#literally cap has never had a happy moment in his life PLEASE someone let this man be happy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunlightdances · 3 years

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Time Has Brought Your Heart to Me (Soulmate!AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, feat. platonic Steve, platonic Tony and a brief cameo by Agents of SHIELD. Rating/warnings: T (for language), mentions of PTSD and anxiety, a little angst. Many of our characters being adorably dense. Words: 14,418 (literally why am I like this) Summary: Bucky Barnes’ soul mark appeared on his left arm when he was seventeen years old. His injury and HYDRA took it from him, but does the mark have to physically exist for the connection to take hold? Author’s Note: Post-CA:CW. Assume Tony helped Steve and Bucky get out of Siberia and finds out the truth about his parents from Steve. AU after that. This idea literally came to me when I was shampooing my hair and I wrote a good chunk of it immediately afterwards. This idea has been done before, but I hope you like my take on it! Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes, or canon elements from the movies, tv shows, or comics. All of that belongs to Marvel. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my permission. Reblogs are encouraged!

When Bucky Barnes is seventeen years old, a charcoal black swirl of ivy and leaves appears on his left arm.

He spent a lot of time panicking and then trying to find his soulmate, feeling disappointed almost every time he left a date with flushed cheeks and a charming smile only to remember that they didn’t have a mark, or had one that didn’t match his.

He forgot about it as soon as the war was on - bigger things to worry about then.

He enlisted because he wanted to make something of himself, but there was always the possibility burning in his mind that he might meet them. No matter what persona he tries to put on, he’s a romantic at heart. The singing under his breath, buying flowers for pretty girls, romance paperbacks in his back pocket type.

There’s no semblance of romance in war.

His days are never ending - walking, walking, brief bursts of combat. Shouting orders at his platoon, all of them trying to pretend they were feeling more courageous than they were. Still, he spares a few thoughts for his soulmate. When he takes a bullet to his shoulder in France, he hopes they can’t feel it.

He thought that was the worst it could get. He was wrong.

When he’s half conscious in the snow after falling from the train, praying for someone, anyone, to come looking for him, he feels guilt, and regret, and then doesn’t feel anything at all.

It happens in flashes - a medical exam table, a German accent, a shock to his entire body when all he does is repeat his name, rank, and serial number.

In a brief moment of lucidity, he lifts his left hand. He tries to see the mark, one more time, tries to orient himself with the one thing that’s remained constant for almost the last ten years of his life.

It isn’t there.

His arm, gone. The leafy scrawl with it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, to no one, to someone, and then it all goes black.

The sun streaming in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest room you’ve been assigned is the first thing that wakes you, followed shortly by a disembodied voice calling your name. You have a brief moment of panic, sitting upright in bed, until you remember where you are.

Avengers Tower.

“Miss?” The kind voice inquires again.

“Sorry. Yes, I’m here, sort of,” you reply, looking-- where do you look when you’re talking to an AI?

“Captain Rogers is requesting your presence in the third floor kitchen.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a half hour,” you reply.

“He said to tell you no matter your response that you have fifteen minutes.”

You scowl. “Awesome,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the side of the plush mattress. “Tell him I’ll get there when I get there, and he’ll just have to deal with it.”

FRIDAY is silent, but you suspect the message has been delivered. Yawning, you walk to the en suite bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. Hair? A rat’s nest. Skin? Could not look more dull. You really need to get more sleep, you think, but apparently that’s not going to start today.

Twenty minutes later, you step out of the glass elevator and into the brightly lit kitchen. There’s not many people milling about, and you discover why when you come across a clearly agitated Captain Steve Rogers at the large table, leg bouncing and chewing on the end of a pen.

“Morning,” you say when you get within earshot.

“You’re late.”

“You never told me we had an appointment,” you point out, swiping a muffin from the large plate in the middle of the table where he’s sitting, and slide into the seat across from him.

“I asked you to come here for a few days, didn’t I?” He looks up, revealing dark circles and day-old stubble. He’s got a pile of papers on the table in front of him, and a cup of half-drank coffee off to one side.

You hum in agreement, “And you’ve been very secretive about it all. Barely gave me time to pack a bag.” A wink, so he knows you’re (mostly) joking. “Not very gentlemanly, Captain.”

“Bucky’s arriving today.” He blurts, and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Steve--” You breathe, suddenly understanding his nervousness.

“I sent Sam to get him a week ago, if he even wanted to come back to New York.” He smiles, but it’s weak. “Figured it might do some good to have someone… non-partial around.”

“This is…” You shake your head, “Wow, Steve. This is good, right?”

He exhales. “It’s-- yeah. More than good.” He meets your eyes, “I need you to give him a physical, just a regular check up. Protocol.”

You’re already nodding. “I’ll get the lab set up, although are you sure you don’t want Dr. Cho--”

“I want it to be you,” Steve explains, “You’re-- well, I think he’d like you, that’s all.” You must be blushing because he quickly backtracks. “I just mean that you’re a friend! My friend. He’ll trust you because I do.”

“Jeepers, Steve,” you tease, “Getting my heart all aflutter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll have FRIDAY let you know when he’s settled? Don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You nod. “I get it. Just let me know.” Impulsively, you get out of your chair and hug Steve from behind, sort of wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m really happy for you.”

He squeezes your hands, a long breath leaving him like he’s been holding it for awhile. “Thank you.”

It’s hours before you’re summoned, and you feel strangely nervous. You don’t really know what to expect. Sure, as trauma-nurse turned Avengers in-house care, you obviously know who Bucky Barnes is, and what he means to Steve Rogers. You were beginning to think you’d never meet him, though.

You follow voices until you get to your “office”, which is really just an open-air lab not dissimilar to the one Dr. Banner has for himself down the hall. Yours is less tech-savvy, though. You have office hours like any other doctor, and typically don’t live at the Tower unless a mission is wrapping up, or you’re on call.

You semi-retired after everything went down with SHIELD, but had been part of Steve’s team there, so you’re sort of contracting for the Avengers whenever things are scary enough that they need a full time physician.

Turning a corner, you see the back of Steve’s head as he sits in a chair across from the imposing figure that must be James Barnes.

You clear your throat and try to make your footsteps a little louder so you don’t interrupt them, but then remember they’re both super soldiers. They definitely have already heard you coming.

Steve greets you by name and introduces you to Bucky, who surprises you with a quick smile and a handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, his voice somehow gruff and gentle all at the same time.

“You too,” you say. “Steve’s filled me in on the basics, but this is just a physical so we have your information on file. Nothing invasive, no needles, and nothing gets touched unless you say so, okay?”

He looks like he wants to smirk at your wording, but you can tell he’s a little tense and nervous too. You’ve thought about what to say to him and how to do this exam. You know he’s spent most of his life doing things without his consent, including receiving whatever poor medical care he was given.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and hops up on the exam table when you ask him to.

The entire exam only takes about ten minutes, until the only thing you have left to ask about is the arm. You sneak a glance at Steve, who’s chewing on his bottom lip. He gives you a small nod, so you take a deep breath and turn back to Bucky.

“I have to ask you a few questions about this.” You tell him, gesturing towards his left arm.

He flinches, barely noticeable if you weren’t standing right in front of him. “What do you want to know?” He leans in, voice conspiratorial, and whispers, “This isn’t my real arm.”

You’re momentarily stunned, but a breathless laugh escapes. Okay. Maybe this isn’t going to be as awful as you worried it might be, for him or for you.

