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#joaquin fanfic
greenmanalishi · 1 year
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morsmordre-writes · 11 months
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designated spider killer - masterlist
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Bucky Barnes x f!Reader
Summary: Yelena accidentally plays matchmaker, Bucky pretends he doesn't want to live out his friends to lovers dream, and you're just trying to live your life... too bad a stalker wants to be apart of it.
Warnings: vulgar language/ topics, or at least kind of
masterlist | twitter profiles
[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][epilogue]
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writing-for-marvel · 10 months
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These are all the fics I've read in May. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic
🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff I 💧 - angst | 😈 - dark
Dividers by @saradika
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Bucky Barnes
🔥 Headstrong by @flordeamatista
💗🔥 Bedtime Story by @jobean12-blog
🔥 Neighbourly Love by @/jobean12-blog
💗 Bucky Barnes x reader by @maivolpe
🔥 Needy by @targaryenvampireslayer
💗🔥 Love From Afar by @bluehourbucky
💗🔥 Bucky makes sure you know you're his first choice by @like-what-the-fuck-scoob
💗 Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together by @golden-barnes
💗 Dance with the Devil by @rookthorne
💗 Imagine Bucky calling you at work by @lives-in-midgard
💗 Booked on a Feeling by @intrepidacious
💗 Morning Workout by @sparklefics
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Steve Rogers
💗🔥 The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are by @buckets-and-trees
🔥 Give You a Ride by @sstan-hoe
💧💗 His Radiant Sunflower by @witchywithwhiskey
💗 The Berry Sweetest by @brandycranby
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Sam Wilson
💧💗🔥 Haven by @fluffyprettykitty
💗 Surprise by @/targaryenvampireslayer
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Adam Warlock
🔥 A-Z NSFW Headcanon by @tom-whore-dleston
🔥 Soft Dom Adam by @inklore
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Joaquin Torres
💗🔥 Expression by @/fluffyprettykitty
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Bruce Banner
💗 Cuddles are the Cure by @late-to-the-party-81
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Ari Levinson
🔥 Like Jello by @/late-to-the-party-81
💧💗 Post-Nightmare Cuddles by @ronearoundblindly
🔥 Like a Broken Record by @howdoyousleep3
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Ransom Drysdale
💧 Occupy My Brain by @/intrepidacious
💗🔥 Insomnia by @/brandycranby
💧💗 One Night by @honeybloomss
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Andy Barber
🔥 On Your Knees by @flwrsforu
💗 Pros and Cons by @navybrat817
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Joel Miller
💗🔥 A Sweeter Place by @/flordeamatista
💧💗🔥 Wild for You by @/jobean12-blog
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buckysmischief · 11 months
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designated spider killer - 2
Bucky Barnes x f!Reader
Warnings: John Walker. vulgar language/ topics, or at least kind of??
AN: if you want to be tagged just let me know :)
masterlist | series masterlist
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@stuckonjbbarnes @buckybarnessimpp
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fangirl201sworld · 8 months
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Not me trying to write a story about Joaquin's romance with a certain bandit princess who was going to be the antagonist of the sequel which is supposed to be her specifically:
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chronical-ly · 10 months
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Beyond The Sea
Fisherman! Bucky Barnes x Mermaid! Reader
Warnings: cursing, mental health, sexual themes, smoking, slight mentions of suicide, mature themes.
In honor of MerMay
Chapter 4 (5)
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°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Bucky could hardly move without feeling the ache in his limbs. But he could just barely open his eyes, everything was blurry as he stared up but there was something blocking the sun from blaring down. He could hardly see but he knew who it was by the head full of dark red curls.
Bucky forced himself to raise his hand, lovingly cupping her cheek. “Gail…” That was when he noticed the stark difference between their temperature, she was colder than he was, wet even, and her red hair lost its color as he blinked the blur away. It wasn’t Gail but it was someone who’s been on his mind recently.
The Mermaid scooted back as he sat up, wiping his eyes clear before taking in his surroundings. They were on a beach, he knew where not too far from his actual house but how did he get here? Bucky immediately looked back to her. “I… I was drowning… That Siren almost killed me, did you save me?” She nodded, that was he noticed four scars across her chest that wasn’t there before, they were starting to heal. White scales contrasted her gray skin, he felt a little bad that she had fight that thing just to save him.
“I hope the other guy looks worse.” She puffed out her chest in pride, holding her head up high with what he could assume was a smirk. Bucky chuckled and thanked her again trying to avoid staring at her bare breast with a slight blush. She let out a high pitched chirp before grabbing his face and stretching his cheeks, her slimy fingers caressed his skin as she stared at it in awe.
“I’m guessing your face doesn’t turn red, huh?” His words were slightly muffled as she made a C with her hand causing Bucky’s lips to push out. It made her give him a sharp toothed grin. He carefully removed her hand and stared down at it, this time he was the curious one.
Bucky turned her wrist so that her palm was facing the sky, it was similar to a humans hand in some ways. She had palmar creases, and there was some kind phlegm covering her skin most likely to keep her from drying out. He rubbed each of the webbing settled in between her fingers and chuckled as they twitched at the feeling. Her nails were pointed with serrations at the very tips and it seemed like she could extend them to be longer.
“Hey…” She looked away from their hands to stare into his blue eyes, he was taken back by how enthralled she was with him but honestly, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that he too was intrigued by her. “I don’t think I ever caught your name.” As if she’s been waiting for him to ask, the Mermaid let out a series of clicks and screeches that were way to loud for his liking as he pressed one ear against his shoulder.
“I’m not as multilingual as you are.” He thought for a second, still holding her hand as she practically laid on his lap. “I can give you a human name, how’d that sound? Like uh… Fish girl?”
Her face fell, clearly unamused.
Bucky scoffed out a laugh. “It was joke, alright? What about April?” She made no reaction so he continued. “Charlotte?” With a shake of her head he said a few more determined to call her anything else than just clicking noises, he was sure that he tried to it he’d just end up accidentally cursing her out.
At the sound of a particular one she nodded furiously. “You like that one? (Y,n)?” She let out another happy chirp, her tail slapping the ground twice. “Bucky…” He lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. “(Y,n)…” He moved her hand to her own as she watched him intently, taking in each word as if he were teaching was gospel before slowly repeating him. Though, as much as he wanted to stay and talk more Bucky suddenly remembered exactly why he was here, Steve. He had pushed back which actually saved his life but for all he knew the man was still unconscious somewhere, hell, everyone was probably looking for him right now or maybe he was already pronounced dead.
“Listen, (Y,n). I have to go, I need to go find and Steve. Make sure he’s okay.” She seemed to whine at that, gripping his shirt and pressing her forehead against his chest.
Bucky smiled down. “You act like we won’t see each other again. If I have time tonight you can come see me. I’ll be waiting.”
He left her soon after, walking on the side of the road while waving down a car. Luckily, a kind stranger offered him a ride back to the docks. It started to rain again on their way there, just a light sprinkle but it was enough to turn the bright sky into a dark one, gray heavy clouds passing over their heads slowly. Bucky stared out the window in thought, this calm moment allowed everything that happened in the past hours to finally sink in.
Steve almost died, hell, they both did. He figured the Siren must’ve sang to him before but Bucky wasn’t able to hear him due to the fact that he was inside, but he hadn’t ran out in time Steve would’ve been a meal for Siren. Bucky was almost a meal, the memory fresh on his mind.
The feeling of being paralyzed was different from when (Y,n) sang to him, while he had no control over his body both times it didn’t feel- as strange as it was- hostile. As scared as he was when she was singing he didn’t feel out right threatened.
And how could he ever forget the the tight grip it had on him? The way it’s claws sank into his plump of his cheeks and forced his mouth open, Bucky unconsciously felt the now smoothed over skin and let out a shaky sigh. (Y,n) must’ve healed him the way she did Steve, he was glad they met. He wondered if they hadn’t would he even be alive right now?
But what shook the man most was who he thought he saw when he woke up. She pledged his dreams most nights, the memories of the past always came back. One with him and Gail before it went all went to shit, he knew she was gone but for a moment it all seemed real. Bucky didn’t like thinking about her for too long, it brought up too many emotions he’d rather deal with and honestly he would rather focus on the task at hand.
“Thanks for the ride, ma’am. Get home safe!” He waved the driver off, watching her pull out of the parking lot before heading down the wooden docks. Just as he hoped, ‘The Sea Commandos’ was waiting for him with his crew standing outside, Sam was the first to notice him, pushing past the others as he ran down the ramp.
“Holy shit, man.” Sam pulled him into a hug, surprising Bucky for a second before he chuckled, wrapping his arms around the man with a smile.
“You know, for someone who always tells me to jump ship I thought you’d be happy.” As they moved back Natasha and Joaquin wasted no time to give a hug as well, it honestly made him happy not having realized just how much his friends cared for him.
“Jesus, Buck. Steve said you went overboard, we thought we fucking lost you.” Natasha kept a hand on his shoulder, worried that she let go he’d suddenly disappear again.
Bucky’s eyes widened, “Steve’s okay?”
“Of course he is, he came back inside saying that you fell over. And not that I’m not glad your alive ‘cause I’m fucking ectatic right now but how the fuck are you alive?” Joaquin asked as they beckoned him to the boat mentioning that Steve was in the cabin resting.
“I barely believe it myself, I drifted off far and it just pure luck a sailboat was coming by. I for sure thought I was a goner.” Bucky had fabricated the lie on the way there, he mentally prepared himself for every possible question they’d throw his way.
Natasha thanked God out loud in her native tongue, they had already lost so many people yesterday, no one wanted to add his name to the newspaper obituary.
Bucky went to the bunks in haste, he had so much to tell to Steve but for now he just wanted to make sure he was okay. The blonde was laying on the bottom bed, an ice pack across his forehead that was quickly thrown off once he sat up, scrambling to his feet. Steve brought his brother in a hug, tightening his arms around him to the point where Bucky had to tap out.
“You have no idea how fucking worried we were, are you, alright? How the fuck are you alive?” That seemed to be the question of the day.
“(Y,n) saved me. And you’re worried about me? Man you were…” Bucky looked behind him making sure their friends who stayed out in the small living area were far enough to not hear. “You we’re under a Sirens spell.” Never in his twenty eight years of life did he ever imagine that he’d say a sentence so crazy yet real.
Steve let out a displeased noise, glancing to the three. “You have no idea how scary it was.” He sat back down on the bed, leaning over to pick up the ice pack as Bucky gave him an apologetic look, but he didn’t blame for the headache.
“I do, actually. When I first met (Y,n)-”
“Wait, you’ve said their name twice now am I supposed to know who that is?”
“The Mermaid, Stevie, I’ll tell you about that next. But when I first met her, she was stuck in our net a few nights ago, at first I thought it was some fucked up dolphin but then she started to sing… She made me cut her free and put her back in the water but I was terrified, I couldn’t control my body no matter how hard I wanted to. It was scary.”
Steve slowly nodded and closed his eyes, tilting his head forward, placing the ice pack on the back of his head. “That’s where it’s different, Buck.” He let out a shaky sigh. “It felt like… Like everything I was doing I was doing it on my own. Yeah, there was a small in the back of my mind as if there was someone I don’t know, guiding me? I-I wanted to jump in the sea, I saw you in front of me and I didn’t care if I took you with me all I cared about was following whoever was singing…”
Silence settled between the two, he was right, and if Bucky was being honest he felt (Y,n)’s hold slip just for a second as he kept fighting for control. All while Steve believed that whatever he was doing was on his own accord.
Bucky bumped his knee with Steve’s to make him look up. “We should call ourselves ‘The Suicide Squad’”
Steve’s face dropped.
“You know… Because you kinda tried to kill yourself and I tried to kill-mmmfh!” Steve smacked his hand over Bucky’s mouth almost pushing him off the bed, the brunette couldn’t help but laugh as he struggled to shove him back.
“You’re not fucking, Barnes. Didn’t Dr. Raynor tell you stop making self deprecating jokes?” Steve couldn’t help but smirk, trying to keep in his laugh as he pushed Bucky one last time. He knew better to, it would it only urge to make jokes even if they were kinda funny.
Steve huffed, setting the ice pack aside. “So… You gave the Mermaid a name? When was that?”
Bucky’s face immediately lit up at the thought of her, Steve noticed and was frankly taken aback but decided not to say anything. “As I said before, she saved my life. The Siren had me in its grasp, I was sure I was going to die… But I woke up on Hunnigan Beach with her besides me, sat there for a bit to regain myself and we just talked for a little and I realized that I never got her name, she knew yours already.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah, we talked about you before. But anyways I gave her a human because we wouldn’t be able to pronounce whatever she said.” Bucky laid back on the bed, stretching his arms out and up feeling each joint pop, he placed behind his head with a content sigh, these mattress’s never felt more comfortable after a long day.
