Eyes That Hold The Stars.

A toast to the past - Dabi x Reader

Warnings: a lot of sadness, grieving

Synopsis: some bonds and moments never truly die, no matter how much time passes. This is what you've learned not only from the League of Villains, but mostly from Dabi himself

A/N: as we say goodbye to 2024, I want to take a moment to wish you all a very Happy New Year, filled with good health and an abundance of positive energy. A huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to visit my blog, read my stories, or offer the support - your kindness means the world to me. I’m looking forward to welcoming the new year and sharing even more with all of you. Here's to more adventures together in 2025!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The icy wind gnawed at the edges of the dilapidated bar, rattling loose boards and curling under the gap at the door. The League of Villains’ ramshackle hideout wasn’t exactly the place one might expect to find themselves celebrating. It wasn’t often the League found a reason to celebrate, but tonight was an exception. New Year’s Eve was as good a reason as any to drag out the stolen liquor, laugh a little too loudly, and forget - if only for a few hours - about the vain world of heroes that loomed outside.

Yet, the hideout was alive with chaos. 

Spinner had begrudgingly joined Twice and Toga in their frantic attempts to decorate, though the results were predictably awful - streamers dangled half-heartedly from the ceiling, and a mismatched assortment of paper lanterns cast flickering light across the room.

Mr. Compress sipped his drink, attempting to draw Giran into the conversation.

Shigaraki, for once, seemed to tolerate the festive atmosphere, though he sat hunched in his chair, lazily swirling a glass of a cheap champagne, scratching idly at his neck and glaring at anyone who came too close, his Switch laying on his lap.

Kurogiri had been busy behind the scenes, thoughtfully preparing colorful drinks for everyone. He made sure to mix several non-alcoholic ones, particularly for Toga, knowing she would enjoy them without the risk of getting drunk.  He'd always kept an eye on her, knowing well that she could easily lose control if left unchecked, just like Tomura. At the same time, he carefully prepared extra shots for Shigaraki, who had openly mentioned earlier that he wanted to get wasted to dull the unbearable itching sensation crawling beneath his skin. Kurogiri had always been attentive, and tonight, he was doing what he could to ease the discomfort of his comrades, in his own quiet, efficient way.

And then there was Dabi.

The black-haired man, as usual, lingered on the outskirts of the noise, a silent observer. He stood by the window, cigarette in hand, eyes half-lidded as the faint orange glow reflected off the sharp planes of his face. The scarred corners of his lips twitched occasionally as he watched the others, though whether in amusement or annoyance, it was hard to tell.

It was a strange thing, this party. A group like yours wasn’t exactly built for celebrations. You were all too fractured, too worn by the world to embrace something as frivolous as joy. And yet, here you all were, crammed into this shabby room with mismatched streamers hanging crookedly from the ceiling.

"Five minutes to midnight!" Toga announced, clapping her hands together with a giddy grin. She darted to Twice, who was balancing a precarious tower of plastic cups, and immediately knocked it over in her excitement.

"You little menace!" Twice cried, his tone swinging wildly between indignant and adoring.

It was impossible not to laugh. Even Shigaraki's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk before he buried his face back in his hands.

You glanced at Dabi, who hadn't moved from his spot by the window. Smoke curled lazily around his head, his expression unreadable. Something about his stillness drew you in like gravity, and before you realized it, you were walking toward him.

"You're missing the party," you teased, stopping just short of leaning against the same wall.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking to you. "Looks like I'm not the only one."

"Fair," you admitted with a small smile. “But you’re really going to sulk through New Year’s?” You leaned your hip against the wall, tilting your head as you studied him.

“Sulking implies I care,” Dabi shot back, but the retort lacked its usual venom.

The countdown began, Toga’s voice leading the charge. “Ten! Nine!”

As the countdown began, the League’s mismatched voices filled the air, a cacophony of excitement and half-hearted participation.

Dabi didn’t move. He didn’t turn to the others, didn’t even glance at the clock. His gaze remained on you, sharp and heavy.

“Eight! Seven!”

“You’re staring,” you said softly, though your tone lacked any real accusation.

His lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. “So are you.”

“Six! Five!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he took a step closer. He stopped just a breath away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him despite the chill that crept through the cracks in the walls. His hand came up to cup your cheek, rough fingers brushing against your skin with a surprising gentleness that made your breath hitch.

“Four! Three!”

The noise around you faded into nothing, the room dissolving into a blur as his thumb traced along your lower lip.

“Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted into cheers, Toga’s high-pitched squeal cutting through the din as the others toasted and clapped, but none of it reached you. 

