Tell Me A Story

You Don't Know Pt 8

Steve Rogers x Reader (GN)

Series Summary: Steve Rogers and his pretentious “know it all” attitude is getting on your last nerves. Neither of you know what to do about it. 

Warnings- Idiots, light swearing, nothing serious rly

Word count- 3k

Author's Note- I am so sorry for the long ass wait! School happened, and a new job, and spring break (which wsnt honestly a break) and I’m still working on seeing writing as not a chore?? Any ways, the next thing posted will be UtLM <3

Chapter 8/?

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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BeeBeeBEEEEP! BeeBeeBEEEEP!

Steve had, arguably, the most annoying alarm in the entire goddamn world. He groaned softly, still half asleep, and slowly opened his eyes as the frequency of the beeps got quicker. His hand flopped over and clumsily quickly shut off the alarm, not wanting it to get loud.

He groaned and wiped the sleep from his eyes as his vision came back into focus, reality slowly hit him, and the memories of last night slowly trickled back into his mind.

You, having a nightmare. Coming into his room. Crawling into his bed. Crying. Being held by him. Him not hating the fact he held you. In fact, it was actually kinda nice--

His eyes shot open, the memories acting as the chilling feeling of a bucket of water being splashed over him. His heart beat quickly as he glanced at the other side of his bed. You had shifted out of his arms, curled into a small ball, and had the blankets pulled up to your face. You looked like you were trying to take up as little space as possible.

He slowly sat up in bed, not wanting to wake you up since it was barely 5 in the morning. He leaned over to study your face for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm the rapid beating of his heart. You looked so relaxed, brows twitching slightly in a scowl as your lips parted with a soft huff. 

The sudden feeling of this all being wrong flooded into his mind.

He was the Captain, after all! Team leader! What would be said if people found out you slept in his room?? There might be rumors, hell, the way people talked in this place was CRAZY! Steve couldn't--

Couldn't believe himself.

He turned away from you, guilt flooding his heart. He swallowed thickly, staring at a rogue sock on the floor.

That's what he had done, wasn't it? Assumed you were sleeping around with Bucky. When did he start assuming his teammates did that! Why- why would he care! God, he was a jerk… You had just wanted help. You had found comfort in Bucky and he ruined all of that because he was jealous. 

No, he wouldn’t let himself stew in his own guilt, that wasn't fair in the slightest. He forced himself to look back at you. It was obvious you were still asleep, with your face relaxed and soft puffs of air falling from your lips. Your hair is a mess all over the pillow and the blanket tightly gripped around your body. Steve could see the outline of your fist clutching the sheets to your chest, so relaxed yet still so tense. He was beginning to believe you never actually fully relaxed.

He swallowed thickly, feeling awkward about the current situation. There was no way he could move you out of his bed. For one, he didn't want to risk waking you up, the dark spots under your eyes were proof enough sleep like this didn't come often enough. Secondly, though you were sleeping like a rock, movement like that would most definitely startle you awake… and a punch/kick/flail wasn't what he wanted to deal with at the moment. None of the Avengers were heavy sleepers. It was something that got trained out of recruits fairly quickly, and it unfortunately wasn't on purpose.

He could only imagine what you were going to say about the fact that you’d spent the night in his bed. Steve blinked and looked around his room, the curtains showing just a smidge of light as the sun promised to rise. Steve had never felt this way before, the odd feeling of time moving too fast yet painfully slow. His breathing felt too loud and also dead silent all at once. Worried he’d wake you, yet also wondering if he should be the one to wake you.

“Jesus,” Steve thought to himself, feeling a headache coming on, “when was the last time I thought this hard this early in the morning??”

He rubbed his temples as he quietly pushed his part of the blankets off his body. Steve knew he should leave you, let you wake-up without having him hovering there. He should talk to Bucky, he's dealt with this all before...

“Ok, Steve, you've got some choices here. I could either stay with them, still asleep and wait for them to wake up on their own…” Steve considered, soundlessly blowing air from his mouth, “Or, I could get up, talk to Bucky, and hope that that dumbasses advice could help me not say something stupid the second they woke up.”

Decision made, he silently got out of the bed. It creaked slightly- since when did it creak??- and he winced. Holding his breath he glanced back at you, you hadn't even stirred. As silently as he could, he tiptoed out of his room. Pausing momentarily to toss his sock into the laundry hamper where it should've been.

For the first few steps, he kept his pace light until he decided he had put enough distance between himself and the room to walk normally. He quickly trotted down the hallway, going straight for Bucky’s room. He was a little surprised that Bucky’s door was ajar, and when he pushed it open, he was very surprised to find his friend already sitting up in bed, his phone in his hand.

“You’re… up?” Steve asked, voice slightly gravely with sleep.

“... yes?” Bucky mumbled back. He yawned and ran his hand over his face, "Haven't made it to the gym yet, though.”

Bucky eyed Steve for a split second, and a look of slight realization appeared on his face. Steve wasn't really hiding how frazzled he felt. That, and his entire world felt slightly off kilter. 

“They had a nightmare, huh?” Bucky asked in a soft voice, knowing immediately what had happened. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his brown locks out of his face with a loud sigh.

“Uhm, yeah,” Steve mumbled, standing in the doorway and scratching his forehead. He didn't know what else to say, he felt a little grateful that Bucky had recognized it all, at least.

It was clear from his body language that he was nervous. Steve Rogers didn’t get nervous very often - except for in situations just like this one. When he was a flopping fish out of water.

Bucky had seen that look on his face plenty of times, whether it was when he was talking to an attractive person, having to give his pre-serumed self a pep-talk, or when he was about to do something stupid. Though, since the serum, Bucky had seen it rarely

And the current situation was exactly all that - Steve was in unfamiliar territory.

Steve Rogers’ love life, or lack thereof, was complicated. He had always been single, as Bucky knew very well.

The whole serum, the war, being frozen, getting thawed out and waking up in the 21st Century… Steve hadn’t had a whole lot of time or chances to pursue someone.

And, of course, Bucky also knew that the one woman Steve had been in love with had been Peggy Carter. And, well, yeah, that didn't really go far.

“Let me guess,” Bucky said, leaning back and resting against his pillows. “They came into your room, you let ‘em get into your bed, comforted them until they fell asleep, and now you’re in here at,” he squinted at his phone, “nearly 6 in the morning lookin’ like an animal trapped in a cage ‘cause you had ‘em cuddling against your chest all night.”

Steve winced, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway and folding his arms across his chest.

“Something like that,” he grumbled, running his tongue over his teeth and looking at a spot on the floor.

He was silently praying that Bucky wasn’t going to tease him for this, and instead actually give him some good advice. He swallowed thickly, throat bobbing as his teeth worried his lip. He tapped his foot once, then twice, then quickly.

“What should I do when they wake up?” He finally asked, glancing at Bucky. “What am I going to say?”

Bucky studied Steve’s face for a moment, taking in his friend’s worried expression and nervous body language, before he sighed deeply.

“First, you’re gonna calm down. And sit down, you’re makin’ me feel nervous,” Bucky finally said. “You’re gonna sit down, you’re gonna breathe, and then you’re gonna remember that they had a nightmare and are probably goin’ to be embarrassed about crawling into your bed, so you’re gonna stay calm and be nice.”

Bucky was more protective of you at this moment, purely because of how similar their nightmares were. He saw you as a kid sibling, and, sure, Bucky would tease you a bit, but he wouldn't let anyone else hurt you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to let Steve do something stupid that resulted in you getting caught up in the crossfire.

Steve relaxed a bit and released the breath that he was holding. He knew that Bucky was right, and it was probably a good idea to stay calm.

His shoulders sagged slightly, and he let his arms fall to his sides, his hands sliding into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Right,” he agreed in a strained voice, forcing himself to relax.

“I’m calmer. Sitting down.” He said, lowering himself into one of Bucky’s chairs, sitting a few feet away from the bed.

“How should I bring it up when they wake up, though?” Steve asked, looking over at Bucky. “Should I not bring it up at all? Should I bring up the nightmare, or should I just wait for whatever they'll say?”

He was nervous again now that he was sitting down and had nothing to distract him from his tangled thoughts. And he was worried about what you would think - what you would say - when you woke up in his room, without him there.

Bucky sighed again. The man in front of him was the same Steve Rogers that was trying to enlist in the Army time and time again, even though he wasn’t physically able.

But when it came to people, specifically people Steve wanted to impress, Steve was absolutely clueless.

“They normally never talk about it. But if they do, just wait for them to bring it up,” Bucky said, as if it was as obvious as the sky being blue. “Wait and see what they say first, and then go from there. If they start it, they're probably expecting to talk about it. And if they dont… then they're too embarrassed to mention it.”

Steve nodded, processing the advice.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I can see them being embarrassed about it. They normally act so tough."

He paused for a moment, thinking about the way you normally were around him. The way you always had a sarcastic remark and a smart comment on your lips, the way you bickered with him. He could definitely see you being embarrassed about crying in front of him.

He suddenly sat up a little suddenly, a thought crossing his mind.

“Do people normally do that?” He asked curiously, looking over at Bucky. “Have a nightmare and go to-” He paused, unsure of how to define your relationship. Not friends, colleagues really. Enemies? No, as much as you riled him up, you weren't an enemy, “... their mission leader/coworker/roommates room for - for comfort, or whatever?”

Steve mumbled his last few words, each syllable sounding stupider and stupider as his brain tried to make sense of it all.

Bucky chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes slightly.

“Yes, Steve,” Bucky said in a tone that made it sound like Steve was a complete idiot. “People have been doin’ that for a long time. I think it’s an older-than-the-stone-age idea, actually.”

Steve pursed his lips slightly in annoyance at Bucky’s mocking comment, but he didn’t say anything, his face turning a brighter shade of pink.

