You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” he hummed as he closed his eyes again.

“No, I don’t,” I replied back, giving up on any chances of getting up. We might be here for a while, so there’s probably no point in getting out of bed with Spencer holding me hostage.

“Mmm, good,” he opened his eyes and looked down at me. The tired smile on his lips made me feel warm and safe as I looked at him. “How long have you been awake?” he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“Not long,” I whispered, looking right at his eyes. He looked back at me and nodded. “How did you sleep,”

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he closed his eyes again, “Something about your bed is very comfortable,” he looked down at me and smiled.

“Is it the bed or is it because you’re sleeping with someone to cuddle with?” I asked myself as I stared at him. “I’m happy you find my bed comfortable,” I laughed lightly. My bed is not comfortable. So I know he didn’t find it that comfortable.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, placing a hand on my cheek. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him.

“Better than the previous night,” I shrugged a little bit. Spencer frowned as he readjusted his hold on me. “Let’s make breakfast,” I spoke out loud before sitting up, pushing his arms off me.

“Breakfast?”

“Yeah,” I smiled as I slipped out of bed and grasped his hand to pull him out of bed. He grumbled before standing out of the bed. I smiled at him before practically skipping out of the bedroom. “I’m sure I have something!” I spoke out loud, knowing I have nothing much for breakfast.

I went right to the kitchen, instantly eyeing up the loaf of bread that was probably a little stale. I grabbed it and opened the fridge, happy to see a carton of eggs. And with that, I made eggs in a basket. I hope that Spencer would enjoy that. Considering it was one of the only things I knew how to make.

“Coffee?” Spencer asked as he slowly walked into the kitchen. I turned around and pulled open a cabinet. A can of Folgers was sitting on the top shelf. I pouted as I stared at the can.

“I don’t think it’s good,” I muttered as I pulled the can from the shelf. “I probably had this stupid can of grounds for an embarrassingly long time,” I spoke as I looked into the can and noted that the grounds were kinda gross and kinda clumpy, causing me to pout. “No coffee,” I muttered, tossing the can to the garbage, only to miss and go over. The can landed with a clang on the ground.

“We can always get some later,” Spencer smiled as he bent over to pick up the can. I raised my eyebrow at him as he tossed the can to the trash, without failing.

“We?” I asked, turning to watch him lean against the counter. He shrugged and smiled.

“Why not,” he shrugged again. I smiled as I looked at him. It was only then that I realized I was burning the food.

“Oh no!” I jumped around to the stove to remove the pan from the stove. “I hope you’re okay with burnt eggs and toast,” I pouted as I looked back at Spencer. He had stepped closer to the stovetop to watch me. He looked very amused with my laughter and urgency with cooking. “Don’t laugh!” I looked up at his face.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you panic over food before,” he pointed out with a smile. I looked down at the burnt food as I carefully moved it to a plate.

“I’m hungry,” I muttered before shrugging. I looked back up at Spencer and shrugged.

“That’s a good thing…”

“Being hungry? How is that a good thing?” I scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“You have your appetite back,” Spencer pointed out before he lifted me up to set me back down on the counter. It was so effortless as he moved me. I was impressed that he barely strained to lift me (unless, he did and I was just oblivious to it). We were at the same level now, and I was able to look him in the eye instead of at his chest.

“Why’d you do that?” I looked at him before looking at the counter beside me.

“So we can have an eye to eye conversation,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and looked down at the plate of two burnt eggs in a basket. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, watching as I started picking at the food. He smiled as he stood between my legs.

“You just did,” I smiled, trying to pretend like I wasn’t suddenly anxious. Why ask someone if you can ask a question? Why not just ask the question? That’s like #1 reason why people get anxious.

“I want to take you to the office, so you can meet everyone,” he whispered as he grabbed some food too. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You want to take me… To the FBI…” I stared at Spencer. I almost relapsed yesterday and had the worst day of the year yesterday... And, he wants to take me to… The FBI to meet his friends… I could feel bile rising from my stomach. It honestly took everything in me to hold back the sick. So, I slowly lowered my hand and food back to the counter.

“Yeah, they’re my family, and you’re my family… So, that also makes them yours,” Spencer smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him. I really didn’t want to argue his logic there, but I understand why he said that.

“Won’t… They’ll… Spencer, that’s… I don’t think that's a good… They’ll ask how you know me,” I whispered as I looked away from him. He rested a hand on my knee and looked at my face.

“We won’t worry about that right now,” he whispered in a reassuring tone. I stared at him and shrugged.

“What’ll we tell them? When they ask, ya know?” I looked up at him. Spencer stayed silent as he looked around my kitchen. I could only assume he was thinking really hard about what we would say and how we would lie to his family.

“I’m not sure,” Spencer shrugged as he grasped my hands. I looked down at our hands and felt a frown forming. “I don’t know,” he whispered and shook his head. It was obvious for both of us that we would have a hard time being around his friends. Everything about telling a bunch of FBI agents that you’re addicted/was addicted to drugs can be a little (alright, a lot) intimidating. What are they going to do? The worst thing is they arrest me and fire Spencer. “Don’t overthink it,” he looked up at me. I nodded.

“I just won’t think about it,” I forced a smile before shrugging. Spencer gave me a knowing smile. “If they’re your family, Spencer, then they’re my family,” I sighed deeply as I looked down at my legs. I pulled my hands from his before rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. “And, I’d love to meet your family,” I sighed even deeper as I looked up at him. His face lit up a little bit with my words, and it genuinely made me feel happy.

“You’ll love them,” he whispered before pulling me off the counter. I wrinkled my nose before looking up at him.

“I mean, I’ve already met Emily. And, she seemed definitely cool,” I laughed as I grabbed the plate. I looked at the two burnt pieces of bread. I tossed them into the trash and looked up at him. “I just hope everyone else is just as cool as she is, and even as cool as you,” I cocked my head as I looked up at him. He stayed silent before pulling me into a hug. “When would you even want me to go?” I asked once he released me. My stomach felt upside-down as I asked my stupid question. “Whenever you want,” he spoke softly. I looked down at the ground and nodded.

“I should let you get to work. I know you don’t like being late,” I pouted, “I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” Spencer smiled before hugging me again.

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