therisingaelia

Latest Posts by therisingaelia

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖈𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲, daryl dixon. ( teaser )

▏﹒﹒ fic rating: R-- this fic is meant for mature ( 18+ ) audiences only. minors do not interact. ▏﹒﹒ warnings: violence, death, walking dead level gore, suicide / suicidal ideations, mentions + descriptions of abuse and mental illness, suggestive / sexual themes. these are warnings needed throughout the series. will be updated if needed. ▏﹒﹒ desc: the silence is often deafening. you find, however, that it is easier this way, easier to fade away. to blend into the background, to be another blur of a face— easily forgotten, & overlooked. you prefer it that way, the solitude. after all, if you are alone who will be around to question the parts about you that you don’t quite understand? the stoic expression that hardly cracks, the calcutative mannerisms, the burns on your forearms? you don’t mean to seem apathetic. it is just easier that way. ▏﹒﹒ notes: this fic is still in writing! this is simply a teaser for it & the first chapter will be posted soon. a taglist for this will be created, so if you're interested pls let me know <3

fiddling with the woven bracelets, her gaze stays glued to the way they rub against her wrists. he can’t help but feel like there's something different in her expression-- almost like there was finally something there. there is something that aches deep within him as he watches her once stoic facade break slowly like glass chipping underneath the pressure of crisp, harsh winter wind. “have you ever heard of the story of the two birds on the wire?” 

his eyebrows furrow, lips twitching downward. “naw,” he tells her. “i ain’t never ‘eard of it.”

“well, there's two birds on a wire,” she starts. he watches as her eyes finally look up, but not at him; part of him is disappointed that she didn't quite catch his eyes, but the other is sure he would have froze on the spot, like a gazelle in headlights; her gaze, much like others have described, is blinding, and he was sure he wasn’t too fond of anything remotely close to spotlight. she watches the fire in front of them crackling and in the embers glow he can see pain etched in the cracks chipped in her broken look. he didn’t think his chest could tighten any more than it already has. its become a common thing with her now. hes sure that, with her, hes never sure just about anything anymore. “one bird says c’mon and flies away, the other watches ‘em close and says i'm tired. tells ‘em that he wants to fly, too, but he's lying, because see, they’re two birds of a feather, swore to each other that they are always gonna stay together, but ones never going to let go of that wire. so the one that does want to fly is left with an impossible choice.”

see, he can remember quite clearly the day he finally felt understood-- heard, even if he didn’t speak a single word. he associates such a day with the smell of burning wood, maple tree sap, and the feeling of wet grass and moonshine on his skin. daryl dixon also remembers this as the day he fell hard, harder than that day at the quarry, and boy did he fall hard that day.

“does the bird stay with him on the wire, or fly away?”

reblog to give a lesbian a sword, a bi girl a dagger, and a trans girl a cool gun

Rhythm

peter is a really, terrible actor. he doesn't need to be good. new years themed! friends to lovers, fake dating!

NOTE: HAPPY NEW YEARS!! i apologize for the delay, the tags got me :(

She’s like his heartbeat.

It’s rhythmic, the way his days circle around hers, the way their days weave into shared weeks, curving into months forming a life entwined like overgrown roots of oak trees.

She is easy to fall into, effortlessly graceful and unthinkingly kind. She’s the kind of beautiful you look at twice, just to make sure that you saw it right.

They live two buildings away from each other, and he’s memorized every step of how to reach her home. It’s a familiar waltz, a step in time to a place where safety and comfort is so abundant it surrounds the soul.

He hasn’t told her this, of course. There is comfort in her presence and peace found in her laughter, and he’s hardly strong enough to risk any of the beauty she brings about to tell her how it makes him feel.

Still, there is always the hypothetical.

And these is plenty he is willing to indulge himself, in the realm of the hypothetical. Thoughts of how she’d settle into his arms after a long day, how his face would fit into the crook of her neck. It’s a dangerous habit, how often he considers what it would be like to let someone worry over him, and that someone to be her, all softness and kind fingers brushing over harsh wounds- her loving Peter Parker. Not Spider-Man.

All of this to say that it is incredibly hard for him to say no to her.

She asks him when she’s just made him a cup of tea. It’s two days before New Years’, and he’s a sucker for her tea. To be perfectly honest, he loves watching her make it for him- how she runs her fingers through her hair before she grabs the mug, the way she rests one hand on her hip when she grabs the milk, how she stirs the honey and the spoon hits the ceramic, music in the way she shows care.

Her pretty eyes were wide and hopeful, and god isn’t that something the most selfish part of him wants to cling to, that even pretending to be her partner was something she would want of him.

“It’s just one night, Peter,” she says, and her delicate fingers are fiddling with themselves, picking at her cuticles, “And it’d help me out more than anything.”

“Are they really that weird about you being single?”

She’s single. It’s a truth he carries around like a wish-stone, a comfort he keeps thumbing over possibility.

“It’s just that I haven’t brought anyone to these parties, and they keep trying to set me up with someone, and I just- I really don’t wanna do that. Peter, you’d be doing me a massive favor.”

Set up. And it’s not like he doesn’t know that he has not leg to stand on, and he knows that it’s selfish, to keep her time hostage in their friendship. She deserves more than a best friend who looks at her too long, always too afraid to speak.

But he wants her, wants her more than his own sense of cowardice can suppress.

“Okay, okay! Anything to save you from a bind date!”

The way she lunges to hug him, all warmth and heart- she fits perfectly in his arms, the kind of match that feels tailor-made.

His girl.

This is going to be hard.

New Years Eve, 2021

She’s stunning.

She’s wearing this blush dress, and he’s seen it in her closet, thinks it might be her go-to date dress, and it’s dizzyingly satisfying to know that she’s dressed for him. Tonight, he will be able to touch her without restraint, speak of his affection without a layer of self-preservation behind it.

Closing the door behind her, she tucks her hair behind her ear, and asks him a question, one that draws him from the depths that drinking her in surrounds him in.

“Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful.”

It might be the only truth he says tonight, but it’s the most true. She’s prettier than city lights, than the view from the Empire State.

A whole new league of gorgeous.

She looks him up and down, drinks in the sight of him like she’s meeting him all over again, and he feels overwhelmingly seen, like she can see right through him.

“You look good too, Parker.” She smiles, before grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers together. “C’mon, it’s just my neighbor, she’s just down the hall.”

He tries desperately not to think about how good it feels to hold her hand.

After greeting her friends, one by one, she introduced him.

“This is my boyfriend, Peter.”

She plays the part beautifully, and he does his best to match. It’s not like they have to try very hard. Her friends have apparently expected this, and Peter- he doesn’t want to think about what that means. They know the rhythm to each other’s step, follow the other’s action like a dance they’ve memorized by heart.

She’d be an excellent girlfriend. He knew this, of course. Didn’t need a night of pretend to tell him that, Peter knew her kindness and warmth far before. Still, it’s intoxicating, the way flirt slips into her tone, how she trails her fingers up his wrist when they’re sitting at the table with her friends. She grabs him a drink calls him sweetheart, and part of him wishes he could keep it on vinyl, listen to her so-sweet voice over on a low crackle. Her sweetheart. What he’d give to really be that.

The whole night, she’s touching him. Nothing too much, nothing that anyone would call excessive. But it’s more than he’s ever felt from her- brushes their fingers, bumps their knees. After a while, on her friend’s couch, he had his arm around her, her head laying on his shoulder.

She’s the most precious thing he’s ever held.

Later, when everyone’s too caught up with their own lovers to ay attention to her fake one, Peter pulls her away to the kitchen. She looks so stunning, stunning in the original sense of the word. The sort of beauty that stuns you, stops you in your tracks.

“Hey, hey, am I doing okay?” He asks.

He’s got her backed up against the counter, and it’s a dizzyingly pleasant feeling, her this close to him. No one is watching. He’s pushing his luck.

“You’re the most convincing actor I’ve ever seen, Parker,” she laughs, and she’s giggly, tips her head to rest on his chest for just a second, just a passing indulgence, before she looks at him again, “I oughta keep you around.”

Please, he wants to say, I’d love to keep you.

“You’re pretty good yourself,” he replies’ and he’s playing fast and loose with the rules, his hand on her waist, “What did you say, you liked me since freshman year?”

She preens, and she’s so adorable, it nearly breaks his heart. He’s been doing far too much of that tonight.

She didn’t like him, freshman year. He knows that, because he overheard her talking about some guy, and when he asked her about it, she had just said it was some guy way out of her league.

That guy keeps Peter up, some nights. How some guy could have a shot with the girl of his dreams, and not want it.

“Yeah, well,” she looks down sheepishly, “I didn’t have to act that much.”

She can’t mean that. She can’t mean that.

“You didn’t,” he says, and it’s too slow, his hand trailing up to her face. He brushes the side of her cheek, and her eyelids flutter, her lashes throwing shadows on her pretty face, “it wasn’t- it was me?”

She can’t have liked him.

Because right now, and for much longer than that, Peter hasn’t wanted a damn thing else than to be the person she wanted. To be the person who could pull her in, hold her, kiss her in ways that no-one else could, in ways she’d only want from him.

He’s an addict with a craving for her affection, and she’s standing here offering him salvation. It can’t be happening.

“Peter,” her voice is a low hum, like a radio playing a song that always brings you home, “I don’t think I’ve wanted anything else from the minute I saw you.”

Her doe eyes are wide, searching his face, searching for meaning, but Peter- he’s all action. Her heartbeat’s fast, and he can almost feel the rhythm of her pulse, the finality of the dance they’ve been spinning for months. It’s a moment, Peter knows. And moments can slip.

Then, the counting starts.

It’s New Years, and she’s so close, and her perfume smells like roses. She’s warm and pliant in his arms, a blessing to behold in the arms of someone who is far less than she deserves.

3…

She’s the best thing that has ever happened to him. He keeps the city safe because it’s where she is.

2…

The way she’s looking at him- it’s unmistakable. She wants him back. There is nothing else he’s asked for from the universe.

1…

When it happens, it’s slow at first. She’s impossible not to be consumed by the sight of, and she’s so close, and he kisses her. He’s the one who does it, who leans in and takes the moment, her face in his grasp, her pulled close to him.

He could spend the rest of his life in this moment, in this kiss.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And when he looks down at her, wide-eyed and his home, she smiles. He could spend his entire life in moments like these.

He gets the feeling, though, that there will be plenty more.

lavender haze (dark mode)

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank castle never imagined he would ever fall in love again, and he certainly never imagined love could feel like this.

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of sexual content (minors pls dni), mentions of pregnancy, a lil angst

a/n: your eyes do not deceive you, this is a repost! the first time I posted this, there was some kind of glitch that changed the color of the text which made it impossible to read on dark mode. I was unable to fix it, and i've been waiting for that glitch to be fixed. it hasn't happened with any of my, or anyone else's posts lately, so it seemed like the right time to repost this for anyone that wasn't able to read it the first time because of the dark mode issue. I truly appreciate everyone being so patient, and even reaching out to me about reposting because you wanted to be able to read it. that makes my lil heart so happy, you have no idea. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

tags: @hellskitchens-whore

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don’t ever say too much

And you don’t really read into

My melancholia

Frank didn’t know how you did it. You always seemed to just…know. You knew when he felt like talking. You knew when he didn’t. You knew when he wanted to listen to you talk about your day. You knew when he needed comfortable silence. You could tell when he wanted your touch, and when he needed to be left alone. You posed all of your questions meticulously with caution, always stopping an inch before the invisible boundary he had created. You didn’t take offense to his brooding moods that emerged from a detour into the past. You didn’t cover your ears at the silence that echoed when he got lost in the disconsolate caverns in his mind. You didn’t flinch at the scars you could touch, or the ones you could hear in his intermittent vulnerability. You seemed to understand him in a way no one ever had before. Sometimes Frank felt like you understood him more than he even did.

He gazed down at you as your eyes stayed fixated up at the ceiling. Today had been a bad day. He couldn’t remember if he had even asked if you were home before his fist was colliding with your front door, letting out a breath of relief he hadn't even noticed he was holding until your face came into focus. Did he even say hello to you? Did he utter anything at all? He couldn’t remember. Somehow the two of you had ended up on the floor by your record player, your head resting comfortably in his lap, as Elton John’s Rocket Man flowed through the speakers. He could hear you humming faintly as your eyes drifted closed for a moment, your palm delicately stretched out towards him in case he wanted to hold it, or simply letting him know you were there if he didn’t.

Music was how the two of you communicated sometimes. It was how you tried to relate to him when your own words weren’t enough. When he was quiet like this, your choices in music were more purposeful, to either let him know you understood some of what he felt, or to try to soothe the ache with what you knew he enjoyed. Sometimes Frank feared you really could read his mind, especially in moments like these when you seemed to know exactly what he needed without a single word. Even before he knew what he needed. He hated the thought of you being able to see into the carnage that occupied his skull. Of course he knew that was fucking ridiculous. He didn’t even know if you knew what you could do, and if you were aware, you never showed it.

Frank hadn’t had someone to run to in a long time. Someone he didn’t feel like a burden to in doing so. It had taken him longer than he’d like to admit to be comfortably exposed with you. Slowly but surely, he tore his own guard down brick by brick as you waited patiently. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be a liability for you, he was also nervous about just how much of himself he could reveal without running you off. Frank had managed to find you during yet another really low point in his life; a glimmer of light through all the darkness. He still remembers the day he met you in that bookstore. He often replays that memory in his head like an old comforting home movie.

You had complimented his choice in literature as he held a worn copy of The Great Gatsby in his hands, disclosing to him that it was one of your favorites. Frank was instantly captivated by you and your sweet smile. For a good ten minutes you stood there with him, discussing books you had both read, and recommending a few of your other favorites to him that you thought he would like based on his previous reads. It made him feel so…human. There was a warmth about you that made him shiver. 

To this day, Frank still doesn’t know where he found the courage to ask you to coffee, and he still has absolutely no idea why you said yes. All he knew was that he loved you, and that seemed to be enough.

I’ve been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

When news broke that the Punisher was back in New York, the media had a fucking field day. Frank knew he was at fault. He had been a little too reckless and not bothered to check for cameras at the warehouse. Madani was pissed. She was giving him an earful over the phone. She wasn’t on speaker, but Frank knew you could hear every word she was saying from your spot on the couch. Every news channel seemed to be debating on the alternating justifications on why Frank was a necessary anti-hero, or why he was a psychopathic murderer. After about three minutes, you simply just shut off the tv.

Frank wasn’t even hardly paying attention to Madani’s words. Hell he didn’t even fucking care what they were saying about him on the news. If he valued public opinion, he wouldn’t be who he was. His eyes kept glancing over at you. There was a neutral look on your face, but Frank wasn’t sure if that was for your sake or his. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in your head. He didn’t know what to say. You knew who Frank was when you met, and you had never given any indication that who he really was bothered you, but that did nothing to dull the anxiety throbbing in his veins.