Dabi leaned in, his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative - he wasn’t the kind of man for that. Dabi’s lips were firm, his touch possessive, the kiss rough and consuming. The heat of him, the faint taste of smoke on his lips, made your knees weak, and you clung to him as though letting go wasn’t an option.

The world seemed to pause, time itself holding its breath as the moment stretched. 

Dabi pulled back, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. His breath ghosted over your lips as he muttered, “Happy New Year, doll.”

Before you could respond, Toga’s delighted giggles shattered the moment. “Dabi kissed Y/N! I knew he would!” she crowed, clapping her hands in glee.

Twice let out a loud, exaggerated whistle. “Didn’t see that coming. Well, maybe I did. No, I definitely didn’t!”

Even Shigaraki seemed momentarily stunned, though he quickly muttered something about idiots and looked away.

Spinner groaned, muttering something about how he couldn’t believe he was spending his New Year with these people.

Compress raised a toast to the unexpected romance, and Twice fumbled with the camera app on his phone to snap a blurry picture. 

But none of it mattered. 

All that existed in that moment was the way Dabi looked at you as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“Alright, show’s over,” the black-haired man groaned, shooting a pointed glare at Toga before grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the door, leading you straight to his bedroom.

The night passed in a blur of heated whispers and shared warmth, his body a steady presence against yours as you made love for hours. The two of you stayed wrapped around each other long after the world outside went quiet. Dabi’s arm draped over your waist, his breath steady and warm against your shoulder. Neither of you spoke, content to exist in the stillness, in the rare, fragile peace of the moment.

The memory still lived in your heart, as vivid and searing as if it had happened yesterday. The hideout filled with laughter and chaos, Toga’s delighted clapping, Twice’s off-key singing, and the way Dabi’s lips pressed against yours at the stroke of midnight - it was a fleeting moment of happiness in a world that had given you so little.

But that was last year. That New Year’s Eve was the last you all spent together.

Everything changed after that night. The war came, tearing through your lives like a storm, leaving devastation in its wake. Too many lives were claimed, too many futures snuffed out. The League, the world, you - it all fractured, irreparably changed by the battles fought and the losses endured.

Now, you sat cross-legged in the grass, the late afternoon sun warm against your shoulders. A simple summer dress clung to your frame, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. In your lap was a handmade bowl of soba, steam curling lazily into the air.

“I started a job last week,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “It’s nothing glamorous, just working in the back of a diner. Washing dishes, peeling vegetables, that sort of thing. It’s hard, y’know? People don’t exactly trust someone with a past like mine.” You picked at the soba with your chopsticks, twirling the noodles idly. “People stare. They always do. Even when they don’t recognize me, they can tell there’s something off, like they can smell the smoke that clings to me. I can’t blame them. It’s not like I’ll ever really blend in.” You laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. “It’s funny,” you continued, wiping your cheek where a tear had fallen unnoticed. “The normal life we used to joke about… it’s so much harder than I thought it’d be. People don’t smile much, not really. And some days, it’s like I’m invisible. Maybe it’s better that way.” 

You held the bowl tighter, your knuckles white against the handmade ceramic. “I brought this for you,” you offered, shifting slightly to place the bowl in the grass. “You probably would’ve made some snarky comment about how it’s not your style, but I thought… I thought you might like it anyway.”

The words caught in your throat, and before you could stop them, the tears came - hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks as though the dam you’d built over the past year had finally broken. You didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point?

It took everything in you to get here. Reaching out to the Todoroki family - people you’d once thought of as enemies - had been harder than you could have imagined. But you needed to know where he was, where they’d laid him to rest. You couldn’t keep carrying the weight of his absence without a place to grieve.

The breeze shifted, and for a moment, it seemed to carry a faint, fleeting scent of fire - charcoal and smoke. It wrapped around you like an embrace, stirring the strands of your hair. It was fleeting, barely there, but it made you pause. Slowly, your lips curved into a small, trembling smile. “You’re listening, aren’t you?” you whispered, wiping at your face. “You always were good at pretending not to care.”

What you didn’t know - what you couldn’t know - was that he was sitting right there, just as you’d imagined. His spirit leaned against the gravestone, one knee drawn up, his chin resting lazily on it. He was watching you, his pale eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, aching to wipe away your tears. But it was futile, of course. You were here, in the world of the living, and he was there, trapped in the world of the dead. Dabi whispered, “Stop crying, doll. You’ll ruin your pretty face.” But the words faded into the breeze, unheard and unspoken.

He watched you carefully: the way your hands trembled slightly as you set the bowl down, the way your lips quivered as you spoke his name, the way your tears reflected the light of the setting sun.

You couldn’t see the way his jaw clenched, the frustration in his eyes as his hand passed through you like mist. The space between your worlds was too vast, and all he could do was sit and observe.