Steve stared down at him in thought, he didn’t know how he didn’t notice just how happy Bucky has been these past days, he wasn’t sure if happy was the right word but the man seemed more relaxed than usual. It was strange to think that it took a literal Mermaid to bring a side of his brother back that he hasn’t seen in a while.
As he stood up to leave Bucky peeked one eye open. “Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna let you get some rest, Natasha forced me to stay in bed almost day so I’m getting pretty restless. But you should try to get some sleep.” Bucky only hummed as he positioned himself to properly lay down. It was like his body sank into the mattress, exhaustion finally catching up as the boat gently rocked him to sleep.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°
She stood at the kitchen counter with a whisk in one hand and a metal bowl with the other, her hips swayed side to side and her head full of dark red curls bobbed along to whatever pop song was playing, Tyler Swift or whatever it is.
The woman quietly sang, making a sound of disappointment every time she got a lyric wrong. She was very serious about learning every word before the concert next month.
Bucky leaned against counter, watching the woman he loved in her element. Creating new desserts to put on the menu at their local bakery where she worked, being friends with the owner and the designated baker meant she was always baking something new, every season and holiday had a new flavor.
She spun around and held out a spoon for him to take, whipped cream with a light brown color ready for him to taste. Bucky took it excitedly, immediately popping it into his mouth with a delighted groan.
“Is it enough caramel? Too sweet?”
“It’s perfect, Gaily. Save me a little, yeah? I could dip some apples with this.”
Gail sported a wide smile, she leaned forward and swiped a bit of cream off his lips, staring into his baby blue eyes as he stuck her thumb in her mouth before turning back around to the counter. “Taste even better on your lips.” She didn’t need to turn around to know his cheeks were as red as her hair.
Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist and stomach, pulling her close to his chest while peppering kisses on her neck and shoulder. “You shouldn’t talk like that before I go to work, I just might have take today off.” He felt his chest swell with pride once she let out a little whimper, he was barely touching her and she was already becoming needy.
“So do it. The boys won’t mind, we can spend all day in bed.” God, he wanted that so bad but he had already taken an extra day off last week, they’d chew him out if he did it again. He sighed into her neck with a smile, kissing one spot repeatedly.
“As much as I would love you, I really do have to get to work”
“Alright, text me before you go to bed.”
What? This wasn’t right. Bucky was in his car driving to the docks, it was late at night and a thick fog had rolled in making him go slower than usually. Unfortunately, other people didn’t seem to care how much visibility there was and over took him.
He looked at his phone perched on the dash, Gail’s name on the screen with hearts and kissy faces. “Okay, I’mma let you go.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something but she spoke first, “and I’m not walking home tonight. Sarah said she’ll drive me, I gotta go, love. See you later.” He said his goodbye as well, focusing his attention back on the road.
There was something about that night that always bothered him, hell, his stomach was churning the whole day. He’d always get an ache somewhere when something bad was going to happen, his mother used to tell him it was a thing all the men in the Barnes family had. Some kind of sixth sense. He never believed it though, whenever his molar would throb or his neck would hurt nothing ever seemed to happen.
So why should he believe it now?
He parked his car and sat there for a while, hands gripping the steering wheel as he waited for the pain to pass. Once it felt like he could breathe normally Bucky gathered his things reaching for his phone last but paused as an unknown number flashed on screen. He pressed the green call button and put it on speaker.
“Is this James Barnes?”
°•°•°•°•°•°•°
He woke up out of breath. Heart beating nearly beating out of chest as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. His crew were all in their respective bunks, sleeping just like he had been a few moments ago.
A wave of nausea rushed through him causing Bucky to sprint out of bed and run to the closet sized bathroom to throw up. Without fail, every time his dream turned into that dreadful night it made him sick to his stomach, it did nothing but remind him of all the things he could’ve done differently.
The walls around him were moving closer, making the bathroom smaller and hotter almost suffocating. He scrambled out the bathroom and left the cabin, gasping in pleasure as the cool air and mist greeted him with no problem.
Bucky only felt himself relax a bit, he was still reeling as he sat on the metal ground, leaning against the wall of the railing. He always woke up at that part, it’s never gone further that and to be honest he wasn’t sure he’s be able to handle it if he did finish that nightmare.
As he closed his eyes and laid his head on the cold metal, Bucky could barely hear anything besides the sound of his rapid beating heart. He hadn’t heard the splash behind him but he did feel a hand press against his chest, slipping their wet fingers past the buttons to touch his bare skin. Almost immediately his breathing started to calm.
They laid their head on his shoulder, a quiet trilling noise somehow bleeding through the sound of his heart, soft lips lightly grazing his neck. Bucky started to calm down, feeling as if he had finally returned to earth. He peeked his eyes open and glanced down at her as she held him close, worry etching her face.
“Thank you…” It seemed like that was something he was always going say.
Even though he was fine now, she still kept her hand over his heart. “Bucky, okay?” He nodded, leaning his own head on top of hers, wrapping a arm around her waist pulling her closer.
Besides everything that happened. this was a nice night. It was strange how comfortable they were with each other, two different species finding comfort in one another’s bodies. They both had tales of what horrid creatures they are, but none of that matched up with what they were experiencing now.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he traced the scales from her hips to where they started disappearing into her discolored skin. “Why were you so close to the boat the night we met?”
She hummed as if she was trying to figure out how explain. (Y,n) lifted her head and stared Bucky in his eyes, “watching… Curious about you.” He raised a brow at that,
“You’ve been watching watching me? Because you were curious?” She nodded, removing her hand from his shirt and pressing it against his collar bone before crawling up his neck and gently fanning her fingers to cover his jaw, feeling the hairs that had started to grow back. “For how long?”
She simply shrugged. He lightly scoffed, she obviously did want to say long. Bucky wasn’t force her to admit it but he guessed it couldn’t have been more than a few weeks, right?
He stayed still allowed her to trace his face in awe, he wondered if he was first human who’s ever gotten this close to a Mermaid and lived to tell it. Hell, he was probably the first to hold one so lovingly.
Bucky caught her black eyes once more, colors swiping to the left. If you told him a month ago that he would be in arms of a being known has purely fiction he would’ve laughed and called you some kind name, but now that it was happening Bucky couldn’t help but thank his lucky star. Everything about this moment felt right, being with her felt right.
Neither of them was thinking about the hardships that would come as their faces slowly closed to the gap between them. She belonged to the sea and he to the land. Bucky raised a hand, gently holding her cheek and deciding they’ve wasted enough time he pressed his warm lips against her cold ones, forcing them to become the same temperature as his.
Removing her hand from his chin, (Y,n) ran her fingers through his brown hair pulling him down to deepen the kiss. Mermen were never this fun, never gave into the Mermaids games or played with them but this human man… There was something different about him, he liked playing along with her and his skin was smooth and changed colors whenever he looked at her breast. She liked him, he liked her, more than they probably should.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°
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donottouchredbutton · 7 months
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In a Heartbeat
joaquin torres x sunshine!reader/ofc
4k words
she saves someone, and joaquin saves her.
moodboard
note: i wrote this with my oc in mind that i plan to write more about, but i wanted it to be read as a reader insert as well! let me know what you think :)
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She had been living in Washington DC for a little over a year now. She moved there for grad school, and some of the excitement had yet to wear off still. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, with all of the good schools nearby and all of the things to do and learn in the capital. It seemed like a busy enough place to never be bored, which was exactly what she wanted. It really had seemed like a smart idea, especially since she hadn’t had any problems since moving there.
Until she did.
She was out with her roommate after classes had ended for the day, enjoying the warm spring day and simply happy to be people watching as they hung out. It had quickly become one of her favorite things since moving there, something she shared with her roommate, Jasmine. She was always glad she and Jazzy got along so well and liked spending time together, often spending time just being out and about like today. 
Jazzy was showing her a small outdoor shopping district just outside of a park. It must’ve been really popular because it was packed with people. People were out walking their dogs, parents were out shopping with their kids, couples and friends were on dates and lounging on the grassy areas. Music was coming from the open doors of one of the stores, loud enough to carry even as you walked away from it. Something smelled good, like fresh bread and cinnamon sugar, and she wanted to follow her nose to figure out where it was coming from. There was a warm breeze that made her shiver whenever they walked in the shade, so she pulled Jazzy away to make sure they stayed in the sun. A few kids ran past them playing tag. It made her smile, she hoped they were having fun. 
She was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed a bit of commotion going on. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was progressively getting louder. From the looks of it, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed as many of the people nearby were looking around as well. It continued to grow louder and louder until she spotted a large group of people running in their direction, all shouting and screaming to get away. A ways behind them, she spotted a group of big looking men in scary looking masks carrying scary looking weapons, all running after them with their weapons pointed forward. Before she could think about how cliche that sounded, she knew they had to get away first. Many people around them were coming to the same conclusion as they all began turning tail and running. She and Jazzy shared a look of understanding before following suit.
As everyone kept running away and the noise was getting louder, another noise caught her attention above all the commotion. She could just barely hear a small voice calling for help, but it was loud enough to get her to stop running. Her head whipped around trying to find whoever it was, wherever it was coming from. Her eyes landed on a little girl sitting on the ground holding a little boy, and even from her distance she could see they were crying.
“MOMMY!” the little girl kept shouting, tears running down her face as she tried to pull the little boy up with her. They had to be brother and sister. She sounded terrified.
She took off before she could think about what she was doing. She could vaguely hear Jazzy calling after her, trying to get her to turn around and come back, but she couldn’t. The only thing on her mind was getting to those kids before they could get hurt. She wouldn’t let that happen.
She slid to a stop and knelt down next to the kids when she got to them, unconcerned about the fact that she tore a hole in her jeans by doing so, nor the bruises and scrapes she no doubt would have on her knees either. The little girl, maybe seven or eight, kept pulling on her brother’s arm trying to get him to move, but he was sat on the ground firmly, bawling his eyes out and refusing to move. She knew he couldn’t have been older than three years old. 
She looked around for anyone who could have been their mother, anyone willing to help, but everyone was running in the opposite direction. She turned her head to see the group of men getting closer and closer, and they were gaining fast. She was the only one around.
“I need to get you out of here,” she said, turning back to the two kids, voice urgent. “I’ll get you back to your mom, I promise.”
She tried to pick up the little boy, who immediately started shouting and fighting when she did so. He was on the verge of a full-blown breakdown, determined to stay exactly where he was no matter what she did. 
“He won’t let anyone but mom pick him up,” the little girl cried, “but I don’t know where mommy is!”
Seeing how frightened they were broke her heart. There was no getting them to move if she couldn’t pick the little boy up, but she couldn’t just leave them. She wouldn’t. She didn’t know what to do, and she was struggling to come up with something fast enough. With another glance over her shoulder, she realized she was out of time. They were too close now, seconds away and coming right towards them. 
“Hold onto him, and don’t let go!” she ordered the girl. Once the girl did as she said, she grabbed both of the kids and held them to her chest, making sure neither of them would get hit as she awaited the inevitable first—and what she expected to be the final—blow to hit. 
She felt a strong gust of air rush over her head, and at the sound of a fight right behind her, she held on tighter to the kids in her arms. She knew this was it. In a heartbeat, it’d be finished. She’d be finished. 
“Are you okay?”
The voice was closer than she expected, making her jump, but it sounded genuinely concerned. Chancing a glance behind her, she was met with a pair of soft brown eyes. 
She looked past the man to see what was going on, only just noticing that the commotion had stopped, and she could see that the group of men were all lying on the ground unconscious with a man holding a shield standing above them. Everyone knew who Captain America was, but she never expected to come across him herself. Knowing that the kids would be safe now, she looked back to the man in front of her and was shocked to see he had a pair of wings on his back. The Falcon. They were positioned in a way that was meant to shield them from any danger. 
She finally looked back at the Falcon. His eyes hadn’t left her the entire time, and he stayed put in front of them, as if he wanted to make sure nothing could happen to them even with the threat gone. 
Instead of answering the man, she turned back to the kids in her arms. They were still crying and scared, she knew they would be, but at least she knew they would be safe now. She scanned over them for any injuries, and once she knew they were unharmed, she cupped the little girl’s face to get her attention. 
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay now. You’re safe,” she assured her, speaking softly to help her calm down a bit. She stroked her cheek to gently wipe away her tears. She felt her own heart beating out of her chest, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. “I’m gonna get you back to your mom now, okay? Let’s go find your mom.” 
She glanced back at the man behind her again, who still hadn’t moved, before she eased the kids up into standing. The weight of the situation was finally catching up to her, her head swimming as she tried her hardest to focus on getting the kids back to their mom before anything else. She kept looking between them and the man who saved them. Stuttering, she said, “I… I need-”
“MOMMY!” the little girl called, grabbing her brother’s hand and running to meet the woman who was running towards them. 