This was all completely unchartered territory for him, and he was absolutely lost. He had never talked to Maria about the horrors he endured and committed during his tours. Frank had vowed to keep that part of his life separate from his family when he came home. But Maria had the luxury of his anonymity. You didn’t. You didn’t have the privilege of a soldier just following orders. The evidence of his brutality was plastered everywhere for you to see. It was no longer something unspoken the two of you pretended wasn’t lurking in the shadows. It was glaring you right in the face. Frank didn’t know how you would react, and if he was being honest with himself, he was fucking scared. He didn’t want to lose the one good thing he had found that made life worth living again. He didn’t want to lose you. 

Frank cut Madani’s rampage off with the pad of his thumb, placed his phone on silent, and set it face down on the counter. He would deal with that later. This was more important.

“You were never s’posed to see any of this.”

Your head perked up when his gruff voice cut through the silence. There was a tender expression in your eyes, and your lips had pulled into a sympathetic smile.

“I know. Flaunting isn’t really your style. I’m sure this will all blow over in a couple days. Dinah will calm down eventually. It’s all going to be okay, Frank.”

The conviction in your voice had a lump forming in Frank’s throat. Despite everything, here you were trying to comfort him. Frank didn’t know what to do other than settle on his knees in front of you on the floor, head nestled against your stomach as his arms wrapped tightly around your body in silent begging. 

“I’m so sorry ‘bout all this, sweetheart. I didn’t…I never wanted any of this shit to come back to you.”

“Frank, you have never lied to me about who you are, and I have never pretended to not know.”

“Doesn’t mean I ever wanted you to see this side of me. I could handle you knowin’. That’s one thing. But seein’…what I do…I don’t want you to change your mind…”

Frank’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish that sentence. He closed his eyes as he felt your fingers carding through his hair. 

“Hey, look at me.”

Frank couldn’t. He was afraid of what he would see. The disgust at his actions, the regret in your choices, the recant of your affection. It wasn’t someone else’s bullets ripping away his happiness this time. It was his own. There would be no one else to blame for this. No one else’s blood would satiate this desperate vengeance. He would have to live with his own wrath and guilt. After a moment of silence, you gently cupped his strong jaw and lifted his chin to meet your warm gaze. Frank reluctantly met your eyes, but he didn’t find the repulsion he expected. All he found was acceptance.

“I love you, Frank Castle. I know exactly who you are. I don’t need anyone else to tell me. You are the man that makes me feel safe. You are the man who makes me feel special and loved. You are the man that risks his life over and over again to protect people. You are the man that brings me daisies when you know I’ve had a bad day. You are the man that twirls me around the kitchen when we’re cooking dinner together. I know you, and I love you. Every side of you. There is nothing you, or anyone else, could ever do or say that would change the way I see you, or the way I feel about you. I promise.”

Not even Frank’s own self inflicted loathing and contempt could combat your verity. He could hear the unrelenting sincerity dripping from your words as your lips brushed past his ear. He could see the genuine devotion reflected in your eyes when he held your gaze from underneath him. He could feel the profound adoration in the gentleness of your touch, holding his face in your hands as his hips found refuge between yours. He could taste the ardent desire on your lips over and over as he made love to you right there. He could even smell the sentiment of a silent promise made from the intermingling of both of your climaxes lingering in the aftermath of his display of gratitude.

Frank didn’t know what the future held for a man like him that had ventured through hell and back several times over and cheated death more times than he could count. But he had a second chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Not when he had found you. He already felt like he won the goddamn jackpot when you agreed to that first date, and he wasn’t sure how much luck he had left to really make this work. But as long as you wanted him around, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t find a way. 

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

When was the last time he had felt this happy? This…light? Frank couldn’t remember. It had to have been during the early years of being married to Maria, before he started getting deeper into classified ops that held more and more pieces of him hostage with every completed mission. Before he started to feel anxious about going home because he wasn’t sure who he was there. Before he started preferring being covered in blood dodging bullets with his unit than being around his own kids. 

All of that felt like another lifetime ago. Frank supposed it was, in a way. It was all a little hazy in the back of his mind sometimes. Whether that was from the tequila you had talked him into or the way your hips were swaying to the song filling the small space of the dive bar you two had become regulars at, he wasn’t sure. Could’ve been a bit of both. But as he watched you move from across the room, a playful grin on your lips as you beckoned him over with your index finger, everything else seemed to fade away.

God, you could dance. Frank was mesmerized the first time he saw the way you could move your hips. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you from his seat at the bar, but that was nothing compared to watching you from below that night. Frank was drawn to you like a magnet, his feet moving before his brain even caught up. He grinned when you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a dizzying kiss. Frank wrapped his arms around your waist as tightly as he could, sneaking one of his large hands up the back of your shirt to feel the warmth of the soft skin on your lower back. His hands found their way to your hips of their own accord, like they always did.

“Hey, big guy.”

“Hi darlin’.”

“You weren’t gonna come dance with me?”

“Just enjoyin’ the view, sweetheart. You know I like to watch.”

Frank reveled in the way your cheeks burned a deeper shade of red, doe eyes widening and lips parting slightly in surprise. You quickly recovered, a knowing smirk taking over your mouth as you pressed your chest against his.

“Well if you wanted a private show, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Frank dipped his head to brush his nose along the underside of your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin just below your ear before nipping at it just hard enough to earn a sharp gasp from you. He let one of his large hands trail down your lower back, giving your ass a playful smack before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing gently.

“Alright then, pretty girl. Let’s get outta here.”

There weren’t always nights like this where the two of you got to go out freely and just be a regular couple. But on the occasions where you did get a little normalcy, Frank wanted it to last forever. He didn’t even want to go to sleep those nights. He just wanted to stay in the moment with you, and milk it for all it was worth. The rare moments when he wasn’t The Punisher. He wasn’t the Marine. He wasn’t a widower that had fatherhood ripped away from him. He wasn’t weighed down by the weight of the world and another lifetime of trauma and loss.

He was just Frank, and he was just yours. 

All they keep asking me

Is if I’m gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see

Is a one night or a wife

Curt and David had both been giving Frank hell about you. They continuously kept asking him when he was gonna “lock that shit down”. The first time he had brought you around them, they were both absolutely stunned that Frank had landed someone like you. Curt had jokingly offered to give you a head exam, and David had repeatedly asked how much Frank was paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend. 

“No seriously, I lived with this asshole for several months. There’s no fucking way he landed someone like you, unless he’s paying you. Granted…he did try to steal my wife once, but that was under the guise of alcohol and desperation on her part. Is that it Frank? You just keep her drunk so she doesn’t fully see your face or recognize how much of a dick you are?”

“Oh for fucks sake Lieberman, for the last goddamn time I didn’t-sweetheart you know what, just ignore him. We all do anyway.”

“What I think D is tryin’ to say is that we think it’s great you’re so involved in charity. I mean, you’re doin’ a real public service here. We appreciate your sacrifice, truly. I ain’t seen this man smile this much in…years.”

“This is why I can’t fuckin’ take y’all anywhere, Jesus Christ.”

Despite the teasing, you had fit in effortlessly with them. Anyone passing by the table would’ve thought you had all been friends for years. There was no awkwardness or hesitation to acclimate, you had even dished back your own playful banter throughout the evening earning you eyebrows raised in surprise and prideful smirks from Frank.

“Y’all keep fuckin’ with my girl, and I ain’t gonna hold her back. She ain’t always as nice as she looks. Hell, she hits harder than both of y’all combined. Trust me.”

Curt and David both adored you, not only because of how good you were for Frank, but also because they really genuinely liked you. As the months added up to a year, they both kept pressuring Frank to take the next step in your relationship. Once they had figured out you weren’t just a fling, and that Frank had truly fallen in love with you, neither one of them could wrap their head around why he wouldn’t want to make it official. Curt knew Frank would always love Maria, and that there would never be any replacing her. But he also knew that there would never be another you. You were Frank’s second shot. There wouldn’t be a third. There wasn’t room in his heart for a third.

Frank wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were way out of his league. Not only were you absolutely way too good for him, he also thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He noticed all the eyes on you everytime the two of you went somewhere. He didn’t miss the utter confusion written evidently on guy’s faces when you reached for his hand to intertwine your fingers together or pressed a kiss to his lips with a huge grin. He resisted the urge to stalk over and snap something out of place when their disrespectful stares lasted a little too long for his liking. But you never noticed any of it. Because every time Frank brought his gaze back to you, your eyes were already on him. They were always on him.

It wasn’t that Frank didn’t see a future with you. When he thought about what the rest of his life looked like, you were always there. He loved you entirely. He just wasn’t sure if he could be a husband again. Frank had proposed to Maria three months into their relationship because she was pregnant, and it was the right decision. Not to say that they would’ve never gotten married had she not been pregnant, but everything had happened so fast. Frank became a husband and a father almost overnight. He didn’t regret a second of his marriage with Maria, but he didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted to take his time with you. Frank wanted to savor every moment with you, just as you were. No pressure, no expectations, just you and him. 

You were the first person Frank had ever met that didn’t ask him to be someone else. You didn’t ask him to hide the parts of himself that were scary. You didn’t try to tame the aspects of his life that were tumultuous. You didn’t try to redirect his daunting choices. You didn’t try to pull him in a million different directions and expect him to be someone he wasn’t. You let him be exactly who he was, and loved him all the same. Frank didn’t need a piece of paper to know how much you loved him, or that you were his. You proved that to him every single day. 

I find it dizzying

They’re bringing up my history

But you aren’t even listening

Madani was on a rampage. Frank hadn’t tied things up as neatly as she had wanted, and arguably had left a bit of a mess, and she was furious. Enough to show up at his front door with Mahoney ten minutes shy of five in the morning with more rage than a person should ever have that early. Since you and Frank had recently moved in together, they were also at your front door, and Frank knew that once you were awake there was no going back to sleep for you. Pushing his own annoyance to the side, Frank apologized profusely, but you simply shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to make coffee for the four of you.

She wanted Frank to go back in and finish the job, this time wrapping everything up neatly with a bow. No loose ends. No mess. But to Frank, it wasn’t worth the risk. The previous case had taken months of prep work and careful planning. The target was high profile, with even more high profile friends, and was someone the U.S. government was not technically supposed to be going after. Madani had given Frank very strict instructions, all of which he did his best to follow, but there were unforeseen complications he had to improvise with. 

“It ain’t worth the risk, Madani. They know someone’s gunnin’ for ‘em now. It ain’t gonna be as easy to catch ‘em off guard again. The security this guy has now could put the fuckin’ secret service to shame.”

“I can’t just let him go, Castle. If this guy goes underground, that’s it. We won’t have another chance. This has to happen now.”

“I get that Dinah, alright I do. But there ain’t enough time to put somethin’ together that’s gonna work. We don’t even have-”

“Oh bullshit! That’s complete bullshit Frank, and you know it. If this guy had kidnapped Karen Page, you’d be there in a heartbeat and he’d be dead by now. You have no problem running straight into the fire when your own selfish interests are at risk but not when I fucking need you to.”

Frank’s jaw tensed at the mention of Karen and his eyes immediately diverted to you. You were finally making your own cup of coffee after bringing three to the table for them. If you had reacted to her name at all, Frank didn’t see it. He had mentioned Karen briefly to you once a few months ago, and how she had helped him find David. You knew she was present for his trial and had read the articles she had written about him. You knew there was a history there. Frank hadn’t really detailed exactly what that history was or meant. He had simply said she was someone he cared about and left it at that. You never asked about it again.

Mahoney seemed to follow Frank’s gaze over towards where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. His eyes lingered on Frank for a moment before he faced Madani and cleared his throat.

“I think the point you’re missing Madani is he has no trouble doing that when it comes to certain people. If that person isn’t in danger, he’s not gonna roll up guns blazing to a suicide mission.”

“Since when the hell are you on his side, Mahoney? You need this done as badly as I do.”

“I do. But we need to be smart about this, and you need to consider all the stakes that are involved, and who those consequences fall on.”

Brett motioned his head subtly in your direction, and for the first time since shoving her way in completely blinded by anger, Dinah noticed your presence. Her wrath seemed to dissipate a little as she glanced between you and Frank, detecting the somewhat pleading look in his eyes. Halting her pacing, she finally took a seat at the dining table and let out a deep exhale of understanding. 

“Alright. How do we do this Frank? What’s the smartest way, what do you need from me?”

“Patience, for starters.”

“Now Frank, you know better than to taunt an angry woman that’s got a full clip without a bulletproof vest.”

Walking by to place a kiss to Frank’s head, you shot Dinah a wink and lightly squeezed Brett’s shoulder on your way back into the bedroom. Dinah looked over at Frank in amusement, a smirk completely taking over her mouth as she brought the steaming mug to her lips.

“For the record, I like her better than you.”

“Glad we’re all in agreement then. Cause I like her a hell of a lot more than you two put together.”

After Madani and Mahoney had left, Frank made his way into your shared bedroom and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom as he watched you get ready for work.

“Shoulda warned you movin’ in with me meant house calls from Madani at ungodly hours.”

“Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”

The smile you sent Frank’s reflection in the mirror nearly made him weak in the goddamn knees. 

“Can I take ya to breakfast?”

“I’d love that. I’m almost done.”

Frank watched you silently for a moment, mesmerized by all your little movements. He liked to watch you when you weren’t paying attention, when you thought no one was paying attention to you. He loved the way your nose crinkled adorably when you got embarrassed or confused, the cute little pout that formed on your lips when something wasn’t right or working, how you were always humming something when you were lost in thought. Frank pulled you into his embrace the second you turned around, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheekbone.

“I really am sorry ‘bout this mornin’. Not just, ya’know, Madani flyin’ in like a bat outta hell. What she said ‘bout Karen-”

“I know, Frank. It’s okay. She’s right, though. If Karen was involved, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I wouldn’t hesitate for you either.”

A shy smile took over your lips as you leaned into Frank’s embrace, gently wrapping your small hand around his wrist.

“I know that, Frank. I know you’d do it for me too. And Curtis, and David, and even Dinah and Brett. And before you even start your protest, don’t bother. Because you’ve already done it for everyone on the list. Some of them, several times.”

“Not you, though. And I hope to God it never comes to that. But if it ever does-”

“You’re wrong.”

Frank cocked his head slightly to the side, peering down at you with brows knit in confusion.

“What?”

“You’re wrong. You have done it for me.”

“When?”

“Everyday. You save me, every single day, and you have since that day in the bookstore.”

Frank stared down at you incredulously, shaking his head slowly to himself. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around you and leaned in to press his forehead against yours.

“You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna take you to bed instead of breakfast.”

“Why not both?”

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

When Frank had asked you what you wanted for your birthday, your answer was simple. Him. Frank argued that you had to let him get you a birthday present after you had gone all out for him, so you compromised. Time. That’s all you asked for. Just you and him, no distractions, no responsibilities, no work, no interruptions. Frank hadn’t hardly been home the past two months, and you had been putting in a few late nights of your own even when he was. Every night he was away from you made Frank wonder how the hell he ever managed to go eighteen months without Maria.