Later, you’re in the kitchen with Steve and Sam, a glass of wine in front of each of you as you pick at your dinner. The rest of the Avengers are on a small mission, Falcon and Cap staying behind to look after the newest member of their team.

They don’t say it, but they’re worried.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interrupts, “Sergeant Barnes is experiencing some distress.”

The three of you stand, but Steve waves you off. “It’s a nightmare,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.” He takes a few steps and stops, not turning around. “FRIDAY will let you know if I need help.”

Sam’s face is tight with worry when he sits back down with you.

“What’s your take on this, Sam?” You ask, “Really. Honest assessment.”

“I think he needs help,” Sam says, and for a second you’re not sure if he means Steve, or Bucky. “He’s been through a lot. He’s a lot better physically, and some mentally, too. But there’s still-- it’s PTSD. He’s been a combat soldier for 70 years of his life, a POW. You can’t recover from that in a few months or even a few years.”

“I’ll try to help if I can,” you reassure him. “If he’ll let me.”

Sam stands up to leave, probably to check on Steve. He squeezes your shoulder as he walks behind you. “I know you will. Thanks, kid.”

You don’t respond, not even to dispute him acting like he’s so much older than you. Your brain is too busy trying to figure out what to do next.

The next few weeks go by in a similar fashion. You take up semi-permanent residence at the Tower.

Bucky sticks to his room a lot, though you see him sparring with Steve or hanging out with Sam in the common room a few times.

He doesn’t seek you out, and you don’t bother him except for subtly asking FRIDAY to let you know if he’s experiencing any distress that requires medical attention.

Now, you’re in the kitchen with Steve, eating at the large island and watching him warily. “Steve. You’re pacing.”

“I know I’m pacing.”

You set your fork down. “Why are you pacing?”

“I’m taking Bucky to Brooklyn today.”

You blink, eyes wide. “Whoa. That’s-- wow, that’s great! Was it your idea, or--”

“It was his, actually.” Steve stops pacing long enough to meet your eyes. “I’m a little worried it might be too much once we get there. Once he sees how much has changed…” He trails off. “I remember when I first went back. It was too much all at once.”

“Can I offer you some non-professional advice? As a friend?”

Steve still looks wary, but he nods.

“You gotta have a little faith in him, Steve. He’s been through a lot, yes. You’re still learning who he is right now. But he was in Wakanda for a year. Recovering only half of that time. He’s had time to catch up, to figure out how to be a person with agency. If he says he wants to do this, he probably does. You have to trust him.”

A movement from the doorway catches your attention and you flush when you see Bucky come into the kitchen slowly, looking a little sheepish. Damn these supersoldiers and their stealth. “Uh-- sorry to interrupt. Bad time?”

Steve smiles, though it’s a little shaky. “No, just talking to Doc here about coming with us to Brooklyn today.”

Your eyes widen as you whip around to face Steve, who sends you a pleading look quickly before Bucky sees him.

“Oh.” Bucky looks a little disappointed, but you don’t take it personally.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say, “I know you had plans with Steve,”

Bucky waves a hand, “No, it’s fine, really. Could probably use someone around to make sure we don’t kill each other.”

You and Steve both freeze, and Bucky looks back and forth between you. “That was a joke.”

You’re the first to smile, and you’re doing it mostly for Bucky’s benefit, but also in hopes that Steve will relax a little bit. You know it’s not healthy for him to be this worried all the time. You also know that Bucky will never truly be at ease if Steve doesn’t start treating him like his friend again.

“I guess if I’m going to get a tour, I couldn’t ask for better guides,” you say, heading out to grab a jacket and your wallet.

A half hour later, you’re getting off the subway and heading into one of Brooklyn’s old neighborhoods. Bucky appears outwardly calm, but you could see how tense he was when you were on the train, and the way his eyes darted around cooly, mapping out all the entrances and exits. It’s the same thing you see Sam and Steve do, maybe more subtly, when you go out with them.

They all do it, really. The Avengers are battle weary already, and you wish you could give that sense of calm back to them.

“I’m going to grab a coffee,” you tell Steve and Bucky as you mill about on the street. You get the idea that neither of them has thought this through very much - they don’t really know where to go first. “Do you want anything?”

“Two black coffees. Is that okay?” Steve says, looking at Bucky.

“Add a little sugar to Steve’s. He won’t complain but he’ll make a face every time he takes a drink.” Bucky says, and you snort.

“Good to know.”

Five minutes later, you’re interrupting what looks like a serious conversation between the two men with a cautious smile, and with Steve scrambling to grab the coffee carrier out of your hands before you have to juggle three cups.

“Where to?” You ask once they’re both happily sipping hot coffee, Bucky only looking mildly uncomfortable.

“I don’t really know,” Bucky admits. “Guessing our old building isn’t there anymore?”

Steve smiles. “It is, actually. We can go there first if you want.”

You follow behind them on the sidewalk as they reminisce about places they used to go, people they used to know. It’s not sad, more nostalgic, and you’re content to listen to them talk as you sip your coffee.

Bucky shoves Steve lightly as he starts to point out all the places he used to get beat up. “That alley,” Steve points, “and behind that butcher shop--”

“I think she gets it.”

You laugh, “Tony should make landmark signs. We can put them in all your favorite places,” you tease, and Steve glares.

“You’re hilarious.”

You pull on his arm when Bucky suddenly stops right in front of him, keeping Steve from plowing straight into his friend’s back. You feel the mood shift and know this must be the place.

Bucky rubs at his jaw thoughtfully. “Huh. Smaller than I remember.” His voice is a little less confident than it was this morning. You stare at the building with him, trying to picture what it might have looked like decades ago. “This place was a shithole when we lived here--”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaims, but he’s laughing too, turning to face his friend almost for the first time all day. You’re giggling too, and Bucky shakes his head, his smile a little smaller, but still there.

“What? We were poor.” He shuffles his feet a little. “I loved it here. No better place than that apartment.” He inhales sharply before meeting Steve’s gaze, “Wait, no one-- we don’t know anyone who still--”

“No,” Steve says quietly, carefully. “No one we know still lives here. I checked when I first got out of the ice.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t-- I don’t want to know about them yet. Any of them.”

You assume he’s talking about his family, and whoever might still be alive. You feel like you’re intruding on a private conversation, so you busy yourself taking a few photos for your Instagram -- you’re not too shy to admit that this neighborhood is lovely. Old brick buildings and shops with lots of flowers blooming.

(And if you sneak a photo that has the back of Bucky and Steve standing there, shoulder to shoulder… well that’s nobody’s business)

In hindsight, you and Steve should have seen this night coming. The memories prove to be too much for Bucky, and the entire floor nearly shakes over your head when he has an episode in the middle of the night, spurred by nightmares and twisted memories of his family.

Footsteps speed by your doorway and you hear FRIDAY asking you to stay in your room, but you don’t listen. You’re too worried, despite the racing of your heart telling you that this is a bad idea.

You open the door just in time to see Steve sprinting down the hall towards the stairs. He must hear your door (or your heart, you think idly), because he turns to you. An authoritative, “No,” is all you get from him before he’s gone, apparently taking the stairs four at a time.

Not content to be left on the sidelines, you head downstairs to the lab, pausing just long enough to throw your hair into a bun and slip your glasses on, grabbing a sweatshirt off a hook by your door. You have no idea if you’ll be seeing Bucky tonight, but you want to be prepared just in case, even though you think Bruce and Dr. Cho are going to take the lead on his care while he’s here.

Forty-five minutes go by before you hear footsteps, and Steve and Bucky come trudging in. Steve has a black eye, and Bucky seems content to stare at his own feet.