She watched as the older woman dropped to her knees to meet her children in an embrace, her own tears streaming down her face as she held her children to her chest. The woman began kissing all over their faces and on the tops of their heads, and the woman’s voice was just loud enough for her to hear her repeating my babies to the children in her arms.
She was walking towards the family before she knew what she was doing. Her knees were screaming at her causing her to limp slightly, but she didn’t care. She needed to make sure they would be okay. Once she was close enough, the woman looked up at her and a look of gratitude crossed her face. 
“Thank you,” the woman managed to say through her tears. “Thank you for protecting my babies.” For a moment, she thought the woman was talking to the Falcon, the one who actually had saved her kids, but the woman was looking at her. 
“You don’t…” she started, beginning to shake her head, but she knew it would be pointless. Instead, she said, “I’m just glad you and your kids are safe.” 
She watched them a few more moments before the woman gathered her kids up and hurried away from the scene. She couldn’t blame them, she wanted to do the same. 
She suddenly remembered the man who had saved them. The Falcon (she couldn’t get over it). She turned back towards him, and this time she really took him in. His wings had retracted back into his suit, thankfully, as they had been very distracting. He was tall without being towering. His skin looked warm and sun-kissed with sharp cheekbones that made her wonder what he looked like when he smiled. He had a head of short, curly black hair, and those soft brown eyes. Those eyes that were still watching, a strange gleam present that hadn’t been there before. 
She didn’t really know what to say, feeling awkward, but she didn’t need to. Before she could even thank him, he spoke instead.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. Something told her that he wouldn’t leave until he knew she was.
“I’m fine,” she finally answered. She didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not, but she still wasn’t able to focus on how she really felt. The kids were safe, their mother was safe, and as far as she was concerned, that’s all that mattered. And this man made sure of that. “Thank you.”
The man seemed to relax a bit at that, his shoulders losing some of their tension. He opened his mouth to say something else, but another voice cut in. 
“Torres! We gotta go, man!” 
It was Captain America who interrupted (which was something she never thought she’d experience), having just been talking with the police who she hadn’t noticed had arrived. They were hauling the men—masks gone and in handcuffs now—into the backs of the police cars. The hero was inspecting their weapons, clearly waiting for the other man—Torres, apparently—to join back up with him. Torres looked between the two of them, seeming conflicted. Before either of them could say anything, they were once again interrupted. 
The sound of Jazzy calling her name snapped her out of whatever was going on, and she turned to see her roommate running straight towards her. Before she could comprehend what was going on, Jazzy was grabbing her arm and pulling her away, determined to get them away from anything else that might happen. She looked back at the man, Torres, and called out another thank you! before she let her roommate lead her away from the scene. 
In truth, she didn’t think she would ever see him again. Why would she? He was The Falcon, Captain America’s partner and a superhero in his own right. He had to have saved countless people all the time. He probably wasn’t even in DC anymore. There was no way she would see him again. 
But then she did. 
She volunteered at a local elementary school, and today they were taking the fifth graders down to the veterans rehabilitation center. They liked to decorate the walls with pictures and bring flowers for the veterans, wanting to try to brighten their days a bit and thank them for their service while doing so, and she liked being part of it as well. She couldn’t imagine what some of them have gone through, but she would sometimes sit in on the group sessions to try to understand more. It was why she made sure to take the kids there at least once every couple weeks.
“It was so nice seeing you and the kids again, sunshine!” the kind lady at the front desk said as she was getting them ready to leave. It was a nickname she had quickly picked up since they started going there, and it always made her laugh.
“Of course, Laura!” she replied. “I’m just glad they like coming down here as much as I do.”
Laura chuckled lowly. “Your visits always make everyones day. They may not say it often, but they appreciate it. More than you know.”
She smiled softly at that. “We try our best. We just want to show our respect and try to brighten things up for everyone, you know?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, hun. What you do with the kids and for everyone here, not many people would do it. We all appreciate everything you do around here. We appreciate you.”
She looked down bashfully at the older woman’s kind words. She never really knew what to say to that. Her eyes flicked back up to Laura. “Oh, I almost forgot!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small bin. “I know you’ve been wanting to try Jazzy’s brownies.”
The wide grin that appeared on Laura’s face was enough for one to form on her’s as well. She nearly snatched the bin out of her hand, causing her to laugh. “You spoil me, sunshine!”
The two shared a few more words before she checked the time, knowing she needed to leave soon if she didn’t want the bus to leave without her. She said goodbye to Laura with a promise to be back the next week, and the other woman jokingly promised to be ready for more treats. With a wave and another smile to her friend, she began making her way to the front doors. She was in high spirits as she was preparing to leave, paying no mind to the man she passed on her way out until he called out to her. 
“Hey, it’s you!”
She almost didn’t stop, but when she looked around the area and saw it was mostly void of people, she figured it was her he was trying to get the attention of. When she stopped and turned around, her eyes widened when they met the same soft brown ones she first saw just the other day. 
“It’s you,” she repeated, not knowing what to say.
For a moment, she wondered how she could even miss him. Sure, he wasn’t wearing his suit or his wings and seemed, therefore, much less intimidating–not that he seemed intimidating in the first place, but he did save her life, and there’s just something about meeting a superhero face to face that makes a person feel overly self-aware. Without the suit on, you wouldn’t even assume he was a superhero, though in her head she was kicking herself because of course that was the point. He just seemed so normal, and she felt like she could pay more attention now that her life wasn’t on the line. He wore a dark green jacket over a black shirt and jeans, a pair of sunglasses hanging from one of the pockets. His shoulders filled out his jacket well, subtly showing off his built but lean muscles. Part of her wished she could remember what they looked like in his suit when they were more noticeable, and she mentally kicked herself again for thinking that about a complete stranger. His dark curls were styled simply and looked soft to the touch, and she was sure they were. 
Those eyes, though. Unlike before, his soft eyes were looking at her in pleasant surprise rather than concern, his lips quirking up in what was almost a smile. But that weird gleam she saw before was still there, and if anything, it was much more apparent than before.
It took her a few more seconds to realize neither one of them had said anything, her eyes glancing off to the side as her mind raced for something to say. He must’ve realized the same thing because his eyes widened suddenly, taking a step toward her once he knew he had her attention. 
“Sorry, um,” he began, searching for his words, “I just didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but I’m glad I did. How are you doing, after what happened?”
Her eyes widened slightly again, surprised by his words. “I-I’m doing fine,” she answered, but she wasn’t sure how much she believed herself. She added, “‘ve just been trying to get back to normal, is all.”
He seemed satisfied enough with her answer and started to nod, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
His words surprised her again. In a burst of confidence, she replied with, “Well, I did have someone to save me.”
His smile grew as he looked down sheepishly, and she thought she heard him say just doing my job under his breath. When he looked back up at her, she thought she liked seeing that gleam in his eyes, especially when he smiled. She thought happiness looked good on him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked gently, suddenly remembering where she still was. 
“Oh, I’m here to meet my partner,” he answered. “He helps out with the counseling sessions when he can. But I’ve got some information I need to discuss with Cap.”
Somehow, it didn’t surprise her to hear that about Captain America. In fact, it made her respect him even more for trying to help people on a more personal level, not just fighting as a superhero. Saving lives on all fronts, she was sure. But the way he talked about why he was there was just vague enough to pique her interest, and just telling enough for her to understand she shouldn’t pry. She was going to find a way to politely remove herself from the conversation, but he spoke again before she could.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, repeating her own question. He cringed at the way it came out, so he quickly added, “I just mean, this is the last place I expected to see you. Are you in the military?”
She shook her head, nearly chuckling. “No, I’m not. The school I volunteer at brings some of the older students down here every few weeks. We like to bring flowers and write cards, you know, to try to show our respect and appreciation. Try to brighten up people’s days where we can.”
“You do all this?” He asked, gesturing toward the decorations on the walls and the flowers here and there. His eyes had widened in surprise again, and it was her turn to look down bashfully this time. 
“Not just me. It’s the kids, mostly, but I like to help out.”
He looked impressed, and something about the look on his face and those damn eyes caused her face to heat up. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. 
“Well, I can confidently say that I’m not the only one around here who loves seeing all of the notes and decorations,” he said softly, the smile on his face filling her with a sense of warmth she hadn’t felt before. “It’s amazing what you’ve been doing. We all appreciate what you do. And the kids, of course.”
Something told her that he was speaking more for himself than he was for everyone else, and somehow she knew that he meant it toward her directly. The thought made her smile.
His face suddenly got more serious, though, instantly making her feel nervous. “What you did the other day, with those two kids, too. That was amazing.”
That was not something she was expecting, and she definitely didn’t know how to respond to it. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down, suddenly feeling shy. “I did what anyone would do.”
But he was already shaking his head. “No, really. You saved those kids. I may be the one with wings, but you’re the real hero. It was incredible.”
When she glanced back up at him, she saw that a small smile had reappeared on his lips, and somehow, it was enough to ease some of the tension in her shoulders. It was enough to comfort her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, and it made her feel seen in a way she never had. All with one look, which is what really surprised her. She knew deflecting would be useless, so she settled with telling him, barely loud enough for him to hear, “Thank you.” And she meant it more than he knew.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked one final time.
She wanted to laugh that he wouldn’t let it go so easily. “I am, or I will be. I promise,” she answered, and she knew she was telling the truth this time. “Besides, this wouldn’t be my first time in a situation like that, and I’m sure it won’t be my last.” Now that got a good reaction out of him, even though it was the truth.
“Speaking of the kids, though,” she said before he could think about it too much, checking the time again and realizing she’d officially run out of time, “I have to get going so I don’t get left behind.” She looked him over one more time, trying to memorize as much as she could, before she began to turn away. “It was nice to see you again, and to talk. And thank you, again, for saving me.”
His smile warmed her from the inside out. “If it meant getting to see you again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
She forced herself not to shudder before turning around. She had only made it a few more steps before he suddenly stopped her again. 
“Wait!” he called, almost too loudly for the quiet hallway. “I didn’t ever get your name!”
She wanted to kick herself again. How had they gone this entire conversation without learning each other’s names? She glanced back over her shoulder, seeing that he had barely moved from his spot. With a warm smile directed at him, she told him her name.
Another smile began to form on his face in return, and it looked like he repeated her name under his breath. Their eyes met a final time before he responded with his own. “I’m Joaquin. It was really nice to meet you, too.”
She turned around before he could catch the wide grin that was beginning to form on her face against her will and tried to rush out of there as subtly as she could. As she went, she could just hear him, Joaquin, repeat her name a second time, and even from where she was she could hear a smile in his tone. She left the building with a bounce in her step and a warm feeling in her chest. 
All because of the Falcon who saved her.
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tom-whore-dleston · 1 year
Text
Home is Wherever I'm With You
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Pairing ▹ roommate!Joaquin Torres x f. reader
This fic contains ▹ fluff, some angst, implied smut, idiots in love, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, smoking weed, hospitals, mention of gunshots, a lot of pancakes
Word Count ▹ 2k
Summary ▹ Oh, home, let me come home | Home is wherever I'm with you
Notes ▹ Finally got around to completing my submission for @the-slumberparty’s Across the Universe (week 4) challenge. This fic is inspired by this moodboard from an old sleepover. Feel free to listen to the playlist for extra vibes! This is unbeta'ed so I take full responsibility for all the errors. Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed! 😊
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You didn’t understand the phrase “home is where the heart is'' until you moved in with Joaquin Torres.
This living arrangement happened by chance, a chance that you were grateful to have stumbled upon. After deciding it was time for you to leave the nest, you found a place for rent that also had a few other roommates. One of them being Joaquin.
You met Joaquin and the other roommates before moving in with them. Luckily, you all hit it off right away and settled in fairly quickly. But you found yourself really close to Joaquin. He was the one roommate that had a similar schedule to yours. You both would wake up late in the morning before heading to work, and then come home in the darkest hours of the night. 
The first time you discovered how late Joaquin returned home from work was the night your friendship began. After coming home from a long day, you decided to treat yourself to a batch of pancakes. The rest of your roommates were heavy sleepers so you rarely disturbed them. Since you were occupied with the pancakes, you didn’t hear Joaquin come through the door. He waltzed into the kitchen upon smelling the pancakes and crept up behind you. 
“I bet those would taste amazing with bananas,” Joaquin commented nonchalantly. You whipped your head around, swatting the spatula in his direction and accidentally coating his nose with batter.
“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You gasped, attempting to clean the mess from his face. “I thought you were an intruder. I didn’t mean to hurt you…or cover you in pancake batter.”
Joaquin snickered. “Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt me at all. But I admire your self defense skills. I think that will give me motivation to keep the bathroom clean.”
You joined in his laughter. “I think I made enough for you if you’d like some pancakes. You might have to slice your own bananas, though.” 
With that, you and your roommate shared the short stacks while getting to know one another better. This ritual of late night snacks after work persisted until the conversations grew louder to the point of accidentally waking one of your other roommates. Since that incident, you and Joaquin decided it would be best to meet one another at the 24 hour diner down the street. 