Two weeks before your birthday, Frank told you to request a few days off and pack a bag. He wouldn’t tell you why, just said to pack comfortably for cold weather. You didn’t even bother trying to get a hint out of him. The man had been trained for torture, he wasn’t going to give into your incessant childish begging when he was so committed to his surprise. He was still tight lipped as you both loaded his truck down and took off on a three hour drive upstate. When he turned off onto a winding dirt road and caught your puzzled expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle. It wasn’t until the cozy cabin finally came into view that a gasp left your mouth. Your head snapped towards him with wide eyes as he put the truck in park.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“You got me a cabin?”

Frank threw his head back and howled with laughter, reaching over to grab onto your thigh and squeeze gently as an ear splitting grin covered his mouth.

“Well hell, if I had known you wanted one, I woulda got you one. But since someone didn’t wanna give me any ideas, I had to get creative. This is all ours for the next few days. Ain’t no one around for miles. And the best part? No cell service.”

Even though there were tears in your eyes from how thoughtful Frank’s gift to you was, it didn’t stop you from climbing onto his lap and clawing at his belt with eager hands. Frank didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. It was your birthday after all. He’d give you whatever you wanted. And if you wanted to ride him in the front seat of his truck, well then it felt like his birthday too. You and Frank nearly christened every spot in that cabin in less than 24 hours. Frank fucked you in the large plush bed in the bedroom, the hot tub, on the kitchen counter, in front of the fireplace, on the dining table, in the shower, the couch, and even against a tree when you went for a walk together in the woods.

For three days it was absolute uninterrupted bliss, and Frank had never been happier. You both took turns cooking meals, even though Frank was adamant about doing most of the cooking since it was your birthday trip. He dazzled you with his baking skills when he handcrafted a red velvet birthday cake with cream cheese frosting; your favorite. You both found a beautiful trail that had a breathtaking view of a lake and had a picnic there. Frank slow danced with you around the living room with only the glow of the fire and moon to illuminate the space. It felt like a dream neither of you wanted to wake up from.

After spending nearly an hour with his head buried between your thighs and another with his hips pressed firmly to yours, Frank held you delicately against his chest. His thick fingers ran loosely throughout your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp how he knew you liked. He watched as your fingertips carefully traced scars and indentations along his chest and abdomen. Sometimes when you laid like this, you asked him the story behind each one. But tonight, you were unusually quiet. Frank lightly nudged his nose against your temple.

“What’s goin’ on up there?”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

Your voice was small and fragile, like a shattered piece of glass that hadn’t yet fallen to pieces. Frank had almost forgotten that tonight was your last night here. He had been trying to make you forget too. 

“Me neither, sweetheart. We can always come back.”

You hummed quietly in response, tracing invisible words above Frank’s heart that he couldn’t quite decipher. He placed his index finger under your jaw and lightly grasped your chin to tilt your head back.

“That it?”

Frank could see the hesitation in the depths of your eyes. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, something you always did when you were contemplating your words carefully. For a second, Frank was worried he might have done something wrong, or not done something he should have.

“We can go somewhere nice for you birthday when we get back if you wanted-”

“No, no Frank that’s not it. This…this has been the most perfect and special birthday I’ve ever had. It’s the first time I’ve even enjoyed celebrating my birthday since I was a kid. I guess I’m just…feeling selfish.”

“Selfish? You’re allowed to be selfish on your birthday, darlin’. That’s kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“My birthday was three days ago.”

“So?”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of your mouth as you shook your head slowly. Frank watched as your gaze dropped back down to where your fingertips were still writing invisible words.

“C’mon baby, talk to me. Feelin’ selfish how?”

“I just…don’t wanna go home. I like this. I like having you all to myself. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…just…it’s nice.”

“My what?”

Frank dipped his head slightly to meet your gaze, but he couldn’t catch it. Whatever you wanted to say, you were guarding it. 

“Your…main priority.”

Priority wasn’t the word you wanted to use. Frank knew it as soon as the words left your mouth. You couldn’t lie to save your life. He knew there was something else you wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out what. Neither of you kept things from the other, and he couldn’t understand why you were doing that right now. He gently grabbed your neck and held your face with his fingers, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. They were shimmering with a translucent layer of sadness, but he couldn’t tell what from.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you, Frank.”

“You are my main priority, baby. I want you to know that. I know I been gone a lot lately, and I’m sorry ‘bout that, but you do come first. You need me, you call me. I don’t care where I am, what time it is, or how small you may think it is. You need me, you call me, and I’m there. No questions asked. You got that?”

Nodding slowly, you closed your eyes for a moment as a tear slipped past your lashes. Frank brought his thumb up to catch it before it could descend down your cheek, holding you even tighter against his chest.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. S’alright, honey.”

“I just miss you when you’re gone, Frank. So much. I worry about you all the time. I get scared that everytime I hear your voice on the phone might be the last…or what I would do if you didn’t come home-”

“Hey, look at me. I will always come home to you. I promise. You will always have me. Always. I miss you the second I step out that door, and all I can think about when I’m away is comin’ home to you. Nothin’ could ever keep me away from my favorite girl.”

Frank pressed his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss, lingering there for a moment as he held you tightly in his arms. He made another promise that night that once every couple of months you two would get away for a while. No distractions, no responsibilities, no interruptions. He made love to you two more times so that the only thing you could feel was him. He kept himself inside you as he wrapped you up in his body completely, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you fell asleep. When the morning came, he woke you up with his head nestled between your thighs, chasing any lingering feelings of sadness away with his tongue until there was nothing left but pure gratification. 

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

Things had been different after you and Frank got back from your trip. They were so subtle, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t going crazy and imagining things that weren’t there. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but something was different. Something was off. He could feel it. 

There was a dissonance between the two of you. Frank noticed you had become a little distant, withdrawing into yourself at times. Of course he had no room to speak, he had been guilty of doing that on several occasions. He figured you might have been going through something and needed your space until you were ready to talk about it. So, he did what you always did with him. He was patient, provided reassurance of his presence both verbally and with gestures, and gave you the space you needed.

But then a month went by, and you still hadn’t said anything. He tried to be as patient as you had been with him, but it was never his virtue. It was driving him absolutely mad trying to put together this puzzle when all the pieces were locked away in your mind. Anyone else observing you wouldn’t be able to tell you were acting differently, not even the ones that knew you. But no one knew you quite like Frank. He noticed everything about you. He saw the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes like they normally did. He heard the detachment in your voice when he asked you about your day. He hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch in a month. Every time he managed to make it home at a decent hour, you weren’t there. You had been spending more nights at work, making up excuses about a big project with a strict deadline. But Frank knew better. He knew you were avoiding him. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He replayed the entire trip in his head over and over again, searching for anything out of place that would explain your behavior. The only thing Frank could think of was your last night at the cabin when you had gotten emotional about leaving. Frank analyzed every piece of that conversation. He thought he had done everything right that night by telling you everything that you needed to hear to put your mind at ease, and making a promise to dedicate more time together. But if more time together was what you wanted, why were you pulling away?

Frank couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be as patient as you. Something was wrong, and the uncertainty was driving him fucking crazy. He managed to easily find a way into your building, a concern he would discuss with you at a later time, and was barreling towards your office. The space was dark and quiet, seemingly empty, but he could see the light on through your window. Frank shut and locked the door as soon as he stepped through, barricading the door with his large frame. There was nowhere for you to run. The only way out was through him, and he wasn’t letting you leave until you talked to him.

“Frank? What are you-”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what. You’ve been off since we got home. Now look…I’ve tried, alright? I’ve tried to give you space until you were ready to talk about whatever the hell this is, and ya’know be patient until you were ready to come to me…but you’re not comin’ to me. You’re hidin’ from me. Why?”

“I’m not hiding from you, Frank.”

“Yes you are. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve been spendin’ almost every night here instead of at home with me. That’s why you keep tryin’ to lie when we both know you’re fuckin’ terrible at it. Ya’know I thought…I thought we didn’t do that. I thought we agreed ya’know, no secrets. No lies. So…what is it?”

The silence in the room was deafening and nearly drowned out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. For the first time in a very long time, Frank was fucking terrified. He had no idea what was going on with you. He had no idea what he had done wrong. He didn’t like the way your face twisted up in remorse and confusion. He hated that you wouldn’t look at him. He would’ve rather faced down the barrel of a loaded gun than whatever the fuck was about to happen right now. Frank took a step forward, his eyes darting back and forth fervently as he searched your face for something, anything. His voice was gentle and laced with pure vulnerability as he pleaded with you.

“Please just…please just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Just…tell me what’s goin’ on. I can’t…I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what the problem is. Please tell me.”

Frank watched closely as you rubbed your palms slowly down your face, looking anywhere but at him as you glanced around your office. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and Frank’s fingers twitched at his sides in anxious anticipation.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Frank.”

Your words caught him completely off guard, and he blinked a few times as confusion settled between his dark brows.

“What?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you finally lifted your head to meet Frank’s unrelenting gaze. You gave a light shrug of your shoulders as a tiny melancholic smile covered your lips.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Frank I…I know you love me. I know that, okay. But…is that it?”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared down at you. He could see that you were waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell the question was. 

“I’m not followin’, sweetheart. Is what it?”

“Is that all there is? I mean am I…am I it? Because you are Frank. You are it for me. I know what I want from you, but I have no idea if you want it too, or if you even want it at all. I don’t know what you want.”

“Sweetheart, what I want is you. Is that not clear?”

“Yeah but for how long, Frank?”

Frank stared at you silently, feeling completely lost within your riddle. He was trying his hardest to follow along, but a piece of the puzzle was still missing. You were still holding something back. He wasn’t sure if it was the same piece you withheld that last night at the cabin, but it was preventing him from being able to see the whole picture.

“What do you want?”

“Frank-”

“Say it. Whatever it is you been too scared to say, just say it. I’m not gonna understand until you tell me, so just get it off your chest.”

Hesitation flashed across your face, and he could practically feel the uneasiness radiating off of you. Frank watched as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and took a few steps forward to gently pry it away with his thumb. He reached out to take one of your small hands in his, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of your knuckles before giving it a delicate reassuring squeeze.

“Talk to me.”

“I want a future, Frank. I want a future with you. I want everything with you.”

“You don’t think I want that?”

“I don’t know, Frank. You’ve never mentioned it, we’ve never talked about it. I don’t know what you really want. I know that I love you, and I want to be with you. Always. You’re it for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want a life together. I want…a family. Our family. I just…I don’t know if you want any of those things.”

It was your turn to be nervous as Frank stared down at you silently while processing your words. Once everything clicked in his brain, he felt like a fucking idiot. He had told everyone that he wanted a future with you. Everyone except you, apparently. He hadn’t told you that whenever he thought about his future, you were at the center of it. He hadn’t told you that you were it for him too. He hadn’t explained why he never mentioned marriage or starting a family to you. Hell, he hadn’t even stopped to consider if those were things you even wanted. Not once in the past year and a half had he bothered to ask. 

You had tried to subtly give him a hint that last night at the cabin. Frank had a sudden epiphany as your words echoed in his head. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…main priority. He knew you hadn’t meant to say priority, but it wasn’t until now that he realized what you were actually trying to say. 

Your wife. Your partner. Your future.

“A family?”

“Yes, Frank. A family.”

The sincerity in your voice absolved any remaining apprehensions Frank had about making it all official. He could do this again. He could do it with you. He knew you didn’t need a piece of paper either to know how much he loved you, but if it made you feel more secure in your future together, he would do it. He would do anything for you. Frank shoved everything off of your desk quickly before lifting you by your hips to set you up on top of it. His hands were in the middle of pushing your dress up your thighs when you placed your palms against his chest and laughed nervously.

“Frank, what are you doing?”

“You want a baby sweetheart? I’ll give you one. Right now.”

“Frank-”

“You just tell me what kind of ring you want. You got it.”

“Frank I…I don’t…I didn’t mean right now. We don’t have to figure this all out right now. I just…wanted to know what you wanted. If…if you wanted a future with me too. I mean…I want you to want this too. I don’t want you to do it just because it’s what I want. If you-”

Frank cupped your face in his large hands and leaned in to kiss your lips softly. He sighed in content against your mouth, nuzzling his nose against your own. He pressed his forehead to yours as he started deeply down into your eyes.

“I love you. I love wakin’ up next to you. I love that you’re the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night. I wanna spend the rest of my life lovin’ you. Ya’know after Maria…I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do any of that again. I wasn’t sure if I could. But if that’s what you want, then I want it too. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

“Really?”

“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I promise.”

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

You and Frank were not a traditional couple. You never had been. There was nothing traditional or normal about your relationship, but neither one of you seemed to really care. Everything between the two of you had always happened exactly as it was supposed to. You did everything on your own terms, at your own pace, and only followed your own expectations that you two had established together. Now that you were both on the same page about your future together, you simply decided to let the rest of the pieces come together when it was their time. 

Over the course of the next year, you and Frank only fell harder and more deeply in love. True to his word, Frank made sure that you two had some little getaway planned every three months. The walls of your home were filled with little snippets of your favorite memories from your trips together. There were even a few that Curt and David along with the rest of the Lieberman family had joined you on. You started your own holiday traditions of spending them with yours and Frank’s chosen family, and David’s kids were absolutely thrilled when you got Frank a puppy for Christmas last year. Frank had even let them have the honor of naming him which is how you ended up with an adorable big baby of a pit bull named Zeo, a combination of their names.

Life was so full for the two of you, it never felt like anything was missing. There were only more things you wanted to add to it. Frank eventually found himself at complete peace with the idea of becoming a husband and father again. There was no pressure of expectations or rush to catch up with anyone else. He had simply healed enough to make that choice of his own accord. Being your husband was what Frank genuinely wanted for himself. He wanted to be a complete unit with you; a team. For your three year anniversary, Frank took you back to that same cabin and proposed to you in front of the golden glow of the fireplace. A month later, you had a small intimate little ceremony at that beautiful spot by the lake you had found during your first exploration. 

There was nothing traditional about it, but it was perfect. David got ordained and performed the ceremony, asking you three times if you were absolutely sure you wanted to be legally bound to Frank forever. Curt and Sarah stood by yours and Frank’s sides. Zach and Leo were the ring bearer and flower girl. You and Frank had even gotten Zeo a little bowtie for his collar. The “reception” took place at yours and Frank’s favorite diner in town. Instead of wedding cake, you two shoved apple pie in each other's faces. The celebrations continued at the bar across the street where you toasted with cheap wine and shots of tequila. Your first dance was to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons because it was the best choice on the jukebox. That night you and Frank made love more times than you could count. 

A few months later when you both decided you were ready to start a family, you left it all up to chance. You weren’t actively trying, but you also weren’t using protection. Whenever it was meant to happen, it would. Seven months later you found out you were pregnant. The grin on Frank’s face when you told him the news was composed of pure happiness. Neither of you wanted to know what you were having until the baby was born, but you picked out names that you both absolutely loved either way. Frank was present for every big and little moment of your pregnancy. All the appointments, hearing the heartbeat for the first time, feeling the first little movements and kicks. All those little things and moments he had missed both times Maria was pregnant he was now getting to experience fully with you. He was there for every second of your labor, letting you grip his hand as tightly as you needed, getting you anything you wanted, showering you in praise and encouragement when it was time to push.