“Steve--” You’re about to ask him to let you look at the bruising, but he holds up a hand to stop you. You’re suddenly filled with dread, wondering if Bucky is wholly himself, but you find it hard to believe Steve would have brought him down here at all if he wasn’t.

“I’m fine.” He smiles at you weakly, “Can you…” He trails off, looking at his best friend.

“I need something to help me sleep.” Bucky finishes, voice rough. “Preferably without dreams.”

You pause, “I can’t guarantee anything,” you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, “But I can try.”

“Thanks.” Steve sounds exhausted, but Bucky looks worse.

“Can I have a minute alone?” You ask Bucky, but the question is really for Steve. Bucky tenses, and you rush to clarify, “Just want to chat about how we can help you get better sleep. Figured you might be more comfortable without an audience, but Steve can stay if you want him to.”

The two men have a silent conversation before Steve nods, reaching for your hand to give it a squeeze before he leaves you and Bucky alone.

It’s a few minutes before Bucky relaxes enough to talk. You busy yourself taking his vitals even though you know you could just ask FRIDAY to give you the rundown. It gives you something manual to do, so you don’t have to just stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

You look up in surprise. “Me? No, I-- you--”

“I know it-- I woke you up.”

You shake your head. “I was awake anyway.”

Bucky cocks his head in question, so you keep talking.

“I have a hard time sleeping. Did Steve tell you much about me? What I did-- before?”

“He said you’re a nurse.”

You nod. “I was a trauma nurse at a hospital nearby. That’s how Steve and I met.” You hesitate before the next part, but you feel like he’ll handle it okay. “I was working the day SHIELD fell. When he was brought in, I was in the ER.”

Bucky meets your eyes, and you can see the guilt swimming there.

You smile, “Turns out a nurse isn’t super necessary for a super soldier.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I suppose not.”

“My job mostly turned into babysitting. He kept trying to leave before he was fully healed, and we really had no idea how long he was going to be there. None of the rules applied to him, and he was way more focused on getting out to look for you.”

Bucky looks down, gunmetal hand whirring slightly as he fiddles with it. “Sounds like Steve.”

“Anyway, after I managed to put up with Steve and Sam for a whole two weeks,” you wink at Bucky, “Steve offered me a job. Thought they could use a medic around. I’d been wanting to get out of the hospital anyway. Some days were… hard.” You try your best not to let the memories get the better of you. “Turns out Bruce is a great doctor but not when he’s-- the other guy.”

Bucky nods, seemingly finding his resolve. He takes a deep breath, “I thought I could handle today. I felt good when we were there. Like I could almost forget--” he waves his hand around vaguely. “You know.”

You nod slowly. “In my experience, recovery isn’t always a straight line.”

Bucky is quiet, but you take that as a signal to keep going.

“I definitely still have days where I can’t see the lights of an ambulance without my heart rate speeding up. I have nightmares, and sometimes when the team is gone on a mission, I’m so anxious thinking about what’s happening to them I can barely breathe.” You force yourself to keep talking, “And then there’s some days where I’m calm. I can handle it, and I feel fine.”

You look up at him so you can look directly into his eyes. He’s already looking at you, and for a second, you feel a zip of awareness hit you in your gut.

“I’ve got something for you. It’ll help you sleep, but it’s really strong.” Quieter, you add, “Don’t tell Steve, but Bruce and Tony developed this for him years ago. He won’t ever admit to having nights like you’ve had. This seemed to help him.” You reach over on the table for a pill bottle and press it into Bucky’s palm. “Read the directions. Don’t take more than one.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs. “Thank you.”

After a brief awkward moment, he leaves the room, and you can hear his quiet footsteps down the hall until the ding of the elevator signals him going back upstairs.

A few moments later, Steve is in your line of vision, and he doesn’t say anything, just gives you this look and it completely breaks your heart.

Wordlessly, you hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers, and he takes it willingly, threading your fingers together. Pulling him close, you stand shoulder to shoulder with the super soldier, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you both pull your thoughts together.

“I knew this was going to be hard,” he says, voice low. “I just didn’t-- I hate seeing him in pain and not being able to do anything about it.”

“I know, Steve.” You don’t have any answers, so you don’t try to give him one. “You need to try to rest.” You tell him instead.

“So do you,” he replies stubbornly.

“One day at a time, Steve.” You remind him.

“Yeah.” He sighs, wiping his free hand over his face. “Yeah, I know.”

When you get to your bedroom that night, you’re exhausted. It’s quiet above you, and you keep replaying the night’s events over and over.

Out of everything, one moment stands out to you - that potent moment of eye contact with Bucky Barnes. You can still feel the electricity crackling through you as you remember it.

That can’t be good.

“Any time, Cap,” Tony’s voice, out of breath, comes through the comms. You’re watching anxiously from your lab in the Tower, wondering again how you got roped into this.

“I’m busy,” Steve replies haughtily, and you hear the sound of two bodies hitting the floor. “On my way.”

The sound of fighting rings out, and you try to subtly eye the man next to you, his posture similar to yours - arms crossed, brow furrowed.

“Do they always argue this much on a mission?” Bucky wonders aloud, and you snort.

“I’ve only been involved in a few, but in my experience: yes.”

The mission is otherwise pretty smooth - Steve and Tony are more than capable of handling a few rogue Hydra thugs on their own, and you’re relieved when Tony lets you know over the comms that they’re headed back, objective complete.

You glance at Bucky next to you, who still stares at the screens.

“This must be a little overwhelming…” you start, not really sure how much you should press.

He shrugs. “Just different. The last time I planned any type of mission I was in olive drab and all I ever had to do was say yes, sir.”

You’re still surprised with how candid he’s being, willingly offering up details about his past, those he can remember, at least.

“Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers have docked.” FRIDAY’s voice interrupts your musing, and you nod at Bucky, who leaves the room to go meet them. He brushes past you, and you feel another zip of awareness when he does, shaking your head to get rid of the feeling.

He’s your patient. You absolutely cannot, will not allow yourself to feel anything other than a clinical attraction to the man. He deserves better than that, and you can’t afford to be distracted, not when he needs your help and is depending on you to get better.

Just earlier that day, you sat down with Steve and Tony for a quick briefing to better plan for the days ahead in terms of Bucky’s recovery and his place with the team.

Steve is tense, rightly so, and Tony is firm, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark as he looks at the files in front of the three of you.

“You’re saying there’s no way to know if the trigger words are actually deactivated.” Tony asks, though it’s not really phrased as a question.

“I’m saying there might be other triggers. Not just the words, though Shuri insists those are moot. He’s got PTSD, Tony.”

“Yeah, well. Join the club.” Tony mutters, looking out the window. You can’t imagine how difficult this is for him. You know as well as everyone else does that Barnes was responsible for the Starks’ deaths. You’re surprised Tony okayed Bucky’s arrival here at all, though he does have a heart. He knows Bucky was brainwashed, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Steve doesn’t say anything. You get the idea he’s worried to say the wrong thing -- he admitted to you once that he’s obviously biased where Bucky’s concerned. He doesn’t know how to be Bucky’s ally and Tony’s friend at the same time.

“All this is, is a plan for if the worst happens.” You hold up your hand quickly, stopping Steve before he responds, “I’m not saying we’ll ever have to use this, but we have evacuation plans for everything else, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be prepared for him to relapse. Even if the Soldier is out of his head, there’s still a chance his memories will get the best of him and he’ll have an episode.” You say the last part quietly, meeting Steve’s concerned gaze.