Over time, your roommates moved out one by one until you and Joaquin were left to hold down the fort. The two of you living together consisted of movie binges on the weekends, checking out the monthly farmer’s market, dancing while cleaning the perimeter of the house, and taking walks along your street during sunset. Slowly, but surely, you were falling deeply in love with Joaquin. 
You knew you had strong feelings for him when you both decided to buy a bookshelf for your ever growing book collection. While building the bookshelf, you jammed the hammer against your finger, causing you to shriek in pain and the rest of your body to go numb. All you remembered before blacking out was your roommate rushing to your side and carrying you out the house bridal style. A few hours later, you woke up in the hospital with a cast wrapped around your finger and a relieved Joaquin holding a bouquet of roses and baby's breaths. The smell of the flowers and his sweet, handsome face instantly brought you comfort.
“Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” You asked upon noticing the time on your bedside.
“I told Sam what happened and he ordered that I stay here with you.” You gave him a sad look, feeling bad that your clumsiness caused him to miss out at work. Joaquin smiled, patting your hand. “Don’t worry, Sam is understanding.” The softness of his hand against yours sent butterflies to your stomach. Your heart began to swell as if it would explode inside your chest from all the feelings you were experiencing in that moment. His touch, his smile, his affection for you. It was all clear to you then. You were in love with Joaquin Torres. 
After returning home from the hospital, Joaquin spent the entire week by your side, making sure you were taken care of. Sure, you were a grown up and could care for yourself, but you appreciated how your roommate reminded you that you don’t have to be alone in the healing process. He would sing softly while tending to your finger and let you smoke some of his weed to ease the pain. Once you started feeling better, you and Joaquin finished building the bookcase together and he offered to read one of his favorite stories to you.
One day while Joaquin read to you, Sam called him, notifying him of an emergency assignment and was expected to leave right away. The night before he left, you and Joaquin crashed on the couch after getting high and watching an alien documentary on Netflix. You fell asleep before he did, and, naturally, your body curled up next to his as you dozed off. He listened to your snores for a few minutes before planting a tender peck on top of your head. Before he knew it, Joaquin drifted off to sleep.
You woke up alone in the living room, searching for Joaquin. Instead, you were met with a note on the coffee table.
Sorry I couldn’t give a proper goodbye. You looked so peaceful sleeping, I would have been a horrible friend to wake you up. I’ll see you in a month!
-J
While your roommate was away on mission, you spent your days sulking and missing him. You tried to go on with your routine as if he was still there, but things felt empty and meaningless. The pancakes from the diner didn’t taste as fluffy when you ate alone. The music you listened to while cleaning the house didn’t lift your mood the way it did with Joaquin. His favorite stories didn’t sweep you away to another world the way it did when he read them. The flowers around your house died faster, even though you tended to them the same way you always had. You didn’t even bother taking walks or going to the farmer’s market by yourself. It was the longest month you had ever experienced in your life. 
Meanwhile, Joaquin could not wait to fly back home to you. The days were long and draining, and it seemed as if he and Sam were constantly running into dead ends. What kept him motivated during this difficult mission was a photo booth strip he kept of you and him at the summer fair. Even though looking at the pictures made him miss you dearly, he was hopeful of the day he would reunite with him.
“Is that the roommate?” Sam inquired from behind Joaquin’s shoulder. The Falcon’s cheeks warmed up and he began smiling like a smitten school boy. Joaquin didn’t need to say anything for Sam to know what was on his mind.
“So, are you ever going to tell her you love her?” Captain America added with a quirked eyebrow. 
“I’ve been wanting to. I just get nervous.” Joaquin peered down at his combat boots. “She’s my best friend, Sam. I don’t want to ruin that.”
“Ouch, and after all we’ve been through, I thought I was your best friend.” Sam’s joke led to Joaquin letting out a small chuckle. “No, but seriously, you will feel much more free once you just tell her.” The younger lad nodded, imagining all the best case scenarios of confessing his love for you. His daydreams of you were cut off by the gunshots that echoed in the distance.
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The end of the month finally rolled around, yet there was no sign of Joaquin. Anxiety took over your body as you wondered why he hasn’t come home yet. Part of you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but your sadness made your mind wander to anything and everything that could have gone wrong. You dragged yourself to work as you have been doing for the entirety of Joaquin’s absence. While you worked, you stared at the matching photo booth strip pinned to the wall of your office. A hot tear streamed down your cheek, longing to see Joaquin’s face and hear his voice again.
After work, you came home, ready to settle into your comfy bed. You sighed loudly as you hopped out of your car, slamming the driver’s door shut and locking it behind you. All of a sudden, your eyes landed on a motorcycle that you haven’t seen in over a month. Then, you saw light coming from inside the house. Could it be?
You ripped off your work pumps, bolting into the house barefoot in hopes that your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you. As you entered through the front door, the delicious scent of bananas and vanilla filled your nostrils. Your heart bursted at the seams upon the sight you found in the kitchen. Joaquin was humming along to your favorite song while drizzling a stack of banana pancakes with syrup. As if sensing your presence, he beamed a sparkling smile while turning to face you. 
“I came home an hour ago to an empty home. Figured you were still at work and you’d probably be hungry when you come back.” He paused, glancing at the plate on the counter. “I made sure to add bananas this time.”
Your lips trembled as you fought the urge to cry. You wanted to run and jump into his arms, feel his warmth bring you back to life, kiss the lips you have been aching to taste for an entire year. All you could do was drop your bag and heels by your side as you succumbed to the tears that fell from your face. Joaquin took that as his signal to step closer to you. He caressed your face, wiping the tears from your eyes. 
“I missed you,” you croaked, finally embracing him tightly. Your hearts beat in sync with one another, as if that was the way the universe wanted it.
“I missed you too.” He stroked the back of your head before making space to gaze into your glossy eyes. “It’s hard to be away from the girl I am madly in love with.” You couldn’t help but let out a tearful giggle at the words that left Joaquin’s mouth. It felt as if all of your wildest dreams were coming true. Yet it was only the beginning.
“Being The Falcon requires me to travel the world so often, and to see places I’ve always wanted to visit. But none of that matters to me because despite where I go, I find myself wanting to be wherever you are instead.”
“I love you, Joaquin.” You started to close the space between you and him. The tips of your noses brushed together, the heat from your breaths mingling like your feelings for one another.
“I love you, too, cariño.” With that, he finally pressed his lips against yours. You kissed one another with a passion that no one could snuff out. His lips were sweeter than the pancakes that were long neglected on the counter. Joaquin lifted you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you to the couch where you both professed your love throughout the rest of the night.
When you both woke up the next morning, bare bodies intertwined under the thin blanket, you felt a sense of belonging. It was unfamiliar to the two of you, but it was a feeling you accepted with open arms. You and Joaquin were both hopeful of the future that you were ready to build together like the bookcase filled with stories you hoped would become your reality. After locking eyes for what seemed like eternity, Joaquin kissed you with fervor, and you picked up where you left off from last night.
He was home, and so were you.
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Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Joaquin Torres Masterlist
164 notes · View notes
rqgnarok · 8 months
Text
catalogue - sam wilson
fandom: marvel, the falcon & the winter soldier
wc: 4,368
warnings: implied smut, mentions of injuries and scars, blood and bruises. neutral pronouns, no use of (y/n).
summary: you and sam don’t get to see each other often, but when you do, there’s a ritual you insist on going through to deal with your time apart. 
masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi
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You’re a sight for Sam’s sore eyes. 
He hasn’t seen you in over six months. It’s an occupational hazard, he knows, but it’s the worst. Being the Falcon made his personal life take a step back in his list of priorities, and becoming Captain America meant setting the list on fire and declaring Sam Wilson’s downtime practically nonexistent. As far as he’s aware, Sarah and the boys are the only exceptions to the rule.
It’s not all on him. You’re an Avenger, too, even if you’re semi-retired. Semi, because the new kids still look for guidance as much as they can and you still keep a room at the Avengers compound because of it, even if scarcely decorated. 
You make your entrance by scaring the shit out of him because of course, you have to. 
“Is this what you call watching your six?”
Sam puffs out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. It’s always an interesting mix of emotions with you, Sam has never felt so safe and yet unbalanced than when he’s in your presence. It creates a sort of vacuum in his belly that has him feeling like a kid with a crush, but he’ll die before he ever admits that to anyone. Especially you.
“You know you don’t have to sneak up on me every time.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” you quip, raising your brows and extending a hand that Sam takes to haul himself back on his feet. You click your tongue. “Gotta say, though, it’s a little less charming now that you’re Captain America. Where does that leave national security?”
Sam rolls his eyes so hard he’s about to give himself a headache, dusting off his ass and giving you a quick once-over, taking advantage of your sudden closeness to do so freely. “Thank Jesus the world still has you, then.”
“Only half time,” you shrug, unaware that Sam knows you’ve spent more time at the Avengers compound than your own apartment lately. If he has a few eyes that check up on you when you’re there, well. It’s only cause he worries. “You and Barnes playing in the Big Leagues leaves a lot of unfinished business for little guys like us.”
“Says the little guy who’s been to space,” Sam uses the same argument he always does when you try to downplay your importance in the job you do. It’s like a script, these meetings of yours, always under the excuse of responsibility until it’s not– until the conversation flows into what Sam has been aching for since the last time he saw you. 
You roll your eyes like he knew you would. You’ve been an Avenger since before they had the name for it, so if anyone deserves the semi-retirement, Sam concedes, it’s gotta be you. He won’t pretend it won’t be a big hit when you choose to walk away completely, though. Whether that’s to the business or Sam’s life, well. That’s another conversation.
He misses you. It’s hardly a crime. 
“And they’ve still got us doing intel like we’re rookies,” you shrug, lessening your significance anyway. As if you weren’t up there in the cosmos chasing after freaking Thanos, but Sam won’t argue with you about this. You already spend so little time together to waste it building conflicts between you.
“Please,” Sam’s a professional, so he doesn’t make a bitchface and say girl with disbelief coating his tone, but judging from the amusement that glints in your eyes, you read through the lines with ease. “Like we’d let the children anywhere near this.”
“Okay, Dad,” you snort. “How are Torres and Barnes anyway?”
“The kid and his grandpa are fine,” he goes for annoyed but his grin is boyish and unrestrained. “Jealous they weren’t authorized to drop by. This is practically a vacation, you know.”
You shake your head, but all in good fun. “If your bosses have you thinking that then you desperately need some real downtime.”
“This is as close as it gets, these days.” 
Torres had flown him all the way to Switzerland just so Sam could go and spend a few weeks in a rustic, semi-abandoned town on the outskirts of the city where an old SHIELD safehouse still stood against all odds. 
Why he had to go to the other side of the world for some intel, he asked and got no answer. Now it comes to mind how he has no idea where you– his contact– have been stationed lately nor what kind of work you’ve been pulling for whoever it is you answer to these days.
You don’t tell him about it, and he’s quit on trying to ask. Whether it’s because you don’t think he’ll approve of what you’re doing or because it’s strictly classified, Sam doesn’t know. 
“Blink twice if they’re holding you hostage,” you say in all seriousness, and he peels his eyes at you without blinking, getting close to your face. You laugh, pushing him away. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re one with the nation. Let me show you these files and see what Mr. America makes of ‘em.”
The physical files you actually bring with you are minimal, and most of the data you’ve been ordered to skim through is kept in a USB you hand to Sam as soon as the coffee has kicked in. Neither of you are exactly sure what it is you’re looking for so you’re stuck in the studio of the tiny, look-at-me-wrong-and-I’ll-crumble safe house for over three whole days before you finally start gathering some worthy intel.
“I was told we’d known when we found it,” you shrug, not visibly bothered by the fact that you’ve most likely been sent on a wild goose chase. “Or if we didn’t. We might go back empty-handed after all.”
It’s not encouraging but it’s what you’ve got, even if Sam isn’t sure he’s able to be out of commission for that long. He’s realized people get antsy when Captain America isn’t seen somewhere in the world after a few days, but despite how hard he tries he’s not able to be in two places at once.
“Yet,” he tells you when you take a food break and you allow him to rant about these troubles. “Haven’t figured it out yet, but Steve kind of managed it after a few years, right?”
“Steve was superhuman,” you remind him helpfully behind your coffee cup. You’d found some old whiskey at the back of a cabinet and doused your drink with it, so you make a face when it goes down. 
“You don’t think I’m super?”
“I think you’re something, alright.”
“Aw. That was almost a compliment.”
“Can’t let it get to your head, hotshot. Ego’s already too big for your body.”
It’s so fucking domestic Sam feels the ache of it in his teeth. You, sitting at the table in your tiny kitchen while he sits on the counter, each drinking your coffee how you like it as the sun sets through the window above the sink. Talking for hours until you realize you’re practically sitting in the dark as the afternoon flew by while you were taken with each other’s company. 