Frank sobbed proudly when he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time. He was in complete awe of the beautiful creature the two of you had created together in pure love. He still questioned relentlessly what he had done so right to deserve this life; this second chance. There were still so many moments he doubted whether he was deserving of happiness. But here he was, holding his happiness in his arms. His second chance. His future. Frank wanted to stay in this moment forever.

✧ SEBASTIAN STAN 80th Annual Golden Globe Awards January 10th, 2023 | Beverly Hills

.⋆˚𝐴 𝐿𝐼𝑇𝑇𝐿𝐸 𝐻𝐸𝐿𝑃

Summary︱Bringing a man home only meant one thing for you—boring, meaningless sex. After a pathetic attempt to experience a blissful release, Bucky offers to help out.

Pairings︱DBF!Roomate!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

W.C︱2.2k

Warnings︱18+ this is straight up porn, age gap, reader using a vibrator, slight dom/sub dynamics, моя игрушка means my toy, praise, stomach bulge, squirting, a little bit of aftercare at the end.

Author's note︱I had to make it DBF bc i am a total whore for older men and it's honestly perfect for it. PSA THE READER MET BUCKY WHEN SHE WAS OVER 18. HE DID NOT SEE HER GROW UP. Anyways enjoy :D Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

You laid on the bed, your body barely jerking as your date thrusted inside you. You wondered what went wrong. It wasn’t that the date in itself was bad, it turned out to be one of the best dates you’ve been on so far. He was a nice and a very attentive man. 

“If only he could be that attentive in the bedroom,” you thought. 

You let out fake moans to make it seem you were slightly enjoying it and avoiding hurting his ego. Though someone should, so he would finally know how terrible he is be in bed. At least he was pretty so it wasn’t such a terrible loss on your side. You had a decent view. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned into your neck. 

“Please do so you can leave,” you said to yourself. 

With one final grunt his body stilled over yours, dropping all his weight on you seconds later. You placed your hands on his chest and pushed him over. He took it as a silence cue to leave. All that could be heard was the condom being thrown in the trashcan and the sound of his footsteps. You wanted him gone so you could have your own fun. 

You didn’t even bother turning around. Not even when he kissed you goodbye. When you heard the door shut, you immediately crawled across your bed to get to your vibrator that was deeply stuffed in the top drawer of your nightstand. You pulled the hot pink wand out and bit your lip in excitement. 

A gleeful hum escaped your lips when you pressed the vibrator against your clit and turned it on. You threw your head back in pleasure, your lips parting open as breathy moans left your lips. When you felt the vibrator lose its intensity down to lower vibration you internally groaned but nonetheless tried to enjoy the pleasure. 

Just as you felt your orgasm build up, the vibrator turned off. You frantically tried to turn it back on, mumbling a symphony of curses.

“Don’t do this to me now,” you wailed. Though the vibrator was fully dead. 

Out of frustration you threw the vibrator across the room, causing a huge thud sound as soon as it hit the wall. At least Bucky wasn’t here to hear any of it otherwise he would’ve fully woken up. 

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” you yelled into your pillow, your screams sounding muffled.

Seconds later you heard a knock on your door. “Honey, are you okay?” 

You audibly gasped, Bucky wasn’t supposed to be here. You pulled the covers up to your chest just in case he came into the room. “Yeah I’m fine!” 

 “You sure?” He asked as he entered the room. He smirked when he saw the white sheet clinging onto your body, your fingers clutching the sheet for dear life. 

“I th-thought you were supposed to b-be gone?” you stammered out, clearly nervous.

“I got back early.” 

“How early?” you questioned, praying that he hadn't heard you and he just came back. 

“4 hours ago,” he replied. Bucky took slow, agonizing steps towards you until he reached the side of your bed. “And I heard every little noise you made.” 

“Oh no,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment. “I’m so–oh god!” 

You were so ashamed you could barely form a proper sentence. Your cheeks were on fire and you wanted to crawl into a little hole and die. While you were busy wallowing yourself in your mortification, you missed the way Bucky was undressing you with his own two eyes. 

“Bucky I don’t even know what to say–I’m so sorry.” 

Bucky’s hand softly gripped your chin and turned it so you were now facing him. “Sorry for what, Honey? For having sex? It’s natural, everyone does it.” His thumb swiped your bottom lip, adoring the way it bounced back. “You know what isn’t natural?” 

You peered at him with doe eyes. “What?” you asked him. 

Bucky mentally made sure to take a picture of you with the same exact look another day. God you drove him crazy with that simple look—his instincts begging him to fuck you senseless. 

“To fuck a guy who can’t even make you cum.” Disappointment racked down his body thinking about the fact someone as pretty as you is missing out on oh so much. “Don’t worry, s’not your fault.” 

“But what if it is?” 

His grip slightly tightened, “trust me it isn’t. They don’t know the first thing about pleasure. If it’s anyone's fault, it’s theirs.”

“To your luck, I know just how to make you feel good.” He bent downwards, his lips ghosting above yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, fully expecting him to kiss you. When you didn’t feel his lips on yours, you opened your eyes and they were mere centimeters away. So close yet so far. 

“Please Bucky,” you begged, inching your lips closer to his. 

Bucky leaned back, relishing your desperation. “Please what, Honey?” He squished your cheeks together, your lips puckering together. “Use your words.” 

“Please make me feel good.” 

“Good girl,” Bucky praised. The praise sent warmth down your body. 

He dropped his metal arm, slithering his way down to the bed sheets. He slowly starts pulling the sheet down, exposing every single part of your body. When the sheet was fully off Bucky lowly moaned. “I’m going to make you feel so good, you’ll never want anyone else to touch you ever again.” 

Desperation won over and you tugged Bucky down with you. Nothing but teeth clashing and hands roaming everywhere on the other’s body. You tugged on the bottom of his shirt, silently signaling him to take it off. Bucky momentarily broke the kiss to peel off his shirt. 

Your eyes hungrily ran down his body, it was all like an orgasm for your eyes. “Wow,” you whispered, mainly to yourself. 

“You like what you see?” Bucky smugly asked. Bucky chuckled, watching your lust blow your eyes as you instantly nodded while you bit down your bottom lip sensually.  “Of course you do, don’t you?”

Bucky chased your lips once again. This time the kiss was slower, more calculated. His hand snaked down to your body and his hand cupped your dripping pussy. Your thighs clenched together as you felt the cold touch from his metal hand. 

“You’re dripping моя игрушка,” he growled against your lips. He grabbed your leg and hitched it over his, ensuring it stays open. He swiped his finger across your cunt to gather your wetness. 

His fingers circled over your clit, eliciting small breathy moans from you. “Let all those pretty sounds моя игрушка.” Bucky’s middle finger left your clit, traveling down to your weeping hole. “I don’t want you to hold back.” 

His finger entered inside you, your walls immediately clamping down on him. Bucky tested the waters and added a second finger. He was enamored with your blissed out face and he wasn’t even trying. 

He began to thrust his fingers in and out, making sure to curl his fingers just at the right angle causing your legs to quiver around his hand. “Go on, grind your pretty pussy on my hand.” 

You blindly obeyed his order. You grinded your hand on his palm, adding a delicious friction between your clit and his hand. Subconsciously you began to move faster, chasing a sweet, short euphoria. 

“That’s it,” Bucky praised, pressing his palm a bit harder. “Just like that.” 

Your first orgasm caught you by surprise. You could barely register what was going on before you gushed over his hand, your cum leaking down his fingers. Bucky pulled his fingers out and licked your essence, moaning at the sweet taste. 

He pushed your shoulder back, laying you flat on your back on the bed. Bucky quickly pulled his sweatpants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free from the clothed restraints and slapped his stomach. The tip was drenched in precum making your mouth water. 

Bucky crawled on top of you, leaving kisses behind over your exposed skin. Once he was fully over you, he grabbed his cock and swiped it over your drenched cunt, swirling the tip on your sensitive button.

“Stop teasing,” you whined. You reached your hand down to guide him in but he swatted your hand away. With one hand Bucky pinned both of yours at the top of your head. 

“Wait,” he warningly growled. 

After a few more teasing swipes you felt Bucky’s tip prodding your entrance. Slowly, Bucky slid in and finally gave in to you. The stretch achingly burned yet nothing else has felt better. You felt every inch of his thick cock entering you. 

“Oh god–you’re so big.” 

“Aww моя игрушка,” Bucky cooed as kissed your nose, “I’m not even fully in yet.” 

You looked down and Bucky was right. You both gasped out once he fully sheathed himself inside you. You have never felt so full in your entire life. 

Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes scrunched in pleasure. “God you’re so tight.” 

You felt like you were going to die if he wasn’t going to move. “Please move.” 

Bucky pulled almost all the way out, ensuring the tip stayed in and then plunged himself deep into you, eliciting a silent scream from you. Your head fell back when Bucky started to thrust inside you. If you thought you felt pleasure before, this was heaven. You never thought someone could ever make you feel this good. 

You somehow were able to loosen his grip on your hand. You grabbed his hand that was on your hip and guided him over to your lower stomach. “I can feel you in–here!” you exclaimed when he hit a particular spot. 

“Oh there it is,” he muttered as he repeatedly hit your g-spot over and over. “Guess what моя игрушка, if I do this,” Bucky gabbed your leg and threw it over his hip, “you’ll feel so much better.” 

“Bucky!” you screamed at the new angle. Tears pricked at your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. Your walls fluttered around him and Bucky had to bite back his moans. 

“No…wanna hear….you,” you pouted. “Bet you sound–so pretty.” 

Bucky granted your wish and finally moaned, it was music to your ears. Hearing his moans turned you on even more. 

“You’re so fuckin’ tight моя игрушка. I never want to leave your pretty pussy.” 

“S’all yours,” you babbled out. 

“Yeah? She’s all mine?” You nodded in response. Bucky didn’t really have to ask. Your pussy was his whether you were going to tell him or not. She belonged to him. You belonged to him. 

You shook off his hand to unleash your other hand. Both of your hands ascended up his arms and found solace on his biceps. “Harder,” you whimpered. Your voice was barely above a whisper but Bucky heard it as clear as day. Bucky easily complied and thrusted harder. 

“Please, please, please don’t stop,” you begged, your nails digging into his biceps. You were sure there would be marks but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh моя игрушка, I don’t think I’ll last,” Bucky groaned out. 

You could barely respond with your orgasm rapidly approaching. “I’m gonna–” 

“No, not yet. Wait until I say let go.” 

“Bucky, I can’t hold it.” 

“You can and you will.” 

Bucky was determined to cum with you at the same time. He kept the same pace despite wanting to go faster. Though you made it nearly impossible with the way you gripped him like a vice. 

“Bucky…” 

“Just a little bit more.” 

“Bucky I can’t!” you cried out, stray tears falling down your face. “Please!” 

“Now,” Bucky practically demanded.

You finally let go of the knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes screwed shut as you chanted Bucky’s name over and over like a prayer. It was all a new feeling to you and your body didn’t know how to react. You momentarily blacked out as you let your orgasm ride out. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky gasped out, looking down at the mess you made all over his lower stomach that was now mixing in with his cum. 

“I’m sorry Bucky,” you mumbled out, still fucked out. “I didn’t mean to.” Bucky shushed you, assuring you it was more than okay that you were more than welcome to gush all over his body. 

Bucky pulled out, earning a whine from you. If you could have it your way Bucky’s cock would be inside you all night but you could barely form any words. Your body was profusely shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. 

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“Told you I know how to make you feel good. Turns out all you needed was a little help” Bucky boasted. He then handed you a bottle of water, “drink this, you’ll need it.”

While you drank the water Bucky left to go to the bathroom. He came back with a wet rag in one hand and clothes in the other. Bucky quietly cleaned you up, murmuring soft praises to you. 

“You did so good for me,” Buckky whispered against your skin. “You were absolutely perfect.” You made a noise of contentment when Bucky slid his shirt over your head. You brought the material up your nose, deeply inhaling his scent. 

“I’m never giving this shirt back,” you commented. 

“Good,” Bucky replied as he laid right next to you. He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around your shaky body, “it looks better on you anyway.” 

flexible

A/N : another blurb inspired by a prank video. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : you prank your boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts you in during sex.

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : mature content

You were hanging out at Peter’s dorm room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through your social media accounts.

“Hey whatcha doing?” Peter asks, walking into the living room. You look up from your phone.

Keep reading

in which it's midnight and you're lonely and so is peter and it's the perfect recipe for feelings 🌻 18+ only; peter is a cute dumbass, some implied fwb situationship happening here

"You're late."

With a grin that makes his honey-coloured eyes crinkle up at the corners, Peter allows you to gently grab at his wrist and pull him into your apartment, the small space bathed in the dim yellow light cast by a thrift-store floor lamp.

"Something, something, a wizard is never late or early," he mutters, toeing off his soggy sneakers in the doorway, shrugging off his rain slicker to join the small pile of things he's casting off of himself at this late hour in your entryway.

"Glad you came," you laugh, "Even if you said you'd be here..." you pause to check an invisible watch fastened to your wrist, "Fifteen minutes ago."

"I had to take the long way," Peter retorts, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd probably have gotten mugged if I took the shortcut."

You stare at him, forced deadpan look on your face. "You're Spider-Man."

"Not tonight," he replies, his lips caught somewhere between a sigh and a smile. "Tonight, I'm just Peter."

For a long moment, you stare at him, noticing the slight dark shimmer of a bruise forming under his left eye. It makes you roll your eyes at the same time that you're pulling him close and gently swiping a thumb across his face. "Someone did try to mug you, didn't they?"

Peter shrugs, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed so that his lashes fall heavy against your fingerprints. "Yeah, but I'm Spider-Man."

Something tugs in your chest, an aching warmth that draws you closer to Peter, pulls you up onto your tiptoes so that you can press a soft kiss to his lips, smiling when you feel his tongue swipe across your lower lip, asking entrance.

Briefly, you pull away and gesture with an incline of your chin to his eye. "Do I need to take a look at that?"

"After," he replies in earnest, "Gotta make it up to you for making you wait first."

the waiter

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

“the waiter was flirting with you"  

"what?”

“he couldn’t stop staring at you. i thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head." 

warnings: pure fluff, baby. 

Keep reading

andrew peter Parker with the highschool sweethearts trope and prompt “are you wearing my shirt”

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓.

pairings ; tasm!peter parker x female!reader 

warnings ; fem!reader implied at end, established relationship, pet names, pure cheesy fluff to be honest.

word count ; 659

additional notes ; 'high school sweethearts' + "are you wearing my shirt?' prompts used <33

peter was in a grumpy mood. it wasn’t usual that he was these days. not when he was practically renowned across the school for the mood change the second you showed up. your poor boyfriend known for being so sappily in-love with you.

but he wasn’t able to see you this weekend. he caught a glimpse at your window after patrol both days, lightly knocking the glass while you slept in bed before giving up, not wanting to wake you.

plus his favourite t-shirt was missing. a simple band-tee that he likes to wear occasionally and thought he had left it out to wear for school, only to realise it’s missing, aunt may assuring him it’s not in the laundry basket.

his head is glued to the floor when he walks to his locker, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose while he holds his skateboard under one arm. no glances in anyone’s directions, just wanting to collect his things for first period and go to the class.

yet, peter’s plans are ruined when two hands slide over the expanse of his back, squeezing his shoulders and a small but immediate happy smile tugs upon peter’s lips knowingly. “hey, baby. missed you so much—” he cuts himself off, after turning around to press his lips to yours does he immediately notice the outfit you adorn.

your smile is so bright, enough to make peter’s knees buckle, and there’s a shine in your eye when you greet your boyfriend. your arms instinctively move around his neck while his encircle your waist to pull you close, skateboard hitting the floor, uncaring of the people walking past the hall.

peter’s smile widens, a small noise escaping him as he gapes, “are you wearing my shirt?” it’s the very shirt that he had been looking for, over a long-sleeved top to almost match his own style. and god, you looked so much better in it.