“We don’t even know if he’s going to want to have anything to do with the Avengers,” he acknowledges. “After all this time… for all I know he wants to lay low.”

Tony nods. “If he does… we won’t have him on any field missions until we’re sure he can handle it. Until then he stays here, helps Hill with the comms and he can…” Tony gestures wildly, “I don’t know, be strategic backup or something.”

That option had proved to be more than okay with Bucky, though he acknowledged he didn’t really have any say in the matter. He just wanted to be useful.

In the weeks that follow, he fills in for Maria Hill when she’s called away for other Stark Industries work, and takes to running the team like he was born to do it.

“It’s the squad leader in me,” he tells you one day, a grin on his face. “Though the lot of you are a lot easier to deal with than Army brats.”

He even helps Steve train some new recruits when the opportunity presents itself. Overall, his recovery is on track to be even shorter than you expected. Sure, there are still moments where he loses himself in a memory or has to be shaken awake in the middle of the night when things get to be too much. But you know every single other person in the Tower struggles that way too.

You’re mostly enjoying getting to know James Barnes the person, and not The Winter Soldier, the enigma, even if it is getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies that take flight in your stomach every time he enters a room you’re in.

You’re killing time in the lab when Tony saunters in, startling you with his Iron Man gear half-on.

“What are you doing?”

“Need a hand,” he says, drawing out the word as he waves at you, thruster firmly in place on his left hand.

“Terrible.” You mutter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just miscalculated the power of the new thruster and sort of… fused it to my hand.” He says the last part quickly, and you blink at him.

“I’m sorry. I heard that wrong.”

He grins cheerily. “Nothing wrong with your ears! Now--” He claps his hands together with a metallic clang, “-- You got anything for burns?”

Bucky wanders in sometime after you’ve finally gotten Tony to sit down. He watches warily, stopping before entering the room completely, a little curious. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he says quietly, “but what the fuck is going on?”

Even Tony smiles at that, Bucky’s blunt tone a sure sign he’s had a decent day, as far as moods go. “Experimentation gone wrong,” he says brightly. “Doc’ll get me sorted.”

You glare at him. “I’m not a surgeon. Stop giving me surgeons’ work to do.”

You’re gently trying to pull the round piece of metal from Tony’s palm without completely frying his nerves. Coincidentally, the entire thing is destroying your own nerves in the process.

“Need a hand?” Bucky asks, pulling up a stool.

Tony snorts. “That’s what I said.”

You’re very aware of the heat emanating from Bucky’s side as he watches you work. Normally you wouldn’t let someone this close while you’re essentially performing surgery, but you think idly that it might be a good idea to have a third party here in case Tony starts complaining that you’re trying to butcher him.

“What I need--” you say through grit teeth, “-- is for both of you to shut up and let me work.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky says with a smile.

Tony raises his eyebrows in delight at the exchange, but you ignore him.

“Hold still,” you murmur after a few minutes, and when you glance up, relieved that there’s quiet finally, you see a few beads of sweat on Tony’s brow. He’s frowning at his own hand, and you think he’s finally starting to grasp how serious this could have been. “Honestly--” You huff, “Now you’re getting squeamish?”

“I didn’t think about the part where you’d actually have to yank it off,” Tony says defensively.

“I’ve got as much of the metal out as I can, so hopefully I can just…” you mime ripping it off with your free hand.

His eyes widen. “No you will not.”

Bucky sits back, arms folded across his chest with an amused grin at the billionaire.

“There’s nothing for it, Tony. Like a bandaid.”

“Can’t be worse than when I had to give myself stitches in the middle of the woods in Belgium with some dental floss,” Bucky says off-handedly, and both you and Tony stare at him, mouths agape.

“This is the twenty-first century!” Tony protests, gritting his teeth, “This isn’t the fucking Battle of the Bulge, Grandpa!”

“And, three.” You say with finality, lifting the remnants of the Iron glove off Tony’s palm, having used his outrage at Bucky’s bad attempt at bedside manner as a distraction to do the hard part. “Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.” You say primly as he hands you a piece of gauze that had been waiting nearby.

“Devious.” Tony remarks as you wrap his palm. “What’s the damage?”

“You need to keep it clean or it’ll get infected. No more experimenting.”

You let Tony go with the promise - or threat - to tell Pepper about this, and then it’s just you and Bucky there as you clean up.

“Does that happen often?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, “More often than I’d like. He thinks he’s invincible.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth tilt up. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

You’re momentarily fascinated by how much younger he looks when he smiles, but you force yourself to look away and go back to cleaning up the tray you had supplies on. “Did you need anything?” You ask, remembering how he wandered in on his own nearly an hour ago.

He flushes, scratching the back of his neck. “Just some company.” He admits.

It sends a thrill through you.

“It’s nice to talk to someone who has no idea who I am. Or who I’m supposed to be.” He says, the last part barely a whisper.

You feel so much for him at this moment. You can’t imagine what he’s been through, and still, the man manages to crack jokes whenever he can, and is, on the outside, not completely overwhelmed with being in a new place, finally in his own head.

“I think I’ll head back to bed.” He says, a small smile on his face. “This was… interesting.” He grins. On his way past you to the door, he reaches out briefly and squeezes your free hand. You think he might not even realize he’s done it.

You almost drop the tools in your hand when you realize what’s happened -- the mark on your arm, the one you try so diligently to cover up, is burning.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur to yourself.

You avoid Bucky for weeks after that. You see him in a strictly professional capacity, and you feel like the biggest bitch on the planet for it, but you have no idea what to do with yourself.

After he left you in the lab that night, you inspected your well-hidden mark, trying to figure out why it was suddenly coming to life after years. It was a dull pink color, like you’d been rubbing at it, and even though you refused to accept it, you knew deep down what that meant.

You have no one to ask about it. No one at all.

Soul marks are rare, and they’re rarer still among the bunch you live with. Steve doesn’t have a mark, nor does Sam. You don’t feel like putting up with the shit you’ll get from Tony or Pepper if you try to ask them about theirs.

You’ve read enough about the bond to recognize it for what it is, but your brain is still stuck on one fact - Bucky Barnes doesn’t have a mark. Not that you’ve seen, and not that he’s mentioned.

It occurs to you then that the worst case could be true - you could be his, but he might not be yours. What a nightmare. As if he doesn’t have enough to deal with after quite literally coming back to life. Throwing an unreciprocated soulmate into the mix? No. You won’t do it.

So you avoid him.

You even go out of your way to liaison with the new SHIELD for two weeks, as part of a new partnership Steve and Tony were reluctantly part of with the recently-still-alive Phil Coulson.

“Are you sure you want to go? They have a doctor.” Steve asks as he carries your duffel to the dock as you await the arrival of SHIELD’s quinjet.

“They have a scientist,” you remind him. “They wouldn’t have asked for help if they really didn’t need it.”

Steve scowls, still a little perturbed that a man he considered a friend couldn’t even let them know he was alive, let alone that he was resurrecting SHIELD.

“We need to know what they’re working on, anyway.” You say. “Plus, it’s good networking.”

Steve shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Still. What if--” He stops himself, looking away as you reach the hangar. “What if we need you?”

“Then you’ll call, and I’ll have them fly me back.”

You hear what he’s really asking - what if Bucky needs you? You considered it. But you think you need the distance more than being around and avoiding him. He hasn’t needed you in any urgent way in weeks, anyway.

“Fine. But make sure Coulson knows he’s still on my shit list.”