You didn’t know he was there, couldn’t feel the weight of his gaze or the ghostly touch of his hand. “I miss you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you rested a hand on the cold stone. “Every day, Touya.”

He closed his eyes, his head tilting back against the gravestone as if to steady himself. The scars on his face softened in the glow of the afternoon sun, and for a moment, he looked almost at peace. “I miss you too,” he whispered, though the words were meant only for himself.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery. Your fingers brushed over the gravestone, tracing the letters carved into the cold stone: Touya Todoroki. The breeze swirled again, wrapping around you like an embrace. It felt warm, comforting, almost like him.

“I miss all of you. Toga, Tomura… even Twice and his constant grumbling.” You laughed weakly, but the sound was hollow. “The world’s quieter now, but it doesn’t feel better. It feels empty.” And with that, you sobbed more. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. I’m sorry I couldn’t save any of you. I’m so fucking sorry…”

When you finally stood  and brushed the grass from your dress, you glanced back at the tombstone one last time. “I’ll keep going,” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute. “For you. For all of you. I promise. I promise I won’t let go. I’ll never forget you. And you guys will always live in my heart.”

He watched you turn to leave, his gaze lingering on you as if memorizing every detail - the way the sunlight caught the strands of your hair, the way your shoulders straightened even under the weight of your grief, and a faint smile crossed his lips as his scarred hand rested on the top of the tombstone. “We all know that, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and low. “Live the life we weren’t destined to have. And don’t forget - I’ll love you forever.”

As the wind swept through the graveyard once more, Dabi’s spirit winnowed like mist under the light of a chilly morning, fading into the air that surrounded you. And a promise, carried on the breeze, was as eternal as the love he left behind.

tagging: @pixelcafe-network

Alter Y/n

Steven: Jake no!

Jake: Jake maybe..?

Marc: Jake no!

Jake: Jake yes!

Khonshu: Jake Lockley, no!

Jake: Jake fucking YES!

Y/n: Jake no?

Jake: Jake no. Anything for you mi amor.

Douma & a puppy - headcanons

MASTERLIST

After adpting a puppy, Douma becomes jealous of it because he thinks it's stealing your attention and affection

Douma tries to train the puppy to become a Hashira-slaying companion, but it just wants to play fetch instead

The puppy is actually incredibly well-behaved and never bothers Akaza, much to Douma's disappointment. Douma tries to teach the puppy to misbehave around his best friend, but the puppy just looks up at him with big, innocent eyes and wags its tail

Douma starts using the puppy as an excuse to avoid going on missions, saying he needs to stay home to take care of the dog (Muzan becomes infuriated and reaches the point where he's oh so done with Douma)

Douma becomes a dog person and starts showering the puppy with affection and presents, much to his own surprise

Douma starts dressing the puppy up in a miniature version of Douma's robes and hat on daily basis, much to your surprise

Douma starts speaking to the puppy like it would be a child, much to the confusion of everyone around him, especially his followers and his fellow Upper Moons

Douma starts dreaming about his puppy becoming a powerful demon lord, ruling over the world with an iron paw 🐾

Dabi (Toya Todoroki) When in Love

He would say I love you a lot because he wouldn’t think he does enough for his partner. This may seem like he doesn't mean that he loves them. But he truly does.

He just doesn't feel like normal people so it’s like he is reminding himself of that fact what he feels is indeed love. This may seem like he isn't in love with his partner. But where he isn't sure what love is it took him a long time to put feelings to the word love.

He shows his love not by just saying I love you. Since he isn't a cuddler and not one for much touching because he is in pain most of the time. Dabi would show his love by doing small things for his partner.

This could be things from cleaning to cooking meals. Even if he isn't good at any of these and mostly burns anything he touches. This is included with cleaning. this man doesn't clean because he defiantly doesn't have the patience for it. The way he is the best at showing love is by making sure his partner takes care of themselves. Spite that he doesn't take care of himself very well. Dabi just can't stand seeing the one he loves in pain. He would most definitely give massages and make sure wounds and meds are taken. Even if he hurts his hands giving massages. He could care less if he hurts himself as long as his partner is happy and relaxed.

Dabi would be a jealous man. He would try and hold himself back when coming to people being around his partner. But most of the time he fails and will end up killing the person or taking his partner to a privet place and reminding them they are together.

Most of the time people think he is a dom but deep down he is a softy that just wants to please his partner. So, 90 sum percent of the time he is the sub. That may be if he bottoms or tops.

However, these times he would definitely be a dom. Showing his partner that they can't just let people flirt with them. This would include his biting and making them any way he could. These marks would be in places everyone could see.