“… is that okay? i thought you wouldn’t mind.” you look down at your attire, smile falling briefly. to which your boyfriend immediately perks up, squeezing your frame before his instincts stop him from pressing too hard, “no! don’t mind, don’t mind at all, baby, no.”

you can’t help giggling at his nature, rambled and flustered as he leans closer to you. warm, wanting more of you, closer. “in fact, you should keep it. looks so much better on you,” with this he kisses you, prolonged and sweet in a wordless i-missed-you way.

your breath wavers after you both pull away, leaning further into his side as peter turns to grab more of his things out the locker. you stare up at him admiringly, “you didn’t drop by after patrol, pete?”.

he glances back down at you, another quipped smile while his lips catch yours briefly, your teeth breaking from your lower lip while you respond. “you were sleeping, baby. i tried,” peter whispers after pulling away, hand caressing your stolen-shirt covered back affectionately while nudging his locker closed and bending down to pick up his skate.

“you watched me sleep, creep?” you tease, smile never faltering as you talk to peter. “sure did, cute thing. you cuddle your pillow when i’m not beside you, y’know?” you just hum as he guides you away, your shoulder bag bumping his hip but peter refuses to remove himself from your side.

“you should really leave your window unlocked, by the way,” peter continues, glancing at one another while you fiddle with the hem of his navy-blue top, “what if someone climbs in?” you ask. “you live twenty stories up, honey, no one but me can sneak in. and if they did, they have a crime-fighting spider who loves his girlfriend to deal with.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle endearingly at your precious peter while leaning up to kiss his cheek, noting that tonight you won’t lock your window in hopes spider-man drops by and replaces your pillow for cuddles.

⤸

taglist form . the library . all blurbs

andrew!peter parker; masterlist

One Blink

Summary: For him it was just a moment, for you it was five years

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rating: G

Warnings: Angst, pregnancies, little more angst, some fluff too

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He didn’t know what was different, but something had changed. In one moment he had been in the kitchen with you, drying the plates you had been cleaning on a late sunday morning, the next moment he was alone. 

It was colder too. The noises in the city were different. 

There was something in the air. A buzz he had never felt before.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his tongue running over his lips while his hands brushed over the counter of his kitchen. He tilted his head. 

The counter was different too. 

Marble maybe. Definitely some stone. Not like the wooden cheap counter that had been here before. 

Slowly he took a couple steps out of the kitchen, focusing on his surroundings. 

He could still smell you. Your familiar scent. He smelled the fabric softener the two of you had argued about, before he gave in, not being able to deny you anything. 

But there was something else. Another scent he couldn’t place.

The apartment was different too. 

Starting from the kitchen counter, the electrical hum of the appliances different than they were only moments ago. 

It smelled like the walls had been painted. But not recently, a little while ago. 

Another step forward, his hands grasped the back of a couch. Not the leather couch he was used to, no this felt soft. Almost like velvet. 

He was… confused. And that was putting it mildly. 

It was why he hadn’t heard someone, you, approaching the apartment, your key unlocking the door, your heels clicking on the floor as you rushed into the apartment, because things were happening and maybe, maybe he would be….

“Matt,” you gasped, blinking your eyes that were already watering. Slowly he turned around to you and you sobbed, your hand covering your mouth. 

He was wearing the dark sweatpants and the white shirt from that morning. 

The morning that had changed your life so significantly. 

The morning he disappeared. 

“Sweetheart I….” he began but you crossed the distance between the two of you, almost throwing yourself against him as you hugged him. He caught you with a gasp, his strong arms pulling you closer and you cried into his shirt as his hand slowly ran up and down your back, humming soothingly. 

You had denied yourself even imagining a possibility where you would see him again. 

Five years. 

Five years he had been gone, just like half of the earth's population.

Five years that had been the hardest, saddest and at the same time best time of your life. 

“What is going on?” he asked and you took some deep breaths, calming yourself down to finally look up at him, his eyes unfocused.

“You… You’ve been gone. I was… I was with Foggy in the office when Karen suddenly was just there and I… I ran back home… I….”

“You ran from the office?” he asked.

“We… It’s… It’s another office,” you closed your eyes, letting your head fall against his chest, inhaling the scent that was just him. 

“I don’t understand. I… Something’s changed. We were in the kitchen and then you were suddenly gone and… everything is different?”

You let your fingertips run over his back as you looked up at him. 

“Something happened and you… You were gone. You just… You disappeared right before my eyes. But now you’re back and I… I have so much to tell you Matty…” 

“I was gone?” he asked quietly. You nodded against him.

“How long?”

You sucked on your bottom lip. 

“Five years.”

You told him what happened. 

About Thanos. About how the world mourned for months before slowly it moved on. 

You told him about Karen disappearing too and about how you had started working with Foggy.

You had told him about finally getting your lawyers degree and about how good the office was doing. 

You told him everything. 

Except the one, most important thing. 

Sitting cuddled next to him on the new couch, which he admitted was way more comfortable than the one you had before, you clung to him. 

A part of you afraid that he could disappear again at any moment. 

It was when you received a message from Foggy, that he would be over in ten minutes, that you knew you had to tell him. 

“There’s something else you’re not telling me,” he said, pulling you closer towards him. 

“There is,” you whispered. 

“You… You met someone…” he began but you shook your head, sitting yourself up. 

“No. No I… I haven’t met anyone. I haven’t been with anyone since you… Since you…. I couldn’t….” you rambled and he pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“It’s okay,” he kissed your neck and you shuddered, closing your eyes as you put your arms around his shoulders, your nose in his hair. 

“I had bought the test to take later that day. The day you… disappeared. And after I was so depressed I forgot about it. But Foggy noticed and took me to see a doctor and… I… I was pregnant Matt.”

He stilled beneath you, his hands on your hips, his lips frozen against your neck. 

A tear ran down your check and into his hair. 

“It was hard. Doing this without you. But… she made it worth it. So worth it. And Foggy was a big help. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s the best uncle on the planet and Rose is… She’s so much like you. Stubborn and…”

“Rose?” he asked, his voice breaking and you pulled away from him so you could look at him. There were tears in his eyes before he pulled you against him and you felt him sob. You whimpered as you cried with him, clinging to him as you both mourned the time the both of you had missed. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he shook his head and you put your hands on his face, tilting it up to your. Carefully you brushed his tears away as you shook your head. 

“It’s not your fault, baby. Billions of people disappeared. I know the last thing you would do was leave me and our life. Not after we fought so hard for it and… and I found the ring,” you whispered the last part and he sighed, closing his eyes. 

“We can… We can talk later, if you want. I will tell you about everything but… But Foggy is coming over. And he’s gonna have Rose with him. He offered to pick her up from Daycare after we… after I left to find you.”

“He just got into the elevator,” Matt hummed. 

“Does she… Does Rose… Know about me?” he asked and you smiled. 

“Of course she does. I talk about you every single day Matty. There are so many pictures of you and me on the walls. You’re her daddy. She loves you.”

He took a deep breath as you let your forehead fall against his, your nose rubbing against his nose. 

“She… She’s telling Foggy about… Dinosaurs?” he asked with a small smile.

“She’s obsessed with Dinosaurs at the moment,” you chuckled and Matt’s smile got wider. 

“Kiss me,” you whispered and he tilted his head up, his nose brushing against yours. His hands on your back pulled you closer before his lips softly found yours. You breathed out, closing your eyes as he moved his lips against yours, deepening the kiss. 

You let your finger run through his hair, anchoring yourself against him. 

He was here. 

He was back. 

Matt was back. 

Parting from your lips he smiled and you pecked his lips again. 

You both jumped when a knock sounded at the door. His fingers dig into your hips as he licked over his lips. Anxiously. 

“She loves you,” you reminded him and he breathed in deeply. 

“And I love you too,” you said and he smiled a little, before you carefully climbed off his lap and walked towards the door. 

“I love you,” he called after you and you smiled as you opened the door.

“Hi!” you said, looking down at Rose who hugged you with a squeal of Mooooommy before you picked her up with a groan. 

“You’re getting too big for me to pick you up like that little lady,” you smiled at her as she began to tell you about her day. You looked at Foggy who looked over your shoulder, tears stinging in his eyes as he saw Matt behind you in the apartment. 

“Do you… Want to come in Foggy?” you asked. He looked at you before he shook his head. 

“I… Karen and I will come over with breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Yeah. It’s… I’ve gone five years without him, I can last another day. But you two can’t,” he said and you smiled thankfully at him. 

“Bye Uncle Foggy,” Rose waved and Foggy laughed. 

“Bye Princess,” he winked before he turned around, taking the stairs down. You smiled at your daughter as you closed the door behind him, slowly walking back towards the living room with her still in your arms, where Matt was standing anxiously. 

“Rose I… have a surprise for you,” you began and she looked at you with wide eyes, stopping her monologue about the Velociraptor she had learned today, making a mental note to ask her about it later. 

“Surprise?” she asked and you nodded. 

“Remember when Foggy and Mommy would talk about your Daddy and that he had to go away for a while?”

She nodded. 

“What did we tell you?” you asked, finding Matt listening to you. 

“That he loves us very much and that he would never leave us again when he comes back,” she said. You nodded, setting her down. 

“He… He came back today, sweetheart,” you whispered and she looked at you with a bright smile.

“Really?” she asked and you nodded. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, really,” Matt said and she turned around as she heard his voice. She looked at you, before you set her down. You were crying by the moment she ran towards him and Matt had the foresight to get on his knees and open his arms before she collided with him with a squeal. 

He closed his eyes, pulling her into his arms as he brushed his hand over her hair and picked her up. She was clinging to him like a Koala, telling him how much she had missed him and that she can’t wait to show him her collection of dinosaurs which made you choke on your sob as you laughed. Matt looked up and opened his arm for you, pulling you against him too. 

It was almost 1 am when the door to the bedroom opened. You were sitting against the back of your bed, waiting for Matt as he slowly walked in, closing the door behind him with a smile on his lips. His hair was still wet as he walked towards the bed, laying down on top of you with a sigh that made you giggle. 

Rose had spent the whole afternoon showing him around the apartment, explaining where everything was so he would know, because she knew that his daddy was blind and she did not want him to hurt himself, while you were making dinner. 

It was strangely domestic. 

“This was a long day,” he hummed against you as you nodded, your finger brushing through his hair. 

“Normally you would kiss me goodbye and get out to do some Deviling now,” you mused and he sighed. 

“There’s… I don’t want to think about that now,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

“She’s… Rose is… She’s everything,” he said and you smiled. 

“Yeah. She’s pretty damn awesome.”

“I wish I could have been there,” he whispered. 

“Me too,” you said sadly, before you reached to your side to turn the lights off. He got off of you and under the covers, finding your body immediately to pull you against him, your back against his chest, as he kissed your shoulder. 

You fell asleep like that. 

In his arms. 

And he was still there, holding you when you woke up the next morning. 

Because Matt was back. 

And he would never leave again. 

does anyone have any marvel fic recommendations that involve the blip/the snap? could be the reader being snapped away or the fictional character from the marvel universe. I have no preference on characters or gender specifics for the reader ( or oc ), I’m just in the mood for some blip angst 🤭

i'm just an assistant - series masterlist

I'm Just An Assistant

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female!Reader

Summary: After being Chris’s Personal Assistant for almost a decade, the notable tension and playful banter leaves both of you wondering if there’s more to your relationship than meets the eye.

A/N: This series will contain smut, 18+ only!!!

🔥= smut

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen with Chris or his family in real life. 

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS.

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

I no longer have a taglist! Please head over to @time-for-a-library​ and turn on notifications!

- No Pressure Links - 

Book Wishlist

Buy Me A Coffee :)

Part 1 - Glorified Babysitter (8.6k)

Part 2 - Hangovers and Hash Browns (5.8k)

Part 3 - The Florence Pugh Face (1/9/2023)

Part 4 - Birthday Enchiladas (1/16/2023)

Part 5 - Snowed In (1/23/2023)

(there will be more, this is just what I have written/titled right now)

first date, last night

summary: You were supposed to go on a date tonight, but Bucky just had to interfere. It doesn't make any sense, either. It's not like there's anything going on between the two of you.

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: good old angsty fluff. banter and miscommunication (it's two painfully oblivious idiots in love, people), socially anxious reader, slightly jealous bucky in the beginning, a lot of cake, sad-ish ending (only if we take mcu canon to be a real thing)

prompt: this was written for the lovely @imaginearyparties' theatre challenge—congrats again on 300 followers, ilana!! (and thank you for extending the deadline) my prompt was "first date / last night" from dogfight. you can and should listen to the whole song here.

a/n: frankly, this has zero rights to be as long as it turned out to be, but the second half of this hated my guts and i had to just roll with it. hope you enjoy x

masterlist | read on ao3

It’s late, and Bucky is pacing.

You can hear it through the ceiling, even though you’ve pulled a pillow over your head to try and block out the noise. He’s been pacing ever since you’ve sent him marching upstairs, slamming the door so hard a bit of plaster fell off your living room wall, and you shouted a name after him your mama would have smacked you over the head for.

But tonight was meant to be lovely, your first real night out in the city, and he just had to ruin it. And once again, you’re left to literally pick up the pieces on your own in an empty apartment. What a waste.

You’re sort of glad your roommate has to work the late shift tonight, though. Angie would’ve found this whole thing hilarious. You can almost hear her.

“It’s just because he wants to be your fella,” she’d have said, soothingly combing her fingers through your hair, and you’d have rolled your eyes. “So he doesn’t like anyone else asking you out.”

“It’s not like that, Ange. We’re past the age of pulling pigtails, you know. This ain’t how you treat people,” you told her last time you had this conversation, after Bucky had frightened away the man at the laundromat who’d asked you out for ice cream. Granted, that guy had been a bit of a creep, so you didn’t think much of it at the time. You can’t let yourself.

No matter what strange unspoken thing there seems to be between the two of you. Surely, you’re just imagining things anyway.

Tommy’s different though. Tommy’s a nice guy. Works for a newspaper, sent flowers to your doorstep last week and asked you to go dancing with him soon after, flushing so deeply it reached his ears. And sure, they might be a bit large compared to the rest of his head and he had a somewhat aloof air to him, but he was sweet enough. Besides, you’d never actually been on a proper date. Of course you’d said yes.