He was a little offended, but still had half a mind to admit that he may actually be an idiot when it came to, well, anything more than simple cordial relationships.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled under his breath, folding his arms defensively over his chest again. “The nightmares I've dealt with have been with you, and you weren't exactly the ‘crawl-into-bed-and-cry’ type-”

Steve's huffy reply was suddenly interrupted by a loud bang that echoed from down the hallway, followed by a string of muttered curses from none other than you.

Steve winced as he heard the banging, it sounded like an end table being knocked over. Probably the one against the wall of the hallway that had a few knick knacks on it. He shared a glance with Bucky before they both spoke at the same time.

“They’re awake.” They said in unison, both of them grinning slightly and chuckling at the synchronization.

You had already changed out of the shirt and pants Steve lent you and had found your tank top and shorts you had previously been wearing. Your confusion, then embarrassment, then absolute dread that had plagued you the moment you woke up not  in your own bed fueled your swift escape. 

In your attempt to tiptoe back to your room, you had cut the corner a smidge too close. The vase of lego flowers didn't fall to the floor! But the cheap plastic picture frame (that no one had even taken the stock image out of??) tumbled off onto the floor.

Steve had to muffle his sudden laugh when he heard you cursing loudly. He masked it with a light cough, your words didn't even make much sense. It reminded him of a middleschooler who learned the word “fuck” for the first time.

He cleared his throat, standing up straight as he caught Bucky’s eye. The two of them exchanged knowing looks, both holding back another bout of laughter.

After the sound of readjustment came to finish, and a couple more muttered curses traveled in the air, it went silent again.

Bucky looked over at Steve, his shoulders starting to shake with restrained laughter.

“Real graceful in the morning,” he snorted, glancing at Steve. Bucky took a deep breath, shaking his head in amusement and running his hand through his hair.

Steve tried to wave it off, keeping his face neutral and uncaring. But, the thought of you being like a baby deer that just learned how to work its legs made him grin.

He couldn’t help it. It was funny to him, you were being so loud! You were only ever purposefully loud.

“Yeah, definitely graceful,” he laughed quietly, his lips tilting up into a boyish smile.

“You alright?” Bucky called out, craning his head as he tried to look down the hallway. He swung his legs off his bed with a soft grunt, stretching as he stood.

"... fuck off, Barnes!" Your voice carried from down the hallway. Followed by the sound of your door slamming shut. Yeah, you were fine.

Steve rolled his eyes, not surprised in the slightest. Of course you shouted back at Buck. Why would he expect anything different from you?

He could practically picture the look on your face as soon as the words left your mouth. Your scowl, your narrowed eyes. If you had said it to Bucky's face, Steve could picture you crossing your arms tightly, the muscle in your jaw flexing as you tried not to make another snippy remark, and your foot impatiently tapping the ground…

“You know,” Steve murmured to Bucky, still holding the image in his mind, “You really shouldn’t rile them up in the early morning.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Whtever, theyre fine.” Bucky groaned as he stretching his arms up,  rolling his shoulders nd stretching his neck as he walked around his bed to Steve. “They just cussed me out and even that still got you smiling like a dumbass,” he scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Steve. “Jesus, you’ve got it bad, Steve. Even I can see that.”

“Shut up,” Steve quickly mumbled, his smirk falling into an annoyed frown.

Of course Bucky knew. The guy had been his best friend for decades, he knew almost everything about him. Including his taste in partners.

“I don’t like them,” he protested, but his words sounded weak even to his own ears.

Bucky simply shot Steve a pointed look at his weak protest.

“Because you totally weren’t just sitting there with a dumb smile on your face while listening to them swear at me from down the hallway…” Bucky mutters under his breath, "But, yeah, you don't like them."

“I don’t.” Steve repeated, a bit more firmly this time, but even to his own ears he still didn’t sound too convincing.

Steve was stubborn. He was stubborn to a fault. But he’d be damned if he didn't get this sorted out!

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But, well, that stubbornness plagued both Steve and you for the next few months.

And, to be clear, the next four months.

You and Steve really didn't... bicker much anymore. Sure, you avoided him slightly for the first week or so, but after that, things mellowed out.

It seemed silly to completely avoid your captain, so a quick thirty second applolofy from steve followed by  just as awkward “yeah dont worry bout it” from you wrapped the fiasco up pretty swiftly

You also got Bruce to make you some pills that would just knock you out every night. Can't have nightmares if you're unconscious! Bruce exasperatedly corrected you, they correct your brain's REM cycle so the consolidating and analyzing of memories does not happen in the active consciousness… or, well, whatever the hell that meant. They honestly just felt like you took a melatonin and some benadryl every night.

Though you both acted cordial, neither you nor Steve acted on your other feelings. You reserved yourself into thinking Steve barely tolerated you. Steve thought similarly. His feelings were reinforced when you spent those few weeks in Bruce's lab doing sleep tests with a bunch of doctors.

So, you both pushed those feelings away.

You were determined to keep those feelings away, much to Natasha's dismay. Steve was the same, but more blatant denial… much to Bucky's frustration. 

It wasn't until one afternoon, while everyone was gathered for a meeting, you walked into the room followed by someone else. They were around the same height as you, another agent you had worked with before, and a certain captain couldn't stop staring…

Pulse 💗

Summary: Bucky can hear your heartbeat through the wall, and he can tell everything isn’t alright.

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader

Words: 600 (exactly 600, holy moly)

Warnings: None really, just mentions of anxiety and adhd. Wrote this within an hour, sorry if its bad

A/N: Self indulgent fic alert! This goes out to all my peeps who struggle with ADHD/anxiety. It sucks, but hang in there!

Divider credit: @saradika

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” you called, not looking up from the papers on your desk.

A brief second passed, and the door creaked open. A cautious Bucky peeked his head in.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked.

You suddenly became aware of your leg bouncing 70 miles an hour, and forced yourself to stop. 

“Yes, why?” You replied, ignoring the urge to get up and walk around.

“Well, I—” he hesitated, and brought his hand to rub the back of his neck, “I was passing by and I heard your heartbeat going really fast—super hearing and all that,” he awkwardly chuckled.

“120,” you stated, glancing at your watch.

“What?”

“My heart rate is 120 right now.”

“That’s pretty high for just sitting,” he responded, having a hard time hiding his concern.

“Well, y’know, anxiety,” you breathily laughed, but it wasn’t that funny.

“What are you anxious about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Nothing.” You sighed, lowering your pen and facing him. At this point he was now in your room, perched in front of your door.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Seriously, I’m kinda freaking out over nothing right now.”

“C’mon, you’re always telling me I’m valid for having concerns, you are too.”

“No, I mean there is literally no singular thing I’m anxious about right now—it’s just physical anxiety, the general feeling that I’m going crazy, or dying, I don’t know, both I guess. That sounds so dramatic. I really am fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I am, yeah?” You rambled on and on, and cursed yourself when you noticed your leg had started bouncing again.

“I don’t think you’re okay, do you want me to bring you to Dr. Cho?”

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t think there’s much she can do. The worst of this should pass in thirty minutes anyway, it’s just my meds.”

“Oh.” 

You could tell Bucky wanted to ask more, but wasn’t sure if it was polite.

“I have ADD. ADHD, whatever you want to call it. So I take medicine so I can focus on certain tasks, like these reports. And it does help me focus, but it’s also a stimulant, so it also gives me a lot of anxiety, which is totally awesome!” You scoffed.

“Why do you keep stopping your leg from bouncing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to annoy you.”

“If bouncing your leg makes you feel better, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I feel like I’m embarrassing myself,” you whined. 

Beep.

You looked at your watch.

“Oh, look at that, 126!”

“Do you—would…would a hug be something that would help you? Calm you down?” He offered, casually putting his arms out for emphasis.

“Sure, Bucky,” you smiled, and stood up to meet him halfway. You knew it wouldn’t fix it, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Bucky wrapped you in a big embrace, and you were shocked by how warm and teddy-like it was. You gave a small sigh, and rested your face in his neck, knowing you weren’t going to be the first to let go.

He held onto you for longer than you expected, just calmly swaying together in your room. 

To your dismay, he eventually let go of you. You were about to thank him and return to your work, but he gently grabbed your wrist and brought your watch to his sight. 

“107. Good, but I think we can do better than that,” he sweetly smiled, and wrapped you back up into his arms. 

“It might take a while.” You mumbled into his shirt.

“As long as it takes.” He cooed.

A/N: Should be either A) studying for a history exam I have tmw, or B) writing my stupid essay that the rough draft is due tmw, but I wrote this instead bc I’m procrastinating  HELP ME

## can’t help falling in love !!

summary──── no matter what tragedy strikes, you and jason can’t help falling in love with each other. based on “can’t help falling in love” by elvis presley.

pairings──── jason peter todd x addams!male reader

warnings──── fluff, angst, very suggestive in the beginning, foul language, death and resurrection, mentions of violence, brainwash, hurt/comfort, destined soulmates, possessiveness if you squint, blood

author’s note──── okay, i take back what i said. i probably won’t stop writing addams!reader anytime soon. by the way, i don’t have specific jason in mind so any universe can be imagined for all my jason fics.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

The chilly air makes goosebumps appear on Jason’s skin as he hugs himself to shield away from the cold. Dark shine of the moon bringing peace to the silence completely surrounding him, Jason admires the statues littered across the graveyard behind the Addams manor in honour of your fallen ancestors. Despite darkness lurking behind every shadow and spirits wandering around tirelessly, this place held utter peace and comfort, warming Jason’s heart by embracing it tightly in their arms.

Each ancestors had extraordinary headstone that fits them best with their statue standing tall and proud, it truly shows how Addams honour their family members the right way. None of their headstones were simple or boring, each having unique traits that Jason was certain they used to have when they were alive. Each Addams have unique traits that differed from one another, but all of them were undeniably extraordinary. They aren’t like any other, much like how his lover’s not like any other.