When Dabi and His partner are around the LOV, he would most likely pick on them. By calling them names and hitting them hard on the arm. This man isn't one to show others that he cares for someone. Because it could show that he has a weakness, and he doesn't want to be seen as weak.

Yet, his partner knows better and knows that it is because Dabi doesn't want anything to happen to his partner. Would rather put up his own life for his love.

When it comes to love making. It is just that. He likes things soft and loving. It may start off heated and more in the range of fucking. But towards the end he wants his partner to know how much he cares and his focused of making them feel good.

This would include. Being as close as he could to his partner. Spite that it hurts his scars. He would want to feel every breath and movant of their body. Taking in every part of their desire as he could. Dabi is very big into knowing how his partner feels. He needs to hear them and see their face to know if he is doing a good job and not hurting them.

Thank you so much for reading this random headcanons post of mine. I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to like and re-blog. I love hearing from everyone and seeing how people like my thoughts. Love you all and keep being awesome.

Disillusioned

Summary: Every time I tried to take a step closer, he took a step back. Falling in love with Bucky Barnes was easy, but the distance he kept between us was torture.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Angst, happy ending(?)

Warnings: Smut! And minor character death

Length: 3.5k

A/N: My love for Bucky/Sebastian Stan has inspired me to write again 💕 Enjoy (I hope)!

He was having a nightmare.

Bucky didn't often agree to stay the night - I suspected this was part of the reason why. I woke up to sounds of grunting and the loud grinding of his jaw, my bleary eyes adjusting to the view in front of me.

Moonlight illuminated his profile, his eyes shut and brow furrowed, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He was still asleep, his fists clenching the sheets as I slowly extended a hand.

"Bucky," I whispered, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat, touching his naked shoulder gingerly. "Bucky," I repeated louder.

He stirred then, eyes snapping open. He almost looked shocked to see me in bed with him, as if he'd forgotten where he was. He pushed himself to sit upright with a sharp inhale, jaw still clenched.

"Are you okay?" I asked, propping myself up with one elbow, concern laced through my voice despite the exhaustion.

"M'fine," Bucky replied in a tone that told me he was most definitely not fine. He wasn't even looking at me, his blue eyes looking at the wall, distant, as if he was recalling an unpleasant memory. Or as if he just didn't want to look at my face. "I gotta go."

"Now?" I glanced at my alarm clock. It wasn't even 4am.

"Yeah." Bucky stood up, and I blushed despite myself at his naked form. My cheeks burned further as I recalled the particularly heated session we had just a few hours ago, both of us collapsing into a sweaty mess. I had whispered a Please, can you stay? to him before I was lulled into sleep, surprised when he had simply grunted and stayed by my side.

"Wait, Bucky - " I reached out instinctively and held onto his right hand, which felt colder than his vibranium one when he almost instantly snatched it away. I faltered, biting down onto my lower lip. "Can we - what's the rush?"

This happened all the time. Whenever I was lucky enough to have Bucky fall asleep by my side, more often than not, he would wake up from the nightmares and just leave, no matter what the hour was. We had never even slept through a sunrise together.

"I have things to do," was his response, his eyes never once meeting mine.

I clutched the sheets against my torso, feeling the all-too familiar cold, creeping feeling in my chest. That feeling of rejection, the feeling of unhappiness when I remembered that Bucky and I weren't really anything, not really. Not quite friends, not quite lovers, and definitely not a couple. He had made that clear.

"Can we just talk for five minutes?" I asked quietly as Bucky hurried to get dressed, his clothes flung haphazardly around my bedroom.

"About what?"

Anything, I wanted to scream. What do you call it when you are so unbelievably in love with someone, so desperate to keep them in your life that you are willing to just be someone that they came to whenever they wanted some casual company, a warm body, some fun? The word I was searching for was "pathetic", probably.

"Do you want to talk about your nightmares?" I asked, picking my nails nervously. I watched as Bucky paused pulling on his shirt for just a millisecond, almost as if he was caught off guard by my query.

"I don't talk about them," Bucky said after a moment, shaking his head.

"Don't you think you might feel better if you -"

"Look," Bucky said sharply, turning to face me. His stern expression softened ever so slightly at the sight of my face, which no doubt looked as torn and pitiful as I felt in that moment. I knew that I had no place to act as if I could help him in any way - what could I possibly do for him?

Bucky's lips formed a tight smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I appreciate the concern. But there's nothing you can do to help me."

Right. Just as I thought.

For some reason, this statement almost made me want to cry. It was another subtle reminder of that tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, I had some small weighting to Bucky's life. Maybe I wasn't just a girl that Bucky came to when he wanted to let off some steam. A spark that was always being snuffed out like a candle.

Bucky left quietly and without so much as a goodbye. The room felt so much emptier without him in it.