Angie made you get a new dress for the occasion, navy colored with a lovely petticoat. The price of it almost made you weep, but “you never get anything nice for yourself, Y/N,” as Angie put it. “Besides, I have the perfect pair of shoes you can borrow.”

8 p.m. rolled around and you were trying not to wait next to the door. Your hands wouldn’t stop sweating.

After ten minutes, you started to worry. Then again, it had just started to rain. Maybe Tommy’d turned back for an umbrella.

At half past eight, you decided to go downstairs to see if he was waiting for you there. Instead, you found Bucky, wearing his newly issued uniform and peaked cap. He was smoking, half-leaning in the entrance so he’d be sheltered from the weather underneath the tiny wooden porch.

Immediately, you felt the old familiar twist in your stomach at the sight of him, the little flutter and sting. This time, though, it was followed by an immediate sense of dread. He wasn’t even supposed to be home so early. Last you’d heard, he’d found some girls for him and Steve to take to that science exposition the papers won’t shut up about. Neither of them had even thought to ask you, of course, even though you were the one who’d first pointed it out to them.

“Sounds like a crowd puller,” Bucky’d frowned and soon changed the subject to some movie with Hedy Lamarr he wanted to see, not noticing the way your face fell.

“He’s a knucklehead,” Steve had said later with an apologetic smile, and you’d nodded and thrown the flyer in the trash, unsure what you’d expected or how you’d wanted the conversation to go. After all, you’re just the girl from the second floor, a friendly face on rainy days, sure, but also easily ignored. Well, most days, anyway.

Bucky turned when he heard your steps approaching. Your bad feeling seemed to be confirmed, because at the sight of you, he choked on the smoke he was inhaling. Like someone caught. Ignoring his coughing, you glanced past him. Not a single person was out in the rain.

“Has anybody asked for me?” you asked wearily.

Bucky’s eyes were still wide as he took you in. “Well, look at you all decked out,” he said hoarsely.

You crossed your arms. “Just answer the question.”

“Fella came by a bit ago,” he said nonchalantly, turning his head to blow out a puff of smoke away from your face. “Didn’t stick around.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you’re not interested?” He made it sound like a question, cocking his head slightly, that little lopsided smile of his dancing around the corner of his mouth but never reaching his eyes. It only irritated you more. “I actually wanted to—”

“Why on earth would you do that?” you interrupt him.

“Why, was I wrong?” He went for another drag from his cigarette, but you snatched it out of his fingers and stomped on it. For some reason, that just made him give a laugh. “Come on, sugar! That guy’s a drip, anyway.”

“You don’t know him!”

“Neither do you, or you wouldn’t’ve agreed to go out with him. He ain’t right for you.”

“Well, you don’t get to decide that! You don’t see me going around tellin’ you you can’t go out with Clara from the flower shop or whatever she’s called!”

That was a slip-up. Bucky’s smile morphed into a smirk. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

“Oh, grow up, Barnes, I don’t care what you do!” Turning around on your borrowed heels, you pushed back inside.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t know either, would ya?” he called after you, still sounding way too amused.

“I don’t give a—” In your anger, you forgot to skip around the broken floorboard. The heel of Angie’s shoe crashed right through it and you could feel yourself rushing towards the ground. At the last second, a pair of strong arms stopped your fall, pulling you back up until you regained your balance, heart thundering.

“Careful there,” Bucky’s voice murmured way too close to your ear. “Don’t want you fallin’ for me like that.”

There was a beat. Neither of you seemed to breathe.

“You alright?”

“Get off me,” you hissed. His hands disappeared as if you’d burned him, but your skin was left cold. With an annoyed growl, you slipped out of the shoes and yanked the stuck one out of the floor. The heel was left all scratched up. Angie was going to murder you. “Look at this!” you snapped at Bucky, jabbing the messed up shoe in his direction.

He caught it in his hands. “Jeez, that ain’t my fault!”

“Yes, it is! Because without you constantly interfering in my life, I’d be out cuttin’ a rug right now!” Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes now, so you turned your back on Bucky and started to climb up the rickety stairs in your pantyhose.

“You really think you’d be havin’ a good time right now if you’d actually gone out with Dumbo back there?” Bucky called, taking two steps at a time behind you. “Look, I’m sorry but I think—”

“You know what, Bucky,” you interrupted him, turning around sharply in front of your apartment door. “You might fool all those other girls with that fancy uniform of yours that you’re so keen on showin’ off, but underneath, you’re a jerk. And I just want you to stay the hell away from me.”

A look of genuine shock flashed over Bucky’s features for just a second, revealing something else under the layer of jovial swagger you usually saw him wear. Something that almost looked like hurt. It was gone in less than a second, though, replaced by an unusually cold sneer that seemed unnatural on his handsome face.

“All right,” he said, brusquely handing you back the shoe you’d left behind. “I’ll be out of your hair soon enough, anyway.”

“Great,” you shouted as he made his way upstairs, “can’t wait for the peace and quiet!”

The door slammed. The plaster fell.

Angie couldn’t be more wrong, you think as you lie there in bed. You know the way Bucky acts around girls he wants to be with, charming and funny and confident. You’ve seen it too many times, each of them another tiny stab because he’s never been like that with you. Not once.

The pacing finally stops and you breathe a sigh of relief. You emerge from underneath the pillow and drag yourself in front of the little vanity you share with your roommate. In the silence, you wipe the smeared make-up off your face and start pulling the pins out of the elaborate updo you’d spent half the afternoon on. Your hair tumbles down in an unruly mess.

You think about dropping by Tommy’s agency tomorrow to explain your situation, but you don’t think you’re that desperate quite yet. Besides, the thing that really annoys you about Bucky’s words is that he’s not wrong.

You weren’t that interested in your date in the first place. You’d just welcomed the distraction from your actual feelings, because it’d felt nice to get positive attention for a change.

Because despite of his meddlesome ways and his sometimes thoughtless actions, you still care about Bucky. Probably more than you should, and more than he cares for you anyway, no matter how high Angie raises her eyebrows.

Matter of fact is, these past couple of weeks, he’s barely even talked to you, your interactions limited to brief nods in the stairwell and the odd word or two, with him never quite meeting your eye.

Lost in your tangled thoughts, you’re about to start unbuttoning your dress, when a knock on the door brings you back to reality.

You frown. It’s not the rhythmic knock Angie uses when she’s forgotten her keys again, and it’s too timid to be your landlady. Probably Steve trying to talk reason about his best friend’s behavior again. You’re not keen on the speech, but you don’t want to keep Stevie standing in the drafty hallway. He’s stubborn enough to catch pneumonia out of spite and misguided loyalty. Again. Rubbing your cheeks one last time, you go to open the door.

You almost slam it again immediately when you realize it’s not Steve who’s standing on the other side at all. It’s Bucky.

He’s changed out of his fatigues into something more casual, and his hair looks as if he’s dragged his hands through it several times. The disheveled look of it almost has your heart fall over itself and you inhale sharply to keep it firmly locked in your chest.

“What do you want?” you try to snap, but it comes out toneless. You’re too tired for anger.

Bucky clears his throat. He keeps shifting under your gaze, keeps moving, his fingers pulling at a loose thread in the hem of his sweater. Little cracks in his carefully crafted façade that have you pause.

“I was wonderin’ if you’ve eaten.”

Confused doesn’t quite cover your feelings. You’re at a complete loss. “Excuse me?”

“Seein’ as your plans tonight, uhm—fell through, I just thought I’d … ask. In case you’re hungry.” Never, in all the time you’ve known him, have you heard Bucky stumble over his words like this. It’d be endearing if you weren’t still annoyed at him.

“I’m not,” you lie. Truth is, you’ve only had a late lunch and your kitchen cabinets are basically empty since no one was supposed to be in tonight.

“Right,” Bucky says, swallowing. He pushes his hair back again. “Or maybe we could get some sodas down the block, there’s this shop on—”

“Is this some kind of joke?” you interrupt. His eyes finally stop their constant wandering and find yours. There’s an ache in them you haven’t seen before, one that doesn’t make any sense at all. You shake your head, ignoring the flutter. “First you scare off my date and then you want me to come out with you?”

“That’s not what I—it’s not a joke,” Bucky says. “Look, you’re angry with me, I feel rotten, let me make it up to you! You gotta believe me, I’m sorry.”

The sad thing is, you do. When he looks at you like that, you do. You can’t help it.

You sigh deeply. “Go to bed, Bucky, it’s been a long day. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

But when you move to close the door again, he holds it open with his foot. “See, here’s the thing,” he says, his voice wavering ever so slightly, “that’s not exactly an option as I’m being shipped out first thing in the morning.”

Another chip, another crack, and the puzzle pieces are starting to fall back into place. It’s your heart that breaks instead, the last of your anger dissipating into thin air.

“You’re leaving,” you say softly, and Bucky nods curtly. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Only found out yesterday myself.”

Obviously you’ve known this day would come. You’ve known ever since you first saw him in that damn uniform, and even before then. You just thought he’d have more time. You feel your heart trying to pound out of your chest as you look at Bucky, suddenly desperate to commit his face to memory before … you don’t want to think about it.

“What about—does Steve know?”

“Said goodbye to him at the expo. He wanted to try enlisting again, but I don’t know …” He laughs humorlessly. “At this point, they’ve either taken him or booked him and there ain’t a thing I can do about either. Don’t even know which one’s worse.”

You’re glad you’re still holding onto the door, because you feel slightly faint. In the past months, you’ve gotten so used to living downstairs from Bucky, to having both him and Steve always lingering somewhere nearby, always close, reliably inseparable. And now, from one day to the next, neither of them is going to be here anymore.

“I could eat,” you say abruptly. Bucky seems as surprised about it as you feel, but your heart is still beating fast and you’ve never felt more resolute about anything. “Let me just get my shoes.”

You slip into your everyday oxfords with the flat heels and grab your purse off the floor next to your bed where you’d dropped it earlier. As you pass the vanity, you notice the worried flicker in your eyes. With a deep breath, you try to soothe it away. Not yet. He’s still here.

Bucky is leaning next to the door as you lock up and straighten your back. When you meet his gaze again, he holds it as if he thinks you’ll change your mind any second.

“Where to?” you ask with forced joviality, dropping your key in the bag.

He gives you a tiny crooked grin. “I know just the place.”

“And where’s that?”

“It’s a surprise, sugar.” He sticks out his elbow slightly as you get to the stairs as if he wanted you to take his arm. Bewildered, you look at it for a second before you move past him and start descending. You think you hear him sigh before he follows you.

“You know I hate surprises,” you say, ignoring it.

“You’re gonna like this one. Trust me?”

You hum noncommitantly and hop over the hole in the floorboard. “I still think you’re a jerk, by the way,” you tell him. Because it’s safe. Because that’s what you are, that’s what you do, the two of you, shallowly bickering all the time like neighbors do.

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly as he holds the door open for you, “I know.”

The rain has stopped, but the air still feels like there’s a storm incoming. The milky glow of the street lamps dimly lights your way through your empty Brooklyn neighborhood. Most shops are closed by now, bedroom windows darkened. Only once you get closer to the larger streets are there still a couple of late-night strollers dotting the alleyways.

You don’t talk, hiding again in the heavy silence that follows an argument. Neither of you seems to want to be the one to come out of it. Personally, you don’t know how.

Stealing a glance at Bucky, you find him already looking at you. Hastily, you avert your eyes again, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Every ounce of your earlier determination seems to have vanished; you feel more unsure with each step. Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets, coughing. You wonder what cat caught his tongue.

He looks more like himself in his own street clothes. He even walks differently, back less straightened, more relaxed. The uniform suits him well, but it makes him look younger, somehow. A bit lost in its ironed edges.

But now, like this, he’s just Bucky. Just Stevie’s best friend. Just your too-charming-for-his-own-good upstairs neighbor who can’t ever make his rations last and comes knocking for eggs and cups of sugar at ridiculous times, making you threaten to tell the landlady. You never do, though, not when he flashes that little lopsided grin at you, his eyebrows drawn together in an almost bashful expression.

You’ve started drinking your coffee black, instead.

It’s little things like that that sometimes make you wonder whether there actually might be something between you two that he’s just decided not to tell you about. It’s certainly enough to make Angie hide a knowing smile, no matter how often you tell her—and yourself—that it’s not like that.

A seawater breeze makes you shiver and you realize you’ve almost reached the bridge. You just start thinking that you should have brought a cardigan when suddenly Bucky stops, muttering to himself.

You halt, too, and half-turn to him, about to ask him what’s wrong when he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. The gesture is so gentle, so unexpected, that for a moment the words get stuck in your throat.

“Aren’t you gonna be needing that?” you ask softly.

Bucky smiles, and for the first time tonight, it reaches his eyes. You hate the effect it has on you. “I’ll be fine,” he says. “But it’s still a bit of a walk.”

His fingers linger on the collar for another second or two before he slowly pulls back. He inhales as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself at the last moment.

“What?” You pull the jacket more tightly around yourself.

His eyes flicker down your body and back to your face. “Looks better on you than me, anyway,” he says.

You feel the warmth spread to your cheeks, and it isn’t just because of the additional layer. Even though he doesn’t mean anything by it, because it’s not like that between you. Right?

You hurry to catch up with him and once again, silence envelops you both, but it feels different now. As if something in the air has changed.

“Bucky, is this—”

“Listen, Y/N, I—”

An awkward laugh falls from your lips when you both start and stop talking at the same time.

“You go first,” you decide. Maybe he’s just saved you from embarrassing yourself by outright asking him what it is he’s doing.

Bucky chuckles quietly, even though you fail to see what’s so funny. “This isn’t how I expected my last night to go, is all.”

And there it is. “What are we doing here, then?” you ask, crossing your arms even tighter. “Why aren’t you getting dinner with flower shop girl?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m not interested in Connie.”

Right. That’s her name. “Then why’d you even ask her out?”

“Because I can’t well walk up to a gal and her friend sayin’ ‘hello, either of you interested in accompanying my pal and me to this exposition while the other one stays behind?’”

Why didn’t you ask me?

You don’t want to say it out loud, but apparently you do, because the next thing Bucky says is, “What, to go with Steve?”

“To go with you.” The sentence is out of your mouth before you can stop it, the hurt still palpable on your tongue. Your heart gives another nervous flutter.

Bucky doesn’t even blink. “Didn’t think you’d say yes.”

You frown. “I like science.”

“You don’t like crowds. Hell, most of the time you barely like me.”

“That’s not true.”

Bucky snorts. “It is. You almost fainted the other week when that fella had the whole laundromat starin’ at you, remember?”

That’s not the part you were protesting, but you do remember. Your sweaty hands holding onto your laundry basket for dear life. Your breaths coming in faster with every passing second. The way your vision started to blur slightly, as if your eyes were trying to protect you from the prying eyes you felt piercing every inch of your skin.

You hadn’t realized that Bucky noticed that, though.

Thankfully, he keeps talking before your thoughts can go down that road. “Besides, you already had a date for tonight.”

Your lingering irritation at his earlier behavior again seems like a much safer topic, somehow. “A date you managed to shoo off before I even got downstairs,” you remark dryly.