Jason feels a coat being wrapped around him before two arms sneaks around his waist, shoulder weighing slightly from where you rest your chin on it. He fights back a smile.

“You could’ve called for me, beau. My siblings wouldn’t have minded one less duelling partner.” You softly say, pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

Jason instinctually leans back, snuggling to your neck. “Yeah, but you should spend more time with ‘em. Always with me, they’re gonna start thinking you’re forgetting your own siblings.”

“I assure you, they would not.” You start slowly swaying your bodies together to a non-existent music as Jason follows through with you. “They’re going to start thinking you’re forgetting them. Wednesday and Pugsley prefer you more than me, sweetheart, especially Wednesday.”

“Oh, really?” Jason smirks.

“Yes, really.” You nod with a sigh, though he could tell you weren’t annoyed at all. “She pushed me down the stairs last night after we’ve gotten back from our date.”

Jason throws his head back with a laugh, “Sorry, babe. She might or might not have invited me to throw an axe at Pugsley and I turned it down.”

“No wonder she was beyond irritated with me,” Amusement fills your tone as the corner of your lips twitch up to form a subtle smile. Jason looks at you over his shoulder and you immediately lean in for a lingering kiss, butterflies erupting in his stomach as his heart skip a beat. You then kiss his cheek and forehead before resting your chin back on his shoulder with eyes closed.

Jason sighs in content, admiring your captivating features that somehow reminds him of death. But your presence wasn’t as cold as death, it’s warm and engulfing despite your touch rivaling that coldness of an ice. He leans closer for a moment, only to lift your arms that were around him so he could face you while still being embraced by you, burying his face on the crook of your neck.

“I really love you.” He sighs, arms secure around your back.

“I would do everything for you,” Your reply was instant, resting your head against his. He felt your arms squeeze him as if to emphasise, and he chuckled.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” The silly question slips from his lips, half-joking and half-serious, pulling his head back to look into your nearly lifeless eyes. He’s reminded of how it’s only alive because of him.

Your eyebrows raised slightly in mere question and amusement, but you take his hand and press a tender kiss on his palm.

“I adore you in every universe. I love you just as much as Icarus has loved the sun — even more than he’s loved the sun. I would shatter the ground and raise hell just to find you wherever you go. I would paint the sky with shooting stars to fulfill your wish. I would tear the world apart and watch the universe collapse if you are ever taken from me, for a life without you is a life full of unquenchable thirst and eternal hunger unworthy of surviving. I would worship every ground you stand and walk on to an extent which I wish not to touch the ground you haven’t touched yet, for it hasn’t been blessed with your divine greatness. I would offer you my eyes if your vision fails, my voice if yours can no longer function, my heart if yours cease to beat, my hands if you can no longer hold the world in yours, my legs if yours fail to take you to places you’ve dreamed of. Only death shall keep me away from you, and even so, it would merely be enough to prevent me from either clawing the dirt apart and rising alive to hold you in my arms, or dragging you down with me to rest for all eternity together.”

By the end of your speech, Jason was already crying ocean of tears as his eyes twinkles in overwhelming happiness, extremely touched.

Both of you always make long and romantic declaration of your love for each other in most random times, and while his speech makes you smile from ear to ear and giddy like a high schooler, yours often never failed to reduce him into nothing but a sobbing and crying mess. He hates it, but could never bring himself to hate you for making him cry.

You smile gently at him and press very soft kisses on both of his eyelids before continuing, “Therefore, the answer is yes, my love. I would still love you if you were a worm.”

Jason chokes out a chuckle, sniffing. “Fuck you for always catching me off guard and making me cry.”

Your hands cup his red face as you coo, “Do not be ashamed for shedding your tears, Jason. Quite frankly, I find them very captivating.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “You like seeing me cry?”

“Ah, yes...” A flirtatious smirk appears on your lips, one arm pulling him close and the other hand sneaking up to gently clasp your fingers around his throat. “Indeed, I do. Especially in bed.”

Jason resists his urge to moan when you squeezed slightly, tilting his head back a little to give you more access. “Why in bed when you can make me cry right here and now?” He whispered, rather lusciously as you stare into his lustful eyes.

You lick your lips before smashing your lips on his hungrily and Jason quickly reciprocates, no longer feeling the chilliness of the graveyard air.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help falling in love with you?

Jason loves you more than words can express. He loves you oh so dearly that he would turn back to the God that his heart stopped believing after he came back to life just so he could recite prayers for an eternity with you. Jason never thought it was possible to love someone so much so that he’d be willing to both give up everything for you and give you everything you want.

But sometimes, love makes him afraid.

Afraid of losing you. Afraid of seeing you hurt. Afraid of knowing anyone and anything can take you away any moment. He hadn’t thought about what you feel everytime you see him injured, but when you walked into the living room all bloody, bruised and slashed, his heart stopped and the mug he was holding just slipped from his hand to shatter on the floor.

You laid down on the large expensive sofa with a slight wince as Jason ran off to find some medical kits available in the Addams manor, being helped by Thing to locate its whereabout, before running back in with the necessities. He almost got a heart attack when he saw you had your eyes closed, seemingly not breathing, looking paler than usual. Dropping the medical kits on the carpeted floor below the sofa, he quickly checks on your pulse and sighs in relief when he feels it, just then remembering that an Addams is very unlikely to show any physical signs of breathing unless letting out a sigh.

You open your eyes and admire his face twisted in worry and fear, moving up a hand to pat his head twice. “It’s not necessary to be overly concerned, my dear. Nothing to fear of, these are mere injuries that can easily be treated.” You wave it off with the same hand, somehow very calm and nonchalant despite how intense your injuries looked.

Sadness now replacing the look on his face, Jason wordlessly shakes his head and begins to treat the bruises and cuts on your face with careful and soothing hands. You stop him gently to remove your vigilante suit before letting him continue, comforting silence filling the almost grim atmosphere. Jason doesn’t realise you’re watching every bit of his expression, seeing the way his perfect eyebrows furrow and his lips frown slightly every time he moves from one injury to another. It feels like the injury’s getting worse the more he moved to the next, and it made his heart heavy.

Your gaze softens, knowing he was having second thoughts about speaking the things that bothered him.

It seems Jason has quickly gathered the strength to speak because before you can throw encouraging words, his quiet voice interrupts the comfortable silence. “I know you’re not afraid of dying or anything with your culture and all, but it makes me worry a lot.” You nod to let him know you’re listening. “I sound like a real hypocrite ‘cause I go out on mission then come back here looking like a fucking zombie more than I want to admit, so I don’t have the right to say anything like this, but you almost gave me a heart attack.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, silently encouraging him to speak his thoughts more as he cleans your wounds. You don’t miss the way Jason’s hand trembled.

“You’re not...” He trailed off, hesitant to continue as he bit his lip as if to contemplate whether or not to say it out loud. He followed through it, anyway. “You’re not gonna leave me, right?” Jason tries, looking up and meeting your eyes. His emerald irises were wavering in worry and hint of fear.

Your hand gently caress his face, Jason leaning on it immediately. “As I’ve said before, mon amour... Death is merely enough to prevent me from crawling back to you.” Ignoring your freshly bandaged wounds, you pulled Jason on your lap and tugged at the back of his neck to kiss his lips passionately and comfortingly. “Leaving you only means leaving my heart and soul behind, darling. We wouldn’t want me to feel incomplete, would we?”

Jason sighs in content against your lips, before carefully shifting on the big sofa so he could squish beside you and pull you to his chest, initiatively big-spooning you.

“m’just really scared to lose you,” He whispered, burying his face on your hair and hugging you close, but not tight enough to hurt. It’s not like you’re capable of feeling pain, but you appreciated his kindness nonetheless.

You press a tender kiss on his chest, looking up at him and frowning softly. “I sincerely apologize for frightening you, my love. I’ll make an oath to be careful next time.”

Jason nods, basking in your warmth, your scent, your presence.

Gods, he loves you too much to let you go. He could never, would never. You belong to him just as much as he belongs to you and even death has no right to take that away. You were his, and only his — in life and in death.

You feel Jason’s arms tighten around you, and resisted the smile spreading across your face. Death can never intimidate you as your culture revolves around it, but the thought of losing Jason was always triggering for you. It made you dive into insanity and quickly get rid of the problem at hand, as if you’ll suffocate if you’re not quick enough to eliminate the threat. Handling Joker physically, handling Bruce mentally, handling those irrelevant crime lords who nearly hurt Red Hood off the streets violently, all things of sort.

Fall down with me further, mon chéri.

Your mind shall be filled with me and only me, even if it’s the utter fear of losing me.

A dreamy look flashed across your eyes before disappearing fast, burying your face in his chest and embracing him tighter. If you’re both too afraid for the other to die and lose them, then maybe dying together would not sound so bad at all.

You had read once on a book that falling in love is a curse, for you’ll drown in it before you even realise and fail to resurface once you fall too deep, unable to ever get out again.

However, if that is the case, you disagreed. Because it was never a curse, it’s only ever been a blessing.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

“Where the fuck is he!?” Jason yelled in rage, red clouding his vision as he threw the mug on a wall. Panic, anger, and worry filled his chest that made his frustration grow even more.

Bruce sighed, worry also plastering his face as he attempted to grasp your location with the computer. “He’s only been gone for an hour, Jason. Be patient.”

“Anything can fucking happen in an hour!” He growled back, glaring harshly before the worry and panic began to overthrow his anger, one hand slipping through his hair and tugging at it. “I— fuck, what am I gonna do? I shouldn’t have let him go alone, I should’ve went with him—”

Dick quickly approached his little brother when his breathing started to grow uneven. “Jay, hey... Breathe, calm yourself first. He’s going to be okay, he’s an untouchable badass.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Jason shakes his head, rubbing his face. “I wouldn’t know what to do without him— I can’t live without him, Dicky. I can’t.” His voice broke as he trembled, silence filling the air with everyone frowning in sadness and worry.