------ x ------

Sometimes, I felt that Bucky might genuinely care for me.

Whenever he came to see me, it wasn't always just sex. Sometimes we would spend time together doing things like a normal couple might do - he would help me with random errands, have dinner with me, sometimes even tell me stories from his past, a glimpse into his history.

But it was hot and cold with him. Whenever I dared to let myself believe that Bucky was opening up to me, he would suddenly slam the door shut and leave me out in the cold again.

Bucky Barnes made me weak. I was so willing to give my heart to this man who didn't even know what to do with it.

We were in my apartment on a Sunday afternoon as he tinkered about with the plumbing in my bathroom, offering to help me fix it when he saw that it was leaking. I watched with a small smile on my face as I handed him various tools, watching his face scrunched up in concentration.

My phone lit-up, chiming suddenly with six consecutive notifications. Bucky saw my grimace as I glanced at the screen and switched it to silent.

"What's that?" He asked, grunting as he inspected the bathroom pipes, turning his back to me.

"Um." I paused, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. "This guy that my sister is trying to set me up with. She gave him my number and he's been pestering me." I tried to keep my voice light hearted, but the words fell out like lead. My statement was true, but I couldn't care less about this guy - I couldn't even remember his name. I was just playing the childish tactic of trying to make Bucky feel jealous.

Bucky's hands stilled, just for a second, before they resumed their movement. He couldn't have sounded less interested if he tried when he responded, "Give it a go."

I blinked, my gut twisting.

"What?"

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe dating someone will do you some good."

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I didn't know why I was always so keen to self-inflict this pain. It was as if I needed to constantly remind myself that Bucky just didn't want me in that way, until I would get the message.

"Yeah. Maybe."

------ x ------

When Bucky fucked me that night, he held me tighter than usual.

His forehead pressed against mine, our lips pressed together in an angry kiss, his tongue wet and hot in my mouth. He thrust inside me again and again and again, hips snapping as his hands circled themselves around my wrists, holding them above my head.

His mouth opened and he gasped, my back arching with pleasure as his cock continued to slide in and out of me, searching for release.

He came inside me with a moan, his mouth latching onto my neck to leave a hickey, marking my skin, his chest shuddering on top of mine as he came down from his high.

As usual, he left shortly after despite my quiet request for him to stay.

------ x ------

When my friends asked me how I would be spending my birthday, I lied and said I just wanted to spend it alone. Alone with Bucky.

I was delighted when I asked Bucky if he would have dinner with me on my birthday. He nodded and promised he would be there.

I sat in my apartment, clothed in a little red dress that I was sure Bucky would like. I was bouncing on my feet in excitement when he finally knocked on the door, and I beamed at him when I answered.

He was dressed in dark jeans, navy shirt and my favourite leather jacket of his. He looked me up and down, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile.

"You look pretty," he said unexpectedly, his voice sincere.

I blushed, my cheeks on fire. "Thank you."

This was exactly how I wanted to spend my day. With Bucky, having dinner in a tiny little French restaurant that we had both discovered one day months ago, walking along the river afterwards as the sun set. I wanted to hold his hand so much, wanted to cling onto his arm, but I knew better than to do so.

"I need to tell you something," Bucky said solemnly as I smiled. I felt so unbelievably happy with him in this moment. This was one of those moments I managed to tell myself that I could accept being his not-quite-a-lover-and-not-quite-a-friend as long as he was by my side.

"What is it?" My smile faded slowly as he met my eyes, his expression stoic.

"I want you to be happy," he said carefully. "You deserve it." The words hung in the air as I waited for him to continue, not even daring to guess what he really wanted to say. "I know how you feel about me."

"How do I feel about you?" I challenged softly. I had never said the words out loud, but I knew that he knew. I just wanted to hear him say it.

"I know you love me," he said after a long pause. The sound of the water filled the silence as I looked at him, unsure of what he would say next. "I want you to be happy, but you know I can't give that to you."

There was a long, strained silence. "Why not?" I asked, my chest tightening. I knew I was being stupid, pathetic even, just by asking the question. "You never even gave us a chance."

I don't deserve one.

"You knew from the beginning that this could never be anything more than what it is," Bucky said, his tone gentle but his eyes hard.

"Why?" I repeated, frustration bubbling.

"Because I don't do relationships," Bucky retorted, voice now sharp. His words stuck themselves into me like needles. "I want you to be happy, really. Truly. But I can't give you a happy ending."

Why did it feel like he was breaking up with me when there was no relationship to break in the first place?

"So now what?" I whispered, trying desperately not to cry. Not in front of him, please. I wanted to know if he ever felt anything for me. I wanted to know if there was ever a time where he might have considered loving me back.