“Steve Rogers!” You gasp. “He’ll be broken-hearted to hear that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but you’re interrupted by incoming engines, and watch as the quinjet flies smoothly into the hangar.

You’re surprised at how young the team is. Not much younger than you, sure, but still. They’re watching Steve with something like awe in their eyes.

“Captain Rogers.” Coulson says, descending the ramp and holding out his hand tentatively. “It’s good to see you.” He’s sincere, that much is obvious.

“Coulson.” Steve’s tone is curt, but he shakes the man’s hand anyway.

After an awkward pause, Steve turns to you, introducing you.

“This is Agent May, Fitz, Simmons, and Daisy.” Coulson says, and you smile at each member in turn. “We’re looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You grin at him. It seems impossible to be anything less than genial with Phil Coulson, though Steve is doing his best to prove otherwise, and Tony hasn’t even bothered to leave his office to greet the new arrivals.

“I’ll bring her back in one piece.” Phil tells Steve.

“The alternative isn’t an option.” Steve replies, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough. Bye, Steve. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

His expression softens, and you know he’s just being protective in that big-brotherly way of his.

As you’re boarding the jet, you see movement out of the corner of your eye, and see Bucky back in the shadows, leaning against the wall as he watches you leave. You bite your lip in frustration, knowing that leaving after ignoring him is a cowardly move. Still, it’s the only option you can think of while you try to sort this out.

After taking off, Phil turns to you.

“He hates me, doesn’t he.” There’s something like despair in his voice.

You sigh. “They thought you were dead.”

“Technically I was.”

He fills you in on the whole story as you fly to their base, and when you land, you take the first minute you can to get Jemma Simmons alone.

“I was hoping you could tell me more about soul marks. I know you’ve done some research--”

She smiles at you, putting you at ease. “What questions do you have?”

Bucky watches the jet take off, a hollow feeling in his chest. He can’t figure out what he did to drive you away so thoroughly.

Steve stands there with his arms crossed for a few minutes before turning back, shaking his head.

“You trust them?” Bucky asks, and Steve pauses.

“I do.” He sighs, then looks at his friend. “Are you worried?”

Bucky scoffs. “Am I worried that she ignored me for two weeks and then fucked off with a bunch of people I don’t know?”

Steve’s grin is slow, lazy. “Careful, Buck. Sounding awfully protective.”

Bucky scowls. “Shut up.”

One thing that has absolutely not changed since the 40s is Steve’s propensity to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, and lately that’s been evident in the way he’s been trying to needle out what exactly Bucky is feeling for the good doctor.

He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

She’s-- smart. She’s smart and she’s funny, and she’s beautiful, but it’s not like he would ever act on it. She’s his doctor. Probably the closest thing to a best friend Steve has. Bucky’s not going to fuck that up just because he’s noticed that she smells like vanilla and when the sun hits her face just right-- well. He’s not going to fuck it up.

Besides, he clearly made her uncomfortable when he told her it was nice to be around her. That she understood him, in some way that Steve didn’t. That clearly freaked her out.

He would laugh if it wasn’t happening to him. Scared a woman away so thoroughly that she literally got on a jet and took off.

He sighs and follows Steve back to the common area where a few of the others are lingering. They want a report on SHIELD, no doubt.

Bucky is going to do some digging of his own. SHIELD, for obvious reasons, has left the taste of ash in his mouth, and he’ll never forgive himself if it turns out that they’re some kind of HYDRA cell using a familiar face to get close to the Avengers again.

Not to mention his favorite doctor would be caught in the middle of it, and he can’t have that.

He feels… he feels good. It’s unfamiliar. But really, minor episodes and nightmares aside, he feels more like himself than he has in decades. There were brief moments when he was lucid enough in Hydra to remember who he was and where he was, but he thinks being brainwashed was… not a blessing, he’s not stupid enough to consider it that, but the alternative… having to be himself while he did those things… it would have killed him.

Now, he finally has choices.

His first choice was deciding to accept Steve’s help and friendship, and his second choice was to trust you.

He thinks that should mean something.

He thinks back to a moment from a few weeks back, shortly after the Brooklyn trip. You didn’t treat him like he was broken, and he appreciated it more than he could say. So much so that he invited you back to Brooklyn with him, to one of his favorite diners from when he was growing up.

He’s so happy to see it still exists that he can’t wait to have a meal there. Steve is busy, and you just-- the way you smile at him when he asks you to go, he knows he’s made the right call.

“James Barnes?” The older woman at the counter looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“That’s me,” he says, trying to smile. He has no idea how people are going to react to him wherever he goes.

“I’ll be damned,” she whispers. “My grandmother… she used to tell me stories about you and Captain Rogers.”

He smiles. “Good ones, I hope?”

“Only good ones. My grandmother was Ruth Kelley.”

The name fires some synapse in Bucky’s brain that hasn’t been used in years. Suddenly he’s nineteen, sharing a malt with Ruthie at the counter while she was on her lunch break, trying to pretend he’s not pulling out all the stops to make her laugh.

“You look just like her,” he stutters, and she does - the same eyes, the same kind smile.

“Thank you.” She whispers. “Anything you want, on the house today.”

Bucky tries to protest, but you stop him.

“Let her do this for you,” you say quietly.

Bucky nods and the two of you sit in a booth, his mind still working overtime trying to believe that all the pieces of his life could come full circle like this.

“An old flame?” You ask, lifting a mug of coffee to your lips, and Bucky finds himself entranced by the playful look on your face.

“Something like that.” He murmurs. “She grew up in the same building as Steve and I. Used to come bother her while she worked. That family was the best. They’d give us free slices of pie every so often…” He trails off. “Never saw her again before I shipped out.”

You’re quiet, a look on your face he can’t identify. “You must have meant a lot to her. If she told her granddaughter about you.”

He turns to watch Ruth’s granddaughter busy herself behind the counter, her movements so similar to Ruth’s that for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry too.

On the way back to the Tower, you loop your arm through his, so casually, the touch coming so easy for you, it throws Bucky for a loop. It’s not unwelcome - you’re warm through your jacket, and Bucky hasn’t realized how much he missed human contact until this moment.

He thinks it should be concerning, how quickly you’re inserting yourself in his life. He tells himself it’s purely professional, but he knows it’s a lie.

The annoyingly knowing looks he’s been getting from Steve and Sam seem to suggest that too, not to mention the not-so-subtle threatening from Tony.

He’s drawn to you, and it scares him a little, while at the same time it feels like it’s just… right. He tried to surreptitiously get a look at your left arm the first time he thought… but to no avail. He hadn’t seen a mark. Certainly not one like he remembers, not one that he hoped to see, as fleeting as the thought had been at the time. But he told himself it didn’t matter. His own parents weren’t soulmates, but they loved each other.

Peggy and Steve didn’t have marks either, but they loved each other til the end. It doesn’t matter. Although, truth be told, it won’t matter at all if you stop talking to him completely.

Trying to get his mind off you, he seeks out his friends, finding them in the common area. No sooner has he made himself comfortable on the couch next to Sam then there’s an alarm blaring somewhere, and all his senses fire to life.

Steve is on his feet immediately, as is Tony, tapping away at his tablet as he tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Steve?” Sam asks, body rigid.

“Suit up,” Steve says immediately. “Tony and I will do threat assessment.”

“Already done,” Tony chirps. “Fun - intruders!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s already moving, striding towards the doors to the command center and sliding a headset on his head - he feels more at home here than he thought he would.