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Jason felt his heart thumping loudly against his chest when he saw you fighting enemies with only sustaining little injuries, relief flooding throughout his body. It’s like the world brightened up again, ironically.

You made eye contact in the middle of the fight, smirking at him. “Can’t get rid of me easily, love.”

A light-hearted chuckle erupts from Jason as he joins you along with the Batfam in fighting the League of Assassins, you and Jason moving in sync as if dancing through the violence. Both of you moved swiftly together, fitting each other perfectly like the pieces of a puzzle, using each other occassionally as a leverage against them.

“This is like dancing in our graveyard,” Jason grinned under his Red Hood helmet, adrenaline rushing in his veins.

“Indeed, it does feel like it.” You responded with subtle enthusiasm, only noticeable by your lover. He laughs at your answer, enjoying the moment even when it was violent.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

He doesn’t know why he got distracted. He doesn’t know why he didn’t pay attention more to his surroundings. But before Jason knew it, Raj’s Al Ghul’s sword was nearly piercing into him.

Until your firm and cold hand pushed him away, everything feeling like a slow motion in Jason’s eyes as the sword pierced into your chest and through your back, directly striking the heart. Jason’s eyes widened, anguished call of your name slipping from his lips. Blood dripping from your mouth, you tightly held onto the sword before driving one of your sais on Raj’s Al Ghul’s throat, where a vital point is.

The League of Assassins member fell on the ground first, clutching his throat and choking on his own blood.

Amusement flickers in your eyes, even at the graveness of the situation. You looked back at Jason and smiled, grabbing the sword’s handle and pulling it off your chest despite Batman’s loud protests. Loud metallic clank echoes within the warehouse as you dropped the sword on the concrete, stepping forward once towards your lover, but your legs giving away made you almost tumble down.

Jason immediately catches you in his arms and lays you on his lap, tears stinging his eyes as his breath quickens, removing his helmet to throw it beside him. Heartbeat rapid and restless, heart dropped to his stomach, nausea forming in the pit due to the sight of blood flowing outwards to your vigilante suit from the hole on your chest. He could feel a panic attack nearing, but couldn’t be bothered to care when the blood kept pouring out even when he applied pressure.

“No— no, no, no, no.” He chokes up, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, trembling hands continuously putting pressure on your chest. “Stay with me, please. Stay with me. I can’t—” He sobbed. “I can’t lose you.”

Your breathing was shallow yet no fear plastered your face. There’s your usual calmness, the nonchalance that Bruce used to be so unsettled when he first met you, your almost dead eyes still sparkling in love and adoration for Jason. You don’t seem to care about your injury nor the outstretched arms of the Grim Reaper.

Your bloodied lips stretches to form a weak smile, captivated by Jason’s beauty under the moonlight. “You’re still magnificent, cherí… A sight to behold… under the moonlight…”

“Baby, now’s not the time.” Jason whined pathetically, tears flowing endlessly from his eyes. Dread, fear, devastation settling in his chest. “Please, baby. Please. I don’t know- fuck, I can’t live without you.” He cried, uncaring that you two were surrounded by his family. “I don’t… I can’t, baby. I— I can’t lose you, please.”

Adrenaline rushing through your veins and motivated by your sheer love for him, you reached up to wipe his tears and grab his other hand to intertwine it with yours. Jason’s heart drops further down the abyss when you then used it to pull out his dagger — the one you gifted him — out of his holster. “You would not lose me, by other’s hands, my sweetheart… I made an oath, to only offer you my life and soul, with no one else to have the privilege of ending me.”

“No— please, baby, no…” Jason weakly shakes his head, sobbing.

You gripped his hand that held the dagger. “You ought to, cherí… It is an honour for me to die by your hands. Please, allow me… to love you, one last time.”

Jason whimpered your name, crying heavily as he leans down to rest his head on yours. You were so cruel, wanting to die by his hands, wanting him to live forever with his hands stained in your blood— but Jason knew that’s how extent your love was for him. He could never deny you, not when it was your greatest wish.

Croaks and sobs escaping him, Jason finally drives the dagger through your chest, right where the sword pierced you. It is only then you slumped against him, hands slowly dropping to your sides with mouth slightly turned up in a smile of peace and satisfaction.

The greatest proof that you love him. Carving yourself deep into his heart, so he could never be alone even when you’re physically gone.

Jason wailed in anguish and sorrow, hugging your now lifeless body close as he brokenly recites the speech you gave him in the graveyard.

You hurt him badly, loved him too cruelly, but it was still better than losing you forever. He would’ve driven the dagger into his own beating heart if only you allowed him.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Jason lost the brightness he had in him. Emerald eyes lifeless that seemed as if you took his soul with you, still functioning yet lacking in human emotions as if he was a robotic being.

Sometimes, he breaks so suddenly. Utters your name like a curse, sobbing and weeping in his room, scar so deep in his heart he scratches at his chest in attempt to get it out to stop the ache. His emotions were too unstable that left him unqualified to continue the vigilantism, which he agreed emotionlessly when pointed out by Bruce.

Sometimes, he’s shattered too much and far too gone in grief that he sleeps on your grave. Covers himself in blanket and nuzzles on your headstone, as if it would give him the warmth you always radiated despite being as cold as death. He could only sleep that way; the sleeping pills don’t help, but being close to your body does.

He holds his dagger close to him all the time. Stained in your dried blood that he never got the nerve to wash off, afraid that his mind would someday choose to forget your existence to block out the trauma.

He wears everything you used to wear. Uses your weapons, things, accessories. His favourite is your sunglasses. Having your possessions close always made him feel like you were embracing him.

No one ever attempted to get them away from him in fear of shattering his soul furthermore. His entire being seemingly dependent on everything that reminded of you, they didn’t want to trigger something inside of him any more than the scar in his heart did.

“Love truly is the greatest twisted curse in the world, Mr. Wayne.” Morticia mutters in sorrow as she looks out the window of the Addams’ manor, watching Jason curl up against your headstone with tears silently streaming down his face.

Bruce looks down in dejection, nodding his head.

His boy was beyond repair, and no one could do anything about it because you were gone.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Jason’s eyes were wide in shock and horror. Emotions swirled within his chest; anger, disgust, sadness, grief, disbelief, and joy battling one another that overwhelmed him all at once. His family stood with him in front of the monitor, their expressions just as horrified as him, the familiar situation causing dread to settle in the pit of Bruce’s stomach.

The monitor showed you, alive and well with the exception of your eyes seemingly more dead and lifeless than before. Everything was the same from your emotionless face to your vigilante suit that you died in, but Jason could see right through you. This wasn’t you. This you wasn’t his.

Not when you were standing in the same room as the Joker who you’d immediately kill if you were put together.

Jason was even more certain you weren’t his when he sees you up close, your personality different from that sophisticated, nonchalant yet wonderful one you had before. You’re just… blank. A dead person living without humanity and following orders. You don’t follow orders, you hated being controlled.

The familiarity makes his chest clench and hurt. He’s been through this exact thing, he never thought you would experience it too.

“I don’t want to fight you, baby.” Jason whispered, voice cracking. His helmet hiding the heartbroken look on his face that you were standing in front of him with your sais pointed dangerously in his direction.

You scowled. He’s somehow familiar, your chest erupting in unknown emotions that Talia never taught you about. The urge to hold him close was tugging at the strings of your heart, but you stay glued to your spot. “I do not know you, fool.” You emotionlessly remark.

Hurt flashed across his face. There’s nothing he wanted more than to be held by you and hold you close, but how could he when you don’t recognise him? Did they brainwash you? Your memories lack, but they could come back, right?

“Red Hood,” Batman warningly calls his name when you lowered your stance.

Jason still didn’t pull out his guns.

“Baby, it’s me.” He whispered weakly. “Please, you said you’ll hold me again. You’ll crawl out of dirt to hold me or pull me under with you, remember?” Jason tried again, tears shimmering his eyes. His throat burned.

Your eyes narrowed, brows furrowing. You feel like you’ve told him that, but couldn’t remember. Something was banging on your head from the depths of your mind that made it throb. Gripping your sais, you desperately ignored the pain to focus on your task.

“Ignore it,” Talia’s voice entered your ears. “Kill him.”

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

“Fuck!” Jason yelps when you managed to slash him on his leg, dodging your next attack quickly. “Wait— please, listen to me!”

“Red Hood, watch out!” Red Robin shouts just as Jason narrowly avoids your sai flying towards his head.

He couldn’t find any other way to get you to listen. The way you attempted to tune him out makes him believe you were feeling something, but there’s nothing he could do when you keep coming at his throat. Desperation runs through his veins, heart still bleeding out for you even as you try to kill him. The coldness in your eyes was foreign that carved another scar in his heart, but he can’t hate you no matter what.

Jason’s heart jackhammered against his ribcage when you finally caught him by the throat and slammed him harshly on the floor, your murderous look that he always loved plastered over your face. He stops struggling after realising he could never hurt you again, and slowly hovers his hand over your wrist. Your grip on his throat was tight, but Jason couldn’t be bothered to panic.

He finally had you again at last. Why should he panic when the source of his life was so near to him?

“Have you gotten exhausted of fighting back?” You calmly tilted your head, curiosity in your eyes. Jason doesn’t miss the split seconds of conflicted look.

“I can’t,” He replies quietly. “I love you, baby. Never stopped.” His other hand raised to remove his helmet, ignoring Bruce’s protest, and your grip on his throat faltered as soon as you make eye contact with the emerald eyes that you adore too much.