"I'll be leaving the city tomorrow. For good."

I had no right to ask him to stay. Bucky Barnes was his own person, and he would do what he wanted to. I was inconsequential, a nothing. I had let myself become so caught up in this fantasy and my stupid hope, setting myself up for failure.

"Okay."

------ x ------

Love was such a fucking trap. Bucky had tried the whole dating thing in the past, naively thinking that maybe, he could actually find someone and get a taste of normalcy. Before he met her, he had dated a few different girls, but something never felt quite right.

And then she exploded into his life, all smiles and positivity and everything that Bucky might actually need and want.

It fucking terrified him.

He fell in love so quickly with her. It felt so easy, so right. But as soon as he made that realisation, he also knew - love was dangerous. She was so delicate, so trusting, Bucky felt like he wanted to be around her to protect her always.

But having her meant that she would always be in danger. There would always be a threat, lying dormant, until one day something would happen to her. As long as Bucky cared about her, she would always be something to lose.

Sam said he was being dumb. That he was hurting her by teasing her with Bucky's presence and yet always being just out of her reach.

Bucky was selfish. He just didn't want to let her go, even if it meant that every time she took a step forward, he would take a step back and watch her heart get crushed.

But it wasn't sustainable. He knew he had to bite the bullet and leave eventually.

He just told himself that he would do it the day after. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

He just always wanted one more day with her.

------ x ------

Bucky had left two months ago.

Those two months passed by like my own personal hell. The calls left unanswered, the texts left unread. I felt so pathetic as I stared at our WhatsApp conversation, my words being fired off despite telling myself that I shouldn't.

Wed 7 Dec - How are you?

Fri 9 Dec - Where are you right now? Thinking about you.

Mon 19 Dec - I know you won't answer. I don't even know why I bother you text you these. I just want to know if I ever meant anything to you.

Sat 24 Dec - I think I was so stupid to love you.

I don't know what else I expected. He was the famous Bucky Barnes, one of Earth's mightiest heroes. He was busy saving lives and doing dangerous shit, and I was - what? Some random girl who just happened to be there at one point in his life. If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else who had ended up as his fuck-buddy.

The realisation was heart-wrenching. He could easily take off and leave, never answer the phone or my messages, because I was never anything important to him. He could write me out of his life, because I was just a page in his novel. To be forgotten about.

------ x ------

I heard about Sam's death half a year after Bucky had left.

It was plastered across the newspaper headlines. Sam had been killed on a mission in Siberia, a mission headed by himself and Bucky. The moment I heard the breaking news on the radio, my heart stopped, the grief threatening to crush me.

There was a public memorial in Washington, D.C., near the National Mall. I attended alone, travelling there alongside hundreds of thousands of other people, strangers, all wishing to pay their respects to the Falcon.

I didn't expect to see him there. I was so confident that he would be mourning him privately, away from the public eye, away from all the people.

I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the dark figure leaning against the passenger side of my door, cap on his head, leather gloves tight around his hands. I didn't even need to meet his eyes to know it was him.

There were no words exchanged. He got into my car silently as I did the same, barely daring to breathe lest he suddenly dissipate into the air like an illusion, as I was convinced he couldn't be real.

It wasn't until we got back to my hotel that he snapped. The door closed and he was there, crumpling into my arms, his own wrapped around me tightly, his face buried into my shoulder.

His tears wet my skin, ragged breathing loud and in agony.

"I'm so sorry," he moaned in a pained voice, his arms squeezing me so hard that I could barely breathe. "I am so sorry."

"Bucky," I whispered, feeling his warmth against me as I finally dared to accept that he was really here. He was really, truly here. "I got you. It's okay."

"No," he gasped, his tears soaking my shirt. I had never seen him cry before, and the vulnerability broke my heart. "I can't lose you too. I can't lose you."

His knees buckled, dragging me onto the floor with him as he cried, his arms never once letting go of me. My hands lifted to stroke his hair as his chest heaved with painful sobs.

This was the sound of a broken man. The sound of someone who had lost Steve, and now Sam, and the floodgates had finally broke.

He lifted his head to look at me, eyes bloodshot and his hands raised to cradle my face. I felt so overwhelmed by all the emotions in my heart - grief, confusion, love, relief, sadness. Everything all at once, crushing my ability to think straight. Everything felt surreal, happening at a pace that I couldn't keep up with.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered. "I wanted to keep you safe, wanted to keep you - keep you alive, want you to have a normal life, and I ruined everything. I ruined everything." The words streamed out nonsensically to me. "I had to leave, had to go before things got too bad, but I was so stupid. Being so fucking stupid. I can't lose you too. I can't lose you."