But then you go back to looking at intel until your eyes are burning and you excuse yourself to pass out on the couch. You do it almost half an hour to the dot before Sam gives up himself, and he’s pretty sure you know enough of his tells to know when he’s getting tired and make an early escape so he doesn’t take the couch himself. 
“You take the bed,” he’d offered the first night, having a little trouble not making it sound like an order. By how you’d raised your eyebrow, he’d failed by a mile. “God knows where you’re sleeping these days. It’s the least I can do after dragging you all the way out here.”
“You’re the one who keeps saying he’s on vacation,” you take your bags from his hands and drop them unceremoniously on the coffee table, marking the living room territory as yours. “And I’m sure the US government will kill me if I bring you back with a fucked up back.”
He almost suggested you could share. You have before, both out of necessity and leisure, but Sam’s sure that topic’s on the list of Things Not To Talk To You About. It might be the first one up there, in all caps and underlined with bright red. 
Sam has both held you down to fuck your brains out and held your bleeding body in his hands, pressing against a gunshot wound to keep blood flow to a minimum. It’s a fucked up type of intimacy he doesn’t share with anyone else, but he’s still hesitant to bring it up. Somehow both events keep happening whether he intends for them or not. 
It’s like he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, and it finally does on the fifth day of your assignment. 
You ultimately get a lead from the USB. It guides you to search for a random code you insist it’s on a file you’d read through already. You make a noise of victory under your breath when you spot it across the table and when you shift to reach for it, your breath hitches.
It’s a quiet thing Sam wouldn’t be able to acknowledge if he weren’t good at his job, but he is. 
“What is it?” he asks, suddenly alert, fingers twitching with the urge to hover over you worriedly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head. Whatever shadow of hesitance had fallen over you is pulled back into place, tucked away for Sam to blissfully ignore. 
You both know that shit won’t fly, but Sam thinks it’s cute you try anyway.
He stares at you and you avoid his eye long enough, face buried in the file, to know you know he’s noticed. It’s a silent request to let it pass. 
Tough fucking luck. Sam calls your name, admonishing.
“Sam,” you say right back at him in the same tone, still not looking at him. Sam grinds his teeth in annoyance, jaw tight. 
“Are you hurt?”
You shake your head. “I’m fine. You know how it is.”
It’s not a no. 
“I do know,” Sam agrees, but his mood’s a short fuse. “Are you grounded? Is that why you’re here? Because you’re hurt?”
Fucking jackpot. You exhale through your nose and tighten your jaw at the question but refuse to answer. You’re a couple of feet apart, divided by the desk filled with files and information, but somehow this is the closest he’s felt to you since you got here. 
You’d been hiding something since the beginning; taking the couch when you could’ve been sharing the bed from the start, touching him less than usual so things wouldn’t go further, and moving around the house with rigid, calculated movements.
“Manning the desk,” he says with a little too much bite, and he can physically watch your hackles rise; the annoyance in your eyes when they finally meet his, the biting of your cheek to stop yourself from rising to his sudden passive-aggressive hostility. “Handing me files, giving me intel. You’re flying halfway across the world to keep yourself out of the field.”
“Sam,” you say through gritted teeth. 
“You’re hurt,” he replies, not a question, nodding at your torso. It’s all suddenly painstakingly clear, the past week flashing through his mind like a movie from a different point of view. “And you’re hiding it from me, for some reason.”
“Is that all, Captain?” you ask, creating distance with the use of his new title in a way he despises and you know he does. You’re good at that, finding where it hurts and pressing methodically until the skin gives. Sam’s just not used to the trick being used on him. “Or is there something else about my person that you’ve figured out and have yet to enlighten me about?”
“Let me see,” he ignores you. It's easier than trying to match your level of cruel cleverness.  He stands to cross over to your side of the desk, staring down at you expectantly with arms crossed. “Come on, show me.”
“No,” you deadpan, but the way you wrap your arms carefully around yourself shows the defensiveness underneath your nonchalance. “Sam, come on, what the hell are you doing?”
“If you’re not hurt, then show me,” he insists but doesn’t reach to touch you without your permission. It’s a line he won’t cross. 
“Is that an order, sir?” you snap.
“I’m not your superior,” he replies, even though he is, technically, but not when you’re alone. Not when you’re hurt. “I’m your friend. And right now my friend is in pain, I’d like to be able to do something about it.”
“Like what?” you ask, and it’s as exhausted as it is conflictive. Thunder rumbles outside the house and inside Sam’s chest, two storms coming in. “Huh, Sam? What are you gonna do? It’s part of the damned job. Don’t tell me you’re injury-free right now.”
Sam isn’t. Both old and newer scars put a heaviness on his body he’s not supposed to carry, but he’s not the one hiding right now. 
“I can hold you,” he offers and watches the way you look away, imagining the sting in your eyes as they glisten with sudden tears. You very visibly refuse to shed them, tightening your jaw and passing saliva like it’s gravel. “If you’d let me. Let’s not pretend we haven’t done it before.”
“It’s different now.”
“Why?” he wonders, brow furrowing. He does his best to relax his stance and reaches to touch your tight fists where they lay on your lap. With his fingertips barely there on your skin, the tension bleeds out of them like magic almost against your will. “Because I’m Captain America? Because you won’t tell me where you’re stationed half the time?”
“It’s–”
“Classified,” he finishes for you, unmoved. “But you’re still you, and I’m still me. As far as I’m aware, that doesn’t change a damned thing.”
You close your eyes like the words pain you, resolve crumbling right before Sam’s eyes. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”
“Then don’t,” from Sam’s perspective, it’s as simple as that. “Let me see. Let me be with you, please. The last week has been torture.”
You let out a breath of a laugh that’s a little too miserable. “You’re telling me,” you say, and the slope of your shoulders falls from its tense, defensive curve. Sam takes it as the green light it is.   
You stand straighter as he kneels in front of you, his hands hovering over the hem of your shirt. He looks to you for permission and you give him a tight nod, staring at the wall instead of him, gulping down your anxieties.
Sam’s breath catches when he lifts your shirt and sees your torso, skin showered in black, blue, purple, and green bruises. “Jesus.”
“It’s worse than it looks,” you say automatically. Sam can’t see how that’s true. It looks like it hurts to even breathe, it’s unbelievable how you were able to hide it from him for so long. “Nothing’s broken, I swear.”
“What the hell happened?” he asks even if he knows you can’t– or won’t– answer. You sigh, and he watches blemished skin shake with the effort it takes. 
“I’m alright,” you say instead of the answer he wants, but your voice has softened and lost all fight response. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve been with him since you arrived and it has nothing to do with showing your skin. “Hey, I’m okay. That assignment’s over for good. I’m not going back there, I promise.”
The sigh of relief Sam lets out is shaky and doesn’t relinquish all the tension he’s been carrying. The possibilities of what must’ve happened are gonna haunt him long after this mission’s over. 
“I hate it,” he says, and he knows you know what he means. Not knowing where you are, spending more than half the year apart with zero contact, this unease between you that doesn’t let you be honest. 
You say, tired. “I know. Sam–”
Sam isn’t touching you– not yet. He’s careful so there’s no skin-to-skin contact, and you look at him with guarded eyes when he lowers your shirt back into place, standing up and towering over you. 
“What?”
You breathe air out of your nose, frustrated. “You know.”
A beat. “You sure?” he says, as plainly as he can with the tension that’s grown between you pulling him forward.
“Yes.”
He hums.
“Oh. You gonna let me touch you now, then?” he asks, still under the excuse of medical purposes only. But Sam can’t help the way his voice deepens, molten like honey. His eyes trail over skin that isn’t blemished: the curve of your neck, the lines of your arms, the slope of your fingers. 
You shiver under the attention, helpless to hide such a reaction to his voice. “Mmm? Honey?”
“Fuck you,” you say automatically, already opening your legs slightly for Sam to slip in between them, reaching for your jaw. You close your eyes at the touch, sighing away whatever tension remained in you. 
You’re too fucking easy, despite the fight you insisted on going through before letting yourself be touched, and something in Sam’s belly tightens at the idea of it being just for him.
Sam’s hands remain on your jaw and throat as he tilts your head up for a kiss, slow and deep, lingering. It’s not long before you open up for him, his tongue sliding into your mouth like it was always meant to be there, coaxing a whine from you while you search for steadiness and settle your hands on his belt. Not pulling, not searching for more– not yet– but keeping him close. 
The storm comes and goes and the files in the studio remain forgotten. Sam finally gets you on the bed and, better yet, with him in it. 
He’s a little too careful, hands cupping your ribs with extreme caution after finally getting rid of your shirt for good and laying you down against the sheets. You roll your eyes fondly and grab onto his wrists to direct him where you want him. 
He doesn’t complain as he takes your directions. The man will greedily take anything you give him in calloused, expert hands as he does his best to pull sounds out of you that are music to his ears. 
After it’s over, you both lay in bed, naked and breathless. You find a new scar on him and trace the ragged line of skin gently with your fingertip, touch featherlight, almost nonexistent. It’s been over half a year since you last did this, but only a couple of months since he got himself injured and stitched up by Bucky in the Brazilian jungle. “This one’s new.”
It had been a quick job, good enough considering the circumstances, which is to say Sam now has an ugly, uneven scar a couple of inches above his hipbone that saved him from bleeding out on his partner.
The memory holds no gentleness, but your fingers do. The haze of his previous orgasm leaves Sam pliant under your touch, melted against the sheets and uncaring of your scrutiny. “Barnes?”
Sam makes an affirmative noise, a valid enough question since sometimes he’s admitted to doing patchwork on himself for the sake of the mission, uncaring of how bad it hurts as long as it’s quick and efficient.
“Did it hurt?”
“Like hell,” he admits, feeling safe enough to do so in the cocoon you’ve built for yourselves. Sam runs a hand up and down your naked back as if trying to soothe the brunt of the memory. “Did the job, though. Got us out alive.”
At that, you lean to kiss the skin, only slipping a bit of tongue into it. Sam sighs, ignoring the prick of discomfort that’s trying to crawl up his spine and leaning towards the softer, more tender sentiment that takes over him whenever you get like this. It’s not easy for him to accept such gentleness, to let himself be cared for and lay there, unable to give something back.
He will, in a minute. But he knows you like him like this, and that alone pins him down in his place to let you work. It’d be hypocritical of him, he thinks as his hips twitch with renowned interest, to not let you fret after him when his own worry is what got you here in the first place.
After you’re satisfied, you trail the path Sam’s grown accustomed to, the very same you follow every time you sleep together after a terribly long amount of time: 
The knife scar under his pec from when they were chasing after Bucky, still the Winter Solider, superficial enough not to have caused concern at the time. The mark from when he got his appendix out, thinking nothing of the stabbing aches to his belly until he was doubling over in his bed and waking up half his platoon as he retched in the bathroom.
The dot on his finger where Riley accidentally stabbed him with a pencil once, sleep deprived and with two shots of whiskey on him. The wound had healed with ease but the mark made a permanent home on his skin, barely visible unless you leaned in close enough to look for it.
The scab on his knee from falling off his bike when he was six. Sarah had screeched bloody murder until their parents came out of the house to see what all the fuss was about. The scar left behind by a bullet on his right shoulder during his second tour in Afghanistan. 
The cut on his lip he got shaving for the first time is always last on your list. Sam has long stopped calling you out on it, how convenient it was that the cataloging of his scars always ended with a thorough, slow kiss to his mouth that usually bloomed into a second round. 
He found that you got skittish when he did so, pulling back into yourself and laying tensely in bed for a couple more minutes before you started looking around for your clothes, called out.
Now Sam only cups your jaw, tugs a little so it opens your mouth and he can slip in his tongue and steal a taste of your sigh. He wants you like this for as long as possible; vulnerable, unguarded, desperate to touch him and be touched back. Safe enough to know that you never have to ask for something he wants to give you so willingly. 
You always forget. The second you meet again, you have to start the whole dance over. Fish for excuses to meet each other in the middle, hoping for new scars to lengthen your time together. 
Sam isn’t a masochist by any means, and he’s not an adrenaline junkie asshat who chases the danger just to have proof on his skin that he can take all the grievances life throws at him.
But. But–
“We’re alright,” you say against his mouth, body warm and seeking on top of his. He’s mindful of your injuries but can’t help himself, the urge to touch you overrules any other instinct he owns. It makes him weak, on the field, but happy off of it. “Aren’t we? We’re gonna be alright.”
“‘Course we are, honey,” his southern charm pops out and you’re both parts equally pleased and unamused, a funny expression on your face that has him laughing as he cups the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss. “What? What’s with the face?”