He kicks a pebble and you both watch it tumble across the empty sidewalk. “I wasn’t gonna,” Bucky sighs. “I only wanted to say goodbye to you before I left, cross my heart. He just—he got under my skin.”

Now it’s your turn to grin. “And how on earth did he manage that, Buck?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he blushes. “Would ya look at that, we’re here,” he finally mutters, nodding up ahead.

You follow his gaze. “Did you drag me halfway through Brooklyn to get murdered in a roadside diner?” you chuckle nervously.

In your defense, it doesn’t look promising. Cold lights and a sadly flickering sign, the windows fogged up with the humid wind blowing through from the docks. When Bucky holds the door open for you, the broken sound of the brass bell has you cringe.

“First of all,” he says, “I couldn’t drag ya anywhere you didn’t want to go if I tried.”

You hide a laugh behind the sleeve of his jacket. The smell of him lingers in the fabric, but not enough to block out the stench of burnt eggs and stale air.

“And second of all,” Bucky continues, sliding into one of the booths next to the window, “I happen to know this fine establishment has the best dessert selection in the city. Do you want coffee?”

“Sure,” you say, sitting down opposite him. Your back is to the wall, which gives you a nice view of the whole of the diner.

Apart from the smell, it’s not as bad as it appears on the outside. The tables are clean, the menu is surprisingly extensive, and the only other customer is a bespectacled elderly man nursing a milkshake with a surprising amount of whipped cream at the bar. You can hear quiet music coming from the kitchen.

You push the half-empty sugar dispenser over to Bucky’s side of the table with a slight grin as a tired looking teenager makes his way to your table with the coffeepot and two mugs. Bucky watches you with curious amusement, but doesn’t seem to pick up on the joke.

“You guys want anything else?”

“Yes,” Bucky says with a charming smile. “However much cake we can get for one dollar and seventeen cents.”

“Are you nuts?” you hiss while you get your coffee poured.

“And give us a variety, please.” He turns back to you. “What?”

“You’re not serious. He’s not serious,” you tell your waiter. “You can’t spend that much money on cake.”

Bucky shrugs. “Not like I’ll get much use out of it come morning. I am very serious,” he tells the teenager.

“Doubt we have that much left, anyway,” the guy says with a yawn and leaves for the kitchen.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you snort, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I did tell ya I was gonna make it up to you.”

“Yeah.” You lean your head against the back of your seat. “Sorry I yelled at you.”

His eyebrow twitches, but he keeps his eyes on his mug, swirling the contents. “I’ll live, sugar.”

“Promise?”

The painful uncertainty makes the air seem to crackle when he looks at you, then. This time, you don’t pull up the walls protecting your heart immediately, because slowly but surely, you’re running out of time.

You’re sure Bucky notices the emotion on your face, because there’s something similar lingering in his gaze, something you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s like there’s still a puzzle piece you’re missing and the answer to all of it is hiding somewhere in the blue depths of his eyes.

Have they always looked so soft?

For once, Bucky is the first one to look away, and you hastily clear your throat and lock your heart away again.

“So,” you say, “how was the expo?”

“Good,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “It was good, it was fun. Lots of people.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Well, if I tell you about the flying car we saw, that just makes me seem like a bragging arse.”

“Language,” you say automatically, then bite your tongue when he looks at you, amused. You think of the plaster on your living room floor. “A flying car, huh?”

“Yeah.” His eyes sparkle like the light reflecting off the sea, and it’s beautiful. “Though it did break on stage, so maybe you didn’t miss that much.”

“What a letdown,” you say sarcastically.

“I know. Steve was so disappointed he left.” He taps his fingers against the rim of his mug.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you say, sensing the leftover worry in his voice. “Even if trouble follows him.”

Bucky snorts. “Steve follows trouble, not the other way round.”

“Still. Bad weeds grow tall and all that.” There’s a pause again and you hum to fill the silence. “Also, he’s not gonna wanna miss Stark’s next grand brain child.”

“I’ve got a feeling that’s not gonna be a good enough reason for that righteous punk to stay outta bad business.”

“You’ll see. Next time, he’ll be front row.” You hesitate, but only for a second. “I’m fine with crowds, by the way. Long as they’re not looking at me.”

Bucky nods slowly, that little lopsided smile making another appearance. His eyes crinkle with it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The arrival of his cake order turns the flutter in your stomach into a growl. Coffee cake with cream and steaming apple pie, jam filled vanilla sponge and cheesecake are placed in front of you, each slice about twice the size of what Angie is allowed to cut at the automat.

“We are so gonna turn our stomachs,” you laugh.

“It’ll be worth it,” Bucky answers and ceremoniously hands you a fork.

He’s not wrong. For a couple of minutes, you don’t talk at all, just tasting your way through the different plates in front of you, each bite more delicious than the one before. You have to control yourself hard to not make any obscene noises.

“I’mma miss this,” Bucky says, washing another bite down with the rest of his coffee. “Doubt they’re much for dessert in Italy.”

You watch him over the rim of your own mug. Your eyes flit to the untouched sugar dispenser, and it just irks you.

“Do you bake?” you ask with a doubtful expression.

“What?” Bucky chuckles. “No. Why, do you want me to?”

“Then what are you doing with all that sugar you keep borrowing? Do you eat it raw with a spoon?”

“Ah, you noticed that.” In the harsh light, the pink on his cheeks is all the more visible this time.

You snort over your fork. “Of course I noticed that, how was I not gonna?”

“Well, forgive me, but you have a tendency to wilfully misinterpret my intentions. Or outright ignore them.”

“I do not.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans back in his seat and takes you in for a second. “You look stunning in that dress, sugar.”

You look down at yourself, his jacket still thrown over your shoulders. “You can’t even see it.”

“All right. So when was the last time you changed the water on your flowers?”

You narrow your eyes at the change in topic. “Yesterday.” He stares at you blankly until your eyes widen. “So that wasn’t—”

“Nope.” He takes another bite of cheesecake.

“Right,” you say, slowly putting your fork down. You’re starting to feel a bit queasy, though not in an entirely unpleasant way. “Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“Are you makin’ a pass at me?”

His cheeks darken a little more. “Been tryin’ to do that for weeks now, but thanks for noticing.”

Your mind is racing, trying to form a single coherent thought, but all that manages to make its way out is, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Bucky says. “Because I like you, that’s why.”

“No, you don’t.”

His brows draw together. “I don’t?”

“You went out with a different girl hours ago, and now you’re telling me you like me?”

“I told you before that I wasn’t interested in her.”

“Because you’re interested in … me.”

“Is that really so hard to believe?” His hand is in his hair again and you’re not sure whether he wants to push it back or make a mess of it. You wonder if they’re going to cut it, and the thought stings. It’s ridiculous, really, but it’s also easier to worry about his hair than about him.

“I don’t …” You trail off. Your heart is beating so loud it’s making it impossible to hear your own thoughts. For some reason, Angie’s voice seems to drown out all the noise inside your head. Told you so, she singsongs.

“Look,” Bucky says, and there’s a pained sort of cadence to his voice. “I know you don’t feel the same and this is just about the worst timing, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t risk … but I also didn’t want to leave without …” He huffs quietly and just like that, the final piece of the puzzle falls into place.

You’ve guarded your heart too closely around him.

You stand up with a jolt and he doesn’t even lift his head, as if he thinks you’re just going to leave him sitting there. Instead, you slide into the booth next to him, your body turned towards him.

“I’m so sorry.” Your voice reaches barely above a whisper. Bucky’s breath hitches when you touch his shoulder to have him look at you. “Say it again?”

His eyes flit between yours, still uncertain, still searching for something. Permission, maybe.

You hold your breath.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

And this time, you don’t have to question it. You see it in his eyes, clear as day now, no longer hidden in covert glances and friendly banter. It’s warm and soft, and you’ve never seen this particular expression of his directed at anyone else. He’s looking at you as if you are the only thing on earth that’s real. So you let your walls crumble away.

“I like you so much it terrifies me.”

The changes on Bucky’s face are imminent, the realization as your words hit, the same relieved sort of disbelief that courses through you as well. You pull him in until you can wrap your arms around him and bury your nose in his sweater, breathing him in. He holds you as if you’re something precious, his heart racing as much as yours.

“God, you’re an idiot, Barnes,” you mumble, and you can feel him chuckle.

“I’d say we’re on par for that, sugar.” He presses the tiniest kiss to your head. “We still have the whole rest of the night. About three more slices of cake to go through.”

He doesn’t let you out of his embrace, only draw back enough to face him. His eyes have little specks of gray and brown in them. You’ve never noticed them before, but you’re already committing each and every one of them to memory.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“It’s gonna be fine, you’ll see,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll be back in a couple’a months with some small scars and a medal or two. And then I’ll take you out proper, wherever you want.”

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. “I’d settle for you coming home safe, though.”

“‘Course I will,” Bucky says, and that beautiful little lopsided grin returns. You’re dizzy with the weight of his gaze, and when he leans in closer, your eyes flutter shut. You feel his breath on your cheek when he speaks again, sweet like cake. “Can’t keep my best girl waitin’ too long now, can I?”

Ever the optimist.

And yet, you’re the first one to lean in, as if he still doesn’t believe you’d let him.

You restore his faith, again and again. It almost feels like a promise.

— 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 : matt murdock [ drabble ]

your head is tucked safely into the crook of his neck, your legs straddling his lower half as your arms are wrapped around his chest in an attempt to cling yourself onto him as much as possible. matt’s hand is gently petting the back of your head while the other rests comfortably on your lower back, drawing circles onto your skin underneath your (his) hoodie.

the both of you sat like this for what seemed like hours. you’d been listening to his heartbeat, as he was probably doing the same, and at some point, your eyes fluttered shut. it was a surprise you hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but you wanted to focus on this moment with matt. this moment of intimacy, of being so close to him— yet you weren’t close enough.

matt removes his cheek from the top of your head and presses a long, loving kiss to your forehead. “you okay, baby?” he whispers softly, cautious of startling you. you only nod against his neck and give him a mhm. “good,” he mumbles back, and gives you one more kiss. the warmth of his body enveloping yours seeps into your bones and relaxes you beyond explanation. the way your limbs melt into matt is a telltale sign that sleep will take you soon, and you hope it drags matt down into the unconscious abyss with you.

large black coffee - series masterlist

for my matt murdock x reader series:

You own and operate a new specialty cafe in Hell’s Kitchen. One day, a blind lawyer walks through the door, and the trajectory of your life is changed for good.

for more information on what fics i write, read here!

keep reading for full masterlist. this will be updated with every part that i post!

Keep reading

✩ andy barber

do not copy or steal from my work! reblogs are appreciated. thank you and enjoy!!! 18+

series

unpolished: one , two , three , four , five , six

protection masterlist

summary — Ari is your father's best friend and business partner. His most loyal associate. So loyal, that he doesn't allow his eyes to stray from where they should be. You set out to change that.

pairing — dbf! ari x reader

warnings — swearing, discussion of violence, guns, death, eventual smut. more specific warnings in each part

part one

part two

part three

part four

→ Love Underwater.

gif credit.

pairing: namor of talokan x queen!reader.

rating: fluff.

warning: spoilers for black panther: wakanda forever.

The King lets out a light grunt when you slip his large necklace off after you took his cape off of his shoulders, revealing the gills on the two crooks of his neck. He tilts his head, cracking the bones of his neck, and you giggle when his lips graze the knuckles of your fingers. Then, you click each of his arm bracelets open, removing and putting them on the adorned tray for the servants to pick up later when you're done.

You massage the muscles of his arms and shoulders, and he groans approvingly. Hands trailing down to his abdomen, unclasping his large belt from around his refined waist. You never let the servants undress the King when he retires to his chambers; a job you've taken it upon yourself since the day you married the King of Talokan; a sweet and intimate gesture of a wife to her husband. When you're done, Ku'kul'kan whisks you playfully to his lap while he's sitting on the large bed. He kisses your neck fondly, while you kiss the crown of his head, then you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“Namora came to me today, my love.” You say idly, “Again.”

“Oh,” He raises an eyebrow, “Did she?”

“Yes.” You answer, drawing your head back so you can look at his face, “She's expressed her worry about you, my King.”

The latter regards you with gentle eyes, “And you share the same sentiment as well?”

You cup his cheek, your palm pressing lightly on the three marks left by the three scars.

In the recent weeks, the King has spent most of his time drawing the murals at his memorabilia cave —his sacred shrine as you call it— where you're used to watch him flicking his brush nimbly against the wall, recoding history. The latest of his works is The Battle Between The Serpent God and the Black Panther, the first time your husband lost.

“Our King chose peace over slaughter.” You told Namora, when came to you sulking, in her rough way of speeech, about her king cousin, your husband. The seasoned warrioress still can't digest the defeat of Talokan — of her king... god. In all honesty, neither could you, but as the queen, it's your duty to calm your subjects' qualms down, even if you have some of your own.

You glance down at his wrapped ankle, the slightest frown on your face; you've never seen your husband wounded in such a grotesque way. Despite your displeasure, the King seems to wear it with pride. Your eyes flit back to his face again.

“I did.” You answer frankly, “But not anymore. My trust in your judgement never wavers, my King.”

Ku'kul'kan cradles your cheeks in his warm hands, pressing a smooth kiss on your forehead, “Sometimes, I wish they had a piece of your wisdom, my love.”

You hold his hands, pressing kisses to his palms. “You flatter me, my King.”

“I only speak the truth, my Queen.” He smiles, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

Even after hundred years of marriage, you can't prevent the blush from smearing your cheeks red, and your husband laughs, flicking your cheek with his fingers.

“But the Panther Princess ought to be true to her words.” You say stubbornly. “Should she break them, and I'll be the one to bring her head on a spike,”

Ku'kul'kan smiles. “I'm counting on that.”

My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He'd just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan, or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie. She could see the way his body tensed at her question, and whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the young ones; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengeance in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead against yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness from facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

Matt Murdock as Various Things

Friendly reminder! Don’t make Namor speak Spanish in your fics. Yes, I know Aquapapi is played by Tenoch Huerta (y está buenísimo el hombre ik), but Namor’s native language is Yucatec Maya. Making him speak the language of the colonizers who killed his people for terms of endearment and playing it off as his first language is a bit insulting, I think.

so i read a story about the reader being hurt in the hospital and frank went to see them cause it was like a bomb explosion or something but he had to leave because cops were there

does someone know what im talking about? i want to read it but i cant find it anywhere

Draft one** for yesterday idea

Namor x shapeshifter(human/serpent) reader

come to me (namor)

warnings: uhh su*c*dal undertones, bpwf spoilers, probably plot holes but let’s ignore, it gets..nasty in a good way, google translate, I think that’s it but if not lmk and have fun I guess??

Streams of salt had caressed your face long before the rain came down. Too many times you’d been here before, mentally and physically. Why did everything end? And why did it always leave you feeling like you were being ripped apart like the storm bearing palms above your head? 

It was dark, nearly too dark. The moon’s light had been all but obscured by the thick clouds. Yet, there was just enough illumination for you to make out the small cay in the distance. It had been abandoned long ago by some tycoon that once resided in the now crumbling ruins of an estate tucked deep between wild foliage. 