“Check in when you’ve got comms,” he says distractedly, tapping away at the screen in front of him until he pulls up a couple cameras of the lower floors.

He spares a thought to be grateful that you’re not here right now, as he watches a team of men in black bust through the doors to the lab. “Lower two floors. I count eight, maybe ten operatives.”

“On it,” Steve says in his ear, and Bucky watches as his friend skips the elevator and instead launches himself down over the railing.

“Idiot.” He mutters.

“I can hear you.”

He smirks. “Tony, there’s a few more on the outside trying to get in,” he confirms, hearing the now-familiar sound of thrusters as Tony takes off from the launchpad outside the penthouse.

“More company incoming,” Tony replies, and Bucky can hear the sound of an engine through the comms.

Gunfire suddenly erupts almost directly outside the room Bucky’s in, the reinforced glass holding, but Bucky still throws his metal arm above his head and ducks out of instinct.

He knows this is Hydra. This was bound to happen, with Bucky living here. The Asset would never be allowed to live with everything he knows.

Bucky grimaces. “I’m going to need to get to the armory.”

Sam’s voice is next, “Negative, big guy. You’re going to stay right where you are, or else no one else has eyes on us.”

“Seconded.” Steve says firmly.

“I’m kind of a sitting duck up here.” Bucky protests. “This is seventy years of sniper training going to waste,” he adds, and Steve audibly sighs in his ear.

“Take an MG, that’s it.” He says, and Bucky snorts.

“You think I’d try to grab an alien gun? I’m not as stupid as you remember.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he heads out the door, eyes scanning this way and that for any potential threats. He hears the fight going on a few floors below, but so far he’s in the clear, and he heads towards the hangar where he can slip in a back entrance to the armory (hopefully) undetected.

“Two headed to you, Buck.” Steve says, sounding out of breath.

“Copy that.” Bucky says, steeling himself for the inevitable fight. He lets himself feel exhausted for approximately one second before he gets to work - his training taking over like he’s on autopilot.

He makes it to the armory door before he’s jumped from behind, though he heard them coming. He knows he can’t let them get inside. He uses their momentum to propel himself forward, flinging one man off his back and sending him careening into the opposite wall.

His other hand rears back out of instinct, delivering a sickening blow to the second man’s face.

Warily, he watches the first man struggle to his feet, a sneer on his face. “Longing.” He says, and Bucky sees red, though not for the reason he suspects the man hopes. “Rusted.”

Bucky pulls back with his metal arm, and delivers one solid punch. “Eat shit.”

Steve comes skidding around the corner a moment or two later, watching the scene in front of him. He clearly heard what the man was trying to do over comms - his face is a mixture of terror and concern.

“Bucky?”

“It’s still me, Steve.”

“Just checking.” He steps over the two men on the floor. “Didn’t need the MG after all?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Bucky reaches down, straightening the man’s jacket so he can see the insignia for himself. He sighs. “Not going for stealth these days.”

“They’re done fighting in the shadows, or whatever.” Steve replies with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll get them all to lockup - Tony’s got the rest on the roof.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is going to keep happening. As long as I’m here. You know that, right?”

Steve’s face hardens. “Then we’ll keep fighting them. They’re not going to take you again.” The fierceness in his voice makes Bucky want to weep. This is the Steve he remembers.

He helps get the Hydra agents rounded up with the rest of the team, and then retreats to his bedroom. He feels exhausted, even though he didn’t have to do much - even the fight itself wasn’t as awful as it could have been.

He’s just tired of being hunted. He just wants to-- he doesn’t know, really. Be free? It sounds so trite. But he’s got a chance at a better life now, and he’s not going to let anyone take that away from him. Not Hydra, not whoever they decide to send after him next.

That night he has another nightmare, but this time, it’s about you. The look on your face after you see him in action - it sends you even further away from him, and Bucky knows he’ll never get you back, not after this. Not after you’ve seen the Soldier.

When he startles awake, the shame burning in his chest is a living, breathing thing.

He realizes then what you mean to him, or what you could if given the chance.

It doesn’t scare him as much as it should.

Jemma Simmons is infinitely patient as she explains the research about soul marks to you. It helps that she has a soulmate of her own, one who has a reciprocating mark.

It doesn’t do a thing to quell your guilt about Bucky, though. You still feel like you’d be trapping him into something. He’s never had much of a choice about anything in his life before, and you don’t want to take this away from him, too.

Trying to distract yourself, you throw yourself into research and analysis with Fitz and Simmons. In the few days you’ve been with SHIELD, you’ve helped them learn more about Daisy’s power and biology, your experience working with Avengers helpful as they try to catalog what she can do and what her limits are.

You plan to head back to Avengers Tower by the end of the week, and head to bed that night feeling like the time away from everything was just what you needed, even if you do have two letters to Steve from Phil in your bag that you’re almost certainly not going to give him.

The man is desperate for his apology to be accepted by his hero.

You’re asleep nearly the minute your head hits the pillow.

Annoyingly, you dream of Bucky. It’s not the dream you’ve had before - holding hands at the diner, or making some grand declaration. This is… darker. More real. It scares you.

Someone is hauling Bucky out of the Tower, and Bucky is nearly incapacitated. Drugged or… worse. You feel a shudder run through you as you watch him smuggled out in the dead of night, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help.

You wake with a gasp, and when you pull up your left sleeve, the mark on your arm is an angry red.

Panic slides through you like ice in your veins, and you’re reaching for your phone before you can begin to make sense of anything.

“Hey. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I need you to check on Bucky.” You tell Steve, your tone urgent.

“What?”

“Just do it, Steve.”

“What’s going on?”

“Steve.”

You hear movement on his end, and listen intently as he leaves his apartment and heads across the hall. “It’s been quiet all night,” he assures you. “We had a run-in today, but other than that…” He trails off, and that’s what sets your heart pounding. “FRIDAY, what time did Bucky leave his apartment?” Steve asks the AI, and you feel your heart plummet.

You don’t hear her reply.

“Steve, listen to me. I think he’s been taken.”

“How the hell did you--”

“I can’t explain it. I need you to come get me. I don’t want to worry anyone here, but I can help.”

“I’ll be wheels up in ten.”

A click, and then the line goes dead.

It feels like hours before you hear a knock on the door in the base, and Phil Coulson is there, looking as worried as you are, though you’re sure he’s picking up on the anxiety coming from Steve, and from having an Avenger in his secret base.

“Steve!”

“He’s gone.” Steve says rapidly, “We had a… brief infiltration today--”

“A what?!”

“Don’t worry about it now. Point is - I think they were a distraction. They needed to figure out how to get in and how to get to Bucky.”

“I can find him.” You grab your bag, trying to push past him and Coulson both to get to the door.

“Wait a minute, slow down, how did you even know he was gone? I don’t understand.”

“We don’t have time for this right now, Steve. Who knows what they’ve done to him or are planning to do.”

“Hey.” Steve’s voice is sharp, drawing you back into focus. “I need you to slow down. Explain this to me like I’m an idiot.”

You glare, but force your breathing to slow. “Something’s wrong. I just-- I can feel it, Steve.”

“How?”

“I think I’m-- his,” you choke out. “I-- he doesn’t have a mark, I know that, but I have one. I’ve had one my whole life, and I’ve never felt--”

Steve exhales hard. “Jesus Christ.” Hands on his hips, he looks back at you. “So… you can sense him? Is that it?”

You nod. “Sort of. I noticed it when we first met. An awareness, really. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought I was being overprotective while he was recovering.”