“Nothin’, pumpkin,” you imitate his accent and Sam focuses his ministrations on your jaw and neck, trying to get you to break character. “We’re gonna be just fine, sugar plum. You’re sure lookin’ very pretty tonight, peach fuzz.”
Sam splutters out a laugh. “Peach fuzz?”
“That’s what you sound like!”
“See if I ever call you something nice ever again.”
“You can’t resist me,” you say seriously, though a smile keeps trying to break your facade. “You literally lasted five days before taking me to bed. That’s on being weak, Wilson.”
“Some might say it’s a world record for me, baby,” he says, poking at your face until you show teeth, happy and at ease in his arms. “The six months before that were a little bit of a stretch, too.”
Your mood dampens a little but Sam won’t let it, nudging his nose against yours to catch your attention again. “Hey. What did I just say? We’re gonna be alright. Five days, six months, five years, it’s nothing. They mean shit when I get to see you again.”
The mention of the Snap unguards you further. He’d been gone while you tried to keep your life together, ignoring the Sam-shaped void in your surroundings. The first time you got together after he came back had been tainted by the grief of losing three of the best people you’d ever known, and he’d done his own reconnaissance of your skin as he took in new scars, new hurts that had happened and healed while he was gone.
You smile again, but it’s softer, fonder, a tender tilt of the lips for the man you managed to find in this chaotic line of work that became your whole life.
In another five days, you’ll once more be on opposite ends of the world without any idea of when you’ll see each other again or what new marks you’ll have on your skin that describe your time apart. You haven’t even put a name to this– this relationship that both of you are still too hesitant to define as such, but that’s okay. 
It’s okay. It’s more than enough. The path of scars will be there to take when you meet again, permanent proof that you’ve survived to find the way to each other over and over and over again. The map that leads to you, every goddamn time.
___
hi!!!
hope you like this one! i’ve been putting this fic on the back burner for almost a month now, but i’m so glad to finally have finished it! i hope to put out the tommy miller sequel for dial drunk next week before school starts :)
thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, etc.!
<3
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five-miles-over · 2 months
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Joaquin Phoenix Characters
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Tom Hiddleston Characters
Benedict Cumberbatch Characters - Coming Soon!
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multific · 2 years
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The King and His Queen
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Joker x Reader
Words: 3.7K
Summary: Waking up in the hospital, unsure who you were, you believed what the nurses told you, that is until one day, when you got home and found a strange man in your home.
Going shopping, the last thing on your list was flour. You planned on baking some sweets for yourself and your husband this weekend. 
Well deserved after a long week of work for both of you.
After paying and walking out, you looked around, you let out a sigh before you headed home. It was way too hot, thankfully you didn't live far from the store.
With many groceries in your hands, you finally arrived at your door. As you opened it, you felt uneasy for some reason. You weren't sure why but you went ahead. Even if everything in you screamed to turn around and run.
You closed the door behind yourself and headed to the kitchen to put your things away.
After letting out a sigh, you washed your hands, dried them and you headed to your living room.
You stopped dead in your tracks.
You had a simple sofa, one part of it was always in the corner, dark, you always thought it would be able to hide a person and this time, there is someone sitting in the darkness.
Your curtains were pulled so it was even darker. You couldn't speak.
"Wh-Who are you?" you managed to say even if your throat felt dry.
"They tried really hard to hide you, gave you a fake name and life even."
"M-My husband will be back soon... you better leave he is a military man."
"Of course. Your husband will be back soon. That fucker."
You didn't understand a thing, but Michael told you that he had a gun hidden in the cupboard in the kitchen in case of emergency if you could just run for it.
"I'm here to take you back, where you belong Pumpkin, and you are mine." he leaned forward, the light illuminating his face finally and your blood ran cold, The Joker. The King of Crime in Gotham. 
Why was he saying you were his? What was going on? You knew he was a very sick individual but to do this... this is another level.
"Please just leave, I won't call the police, just please."
"Y/N, you will come with me and you will remember." the way he talked, he was way too serious, you didn't like that, and why did he call you Y/N? That is not your name!
"L-look Mister Joker, I-I have no idea what you are talking about." you started to walk towards the kitchen. "I'm not who you are looking for."
He let out a sigh.
"The gun in the kitchen? Really? That's your plan? You are a trained assassin and you go for the obvious? Your mind really did get fucked up."
You freeze once again.
Assassin? You? What was he talking about?
"I-I-"
"His name is not Michael either. He is a fake just like your life is. His real name is Ben or some shit."
"Duncan." said a man to your right making you jump as you looked at the tall man who just emerged from your bedroom.
"That's it Frost! Whatever, he is a policeman, trying to catch me and they decided to use you, however they didn't expect me to find you before they even had a plan."
This was all too much.
"I have no idea what you are talking about!"
"Of course, you don't Princess, amnesia is a real bitch." as he moved his hand the multiple gold bracelets on his arm moved, making sounds.
"Amnesia?"
---
One Week Ago
Frost got out of the car, he wanted to light a cigarette but the voice of his wife in his head stopped him, so he let out a sigh, he looked across the street before deciding to go and get some water from the store while he had some time.
He was about to pay when he noticed someone in the other line. 
Undeniably, it was you. He couldn't believe his eyes, he rushed out of the store and waited outside. 
He wanted to be sure it was definitely you, and when he was certain, as he watched you walk out and away from the store, he pulled out his phone and dialled his boss. He needed to be 200% sure or the Joker would shoot him for playing a cruel joke. 
"WHAT? This better be important Front OR ELSE-" Jonny had to get the phone away from his ear or he was sure he would be deaf to that ear.
"I just saw Y/N. I'll follow her, she didn't recognize me."
The Joker swore his heart stopped, and he was certain he didn't even have one.
The Joker got off his phone and looked at the man sitting in front of him. 
He was in the middle of another heist planning when he got the call. And he just stood up and left.
He thought you were dead. Everyone did. So how did Frost just see you?
He didn't need a heist, he needed answers! 
---
Five Months Ago
Joker woke up with a groan, you were glued to his side as usual. It was the only way he could sleep.
He was pleased to find you there, much like every other morning, in his arms.
He started to kiss along your arm that was placed on his chest which he managed to lift to his lips.
"J?" his name rolled off your tongue like it was the most natural thing.
And it was. If anyone else dared to call him that, he would blow their brains out.
"Cara Mia..." he said and it made you giggle.
"Look at you, we watched The Addams Family once..." you laughed and so did he.
"Say Doll, what's the plan for today?"
"Oh, easy, Mr Joker. We are going to have mindblowing sex, then shower sex and then we annoy Frosty! Could we pretty please kidnap Jim Gordon? You know I LOVE kidnapping Jimmy!"
"Whatever my Queen wants!" he said as he moved above you, his hand running up your tight, under your very expensive silk nightgown before starting to kiss your neck.
Perfect day.
At least it was supposed to be perfect.
If only Battsy didn't get involved in your little play with Jim Gordon. He wouldn't have to flee the scene while you shot at the Batmobile from the window.
"How annoying! Just when I started to have fun!" you said as the Joker took a turn and you sat in your seat. "He always has to ruin everything."
Joker already called Frost, making sure to lose Batman so he could bring you home.
But of course, he took a wrong turn, Batman didn't take the bait and he caught up, you had to run.
You ditched his purple Lambo and ran. Just as you were running, Joker was a bit faster than you but you did catch up. As you turned to stop you knew the Batman would stop if he caught one of you, so you stayed. You heard the sirens.
Joker only realized you weren't behind him when he turned a corner.
"Princess?" he yelled but it was too late, the cops were there, Joker had to watch as one of the cars didn't have time to stop, he hit you dead on. Then there were a lot of shots fired.
You were dead. He saw you laying there, even heard a policeman yell that you had no pulse.
That was it... his Queen was gone. And she did what she had to, to save her King. Yet the pain in his chest just grew.
"Boss!" yelled Frost as he got the Joker into the car and drove off. "Where is she Boss? We can go back and pick her up."
"She's gone." Joker managed to say. His voice was barely a whisper. And Frost knew better than to ask questions, so he drove his boss home. "Leave." the Joker said once he arrived home.
The luxurious house he bought for you as a birthday present was now quiet. No voices, no laughter, no teasing or yelling. 
Quiet.
Without his Queen what does a king worth? Nothing.
Grief was a word the Joker wasn't familiar with. He was never attached to anyone before, how would he know? 
He just sat there.
He often heard that there were five stages of grief. But the man was so crazy, he went through them all in a couple of hours.
Denial
It started the next morning, Jonny visited his boss to talk to him when he found the Joker pacing around.
"She cannot be dead. She wouldn't die to those pigs! She's a smart girl."
Anger
Johhny just watched as the Joker one moment was still pacing before he turned and grabbed a vase, threw it to the floor and watched as it shattered.
"SHE DIDN'T DIE! YOU HEAR ME JONNY." 
"Yes, Boss."
Bargaining
Not even an hour passed when the Joker nearly gave Frost a heart attack as he suddenly appeared behind the man. 
"What if we go and find her Frost?"
"I'll get a car ready."
"We find her and bring her back! Perfect plan!"
Depression
This was the strangest. By the time they got to the car, Jonny realized what was happening and knew what the next stage was. He just drove, didn't say a word but he saw as his Boss' face changed.
One second he was hoping to find you, even called Harvey Dent to try and find you, then as if the light left his eyes. Sadness hit the Joker like no other.
And it was scary. Frost knew his boss wasn't normal, he knew he would deal with this sadness in a different way than the average person would.
And once again Jonny was right.
"Stop right here." he said the Joker as he got out of the car, heading to a jewellery store, in broad daylight. Frost knew or at least had a rough idea what the plan was, so he waited.
Soon, the Joker arrived with a suitcase full of diamonds.
"My Princess loved diamonds, Frosty. Let's go home."
"Yes, Boss."
And with that, the Joker arrived to the last stage.
Acceptance 
Frost watched, even helped his boss arrange your things. Your favourite jewellery, shoes, dresses, anything he got for you was right in front of the Joker as he looked at them.
Took him a couple of hours to finally speak.
"She's gone isn't she?"
Frost didn't know what to say. Usually, he knew what was the right thing not to make the Joker angry, but this even hurt him. You were a great friend of his, you were easygoing and kind. 
"Frost!"
"Boss?"
"Is she gone?" the Joker looked at Jonny, and Frost knew, there was no right answer here.
"I'm afraid, Sir, she is." and now he waited, he waited to be shot. But it never happened.
When he looked up at his Boss who was now standing, watching a mannequin which had your wedding dress on, the Joker snapped. 
A different kind of fire was in his eyes. Something Jonny knew way more than any other.
Revenge.
---
At the same time, on the other side of the city, a couple police men were desperate to catch the Joker, they had you in a hospital, hidden away before the clown could get to you.
They tried to think of a way, a way to end the Joker finally.
Then came the news.
"She woke up, doesn't remember a thing of her life."
And the perfect plan was created. 
One of the policemen pretended to be your husband in the meantime, while they came up with the perfect trap.
"Please don't leave the house, Darling and if something happens, there is a gun in the kitchen. Don't be afraid to use it." your husband said.
It was hard for you, you had many months of therapy to go through, you needed to learn to walk with a fucked up knee. 
The story they told you was that a drunk driver hit you. Your husband, Michael was at home when it all happened and now, now you weren't sure.
Watching the man with a purple jacket on, hearing this crazy story that your husband and everyone in the hospital lied to you? It was too much.
"How-How would you make me remember?" you asked, you knew you needed to win some time until your husband will be back.
"First of all, I killed every single last one of those men who hurt you that day. Including your husband."
There goes the plan to wait.
"They all lied to you, used you to get to me. But they never expected that I am the King around here."
That didn't really answer your question but you weren't surprised that he rather talked about whatever he wanted.
"So, Pumpkin, you are coming with me, back home where you belong!"
And who were you to object? You also wanted to hear what he had to say, as crazy as it sounded.
You soon arrived at this mansion. It was absolutely huge.
"You like it? Of course you do Princess, it is yours."
This place could never be yours.
You were just a simple woman. Or so you were told.
But as you entered, the luxury kept on coming. Walls filled with paintings, you loved them, they looked absolutely stunning.
"Is that-is that a Monet?"
"The Water Lily Pond. Your favourite. Was rather difficult to get though."
"It's a really good copy."
"Copy?" he laughed as he walked up to you, standing beside you looking at you. "My Queen doesn't get copies and dupes."
You looked at him, eyes big.
"I-It's real?"
"The original of course. As I said, it was a pain to get but it was worth it."
"Are all...paintings?"
"Woman! Of course they are real! I'm not going to have my Queen's house fill with FAKES! HA!" you looked around, and for some reason, you didn't have the same feeling when Michael or Duncan or whatever his name got you home.
This house, mansion rather, felt... safe. Like you knew it. 
But it couldn't be true.
Then you noticed pictures. They were all scattered on the floor along with some clothes and a mannequin wearing a wedding dress. 