“I don’t want to fight you. So kill me,” Jason mumbled with a soft voice. “Allow me to love you one last time and stab my heart with your sai. For a life without you is a life full of unquenchable thirst and eternal hunger unworthy of surviving.” He recited your own quote back to you with a tearful smile.

Closing his eyes, peace overtakes Jason for the first time in a long while since losing you as he waits for the abrupt pain of being pierced through the heart. However, all that came was softness attaching itself to his lips.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

Jason snaps his eyes wide open in shock at your lips pressing against his, the death grip on his throat loosening just to hover affectionately over it. His body naturally reacts, moving on its own to reciprocate your kiss and relish in it, arms flying up to wrap around your neck.

You pulled away when he yearns for oxygen, a sob nearly escaping him again when he sees the love and warmth in your eyes. You smile gently at him, brightness returning to your previously dead eyes. “I’m deeply sorry, my love. I’m back.”

Jason tearfully chuckled and crushed you in a hug, heart rapidly beating against his chest. Relief wasn’t enough of a word to describe the happiness he felt. The feeling of being embraced tightly by you causing tears to stream down his face for the nth time, his longing and yearning finally being fulfilled. He missed this, he missed you, he missed his only home.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Neither you nor Jason had left the bedroom since returning, having locked yourselves up in his room that you shared to obtain privacy for yourselves. None of the Waynes were bothered too much as they understood how much Jason yearned for your presence, the only comfort he’s ever had in his life.

Jason’s been holding onto you for dear life with the fear of you vanishing out of nowhere, his face buried on the crook of your neck and hand resting on your chest directly above your heart to feel it beating through his palm. Your arms securely wrapped around him in reassurance makes him feel more safe and at peace than he ever did. He pulls away slightly to look up, seeing you already staring at him with fondness and comfort.

“Don’t leave me again, please.” He croaks like a lost child, voice cracking.

You kissed his forehead. “I’d return to you in a heartbeat, my Jason.”

Jason stares into your gentle eyes, snuggling closer to you and intwining his legs with yours to feel every part of you. “Can’t live without you, baby.” He whispered.

You smiled. Perhaps, it was time to tell him.

Even death can’t severe the emotional bond and love you have for each other, which leaves one option; together. Falling out of love was never in either of your vocabulary, anyway.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

© all rights reserved to hadesrise ──── stealing, plagiarising, or using my works for monetary gain is strictly prohibited. ask permission before reposting or translating.

Flirt | Tony Stark x Male!Reader

A/N: Omg a fanfic that isn't about Steve Rogers?!?! Hope you enjoy :) Also, school is starting soon but I will try to write as much as I can. I actually do find writing these enjoyable. Fanfic writing is different but fun. It's nice to use my English somewhere aside from just writing essays 🥹.

P.S. Listen to this song right now or I will hurt you:

Flirt

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: During a night out with his close friend, Y/N encounters Tony Stark and they immediately hit it off. Get that bag, Y/N!

Warnings: Alcohol use

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure about this, Sal?" Y/N said, uncertainty laced in his voice.

"100% sure. You need to get your mind off of that cheating douchebag." Sal responded with no hesitation. A small sigh came from Y/N's mouth. He knew deep down that she was right.

After finding out his ex had been cheating on him, Y/N had rotted in his house for almost two weeks, completely isolating himself from the outside world. Only today, when his closest friend Sal practically broke his front door down, had he been freed from his lovelorn pitying.

Now, Sal was forcing Y/N out for a much-needed night out in town, determined to help him forget about his troubles, at least for just a couple of hours. The two were currently headed to one of the liveliest bars downtown, with the promise of copious amounts of alcohol and good company.

"Look, I know this might not be what you want right now," Sal said, giving Y/N a reaffirming pat on the shoulder. "But, just trust me. We're going to enjoy the night, the drinks and the people, and," Sal's head turned slightly, giving a Y/N a small smirk, "we might even find you a nice man there."

Y/N turned downward and began shaking his head to hide the smile forming on his face – he ultimately failed. "Yeah, yeah alright." While his very recent relationship's ending was abrupt and messy, the idea of finding someone new was very enticing. His previous boyfriend was, according to Sal, "hot trash", so he believed tonight could be the chance to find a truly suitable partner for him.

"That's the spirit," Sal grinned, tightly hugging Y/N's side. "Now let's go and make very questionable decisions."

Y/N chuckled despite himself, softly pushing Sal off of him. Maybe tonight would be when he'd truly move on.

------------------------------------

According to Y/N's inner monologue, the bar itself was quite lovely. It was a quaint, hole-in-the-wall establishment yet very populated. People occupied the bar's booths in large groups, their conversations filling the atmosphere with a nice volume. The warm and soft lighting gave the space a slight touch of intimacy. As he continued looking around, Y/N grimaced as he glanced toward a corner of the bar and saw a couple making out, their hands touching in places that were definitely inappropriate for a public space. However, despite seeing the touchy-feely pair, Y/N could tell tonight would be somewhat fun.

The two settled down on two barstools at the bar's front. Sal, being the more outgoing of the one, wasted no time waving down the bartender. "Two tequila shots, please," she said with a grin. It was a tradition for the two to begin a night out with tequila shots – a nice ritual that set the tone for the night.

The bartender slid two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila. The two each grabbed a glass, Sal raising hers and toasting, "to a night of fun and forgetting."

Y/N raised his also, saying, "Cheers to whatever comes our way." The two smiled at each other, clinking their glasses before downing their drinks in one swift gulp.

Y/N's face scrunched in pain upon swallowing. The feeling of tequila was familiar to Y/N as he and Sal have spent multiple nights out together. However, he never grew as much of a tolerance as her for the throat-burning it caused when ingesting it. He coughed slightly, but laughed, a tingly feeling spreading throughout his chest.

Sal leaned over, slightly nudging Y/N's elbow. "So, what'll it be next for us? Should we try something strong or should steady ourselves for tonight?"

Y/N thought deeply for a moment before responding. "Let's try something different," he said, feeling bolder. "How about margaritas?"

Sal laughed. "Alright, margaritas it is. Don't blame me though for how shit-faced you might get."

Y/N rolled his eyes, but couldn't prevent the smile from forming on his face. "I guess we'll see," he replied, feeling the anticipation from what the night has to offer.

------------------------------------

Sal and Y/N had 3 margaritas and 4 tequila shots in each and were already a tad inebriated. Despite the bar being quite packed, their egregiously loud laughter carried around the room, causing people to look at them with slight annoyance.

Suddenly, Sal's eyes widened and she began choking on her drink. "Holy shit, bitch," she semi-yelled, catching Y/N's attention. "Don't look behind you, but Tony 'Richboy' Stark just came in with a really hot dude."

Y/N wasn't the type to listen to directions he was told – especially when inebriated – so despite Sal's warnings, he immediately looked. And Sal was correct. There, unmistakably, was Tony Stark clad in a simple tux with a black tie near the bar's entrance. Next to him was an equally attractive man, taller, with blonde hair and broad shoulders. Upon second glance, Y/N realized the other man was the Captain America.

Y/N's eyes had wandered on Tony while he was surveying the bar's interior. For a brief moment, their gazes met under the glow of the bar's warm lighting. Y/N quickly looked away. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he glanced once more. Tony's eyes were still on him, firm but with an undertone of curiosity. Y/N wanted to so desperately look away, but their stare lingered. The world seemed to fade during their intimate stare-off. A palpable tension was shared between them, and it wasn't until Tony flashed Y/N a small smile before heading to a vacant booth that it vanished.

A slight slap on Y/N's arm broke him from his trance. "Dude! I literally told you not to look and guess what you did? Look!" Y/N had to quiet down Sal's loud reprimanding voice, afraid a certain someone would hear her. She regained her composure after a few minutes of quiet yelling and continued drinking her third margarita. "Okay, but he was definitely checking you out," Sal slurred with a volume even a person outside the bar could hear.

A loud cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, an attempt to drown out Sal's voice. "He was absolutely not," he protested, taking a sip of his drink. "He was just checking out the place, and our eyes coincidentally met when he was looking at the front of the bar."

"Oh, Y/N," Sal said, slowly shaking her head. "I know you may be slow in the head–" Y/N was about to object before Sal put a finger to his lips, effectively shutting his mouth. "But you'd practically have to be blind to not notice him eyeing you like a piece of fine meat."

"Okay, but..." Y/N was at a loss for words, partly for the fact he was intoxicated but also because Tony Stark was definitely checking him out. Their stare-off lasted a little too long to be considered anything but friendly. "Wait, why were you looking at him I thought we weren't supposed to look?"

"Well, Y/N," Sal said, sloppily standing from the bar stool and grabbing her purse. "I will be going to the bathroom right now. I hope nothing significant will occur during my absence, like, say, a certain Avenger approaching you while you're sat here all alone." She winked, her gait wobbly from the alcohol.

Before Y/N could yell at her to return, she already turned the bar's corner into the restrooms. Y/N silently cursed, downing his margarita before ordering another one. His heart was beating fast, and he glanced towards where Tony was sitting. As if on cue, Tony looked up from his conversation with Captain America, catching his gaze. This time, Tony's smile widened, and he leaned in and whispered something to Steve. Y/N's pulse quickened. Then, Tony stood up from his booth and started towards Y/N. He quickly turned around, "fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered under his breath.

Y/N could feel Tony's presence approaching. He radiated wealth, power, and overall playboy hubris with each step. As he drew closer, Y/N's anxiety reached a peak. He started drawing his focus away from the intimidating man, attempting to look very intently at the bar's collection of liquor. But Tony's sensation, magnetic as ever, couldn't be ignored by Y/N.

Tony sat on the barstool Sal was on before she left. Y/N felt his palms and the back of his knees becoming clammy, unsure if it was from the alcohol or the undeniably attractive billionaire beside him. It was probably the latter. Tony cleared his throat to catch the attention of the bartender. "I'll take a beer, please."