Steve’s expression clears. “The night he had an episode after we went to Brooklyn. You knew something was wrong before I heard him.”

“Steve, I-- I don’t want him to know. We just need to find him. Everything else… it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that I can help you find him, and we can help him.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is sure, full of conviction. “Okay. We get him back, and we worry about the rest later.”

“Where are the others?” You ask as you, Steve, and Phil walk as quickly as possible towards the quinjet.

“Tony’s on standby. No point in bringing the full team until we know what we’re up against. I don’t even know where to start looking.” He exhales hard. “What do they even want with him? Without the triggers, there’s no point--”

“Hydra’s been trying to pop up all over the world,” Coulson says. “They’ve taken over several old SHIELD bases, some that we didn’t even know about. They could be trying to use the Asset to bring out whoever’s still in hiding.”

“But he’s not the Soldier anymore.” You say, fierce.

“They don’t know that.” Coulson points out.

At this point, other members of his team have gathered, and you try to keep it together before you have to explain yourself in front of everyone. You’d rather suss this out with Steve, first.

“We’re ready to help if you need it, Captain.” Coulson says, shoulders straight.

Steve watches him carefully, hands on his hips. “We don’t even know where to start looking.”

“Any chance Sergeant Barnes would try to send a signal?” Daisy asks, her voice quiet as she interrupts. “If you know what to look for, we could try to hack into any outgoing Hydra communication channels we know about.”

Steve’s expression clears. “Yeah, he might. If he’s not--”

“He’s not compromised, Steve. I can feel it.” You tell him quietly. Steve stares at you, trying to decide if he can trust this. You don’t blame him - you have no idea if this is going to work either.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” Steve says finally.

“You got it, boss.” Daisy says, with a lazy salute, and you watch, amused as her gaze snaps to Coulson. “No offense, Director.”

“None taken. I’m outranked.” He says agreeably.

You sigh in relief at finally having some help. You can’t let anything happen to Bucky. For Steve’s sake, and for your own.

Bucky opens his eyes slowly - his eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. Immediately he’s on edge. He has a hazy vision of someone breaking down his door, a cloth in his face and him trying to fight them off before he passed out.

Shit, he thinks, Steve’s going to be so pissed. He takes a minute to assess the situation. A dingy, dark room. He’s shackled. Not the most original way he’s ever been held against his will, but whatever.

He spares a thought for you. Do you even know he’s gone? You’re with SHIELD. Steve’s probably trying like hell to keep this from you, so he doesn’t worry you. Bucky feels himself getting angrier the longer he thinks about it - he finally thinks he might be able to work up the nerve to ask you out, or to at least tell you he thinks you’re-- well, it doesn’t matter.

None of it will matter unless he gets out of here.

He feels a little woozy. He wonders what they used to knock him out, because he knows it would take nearly five times a normal amount of anything that would render a normal person unconscious. It makes him a little nervous, but again, it mostly pisses him off.

He tests his left arm - and can’t move. A brief flash of panic runs through him, but he grits his teeth and tells himself to calm down. There’s something in the room - an EMP maybe? Something that’s taken his arm out of commission.

He tests the shackles, and his right arm pulls free.

“Huh.” Suspicious.

The door opens, and in comes one of the two men who greeted him near the armory at the Tower.

“Oh, hello.” Bucky greets.

“Soldat.” The other man says, and Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“What was it I told you earlier? Oh, right. Eat shit.”

“So the rumors are true? The trigger words no longer work. That’s alright, there are other ways to make you comply.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m done taking orders. So you’re wasting your time.”

Bucky does, under it all, wonder what the play is here. He’s basically not held down any more, and they had to know the restraints wouldn’t hold him. So what’s the point? He doesn’t know enough about the Avengers to be a threat to their security, and he’s ninety percent sure that the brainwashing won’t work.

He’s banking on it.

In the back of his mind, there’s a buzzing that lets him know he’s still not completely with it. He also has a gut feeling that Steve is already assembling, or whatever it is he calls it when the Avengers get a mission, so he just has to stall enough to catch this goon off guard and get the hell out of here.

“Well, go on then. Tell me about your nefarious plans.”

That earns him a punch on the jaw, and while it doesn’t hurt really, it pisses him off.

“Alright. I’m tired of this. Tell me what you want, or I’m going to leave, and if I have to kill you to do it, well, that’s just too bad.”

His smile is just a touch too wild to be sane, Bucky thinks, right before he presses something in his right hand. Not an EMP, then, Bucky has a second to think before it feels as if his entire brain is being electrocuted, and then he blacks out.

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Tony asks Steve the second he lands in the hangar at SHIELD HQ. “Hello,” he says distractedly to the small crowd that’s gathered.

“Bucky’s in trouble.”

“Barnes has been in trouble his entire life.”

“Tony.” You growl, a warning if he’s ever heard one. “We have to help him.”

Tony sighs. “This place is pretty cool, if a little low tech,” he says finally, looking around, his gaze landing on Phil Coulson. “Phil. You’re not dead.”

“Neither are you. Heard it was pretty close for the both of us.”

Tony turns back to you and Steve. “Why am I here but Wilson isn’t?”

“Sam’s already doing recon.” Steve says, his expression hard. “I need you to help with the hacking.”

“Hey!” Daisy protests, not looking up from her laptop. “I don’t need help--”

“I know you,” Tony says. “You hacked SHIELD. They called me about that. I think you owe me an apology.”

She raises an eyebrow. “... anyway. We were able to narrow it down to these two previously unknown SHIELD bases. They’ve been silent for months, but recently had a string of outgoing communications, one of which can be tracked to a location in New York not far from the Tower.”

“He’s around the fucking block and I flew all the way here?”

Steve glares at Tony. “That doesn’t mean it’s where they’ve taken him. Just that they’re operating there.”

“They’ve probably had eyes on him ever since he came back to New York,” you say quietly.

“Christ.” Tony runs a hand over his face. “Alright, get Wilson over there and see what he can shake out. Doc, do you have a plan if Barnes is… compromised?”

You’re quiet. Steve’s quiet. No one really knows what to do if that’s the case. You’re not sure if it’s even possible, not after all the work Shuri did with Bucky’s recovery in Wakanda, but there’s still the possibility… no. You won’t let yourself think about it.

“We could use the containment module.” Agent May says quietly, one of the first things she’s said since you’ve been with SHIELD. “It’s meant to hold the strongest inhumans.”

Tony gets out of the suit eventually and you all start pouring over audio files from the last few days to try to find Bucky.

Eventually, Steve turns to you. “He’s alright?” He asks, softly, worriedly.

You sigh, but at the pained look on his face, you have no other choice. You concentrate as hard as you can, feeling your connection with Bucky like a tether. You’d know if he was gone. Even if it was just his mind.

“I think so.”

Tony gapes. “Does someone want to fill me in, here?”

“They have a connection.” Steve says, flat.

You watch as Tony connects the dots. “Oh, sweet Christ. That explains a lot.”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes, turning back to the monitor in front of him, muttering. “Making heart eyes at each other across my lab--”

“It could be that only she has the mark. But it shouldn’t diminish the bond,” Simmons says quietly across the table, her eyes not leaving the papers in front of her.

“You told SHIELD before you told me?” Tony asks, incredulous. “I’m wounded.”

“Are they always like this?” Fitz asks Coulson, not so quietly. You can relate - there’s something about seeing that your heroes are just regular people.

“Got him.” Daisy says suddenly, voice hard. “There.” She points at the map.