This almost looked like a shrine to you.
"This is all yours." he said, picking up the photos he handed them to you. 
It was you, undeniably, you and him. 
You didn't know what to do anymore. This was all so confusing it made your head hurt and your eyes tear up as you looked at the Clown beside you.
"What do you want from me?" you asked, desparate.
"I want you back." he said with such a serious tone, that it made you shiver. "I lost you five months ago when you sacrificed yourself so I could get away. I think you wanted them to catch you so I could get you out of Arkham but it is not what happened. They hit you with a car, shot you three times, yet you didn't die, Pumpkin, Just like you promised. You lived for me." 
"My head hurts." you said.
"Then let's go and you get some sleep in our bed." he guided you to the bedroom.
And you thought the rest of the house was incredible? The bedroom was above it all. Ceiling high as ever, a huge crystal chandelier right in the middle. And a bed, a huge bed, of course it had a bathroom which you got a glimpse of and a balcony overlooking Gotham.
The Joker noticed you looking out the window.
"Our Kingdom, Princess. Now, get some rest, I'll be in my office if you need me."
Like you knew where it was.
You lay down in the bed, smelling the pillows, they smelt similar, like a smell that you couldn't quite place. It smelled like home. 
Then as it got darker, you didn't sleep, but your head didn't hurt anymore either. You felt at ease for some reason.
Could it be that the Joker wasn't lying? Could it be that this really was your true life? 
You did only believe what the doctor, nurses and Mi-Duncan said because they were there. So if it was true, what the Joker said, you were shot so, that explained the weird wounds on your legs and arm. The doctor said it was due to the impact but bullets made more sense for some reason. 
You looked up at the ceiling and of course, there was a mirror on the ceiling, you looked at yourself, laying there. Maybe it was true, it would explain why you had the urge to strangle the woman who cut you off in line, it would explain why you wanted to bash the head of the entitled nurse who treated you like shit in the hospital. You had anger issues which you pushed down for the past five months. 
You had a strong feeling to take whatever you wanted for free. You wanted to snatch that necklace off of that woman at your work and now it made sense.
The Joker had to be right. You weren't who they made you believe you were. Even if you didn't remember. 
You went to the walk-in closet and noticed many many many clothes, bags and shoes, some were missing, you remembered the little circle of things in the living room, they must have been your favourites, but the clothes in there were also rather nice. High-quality things for sure.
Then you recalled the wedding dress. You needed to see that again.
Slowly you walked back to the living room, you found it funny how easily you navigated through the huge mansion.
And there it was, although the clothes and things were missing from around it, the wedding dress was still there. 
The dress screamed grand. Elegance, wealth. It was sparkly, littered with stones that you assumed were diamonds since as you know now, the Joker doesn't do fake.
You wanted to put it on, but you didn't, you just stood there, unaware of anything else.
"If I may-" said a voice behind you which made you jump. You saw the same men who drove you here. "Apologies. If I may, I know you don't remember me, my name is Jonny Frost. We used to be-We are friends. Do you want to put the dress on? Maybe it will help you remember."
"Am I really The Joker's wife?"
"Yes, Ma'am. And you do love him. As strange as it might sound, you two are... made for each other. He used to be toxic, don't get me wrong he still is, but with you Y/N, he is a lot worse."
"Worse?"
"Yes, because he has you to lose. He wasn't always like this, he used to beat up everyone, men and women, he didn't care, but you, he would never touch you. He was looking for you, he mourned you, in his own way."
You looked from him towards the dress.
"Even if I put it on, I wouldn't remember. It is beautiful."
"Do you want to see pictures? Wedding pictures I hid from him before he made this... shrine."
You gave him a nod and he guided you to the library. There, he gave you the photo book. 
"I'll leave you to it, I'll also bring some dinner." before you could say anything he was out the door.
Photos.
Photos of a wedding you don't remember. Photos of a life you cannot recall.
Yet, it was you. Undeniably you are in those photos, kissing, giggling, and laughing along with the Joker.
In one of the pictures, you noticed you had a J tattooed on your ring finger. 
But now it was not there. Not a trace. Yet, when you touched the skin it felt empty like it was missing that letter. 
Now it made sense a little. Why you couldn't even stand the thought of Michael as your husband, why you rather throw yourself out the window than let him touch you. Why you wanted to just strangle him while he slept and why he spent so much time at work.
He wasn't your husband.
You weren't his. You are the Joker's, and although you didn't remember it would never stop you.
You ate the dinner Jonny got you then you made your way to the Joker's office. With a specific photo in hand.
You watched as he sat at his desk, looking at some papers when he noticed you. Out of instinct, he moved his chair back, waiting for you to sit, and you did, just not where he thought you would.
You sat in the chair across from him. 
You placed the photo on the desk showing him the tattoo on his chest, your name.
"Do you have it?" you asked and he moved his shirt and there it was.
Y/N in black ink right above his collarbone. Then you pointed at the photo.
"I don't have mine. None of them."
"They removed those, I'm aware. They wanted their story to fit, would be hard to explain why you have a J on your ring finger when your husband is called Michael."
"Right...Can I get them back?" you looked up at him, finding his eyes. Striking blue, breathtaking. No wonder you fell in love with those.
"You want them back?"
"I-I believe you, I believe they made up the story, it had many many holes in it, I had a feeling something's not right, but your-your story, with the dress, pictures and this place, it-it feels like home. I want not only the tattoos back, I want my life back, even if I don't remember anything. I know we can make more memories." he smiled. A genuine smile which would send a shiver down a person's back, but you saw his eyes. He was happy.
Was it even possible for the Joker to be happy? Jonny's words started to make sense now.
"Princess, welcome back to your home." he said as he started to laugh.
A laugh so wicked it sent chills down everyone's entire body who heard it, even those who didn't. It was a warning, something they didn't know just yet, but the Joker and his Queen were back.
The End
This will be continued with small blurbs if anyone is interested.
A/N: This was written with Jared Leto’s Joker in mind, but it could work for all Joker’s as an AU I believe. Hope you enjoyed it!
Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @paola-carter​​
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
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fleckficgirl · 8 months
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Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 10
Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.
Warnings: This chapter contains mugging, memory loss, traumatic brain injury. This fic as a whole contains sex, language, violence, mental illness.
Word Count: 3164
Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
Author’s Note: I’m back! Obviously, it took me sooo long to figure out how to write this next chapter, but I finally got it together. I really appreciate your patience in the meantime & hope you enjoy reading it. The plan is to post more regularly soon (Chapter 11 is almost done).
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“Makeup is an art,” Chantelle and Tina had explained to you the night before. “Think of your face as a canvas.”
Despite all their well-intentioned beauty coaching, the cold, hard truth was you still had no idea what the hell you were doing - you couldn’t even keep the differences between moisturizer, foundation and concealer straight in your brain. And after twenty minutes of attempting to “paint” your face like the natural-born Rembrandt they were convinced you were, you’d stared back at your reflection in the mirror and decided you looked like a clown…and not in a sexy-Arthur-Fleck kinda way.  
Exasperated, you’d washed everything off, opting instead for a tiny bit of mascara, lip gloss and powder.
But then there was the issue of your hair. You’d burned your fingers on Tina’s flat iron before managing to get things somewhat under control. But as soon as you stepped out onto the street the rain began to fall, causing your already-unruly mane to frizz up completely by the time you reached the subway.
Chantelle’s handpicked outfit, however, remained the only unblemished element of tonight's ensemble: her tight-fitting angora sweater did things for your non-existent cleavage you’d never imagined possible. You’d be sure to thank her profusely later…even though she thought you were going out with someone else tonight.
You’d never cared how you looked in front of a guy before…but Arthur Fleck wasn’t just a guy. To say he’d gotten under your skin was, perhaps, the understatement of your life: you were becoming crazy about the man.
You didn't know how you were going to survive this date. You could barely hold it together in Arthur’s presence without wanting to reach out and smother him with affection, and the kiss between you earlier today had only solidified your deepest desires. You wanted Arthur in so many ways…ways you didn’t even understand yet. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever rode the Giant Dipper at Amusement Mile: the sensation of your stomach flying up into your throat as you went over that first terrifying drop…a disconcerting mix of fear and exhilaration. Was this what being in love felt like?
***
The bouncer at Pogo’s frowned as you handed him your ID.
“Are you…um…are you alright, miss?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
You were thrown off by the question. “Of course. Why?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…have you looked in a mirror recently?”
You shook your head. The jerk was actually making fun of how bad your hair and makeup had turned out. People in this city really didn’t know how to act.
“Wow, you’re hilarious,” you rolled your eyes at him, snatching back your ID. “Can I please go inside now? My friend’s about to go on.”
You pushed past the rude bouncer and entered the club, scanning the room feverishly for an empty seat. Spotting one parallel to the center of the stage, your eyes lit up and you rushed over to claim it. As you sat down, a strange chill ran up your spine as you slowly began to realize: everyone was staring at you. Faces of concern and mockery swam around you, and you weren’t sure why.
Oh shit, you thought. Do I have something on my face?
Unfortunately, you hadn’t brought a compact mirror (Tina and Chantelle had given you a five minute lecture on the importance of always carrying on in your purse), so you couldn’t check. And you couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom because then you’d lose your seat. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, then glanced at your watch and saw the glass was cracked.
Weird. You hadn’t remembered smashing it against anything on the way over.
Your concerns about your appearance, however, were quickly dissolved as the current act wrapped and the emcee took the mic.
“This next comic describes himself as a lifelong Gotham resident who from a young age was told that ‘his purpose in life was to bring laughter and joy into this cold, dark world.’ Umm. Okay? Please help me welcome Arthur Fleck!”
You applauded along with the rest of the half-faded crowd as relief washed over you. Thank God you hadn’t missed him. As Arthur took the stage, your heart began to throb again. There were simply simply no words to describe how incredible he looked tonight. His red vest. The crisp, white button-down shirt underneath it. The matching slacks.
And his hair. His hair.
You were certain his hair was going to be the death of you. How was it possible that you and that gorgeous hair inhabited the same planet without the entire world imploding?
Arthur squinted out at the crowd before speaking. You knew he was searching for you, needing to see you in the audience, needing to know you were there for him. And you were. When the two of you locked eyes, he smiled. You smiled back at him and everything else fell away. It was you and Arthur again. And nothing else in this cold, dark world mattered.
You didn’t care that Arthur had a laughing episode at the beginning of his act. You didn’t care that basically all his jokes fell flat, either. You didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was how proud you were of him. So proud, you felt like you could burst into a million pieces.
When he finished his set, you leapt to your feet, clapping and screaming. Arthur blushed from the stage, embarrassed…and pleased. Everyone was staring at you, then back at Arthur, then back at you in dazed confusion. Two weirdo peas in a pod…and proud.
“We’re gonna take a short break,” the emcee announced.
A moment later, you and Arthur found each other at the back of the club.
“You were amazing, Arthur!” you exclaimed as you threw your arms around him.
“I'm so glad you came tonight…” he hummed into your ear. Of course, your depraved mind twisted the meaning of those two words in your head, and you found yourself having to stifle a blushing smile. You felt your body quaver with excitement at being next to him once again.
“Wait a minute…” Arthur pulled back to look at you, shock and concern flooding his face.
“Y/N, what…what happened to you?”
You blinked. “What? Nothing happened to me.”
“You’re…you’re hurt.” Arthur looked you up and down, then lifted your hands to eye-level. Bruises in the shape of what looked like fingers and fingertips lined the insides of your wrists. You frowned at the sight, utterly confused.
“Y/N, who…who did this to you?”
“I’m fine!” you insisted. “I mean…I have a slight headache, but, y’know,  it’s probably just the rain.”  
“Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. Can you remember?”
It took a minute for your brain to register Arthur’s question, which you realized was a little strange.
“Well,” you inhaled, trying hard to formulate your thoughts. “I got on the subway…I know that. And I took it all the way to…well, whatever this stop was near here, you know? And then I got off the train and went up the stairs…and then…” you looked up into Arthur’s beautiful eyes. “And then I was here. Watching you perform for the very first time. And I’m so proud of you, Arthur!” you squealed as if you’d seen him for the first time tonight all over again.
“You don’t remember anything else? You must have hit your head.”
“I'm fine!”
“Y/N,” Arthur’s worried eyes blinked at you. “I don’t think you are. I think I need to take you to the hospital.”
“But it’s our big date!” you wailed. “I got all dressed up and everything!”
At that moment, a few Wall Street bro types brushed past and snickered at Arthur.
“Nice set, freak. In case you didn’t get the memo: you’re supposed to tell the jokes and the audience is supposed to laugh…not the other way around.”
"He has a laughing condition, you assholes!" you snarled at them without hesitation.
To everyone’s surprise, the bros paused, thrown off by the fact you’d called them out.
“Sorry…” Arthur interjected, glancing at the dudes apologetically. “She’s…she’s not feeling well.”