After Tony got his beer, an uncomfortable silence washed over the two men. Tony wasn't speaking and Y/N was too out of it to verbalize anything. Wasn't Tony – billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – Stark supposed to start their conversation, he silently thought. Suddenly getting very impatient, Y/N put the burden on himself to verbally approach Tony first. "I always thought you were a hard liquor person," Y/N's voice came out, evident in his speech that he was decently drunk.

Tony glanced at Y/N, a hint of amusement in his expression. "I've been trying to lay off the drinking for a while," he replied, taking a sip of his beer. "Only wimpy drinks for me tonight."

Y/N nodded, trying to focus on Tony's words despite his tipsiness. He could feel Tony's eyes on him, curious and unwavering. His gaze was intimidating but felt strangely warm at the same time.

Tony leaned in slightly, his tone teasing. "And what about you. I didn't peg you to be a margarita guy."

Y/N smiled, his confidence from the liquid courage abating his nerves. "I like to keep 'em guessing, Mr. Stark." He took another sip of his margarita. "Only the good ones."

Tony's grin widened slightly. "Does that make me one of the 'good ones'?"

"That depends on how you treat me tonight," Y/N replied, his voice flirtier than he expected it to be.

Another silence came after Y/N's words – a comfortable one, unlike the last time. Y/N sneaked a few glances towards Tony, finding him looking straight ahead bearing a small content smile.

"So what brings you here with" – Y/N gestured towards Steve – "that hunk of a man," Y/N asked, cutting through the quiet.

Tony set down his beer. "Well, I just got off a very important business meeting and decided to head here to unwind. Heard this place had some...interesting company." He then looked towards Y/N. "Capsicle's here as my plus one."

Y/N felt his cheeks go red. "'Interesting company,' huh?" he echoed, his nervousness returning again.

Tony nodded, his expression playful. "Very interesting," he reaffirmed. "And it seems," Tony picked up his beer, gesturing it towards Y/N. "I've made the right choice."

A sudden cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, elicited by Stark's notorious innate flirtiness. "You can't just say that, Tony. We just met and you don't even know my name."

Tony chuckled, clearly amused by Y/N's reaction. "You're right," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "But I don't need to know your name to recognize you're someone worth talking to." He took another quick sip of his beer. "Names are just a formality anyway. I'd rather know the person behind the name."

Y/N felt a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. Despite knowing of Tony's infamous charismatic boldness, it felt nerve-wracking being on the receiving end of it. It was a strange experience. "You surely know how to keep someone on their toes, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So, whaddya say? Do I get your name or do I have to keep guessing for a little longer?"

Y/N hesitated briefly before deciding to play along with Tony's game. "Keep guessing, lover-boy."

Tony's eyebrows raised, clearly enjoying the challenge and the nickname. "Let's see..." he said, his face stern with faux concentration. "You strike me as a Jay. Or a Phil." He watched Y/N's expression closely, trying to see if there was any hint he was on the right track.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Nice try, but you're way off. Guess again."

A small sigh came from Tony. "Dammit. I thought I almost had it," he said, feigning playful disappointment. "Okay, how about...Cameron? Or Mitchell?"

Y/N shook his head once more. "Nope. Not even close."

Tony leaned in closer, his smile turning into a small smirk. "Alright, I give up. What's your name, mystery man?"

Y/N also leaned in, relenting at Tony's surrender. "It's Y/N," he half-whispered. "But I did enjoy you guessing."

A genuine smile found itself on Tony's face. "Y/N, huh? I like it – it suits you." He raised his beer in a small toast. "To new friends, and to keeping things interesting."

Y/N clinked his margarita with Tony's brown beer bottle. "To new friends," he repeated.

"So," Tony said, taking another sip of his bottle. "Tell me more about yourself."

------------------------------------

Tony and Y/N talked for what seemed like hours, the passage of time becoming irrelevant to them. Y/N went on an extended rant about his ex-boyfriend, Tony listening intently, which Y/N very much appreciated. Tony in turn told Y/N about Avengers and Stark Industries business. Y/N tried hard to understand Tony's talks on logistics, all for the sake of how Tony's eyes lit up with interest when talking about the nitty-gritty of his company.

After I while, their conversation started dwindling down. The initial flirtiness settled down to a comfortable silence. The buzz from the alcohol had faded into a pleasant comfort that made Y/N feel warm inside. Y/N looked around the bar, noticing how the crowded place had thinned out. "Looks like we cleared the place out, huh?"

Tony set his beer bottle down, stretching his arms. "Guess we did. Time flies when you have fun. Or when you're with a cute person."

A warmth covered Y/N's face red. "It's been nice talking to you, Tony." He checked the time on his phone, eyes widening when he saw the time. "It's getting quite late. Me and Sal...where is that girl anyways?" Sal's entire existence completely slipped from Y/N's mind.

"Looks like Cap and your friend are hitting it off quite well." Y/N glanced towards the booth Steve was sitting in. There was very much indeed Sal chatting up a storm with Captain America. What surprised Y/N the most was that Steve actually enjoyed talking to her? He nodded, smile bright and charming as Sal's mouth moved continuously.

"Huh," Y/N mused. He looked towards Tony once more. Y/N wasn't quite sure how but Tony looked even more attractive since the last time he looked.

"I think it's time for us to call it a night, Y/N," Tony said, his voice slightly disappointed. Y/N also found himself unhappy as well. "Though, I'd like for us to see each other again. For margaritas or beer – or something stronger if you prefer." He pulled a sleek black business card from his pocket and handed it to Y/N.

"I'll take you up on that, Tony," Y/N replied, pocketing the card. Y/N stared softly at Tony, feeling a fluttery feeling in his chest. He noticed the closeness between them on the bar chairs.

Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, his mind racing with both excitement and nerves. The temptation to close the gap between them was overwhelming, and he could feel himself gravitating towards Tony.

Tony's gaze flickered towards Y/N's lips, seemingly understanding his intentions. Y/N felt a surge of confidence rush through him. He wanted this, and he knew damn well Tony did too. Without thinking further, Y/N closed the space between him and Tony, lips connecting in an intimate kiss.

Their lips started slowly at first – tentative as if testing the waters. But then Tony responded, pressing back with a gentle ferocity that made Y/N's stomach flutter. The kiss was slow and exploratory, full of curiosity and intrigue.

Y/N's eyes closed as he felt himself melt into Tony's touch. His hands found their way towards Tony's shoulders, linking them around and slightly grazing the fabric of his suit. Y/N could feel Tony's hands lightly caressing his waist, sending tingles around his entire body.

When they both pulled away, Y/N's eyes fluttered open and met Tony's, a mixture of surprise and fluster playing around both of their smiles.

"Wow," Y/N said, breathless. "That was unexpected."

"Yeah," Tony responded, sounding winded himself. "I definitely want to see you again now."

------------------------------------

Tony and Steve insisted on driving Y/N and Sal home, however, Y/N protested heavily against it. Sal was definitely on board with the idea but was drowned out by Y/N's persistent opposition.

After saying their goodbyes to the two Avengers, Y/N and Sal started on home. "So...," she began, sporting a toothy smile.

Y/N reciprocated her wide grin. "We'll debrief tomorrow."

FIN

A/N: Catch the Modern Family names 😼 Hope you enjoyed it!

Say Something

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re in love with your best friend, with the guy you worked so hard to have a friendship with only to find out he’s been dating someone.

Word count: 1,289

Warnings: Angst, language word, unrequited love, two idiots.

Your whole world revolved around one man and one man only, Bucky Barnes. There was nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for him. If he needed you then you would always drop whatever you were doing and go straight to him, no matter how big or small his problem was.

Natasha called you a ‘people pleaser’, since you found it rather difficult to say no to people and situations. You said yes to people often because you were afraid of letting them down, sometimes even putting yourself in their shoes and imagining the disappointment if the roles were reversed and it was you who needed something.

The one person you always aimed to please was Bucky. Falling in love with the sergeant was obviously never planned, these things rarely are and as cliché as it sounds; it just happened.

At first glance when Bucky first arrived at the compound under Steve’s guidance, Bucky was closed off to everyone besides Steve. The meeting between the two of you didn’t quite go to plan either as phe was dismissive of your attempts at a friendship from the get-go. There were times when he would grunt whenever you would walk into the same room, excluding you from conversations. The screams of horror that ripped through the walls of the compound was what nightmares were made from. The heavy bags under his eyes the morning after made you feel sympathetic towards him and you just wanted to help him in any way that you could. Any way that he would allow you. You never gave up on him, and Bucky must have realised that because one day, his walls crumbled and he confided in you. He told you his deepest, darkest secrets that he didn’t even tell Steve about. You were sworn to secrecy, and the two of you grew closer and closer from that day on.

The closer you grew to Bucky, the more you realised this was more than just friendship to you. This was love.

You never told him about these feelings. You feared the second he heard them, he would shut you out of his life in an instance and you’d back to square one. So you kept them to yourself, allowed yourself to lay awake at night and daydream about the kind of future you would want with him, the kind of future that would never happen. It was like a nightmare on loop, the feelings you felt for him were about to combust and you just had to confide in somebody.

That somebody was Natasha. She was the best one to ask since she had a lot of experience in the dating field.

“I just- I just don’t know, Nat. We’re best friends now and wouldn’t it be weird?” You bit your lip as your fingers played with the tassels on her cream knitted blanket she had splayed over her bed.

Nat was finishing up her makeup before she spun on her heels and turned to you with an eye roll.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the best person to confide in after all.