"James, breathe," I said gently, staring back at him and trying not to reveal just how worried and perplexed I was.

"You knew, right? You had to know how I felt about you, deep down," Bucky asked, pleading. I didn't answer as he continued to sob - I simply held him, letting him cry against me.

------ x ------

Nightfall came, and Bucky had quietened. You were both lying on the bed, fully clothed, his hand clutching yours tightly. The feeling felt unfamiliar and right at the same time.

"I have always loved you," Bucky said quietly, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

My breath hitched. He's lying, the voice of doubt said, loudly and clearly in your mind.

"I fell in love with you. How could not?" He continued, his voice pained. "But it terrified me. The feeling of being in love, of having something to lose. The knowledge that I am what I am - someone with a history, with blood on my hands, knowing I've done unspeakable things that I am so afraid for you to find out about."

I turned my head to look at him, not quite daring to believe what he was saying.

"You have no idea." He looked at me finally, his eyes still wet and tortured. "I wanted to let you know how much I loved you. I wanted to be happy with you. But I couldn't."

"Bucky..."

"But I'm tired of running away," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Leaving you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I don't think I can survive without you." He laughed suddenly, humorlessly. "Is that selfish?"

"No," I replied instantly. My stomach swirled, and I knew he could see the doubt in my eyes with just one look.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

I remained silent for a long minute before I finally answered. "I just don't understand how you could love me."

I flinched at the rage that flashed across his face. Not quite anger at me, I realised, but fury at himself.

"I made you think that I didn't love you back," he said tersely, fists balling up. "And I will never forgive myself for that. I was playing hero but actually I was just being stubborn. Being so unbelievably stupid."

He rolled over to position himself on top of me suddenly, eyes fixed on mine. He propped himself up above me with his hands on either side of my head, eyes pleading.

"When I met you, I had no idea I could feel this way for anyone. The way you smiled at me, the way you understood me, the way you made me laugh and the way you cared. When you fell in love with me, I could feel it. I felt so special to be the one you chose.

I told myself that I couldn't let you in. I couldn't let it get too far. I couldn't tell you about myself, about my childhood, about the terrible things I've done, about the good things I've done, about the hopes and dreams I had for the future. I told myself that if I let you in, it would be too real. You would be someone that I could lose, and if i lost you, it would kill me."

"So you would rather just leave me?" I whispered, my eyes welling up at the memory of the long six months I'd endured without him.

"I thought I was keeping you safe," he replied, eyes closing briefly as he gritted his teeth.

"You broke my heart," I said simply. The statement wasn't made to hurt him, but rather just a declaration of the truth.

"I don't know what to do," Bucky said, shaking his head as his eyes revealed the conflict in his mind. "I don't want to be apart from you anymore. But I don't want to risk putting you in danger. As long as you're with me, you will always be in danger. I don't know what to do," he repeated, looking so anguished that I wanted to cry all over again.

"Please just stay," I pleaded. "Please stay with me."

Bucky kissed you finally, his chapped lips against yours, melting into you as soon as they met. He sighed shakily, as if he was finally home after a long day.

"I'll stay. I'll protect you with everything I have. I promise."

*giant wind gust outside*

Me: “Don’t say it.”

My Brain:

Sinful Sunday: the thought of Bakugo just fingering you whilst you're on a loong journey somewhere is forever making itself prominent in my mind 🤤 he’s just rubbing at your clit and not letting you cum until he gives permission 😭

Oh my, darling! 😳 Thank you for your wonderfully sinful idea! I couldn't resist the urge to write a short fic about our explosive boy. I firmly believe he's an embodient of promiscuity 😏

SINFUL SUNDAY

The air inside the bus is unbearably hot and stale, and you rest your arm against the window, thankful for having a seat while others struggle to find standing room. As you make a stop, an elderly lady vacates the seat next to you, and in the blink of an eye, someone else takes her place. You don't pay much heed to my fellow passenger; instead, you gaze out the window, daydreaming about the refreshing coolness of tap water waiting for you at home, just another fifty minutes away.

The heat is becoming a bit too much for you, and you're keen to avoid breaking a sweat. Thankfully, you just now notice that the upper part of the bus window is adjustable. As soon as this realization dawns on you, you extend your hand to grasp the handle.

Suddenly, an arm shoots up from the seat beside you. "Here, let me help with that," the man sitting next to you offers, and with a single, determined pull, he manages to open the stubborn window, allowing the refreshing breeze to caress your face.

"Thank you," you gratefully respond.

You stare at him, finally registering his features. His intense, crimson-red eyes are piercing and reflect his determination and strong-willed nature. He boasts a well-defined, muscular physique. His ash blond hair, spiky and untamed, adds to his demeanor.