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Safe With Me

bucky barnes x reader

"Bucky didn't know how to deal with his own demons sometimes, but he was determined to keep you safe from yours."

[3k] | melancholic themes, a bit of angst but quite fluffy by the end, lashing out, a light-hearted argument, depressed reader, concerned bucky, hurt-comfort, platonic idiots, happy ending. beware that this was written right after a mental breakdown and it shows, lol

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

Despite not looking like it, Bucky was far more attentive than one would give him credit for. It's just that everyone around him seemed like they had their shit together- pretty much unlike him, a guy dealing with a continent's worth of trauma and guilt, and within the boundary of the sorrow that comes along with it; he wasn't the one to show his friendlier sides often.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that he didn't care- he did, he cared about everyone's well-being. But he didn't feel like he was strong enough at that moment to actually reach out to anybody if they were to need his help, in personal matters rather than business.

He was doing better though. Steve helped out a lot about that, even though it'd never feel like the way it did in the late 30's, he was still Bucky's guy and they'd be there until the end of the line, no matter what it took. Through Steve, Bucky was able to open up a bit to Sam too, the trio forming a wonderful brotherhood through their shared trauma and tendency to look out for others.

You came around then.

Always so cheery, cracking a joke to anybody who seemed to be on the edge between happiness and something worse- doing your best to keep them at bay. Keep their minds at the moment instead, even if it meant making a complete fool of yourself at times with incredibly shitty jokes that you just came up with on the spot, or a hug, mostly always initiated by you.

Bucky was astonished to see that such people would exist.

People that are naturally just happy, born a goofball, always aiming to make others happy in their own way. Whether it's with a thoughtfully baked batch of cookies for a group returning from a mission, or a Netflix & 'you can cry for as long as you need, i'm here' session; you seemed to always be there. Always be a warm shoulder for anybody to lay their heads on when things got tough.

That's what made you happy.

But would it be enough for a person? Not necessarily. Bucky knew that very well, knew how sometimes, things you did to stay happy would decline in effect, leaving you hopeless as you tirelessly looked for another way to keep your emotions the way they used to be. If you stopped looking, then that's when things would get miserable.

He started noticing it a few weeks before your initial breakdown.

Usually, your smile would linger on your lips after a joke or a thoughtful comment; but it seemed to fall as soon as the words left your lips and the attention was switched to something else. You wouldn't frown, no, but to see such a blank expression on your face that often, honestly worried him.

He didn't think much of it until the day where the Avengers were having some sort of a movie night, where they'd pause the movie every two seconds to fight over something pointless- you were laughing along with everybody. You seemed happy, just content to be there with everyone, their laughs on your mind and your gaze on their smiles.

You got up to get a refill on your beer after a while, the rest of the group deep in a debate about something Bucky couldn't exactly catch up with. He excused himself a couple of minutes after you left, deciding to join you in the kitchen before he could grab some water and go back up to his room.

He found you awfully quiet, hands gripping the sides of the counter as you leaned against it, eyes closed, chest heaving. You seemed pained with the way your brows were knitted, too deep in the ocean of your thoughts to notice that Bucky came after you, and that he was staring right at you. "Are you okay?"

You snapped out of it with a slight flinch, nodding far too fast for his liking. Sniffling a bit and patting the underside of your eyes with the back of your palm, you hummed, offering him a kind smile before taking a step back from the counter. "Sorry. Zoned out."

"Yeah, I could see that." he hummed, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips as he just kept staring at you, almost as if he wanted you to go on, as if he wanted you to explain why. You didn't, though. You didn't know if you could.

"Um- did you need something?"

"No, not really. I was just here to get some water and, seeing you like that, I just- Everything okay?" his tone was softer than you got used to hearing from him.

"Everything's fine, Bucky. No worries." you replied, walking towards the refrigerator to pull out the water jug. "I think I'm gonna go up to my room for the night. Kinda tired."

"You could join me," he offered right away, cringing a bit when he realized how quickly he said it- as if he came there to say that, to start with. "I mean, I'm probably going to fall asleep to NatGeo but we could talk about lions and stuff before I did."

You chuckled at that, and he internally high-fived himself for the success.

"Would love to. Not tonight, though. I really wanna fall asleep and not to NatGeo, unfortunately."

He nodded, understanding. "Sure. Just pop by if you change your mind."

You nodded slowly before pouring two glasses of water, leaving one for him behind. "Will do, Sarge."

He couldn't help the dread he felt in his chest as he watched you walk away from the kitchen, towards the stairs.

The compound was awfully quiet.

Most were gone on missions, leaving the lucky few behind to enjoy the serenity of having the whole place to themselves. Within the earlier hours of the morning, Wanda took it upon herself to wake the remaining heroes up for a well-deserved breakfast, knowing well that none of them would get mad at her- her cooking was impeccable. Rhodey opted to steal one of the grilled cheese plates and go back to his room, leaving Bucky alone with Wanda as they ate in silence.

They were both surprised to hear the soft patter of your feet against the floor, quite later than they expected you to show up. You weren't the one to be late, not even to casual events.

And they were even more surprised when your usual good morning wish was reduced to a reply of a hum when Wanda said it.

Bucky didn't manage to get a good look at you, feeling a bit too awkward to do so for some reason, but the look in Wanda's eyes as she stared at you caused the same feeling of dread to slowly creep its way back. "Slept well, Y/N?"

You raised your gaze to look at Wanda and offer her a warm smile after her question, shrugging a bit. "Eh, usual. Nothing special with my sleep nowadays." you muttered, finally causing Bucky to look at you.

Your eyes were a bit puffy, and rather red.

Luckily for you, Wanda didn't push it much. She just reached down to place a soft kiss on your cheek when she was done eating, before leaving the kitchen area. You ate quietly, chuckling to yourself at Bucky's slight bed hair before reaching in to fix it a little bit. "Somebody slept well, anyway."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" he spoke right afterwards, catching you a bit off-guard.

"There isn't much to talk about, Bucky," you huffed out a snicker, shrugging a little bit. "But yeah, I know. I appreciate that- and of course, it goes both ways."

"Yeah, I know that."

You seemed to do better by the evening. Vision returned earlier as he was done, stealing Wanda from you a bit- you didn't complain though, as you figured now would be a great time to pick up some work. Burying yourself in your research, you didn't leave Steve's office -which he only let you use, because unlike his wonderful friends, you didn't draw dick figures on his notes- until it was a bit past midnight, a deep yawn cutting you off from work. You grabbed your now-empty mug of coffee and left it by the counter island, making a turn for the stairs before you ran into Bucky- again.

"Oh, hi," you gave him a firm pat on the arm. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

"Have you been working all day?"

"Yeah, figured I should use my pastime effectively," you chuckled to yourself a bit, knowing very well that you wouldn't keep up with this newfound habit.

"Well, in that case, my NatGeo offer still stands for whenever you want to take it." he smiled, before waving you off with a slight chuckle. "At least pretend like you're considering it!"

"I am, I swear!" you laughed along, tilting your head a bit to the side. "Just need to be alone."

Bucky knew the feeling. With a short nod, he took a step forward towards the side, letting you pass through him. "Have a good night in that case."

"Thanks, Bucky." you smiled gratefully, slowly stepping your way up the stairs. "You too."

"Y'all noticed anything weird about Y/N?" Sam broke the silence of the room, causing Steve and Bucky to look up at him from where they were seated playing some game that you taught them. Bucky let out a sigh, deciding to leave no comments as Steve slightly knitted his brows, urging Sam to explain. "She's like, barely around anymore."

"I invited her to play with us and she just said no immediately, said she was off to some pub." Steve added, sighing deeply with the controller tucked tight in his palm. "She didn't like to go alone back then."

Bucky, finally getting back on his feet with a grunt, left the controller by the table and signaled Sam to take his place instead, ignoring their confused eyes. "One way to find out."

Okay, maybe it wasn't that good of an idea to wander around Manhattan in hopes of finding a specific pub that you might've gone to, but he was trying. You didn't pick up the phone; probably had it on silent anyway as he let out a sigh, and finally made his way over to that one Irish pub which you always ended up at.

Pushing the glass door open, Bucky looked around for a moment before noticing your slouched figure near the bar, a big glass of Guinness by your side as you snacked on a nut mix, head leaning against the hand you propped up on the bar with your elbow. Careful as to not startle you, he made his way over to your side, pulling another barstool a bit closer to you before clearing his throat.

You looked up, surprised to find him there as you didn't tell anyone where exactly you'd be. "You didn't pick up my calls."

"Ah, sorry… My phone was on silent."

"I figured." he sighed, leather glove-clad hands signaling for the bartender to bring him a glass of what you were having. "People are noticing, you know."

"Noticing what?" you asked, pushing your small bowl of dried nuts towards him, just in case he'd like to have some. You raised your glass to take a small sip, wiping the white foam of the beer off the top of your lip with your tongue.

"You. The way you push us away," his careful gaze on you made you want to run away right there and then. It felt like he was able to read right through you, and you didn't like that one bit. "Something is clearly wrong and you're not saying anything."

"There's literally nothing to say, Bucky." you shrugged him off, eyes darting between him and the bartender when he thanked the other after his drink arrived. "I don't know why it's so tough to believe, but I'm fine. I'm doing well."

"Are you?" he asked, the bitter taste of the drink lingering on his tongue. "Or is this how you convince yourself?"

You stood quiet at that, just timidly taking a few more sips of your drink, wanting nothing more than to have this conversation be over. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, watching the way your jaw tensed and your demeanor seemed to grow defensive.

"Are you tormented by memories?"

"For fuck's sake," you finally snapped, sighing to yourself before getting up from your seat, fishing for your wallet to take out a twenty and slap it against the table. "Just quit it, would you? If me trying to enjoy some alone time really bothers you, let's go back, Bucky."

The walk back to the compound was awkward. Eerily quiet. You weren't the type to give in to your anger, not with your friends at least, unless something was really wrong. Bucky didn't want to let it go that quickly.

"You've been rejecting me almost every night for weeks, when all I ever wanted was to spend some time with you," Bucky finally managed to say, before you could even make it inside. Standing with your arms crossed on your chest at the compound yard, you glared up at him. "What the fuck is that all about?"

"I'm fucking tired, alright, Sarge? I'm sorry I couldn't get through yet another pity party of ours," you snapped right back, chest heaving with the deep and angry breaths you were taking.

"That's- Is that what you think this is all about?" he asked, voice laced in disbelief. "Christ, Y/N, you've barely been in the moment for weeks now. You don't smile like you used to, you don't laugh- you don't even dare to spend some time with any of us unless it's absolutely necessary." he let out a deep sigh, reaching forward to put his hands on your arms, just to get you out of your defensive state. "So fuck me for being worried about you but I am, I'm concerned to the point where I can't help but think about how you must be feeling almost every moment of the day."

You sighed in defeat, shoulders falling a little as you looked down at the ground. You weren't all that aware that you were concerning him. You wouldn't have dropped the mask that often if you knew. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, just- just tell me why," he pleaded, thumbs rubbing against your clothed biceps as reassuring as he could muster. "Tell me why you've been shutting me out."

"It's not exactly- um," you took in a deep breath, shaking your head. "I just didn't feel comfortable, for some reason."

"Is it because you cry yourself to sleep every night?" he asked straight away, earning nothing more than a dreadful silence from you. "I know. I've noticed. I felt the same way before." Bucky felt as if his heart was shattering right before your eyes, a sigh escaping his lips before he pulled you closer, right into his embrace. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry." he whispered, feeling your deep draws of breath- he knew you were fighting back the tears, just to not seem weak in any way before him. "Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"It's just- I'm always expected to be a certain way," you whispered back, not trusting your voice at that moment. "To behave a certain way, to react a certain way- But I'm not happy. I haven't been, for a long time. I feel so empty that it makes me feel guilty because whenever I'm around you all, I feel like a liar and-"

"Hey, hey…" he cut you off, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he pulled you apart a bit, thumb running against your cheek as an attempt to fix the pout on your lips. "That's not the answer to my question."

"It's because I didn't want to bother you with my problems."

"Bother me? Christ, do you realize how much I adore you?" he chuckled in disbelief, his own eyes feeling more damp by each passing second. "Look- I was lucky, okay? I'm lucky because I had someone to reach out to me and pull me through. You just gotta let me be that hand, instead of shutting me out like this."

You nodded slowly, feeling a few drops of tear glide through your cheek- but Bucky wiped them away from you. "If your NatGeo offer still stands, then, um…" you trailed off, chuckling to yourself after a sniffle. "You know what, there's no need to- yeah, I won't- I'll just go up to my room, if that's okay?"

"Y/N," his tone made your name feel like a warning against his lips. "Stay with me for a night or two. Talk to me instead, when you feel like crying. Let's see where that takes us."

"Sure- okay. That's a, uh, good idea." you nodded your head a bit, reaching for yet another hug rather immediately. "Don't tell anyone about this, please."

"Your secrets are safe with me, angel." he hummed against your hair, keeping you as close as he could. "I'll keep them 'till the end of the line."

A night turned to two, two went all the way to a week until Bucky practically started to share his room with you. The two of you would talk for hours before sleeping, and you'd always make sure to guide him back to reality when he was awakened by nightmares. He didn't get them that often anymore, as your presence by his side was comforting enough to make him feel safe. And you?

You didn't feel that burdened anymore.

Shoulders lighter, deep conversations evolved into laughter fits and lighthearted jokes, limbs tangled with one another as you slept. Bucky would press his lips against your shoulder here and there, mumbling about how much it meant for him to have you trust him like this, and cut himself off before going any further about his feelings.

You knew, though. You could feel it in his gaze.

The two of you didn't need any words to tell each other about your love.

salt, ice and fire masterlist

summary: you have spent your entire life following someone else’s orders. the bullet in someone else’s gun. frank castle was no knight in shining armour, and he certainly didn’t come to save you, but when your interests start to align, the line between enemy and ally get blurred. will you choose to run and leave everything you fought for behind, or will frank’s magnetic pull suck you in to a world far more complicated than you imagined?

contents: slow burn, sort of enemies to lovers, heavy plot action and characters pulled from the comics (i don’t own any of the characters) but all plot is my own!

status: ONGOING

warnings: this series contains explicit content, canon typical violence and graphic violent imagery, so 18+ only minors dni. this story features elements of sa, in cases of unwanted advances and slight connotations. it is not my intention to, nor will i include explicit sa in any of my stories, however some situations could be read as triggering, so please stay safe!!

chapter one - a glimpse of the sun

chapter two - man in the mirror

chapter three - crossing the finish line

chapter four - a better man than me

chapter five - stitches on ice

chapter six - this is what they pay me for

chapter seven - some kind of human

chapter eight - learning the basics

chapter nine - sink or swim

chapter ten - perfect timing

chapter eleven - eye for an eye

chapter twelve - ray of sunshine

chapter thirteen - threes a crowd

chapter fourteen - body clock

chapter fifteen - domestic affairs

chapter sixteen - talk is cheap

chapter seventeen - back together again

chapter eighteen - your fathers eyes

chapter nineteen - proper representation

chapter twenty - house training

chapter twenty one - coming soon…