“Why would it be weird? You’re already dating with the amount of time the two of you are spending together.. and why would it be weird? You know all there is about each other. It's a solid foundation.” She takes a breath and straightens out her dress. “I’m really sorry, Y/N but I have a date and I don’t want to be late. Just talk to him, he will listen I’m sure.” She apologises again as she picks up her matching purse and sweater off the chair and makes a hasty dash out the door, leaving you to contemplate your decision alone.

***

The walk down the hall to Bucky’s room felt like it would be the last time you’d walk these trails for some reason. The guilt, the anxiety just sat in the pit of your stomach, churning and making you feel extremely nauseous that you weren’t even sure you could do this.

But you took Nat’s advice, Bucky just had to know how you felt about him. It was his reaction you were more worried about.

You knocked on his door and wiped your sweaty palms on the back of your sweater. Bucky’s feet padding across the carpet resonated through the door, causing your heart rate to soar dangerously high. Bucky swung the door open; clad in black jeans, black socks, damp hair and his dog tags dangling over his chiseled chest. His cologne knocked any greeting out of your head, he smelled so good and it took all of your willpower not to lean in and take a deep sniff.

“Hey doll! Just the person I wanted to see, come on in!” He stands to the side and you walk in, shirts after shirts are scattered all over his bed.

“Bucky, I have to talk to you about something.” You start, but realise he isn’t actually paying attention to you but his shirts on the bed.

He smiles, picking up a shirt and holding it up against himself. “What do you think?” He asks, invisible question marks written all over his face.

“Uh it looks good? What’s the occasion?”

Pink dusts his cheeks as he throws down the shirt and picks up another, and another.

“I have a date with Jenny.” His smile reaches his eyes while your heart breaks. “It’s our third date so things are going well.”

Wait, what?

“Your- your third date?” You chuckle nervously, desperately hiding the crack in your voice. “How did I miss this?”

Bucky shrugs slightly and decides to go with the maroon shirt.

“We’ve just kept it a secret until now. You’re the first person I’ve told actually and could really use your help with flirting since I’m not good in that department.”

Oh wow. An invisible force just punched you in the gut and the air is tight.

“I’m- I’m not exactly the best person to ask.” You bite your lip, blinking quickly so no tears dare shed. “Maybe ask Nat.” You say quickly, heading towards the door. This is a lot to process and you’re not sure what to do with yourself.

You bid Bucky good luck and good night. He really didn’t seem to take notice of your state of distress and if he did, he didn’t say anything. You head back to your room and lock the door, collapsing on your bed and allowing your pillow to capture your fallen tears.

***

Bucky sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. The maroon shirt hung loosely in his hand as he rested his elbows on his thighs. What the fuck was he doing? He was in love with you, he has been since he met you. It was his mind they made him believe you were too good for him, he didn’t deserve you since he was sure he would break your heart over and over again.

But your body language crumbled right under his eyes. He saw how you were trying so hard not to cry and all he wanted to do was hold you and told you not to cry. He had no idea what you thought about him, what you really thought about him and thought the only way he could get over you was to date somebody else completely opposite. He wasn’t lying when he said things were going well. He was worried things were going too well and now he’s scared shitless he’s lost the most important person in his life.

There was nobody else like you.

And Bucky wanted you.

the last prayer

bucky barnes x deity reader (he/him, third person)

this is my entry for @elixirfromthestars ‘s cinema writing contest! it’s probably quite an out there prompt but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! (dialogue prompt used: “it’s okay, i’ve got you now”)

synopsis: a decade has passed since the initial capture of james ‘bucky’ barnes, who after so long is finally running out of time to save his humanity. which is why for some reason he makes the absurd choice to pray, and unbeknownst to him, wakes something dark and ancient.

warnings: torture, violence, hints to murder, angst (it’s bucky, very expected). it’s not super religious, reader is like a god the way loki or thor is buttt there’s a few more mechanics to it involving worship and dormancy.

wordcount: 2,869

there is no god.

not within hydra’s snare, not within the depths of torture and brainwashing that has now spanned across years.

hope has long since been abandoned, if there is a hell, this is it, there is surely nowhere worse than this.

so bucky doesn’t know why in the heat of it all, while clutching at the tethers he’s been desperately hanging onto, the fragments of who he was - is, where they try to pull him apart once more, that he suddenly decides to hopelessly pray.

he does it silently in his head, viewing himself opaquely from behind a looking glass as they beckon him to become a machine. it is clear that soon, he will be buried within his own body, that something mechanical will take over to do terrible, terrible things. bucky knows by now that there is no light at the end of this tunnel, only blood, only death, caused by hands that are somehow attached to him.

he isn’t ready for when they finally break him.

there is no answer, the assumption can only be correct as they strap him down tighter into that blasted chair and try to forcibly fry his mind. electricity fizzles and crackles all throughout his head, it will forever burn, even when he’s not in the chair he feels it, a phantom pressure seeping beyond his socket, that is hard to discern if it’s real or false.

the harsh truth echoes all around him, reverberates in his bones.

no one is coming to save bucky barnes.

well, bucky barnes died falling from that train, he died the second hydra sunk their claws in. he is continuously dying as they slowly dissect whatever is left, they are in real time, attempting to convert him into an object, into a machine without autonomy or control.

they are trying to take away what is innately human. his thoughts, his feelings, they will be scrapped and forged into programming, orders and targets.

so yes, it is very obvious by now that no one is coming to rescue him from this.

what he isn’t aware of, is how wrong he actually is. this time bucky has not been ignored, something has noticed the anguish plaguing him, and it listens with rapt attention. it hangs achingly on every word, every cry, that echoes from him.

it is heard by a previously dormant god stirring awake from the depths, for the very first time in centuries. he wakes up nestled between dusty and crumpled ruins, what might’ve been an altar in his name, there are no scriptures or scrolls, it seems that he has been forgotten until now. a deity who slumbered without a single follower or believer for an untold amount of years, suddenly awoken by the most desperate and profoundly broken plea he’d ever heard.

there is barely time to look around, for the environment to sink in. why had his final resting place been here? why was he forgotten? who was his last devotee? a million questions flood his long, awaiting, buzzing body. a fizzle creeps inside his gut the longer he waits, the more he lingers and doesn’t attend to that sharp, hopeless call.

the god doesn’t falter, he brushes any tiredness away, this is his first follower in a long time, and they need him.

the scene that greets him does not aid his protectiveness, it only trebles it. it is no wonder the call had seemed wrenching, what is being done is unfathomable, a contraption which from just one look seems sickening. restraining a man, holding him so tightly in place, and the thing lodged against the eye is horrific.

whatever the plate attached to the right side of the face is, it’s certainly alive, spitting live sparks and light straight against skin. the person in the chair is biting down so hard that he’s surprised the other’s teeth aren’t cracking under the fierce pressure of their jaw locking. despite his caller’s mouth being firmly shut, the screams pouring out are barely muffled, they’re guttural, raw, and they make the god’s stomach twist even more.

it is nothing like he has ever seen before, and he has seen countless of lives, of mortals, their squabbles and war, their arguments and their loves. this surely cannot be the doing of humankind, it is too cruel, how can someone mutilate another in such a way?

but his eyes are not deceiving, there are humans in white coats roaming all around, ignoring the one so obviously in excruciating pain. they are used to it, that realisation alone makes his blood boil.

he cannot withstand it a moment longer, any previous silent acknowledgement to not meddle with mortals unwinds far from him. it doesn’t matter anymore, there is no religion in his name, it is just him and this one small devotee, soaked in pain and suffering.

so when he finally steps out of the shadows, now visible to the human eye, he doesn’t bother with politeness or pleasantries, those were already revoked at this point. there is no forgiveness, gentleness or compassion in the way he squanders the crowd surrounding the caller. it is a mess of screams, thick black clouds swamp the room, none of what occurs can be seen, but it undoubtedly violent, twisted, and permanent.

he just hopes if the soldier in the chair was watching, the smoke obscured it enough. to the god’s horror, the machine is still on, whirring and humming hauntingly. he doesn’t know what it is, what it does, but he strides towards it with panic anyway, and frantically rips it all off, searching for injury with furrowed brows.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you now.” he means it, this stranger is just that, a stranger, someone he does not know, yet the urge to take care of the other is overwhelming. “can you speak? what is your name?”

the voice that answers him is gravelly, spoken by a spent and tired man, “m’bucky, my name, it’s…it’s bucky.”

it is clear that bucky is delirious, stuck in a heady haze from whatever just occurred, because it takes him a few seconds to register the mass of people are gone, that the thing speaking to him isn’t human, that he’s being touched by someone who might once again hurt him. it isn’t a surprise that he flinches, and then tries to scramble away, it’s like his entire body gets dunked in total fear.

the god moves back immediately, unable to help the frown overcoming his face, the last thing he wanted was to scare this bucky. thinking quickly, he changes tactics and crouches lower to the ground, akin to approaching a spooked animal, his hulking body looks awkward with trying to appear small. “you called for me. i will not hurt you.”

bucky’s steel eyes flash with confusion, then uncertainty, then anger. “that’s not funny. i don’t know who you are, but just get it over with, don’t fucking play with me.”

a part of him wants to huff, to scowl at the way a mortal is talking to him, but he can’t really find it within himself to care enough about it. this human is unique, an enigma that doesn’t even know itself. instead of frustration, he sinks deeper into patience for this new follower.

slowly, he reaches towards the soldier, watching carefully for any jerky movements or instinctual reactions, when all he finds is wary glances at his hand, he continues, softly pressing the pads of his fingers against bucky’s ear that is lightly bleeding. it is miraculous what gods can do, how much magic they have within just their very fingertips, in the next moment, the trickle of blood is gone.

it looks like there was no injury to begin with. he repeats the action around the man’s head, and even around the shoulder which is deeply scarred and yet seemingly still deeply painful and sore. after the deity is done, he leans back, intently watching bucky’s face.

his brows are furrowed, lips parted, he appears to be a breath away from an argument or accusation. his muscles are pulled taut, ineffably tense, the metal of his left arm creaks. “you’re fucking kidding me. there is a god…and it took you this long?” it comes out flat and the laugh that leaves bucky is humourless, a bark that’s full of venom.

he doesn’t know what to say, there isn’t much to be said. despite the words spoken, there is not just hatred in bucky’s eyes, there’s also relief, but it seems neatly tucked away behind anger. “there’s multiple actually,” he awkwardly stops that sentence at the look on bucky’s face, half disbelieving and the other half pissed off. “i’ve just been dormant.”

the man borders on a scowl, “what do you mean dormant?” there seems to be more movement in his body now, enough so that he squirms to get out the chair, but immediately falls to his knees when he does, the deity is there to catch him, keeping him relatively upright. bucky huffs at the touch, his body still a little slack, the god shudders from the heat radiating off the human and pulls back enough to give him space. its been a long time since he's felt any warmth.