Arthur shot you a desperate please-shut-your-mouth-before-you-get-us-both-killed look, but you could see there was a tiny, triumphant smile curling up his lips underneath it. Still, the words were flying out of your mouth and there wasn’t much you could do to stop them.
“Yeah, I’m not feeling well,” you continued loudly, glowering at them. “Maybe if assholes would shut their fat faces and stop acting ignorant, I’d feel better.”
“Okay, you’re coming with me now!” Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders and scooted you towards the door. You looked over your shoulder to see them staring after you, dumbfounded. The sight of it made you laugh.
“Y/N,” Arthur pulled you into him as soon as you were outside. “I’m taking you to Gotham Hospital. We’ve gotta get you checked out.”
“No, Arthur!” you protested. You didn’t exactly know why you were so opposed to the idea, but your first instinct was to protest.
“I’m worried about you,” he emphasized. “I’m fine!”
“Y/N, please. Please? Just do it for me. Just so I know you’re okay.”
“Okay.”
You’d switched it up so quickly, Arthur blinked in disbelief. He cleared his throat, nodding.
“Uh…okay. Good. Let’s go.”
**
“This is not where I expected to end up tonight,” you lamented. Arthur sat next to you, a clipboard given to him by the nurse at the front desk in his lap. He was trying to fill out your paperwork for you.
“Um. Your last name is…L/N right?”
“Yeah” You smiled at him. “How’d you know?”
Arthur blushed. “I…might have looked at your timecard. I was…curious about you. This was before…you know…we became...closer.”
“That’s so sweet! I looked at your timecard, too!”
Arthur stifled a laugh. “What’s your date of birth?”
He patiently wrote in all the answers and brought the completed forms back up to the desk.
“I’m surprised there aren’t more people here,” you observed, looking around at the handful of other patients. “It is a Friday night, after all.”
“It’s only ten o’clock,” Arthur reasoned. “My guess is things get crazier out there in a couple hours or so.”
“I feel like things are flying out of my mouth tonight without any filter,” you blurted. “And I’m not even that angry.”
“I feel like they are, too,” Arthur agreed. “But, that’s okay. I’m glad you agreed to come here. I’m…I’m still worried about you.”  
You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning in. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Arthur looked a little startled, but he nodded.
“How do you get your hair to look so good all the time?”
Arthur’s eyebrows arched and he laughed.
“I'm serious!”
“No…I'm sorry,” he demurred, looking down at the tile floor. “It's just that nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
“Nobody ever said your hair looks incredible?” you asked. “Like it's the most gorgeous hair in the world? Nobody ever approached you to do shampoo commercials?”
“Maybe that's my true calling,” he joked.
“What shampoo do you use?”
"That's a personal question," Arthur teased as the door to the back of the ER swung open.
“L/N? F/N L/N?” the nurse called out.
You leapt to your feet. “Oh! That’s me.”
“Do you want me to wait here?” Arthur asked.
“Are you kidding?” You extended your hand and pulled him up. “Of course I want you to come. You’re my emotional support clown.”
**
After weighing you, taking your blood pressure, asking if you had any allergies to any medications and all the other boring details that entailed a medical visit, the nurse set you up in an examination room and read through your paperwork, pursing her lips as she centered in on the handwritten scrawl (Arthur’s handwriting of course) that explained why you’d come to the ER in the first place.
“It says here you…think you hit your head?”
“He thinks I hit my head,” you clarified, jerking said head towards Arthur. “I’m still not sure. There’s a big gap in my memory from tonight and I don’t know why.”
“There are bruises on her arms,” Arthur added. “She came to meet me and she looked…disheveled. Like someone had…”
He paused. The nurse looked you up and down.
“You don’t remember what happened to cause the bruises?”
You shrugged. “I can be clumsy sometimes.”
“You’re not…that clumsy,” Arthur murmured under his breath. “I mean,” he looked up at the nurse. “She’s a dancer. She’s…one of the most graceful people I’ve ever seen.”
“Arthur, that is so sweet!” you exclaimed.
The nurse shot you both a skeptical look, then smiled. “Your husband obviously cares for you a great deal.”
“Oh,” Arthur blushed. “I’m…not her-”
“Yes, he’s a wonderful husband!” you interjected, flashing him a slightly maniacal smile. “So protective of me. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”
“It sounds like you might have taken a fall,” the nurse continued, jotting down a few notes on your chart. “But the bruises on your wrists do look like they were caused by someone else’s hands.”
“My watch is broken, too,” you blurted.
“I’m wondering if maybe you were mugged. It happens to women in Gotham all the time, unfortunately.”
“But I still have all my money,” you pointed out, opening up your purse to show off your untouched wallet.
“Maybe you fought them off,” Arthur suggested. It wasn’t a completely outlandish notion. You were known to bring out the feistiness if the wrong people pushed your buttons.
“In any case, we’ll run some tests to check for concussion and other injuries.”
The nurse opened a drawer and handed you a light blue paper robe. “You can put this on. I’ll inform the doctor and he’ll check you over.”
“Thank you,” Arthur said.
“Of course. He should be by in just a minute.”
“What a nice lady,” you said to Arthur after she left you alone. “Don’t always meet people like that around here.”
“Very nice,” Arthur agreed. He cleared his throat. “Um…do you want me to leave, or…turn around while you get changed?”
You blinked, the reality of everything that had happened tonight finally hitting you.
“I just can’t believe this is how tonight turned out.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur asked softly.
“I had a whole outfit planned, Arthur! And my hair and makeup. I wanted to impress you and look beautiful for you tonight.”
“Y/N…” Arthur stood up to face you. “You are beautiful. No matter what. All I care about is that you’re okay.”
You sighed, moved by his sweet words, but you still felt utterly crestfallen and defeated. “I ruined our first date. And your big stand-up debut. I wanted tonight to be perfect so bad…”
“You didn’t ruin it,” Arthur interrupted. “I…” he paused. “Of course I wish none of this had happened to you. This city is…awful. In so many ways.” He paused, taking your hand into his. “But…I just love being with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as we’re together.”
You wanted to kiss him again, but suddenly the door flew open and a man in a white coat suddenly stood before you both.
“I hear somebody got banged up tonight.”
** Dr. White’s bedside manner was on the complete other end of the spectrum of your nice nurse’s from a few minutes before, but you’d come to expect that from men with MDs. After performing the perfunctory tests of shining a light in your eyes, examining your body for additional trauma or bruising (none was found) and asking you a few routine questions, he announced his evaluation:
“My guess is you got mugged. Maybe the muggers chickened out before they could actually…you know…mug you. It does look like you’ve got a concussion.”
“What can you do for that?”Arthur asked, concerned.
The doctor snorted at what he obviously deemed a dumb question. “Not much. Just wait it out. Don’t go to sleep for a while.”
“What happens if I fall asleep?” you asked.
“You could die.”
“Oh.”
“Your brain’ll heal itself,” the doctor continued. “Might take a little time. Just try to take it easy and don’t be in places where this could happen to you again.”
“You mean the entire city?” you asked, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him. You knew what he meant, but the slight insinuation that getting mugged was somehow your fault didn’t sit great with you.
“What can I say?” Dr. White shook his head and shrugged. “Welcome to Gotham.”
“I’ve lived here all my life,” you informed him dryly. “Gotham’s a jungle.”
“Then welcome to the jungle.”
**
“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked in the lobby of the hospital. It was past midnight. “There’s a diner down the street people seem to like.” He paused. “That is…if it’s not too late for you.”
The way you saw it, you’d stay up all night with Arthur if he’d have you.
“Let’s go to the diner. I could really go for a cheeseburger."
Arthur laughed. “Okay.”
The rain had stopped and the air outside felt crisp and freshly-washed. For a brief moment, it made you forget that the garbage strike in Gotham had just entered its seventh week.
You and Arthur moved through the crowded sidewalk together, stumbling through the endless obstacles of people and garbage. A startling headline caught your eye as you walked past a newsstand, and you stopped in your tracks to read it:  
KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE. LATEST NEWS ON THE MURDERS, PAGE TWO.
Beneath was a drawing of a vampiric clown.
“Can you believe that?” you asked.
Arthur paused alongside you, his eyes wide as he soaked in the headline.
“I watched this on the news last night."
Arthur nodded, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. “They worked at Wayne Enterprises. All three of them.”
You rolled your eyes. “That figures.”
Arthur cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”
You continued, lowering your voice. “Between you and me, I actually knew one of them. Back when I was still at college. He was a complete asshole, and that’s putting it nicely.” You sighed. “And if I had to guess, those ‘friends’ of his were cut from the exact same cloth. But it looks like he finally picked the wrong person to fuck with. And I can’t say I’m shedding any tears.”
Arthur nodded slowly, taking in your words.
“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself. “You must think I’m crazy for talking like this.”
“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”
“Three less pricks in Gotham City,” you quipped. “Only a million more to go!”
Arthur threw back his head and laughed. You took it as a good sign: despite the traumatic brain injury and the chaotic night you’d shared, his smile still made you go weak at the knees.
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ralugraphics · 2 years
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Oh, I've wanted to paint this scene for a very long time, and now it's finally done 🖌😏🎨🤡
A4 acrylics painting
Hyped about Joker Folie a Deux? 😍🔥
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@ralu.graphics on Instagram
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writing-for-marvel · 6 months
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For the Stardust Reblog Challenge: Summer Edition hosted by @liraketo
These are all the fics I've read in September. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic
🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff I 💧- angst | 😈 - dark
Dividers by @saradika
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Bucky Barnes
💧 Time After Time (series) by @intrepidacious
🔥😈 Devour (series) by @buckets-and-trees
💧💗🔥 Secret Door (series) by @buckyownsmylife
😈🔥 A Stranger Arrives by @witchywithwhiskey
💗 Rained Out by @mindingmyownbusiness
💧💗 Blood Sweat and Tears by @treatbuckywkisses
🔥 Dirty Little Secret by @vellicore
💗 Don’t Tell Bucky by @lives-in-midgard
💗 Hypothetically Speaking by @littleseasiren
🔥 Distracted by @sunshinebuckybarnes
💗 Screen Lesson by @vilentia
💗 Post apocalyptic Bucky by @fluffyprettykitty
💧💗🔥 Replace Me by @fandoms-writings
💗🔥 Hold Me Down by @flordeamatista
🔥 Impure Thoughts Part One | Part Two by @samodivaa
💗 Imagine calling Bucky while he’s at work by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord
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Steve Rogers
💗 Tall and Two Sugars by @sarahghetti
💗 The Moment He Knew by @/sunshinebuckybarnes
💧 imagine Steve’s anger when you go off book during a mission by @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction
💧💗 He Comes Back by @imtryingbuck
💧💗 Handsome Stranger by @/lives-in-midgard
🔥 Can’t Wait That Long by @worksby-d
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Sam Wilson
🔥 Touch Me by @galatially
💗 Contentment by @/fluffyprettykitty
💧💗 Don’t Tell My Boyfriend, It’s Not What He’s Made For by @wwilsonbarness
🔥💗 Dancing’s When I Think of You by @targaryenvampireslayer
💗 You and I Were Fireworks by @feelmyskinonyourskin
💧💗 Desperately Seeking Sam by @onceuponastory
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Joaquin Torres
🔥 Inexperienced Joaquin by @/fluffyprettykitty
💗 Mixup by @blackbat05
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Peter Parker
💧💗 Shaken (Not Stirred) by @cocoamoonmalfoy
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Joel Miller
💗 Dancin’ in the Dark by @jobean12-blog
💗 Fall In Love by @/jobean12-blog
💗 Late Night Movie by @holacia3
💗 Date Night by @/holacia3
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Multiple Characters
💧💗 Sleep Deprivation by @brandycranby [Steve Rogers, Andy Barber, Curtis Everett, Ari Levinson, Jake Jensen & Ransom Drysdale]
💧💗 Romance Tropes with Marvel Characters by @angelltheninth [Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson, Tony Stark, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker]
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buckysmischief · 11 months
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designated spider killer - 1
Bucky Barnes x f!Reader
Summary: Yelena accidentally plays matchmaker, Bucky pretends he doesn't want to live out his friends to lovers dream, and you're just trying to live your life... too bad a stalker wants to be apart of it.
Warnings: none?
AN: I'm wrapping up this story after uploading this so I promise this will actually be completed lol. I've missed writing, it's actually fun again. I'm a little rusty though, hope y'all enjoy :)
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clownnfleck · 6 months
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I highly doubt anyone is gonna see this, but I read an Arthur fleck x reader (I don’t remember if it was gn, male, or fem reader) fic recently, where the reader comes home and searches for arthur, and ends up finding him in the fridge. I CANT find it, and I don’t remember the author 😭😭 If anyone can help me out and knows who the author is, please send me a message, I’d appreciate it so much.
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