Your eyes widen as he begins to lazily and casually stroke your thigh, his fingers coaxing the fabric of your summer dress upward beneath his touch. Swiftly, you reach down, attempting to push his hand away or, at the very least, halt its progress. However, he persists, increasing the pressure when you make an effort to remove his hand. "Could you please stop that?" You whisper, frustration evident in your tone, but his smile remains unyielding.

Finally, his hand comes to rest on the bare skin of your thigh. "Don't make a scene over nothing, dear," he retorts, a light chuckle escaping his lips. The unsettling innocence in his tone causes you to recoil at the endearment. "My only intention is to bring us both comfort. Isn't this heat insufferable? Allow me to help ya, dumbass."

His words come deliberately, almost tauntingly, and you surprise yourself by listening intently, though your trust in him remains guarded. As he speaks, his damned hand inches up your thigh, his fingertips lightly grazing the edge of your lacy panties. On pure instinct, you squeeze your legs together, determined to thwart his advances. The realization suddenly strikes you that you're in a public place, and the thought of anyone witnessing his inappropriate touch sends a surge of panic mingled with a glimmer of hope coursing through me. You dart your gaze around, scanning the surroundings, only to be met with a sea of oblivious backs.

"Don't fret, dumbass," the man seated beside you soothes, his touch persisting against your panties. "No one will take notice. We're way at the back of the bus, and I'm a pro hero, so you're safe."

You can't help but scoff at his claim of being a pro hero, considering the situation. "You're a pro hero, huh?" You retort with a skeptical edge in your voice, your resistance to his advances growing stronger. "Some hero you are, causing trouble like this in public."

He chuckles lowly, a condescending smile playing on his lips as he leaned in closer. "You must be quite the idiot or completely out of touch with media if you don't recognize Bakugo Katsuki himself," he quips, his tone dripping with smugness as he stretches his back a little.

Only then you realize who he truly is, and blush creeps on your cheeks. "Shit."

You catch your breath, a hushed gasp escaping you as you feel his calloused hand slip beneath your panties, his middle finger immediately finding its way to your clit. Your fingers clasp around his arm, trembling as you vigorously shake your head.

He winks and continues to explore between your legs, his fingers insistent as they glide along your already slick folds.

His caresses gradually transform into determined rubbing, and your stomach churns with embarrassment as you become acutely aware of your body's response. You're growing increasingly aroused, a fact that only heightens your internal turmoil.

"You look quite cute when you blush," he murmurs. His middle finger presses against your entrance, and all you can do is gasp.

With slow determination, Bakugo pushes his finger into you, whispering warmly, "Enjoy it, little girl. Let me make you feel good."

A violent shiver of pleasure runs through your body when he reaches inside you, struggling against your tight, resisting pussy and building his strokes into a tauntingly slow pace.

His finger moves with attentiveness that is almost kind, with each stroke pressing a little deeper, exploring his prize. You focus on the waves of warm, pure ecstasy that travel through your unwilling body, and you feel ashamed and weak. A second finger joins the first, and without delay, a third finger follows suit, causing his thrusts to become painful. You let out an uncomfortable whimper, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

"That's right," Katsuki says hungrily, his breathing heavier than before. He slides closer to you, his body presses against yours, trapping you between the window and him. His hand is picking up pace, rocking your lower body, stretching your little pussy painfully as he thrusts his thick fingers into your cunny.

You whimper weakly and his breath brushes against your face when he says, "Look at me, doll. I want you to look at me."

You open your eyes. Bakugo's face is awfully close to yours now, and you feel frightened of the greedy lustful glint in his eyes as he licks his lips. The awful reality of the scandalous scene hits you again as you stare at his handsome face while his hand pounds into your dripping pussy. You become aware of the quiet wet sounds coming from down there, and you steal a glance down at your pussy and almost cry out as at the same time he presses his thumb masterfully on your swollen clit.

Your body starts to shiver with new unfamiliar but amazing waves of pleasure, and you feel something quickly building up inside you, waiting to be released with unbearable urgency. What would have been a moan is muffled by pro hero's lips when you're nearing your orgasm.

His skillful tongue is exploring your mouth as he retreats his hand befre you can reach your climax.

You gaps loudly as he breaks the kiss. "W-What… Why did you…"

"Stop?" He grinns at you, bringing his digits to his lips to lick them clean. "I thought you weren't thrilled with my little stunt? And let me tell ya, dumbass, you're fucking delicious," Bakugo quipped, rising from his seat. "Anyhow, this is my stop. Until tomorrow, doll."

As the bus came to a halt, he departed without a single backward glance in your direction.

You're acutely aware that you board this bus nearly every day to commute back home from work.

lil cherries

Eric Kellerman