“i haven’t had anyone pray to me for a long time. so, i was dormant, asleep, unable to wake up until someone woke me. you did.” it's a clipped admission, like he is covering up how raw the reality actually is.

there’s a pause, a breath of confusion, “i did?”

he nods back to bucky, “you did." he then hesitantly adds, "i am sorry that i couldn’t come sooner.” there is a guilt that claws at his chest, bubbling up straight to his throat, where he is unable to swallow, “but i’m here now, and no one will hurt you, not while i’m here.”

he guides bucky far away from the chair, and then uses his magic to take them somewhere even farther, absent from the effects of time and humanity. it is extremely void-like, an ocean of ink that spans an unfathomable distance, yet it is not cold. more than anything it is comfortable, peaceful, if you focus hard enough you can hear the distant tweets of birds or the hustle and bustle of brooklyn.

atleast that’s what bucky hears, it’s a place designed to be safe, reminiscent of home. “why save me? could’ve just left me there.”

“i wouldn’t have.” its the truth, “and you needed me. you called for me.”

the skepticism finally washes off bucky’s face, he is probably too tired to keep his guard up, he’s been doing that for years. this place has the sounds of brooklyn, when he closes his eyes, he swears he can hear his ma’s voice, gentle, coaxing in his ears to rest. he’s been solely burning on reserves that haven’t existed, fighting against a force that was bound to always beat him, until a god decided to fight in his corner, which is still incredibly hard to wrap his muddled head around.

“you should rest.” the god speaks again, gaze flickering to bucky with an emotion the soldier can’t decipher. he settles down on his knees, huge body furling against the ground, and he watches bucky absentmindedly.

there is still that strange expression coated on the god’s face, almost like the start of a goodbye, close to fond and sad.

“where do i slee-“ before bucky can even finish, there is a bed conjured right in front of him, obscenely big compared to the cramped bed he used to sleep in, the apartment in brooklyn he shared with steve, with chipped walls and its slightly stale air. this bed would cost a fortune, he feels odd even stepping towards it. the question of how it appeared lingers on his tongue, but he’s too exhausted to question it, a god is right next to him, he doesn’t have the capacity to think about what a god can’t do.

he still hesitates to clamber into it’s mountainous duvet and circle of fluffy pillows. even though the deity healed parts of him, there is still an awful ache that weighs him down, it’s like any sort of pain is clinging to him, whether it’s imaginary or not. subconsciously it feels like a trick, it can’t be safe can it? he’s not safe from hydra anywhere, they will always find him, he is just property-

“rest.” the god repeats, firmly, but almost faltering. “you’re not needed yet, i’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“hey now-“

bucky doesn’t even have time to question that sentence, the moment his body sags onto the bed, it feels like coming home. there are inklings of steve, his ma, his siblings, brooklyn, everywhere and everyone he has ever loved, he hears them faintly, he smells them distantly. it is enough to lull him to sleep almost instantaneously, so even though he wanted to narrow his eyes and demand what that statement meant, he cannot.

his eyes droop as he melts into the duvet, it is warm, comfortable, such a contrast compared to the agonising frost of cryo. there is a semblance of peace that nestles into his worn bones, it’s the first time in a long time that he can breathe, exist, without an abnormal amount of pain. in this odd bed, in an incomprehensible realm, bucky slips into a soft slumber.

bucky barnes has a larger purpose, he cannot just go back to brooklyn, he is needed, decades in the future. he will wake up to find his best friend was presumed dead and yet was somehow found, buried in a block of ice. somehow him and steve will have survived, and they will find each other again. both of their families will be mostly long gone, as well as everyone they ever knew, but they will have each other.

and bucky barnes will have avoided the reality where he got moulded into a killing machine, ruined beyond comprehension that he forgot who he was entirely. there is still a lot of work to do in this version, the man is still traumatised, may forever be wounded by what was done to him, and there is no guarantee in the future that hydra won’t get him again and finish the job, but atleast for now, he is alright. he is asleep.

the god will watch over, and will also be alone for around 60 years. no one will pray to him, he is quite sure of it, whatever happened with bucky was purely accidental, but he is glad it happened. his larger purpose is making sure bucky gets where he’s needed, and then after that? well, it will likely be dormancy, and this time, permanently. it is something he’ll need to make peace with, not now, but eventually.

after a few years, he momentarily departs from bucky, triple checking that the man is still comfortable and sleeping, and then heads to where he woke up.

it is still abandoned, desolate, it is in all, a sad sight. he meticulously checks everything, each compartment and nook is empty, ransacked. his gut twists with the realisation that they removed him from history, there isn’t a singular scroll or scripture. there is an urge to cry that wells within his chest, he has officially failed in his godhood, but it is fine, it has to be fine.

it may be hours or days that he spends wallowing in those ruins, raking over it what feels like a million times, committing the pathetic structure into memory, as if it might change for the better, or maybe because he won’t see it again. he has no plans to depart from bucky once more, there is no one else to visit, so he leans down, right next barren altar and presses a featherlight kiss to the cracked, carved stone. it is a goodbye for all those he failed, and all those who once followed him.

when he returns, bucky is still sleeping, but he has fidgeted with his metal arm glinting and gleaming. it is still strange to see, he doesn’t know whether to scorn it or admire it on the man knowing the way it got there must’ve been from a deep tragedy. there is a big chance he will never get the opportunity to ask how he got it, and a small pit of sadness swells within him.

despite it all, bucky is a vision, face messily framed by a brown mane, long eyelashes, slightly parted lips and his scratchy stubble. the scars on him are far from grotesque, they paint a picture so vivid he is unsure if he can look away. this man has survived, and in the future some day he will live again.

he has never been quite so attached to a singular mortal before. it could be because it’s the last one he might ever see, but that’s already false. there is something undeniably magnetising about this man, so, he finds himself quite lucky to be the one to watch over him for the next few decades.

it is a privilege to guard bucky barnes, he concludes.

divider creds: @strangergraphics-archive

author's notes (it turned into a huge rant be warned): if im entirely honest its been hard to write what ive wanted to write recently, partly because i felt obligated to cater to a wider audience. i put a lot of pressure on myself because i thought people wouldn't really read if i wrote a reader that was trans or used he/him. i am trying to get out of that mindset, and attempting to write whatever id like to, i think its just the people pleasing side of me being a little too incessant. this however was a step to writing what i wanted, and for that reason im really happy with it.

this is turning into an author’s ramble, if you’re curious on what happens to the god/what the god looks like in my mind, here’s the answer: some of the canon mcu events still did happen, the initial plan for the god was to watch over bucky for around 60 years, but bucky may have been needed by fate sooner. in any case, no matter when bucky wakes up, the god is expecting to go dormant, except i like to think that bucky doesn’t necessarily worship this god, but definitely remembers him, thinks of him in hard times, and in doing so the god stays alive, and dutifully (and excitedly) watches bucky’s life. he very predictably falls in love with bucky, but never takes action. the next time these two actually see each other would be after thanos’ snap, and when bucky blips, he ends up in the god’s realm. i imagine this time that bucky would refuse to sleep, insisting on knowing what’s going on in the world while he technically doesn’t exist anymore.

it would be such an interesting dynamic imo, bucky reuniting with this old god that saved him, knowing that he’s actually not forever dead because otherwise he’d be somewhere different, so he knows sometime in the future the avengers figure out how to undo the snap, and in the meantime he sets it as his goal to befriend this giant god who he only briefly got to speak to in what feels like a past life. i think by the end of it, when bucky gets snapped back, the god promises to visit bucky properly, because after five years of talking and keeping each other company, they’re quite close. this deity loves bucky fiercely, and bucky is probably a little taken aback when he realises, but eventually tries to show reciprocation.

can you imagine the faces of the avengers when one day this GIANT humanoid thing is walking behind bucky like a scary dog and they’re like tf is that??? are we just going to ignore that eldritch being hello???

that brings me to what i picture this god to look like personally, everyone’s interpretations upon reading will be different which i love!! i see him as huge in height, potentially multiple arms, shadow-like in the sense he’s pure black, his skin almost looks like a void, im imagining white eyes (perhaps multiple), and he’s both sharp and soft.

one last thing, i’d like to thank my one mootie for giving me the motivation to start writing more, you know who you are beloved!! (not tagging because i’m not sure if a he/him reader is your cup of tea but i wanted to do an end credits dedication to you mwah mwah 💕!!)

i said one last thing but i lied, im hoping i can maybe do one more entry for this challenge, it’s a great motivator and the prompts are simply amazing!! thank you so much EVERYONE who reads this at any point in time, it means the world to me <3

also song that helped to keep inspiring the fic was “about you” by the 1975

Thank you to everyone who got me to 50 likes!

The fuck is this

it's so cringe how every song on the radio by a woman is about how good she is at having sex. id make a song about being ass at sex. i twist the dick like a pretzel and bite it off that's what id sing