“Let’s go,” Coulson directs, “we’re wheels up in five.”

“You’re staying here.” Steve tells you, and you immediately stop in your tracks.

“I’m going with you. Are you--”

“This is a rescue mission.”

“And I’m a doctor!” And I’m his soulmate, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Argue later, on the jet now!” May says sharply, throwing a bulletproof vest in your direction. You catch it before you get knocked over with the weight, and slip it on as quick as you can.

On the jet, you watch as Steve Rogers slowly disappears and Captain America takes over, giving orders and preparing for the possibility that the person they’re going to find might no longer be his best friend.

“You’re going to stay on board while we clear the place, got it?”

You scowl, but don’t argue with him, knowing it won’t do you any good. He goes around handing out comms, and everyone checks that they’re working, giving him a thumbs up. Daisy Johnson looks absolutely delighted to be on a mission with Captain America and Iron Man.

It seems like it’s only minutes before you land. Sam is waiting for you when you get there, and squeezes your shoulder as he passes you to confer quietly with Steve and Tony.

“Alright, we’re going to split up into teams.”

While Steve is talking, you’re barely listening, too focused on trying to concentrate on your newly-discovered bond with Bucky to figure out if he’s alright.

“Don’t get any ideas, Doc.” Tony says to you on his way out the door, tapping the comms device in his ears for emphasis as he goes.

You sigh - you hate being sidelined, even if you know Steve is right - you can’t provide the kind of help that they might need.

“Be careful,” you tell the three of them, plus the SHIELD team.

They go down the ramp quickly, leaving you alone with Simmons and Fitz.

Bucky hasn’t really been thankful for his advanced hearing in the short time he’s been fully in control of his faculties, but even in the short time he’s been back with Steve, he’d recognize the sound of a quinjet landing anywhere.

He feels like he’s been knocked over the head with a hammer. His energy has been totally zapped, and he knows he needs to fight, needs to figure out how to get the hell out of here, he just can’t summon the will to get up.

There’s a commotion in the hallway near the room he’s being kept, and when the door finally bursts open, his face falls when he sees Tony Stark.

“Did you disable the power?” Bucky asks immediately, not giving Tony a chance to make what he’s sure was meant to be a dramatic entrance.

“What? No. Why are you on the ground?” Tony asks, irritated, taking a few steps towards Bucky before a now-familiar buzzing fills his ears. Bucky watches, un-amused, as the lights flicker, and Tony freezes, his suit shorting out.

It’s not the same bone-crackling energy that had rendered him virtually useless earlier, but Bucky still grits his teeth at the feeling of it ripping up whatever sensors are left in his metal arm.

“Oh, god dammit.” Tony curses. “Steve is here. He’ll figure it out.”

“They’ve got a device like an EMP. Shorts out everything electrical.” He winces, “Makes me feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears.”

“That’ll mean Wilson down for the count too,” Tony mutters.

Overhead, the lights flicker once more and then they go out entirely. The walls seem to shake with the force of an explosion, and Bucky and Tony barely have a chance to exchange worried glances before they’re plunged into darkness.

Inside the quinjet, it feels like an earthquake.

Jemma doesn’t look up. “That’ll be Daisy,” she says casually.

Fitz is frowning. “That didn’t feel like a quake.” He stands, heading over to one of the monitors where he tries to get in touch with the rest of the team. “Daisy? Coulson?”

You try too, pressing your finger against the comms device in your ear. “Steve?”

You get no response, not from him, and not from anyone else. You start to feel dread prickling up your spine, and you surge to your feet, not able to just sit there anymore.

“I have to go help them.”

Simmons looks up at you, “You don’t have any way to defend yourself! If they’re not responding--”

“What, we’re going to just leave them in there?”

Fitz looks like he’s weighing his options. He moves quickly, digging into his backpack. He pulls out his sidearm, thrusting it at you. “You know how to use this?”

You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.” He shoulders his backpack, and you tuck the gun into your waistband.

“Fitz!” Simmons protests. “The Captain said to stay here—“

“Tell him it was my idea,” you say. “He can lecture me after we save his life.” You take off down the ramp before either of them can say anything else, but you’re relieved when you hear their footsteps following.

Inside, you’re immediately on edge at the lack of guards. You’ve got your borrowed gun at the ready, Fitz and Simmons silently behind you. “First floor is clear,” you whisper. On a whim, you press your finger to your ears again, just on an off chance. “Can anyone hear me?”

“Daisy!” Simmons exclaims before racing towards a figure slumped against a far wall. “Daisy? Can you hear me?”

Daisy groans, opening her eyes slowly. “Shit. Simmons?”

“What happened? We thought it was you--”

“It was me, but then there was this-- I don’t know. It felt like it was scrambling my brain. Took the power out. I tried to quake a few of the guards, but it knocked me out.”

“It only knocked out the powered people?”

“It shorted out my gloves,” Daisy says, getting to her feet. “It’s like it reversed the energy I was exerting and put it back at me.”

You blanche. “Steve and Bucky.”

Fitz echoes your worry. “Falcon and Iron Man have powered suits. Might have had the same effect on them, too.”

All you can think of is what Bucky might have felt - his arm literally is fused to his nerves - and you’re suddenly angrier than you’ve ever been. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths. You have no idea if Bucky’s realized your connection yet, but even if he hasn’t he’s got to be feeling some residual panic. You force yourself to calm down.

“There.” Fitz says suddenly, pointing towards the one room in the building with a light on. You can hear voices inside. “It’s Coulson.”

You walk up to the room slowly, gun drawn, the three SHIELD agents at your back. Peering around the corner, you can hear what almost sounds like a casual conversation between Coulson and some Hydra lunatic.

“-- what exactly is the grand plan? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s four Avengers here.”

The man scoffs. “A lot of good they are, aren’t they!” He laughs, “Captain Rogers here doesn’t look like he’s much up for anything right now.”

You take a deep breath when you see Steve slumped against the doorway. Slowly, you reach down, checking his pulse. Still alive, you reassure yourself.

“So you’ve got a device that can take out inhumans and the enhanced. What comes next?”

“Don’t forget it disables any man-made technology that aids the enhanced. Gives us a much more level playing field.”

“This is boring,” Coulson says, dry. “There’s no grand plan? You kidnapped Bucky Barnes to… what? To get Steve Rogers here? To get SHIELD here? You had to know someone would come.”

“The more Avengers we can take out at once, the better. And once we build this machine to its full potential, we can take out entire countries' worth of inhumans and the enhanced.”

You’ve heard enough. “New plan.” You say firmly, stepping around the corner, gun raised. Your eyes narrow. “Where’s Sergeant Barnes?”

The man looks unruffled. “I assume he’s in the cell where we left him, considering he’s only got one fully functioning arm.”

You glance over your shoulder at Fitz and Simmons. “Figure out a way to power that down.” Daisy stays out of sight, but you appreciate knowing you’ve got at least one superhero at your back. Gun still pointed at the Hydra agent, they hurry around him, analyzing the panels and buttons in front of them.

“I wondered if you’d come too,” the man says. He holds out a hand. “Alex Harrison. We haven’t met yet. Well, not officially.” He smirks, “Seen you around though, with the Asset.”

“He has a name.” You growl.

“Two minutes,” Fitz says, and you’re aware of Coulson reaching for his waistband, too. Behind you, Steve starts to rouse, and you fight off the panic at him immediately springing into action.

“Even if you destroy this machine, the plans won’t be stopped.”

“You talk too much,” Coulson says, lunging forward and hitting Harrison hard with the butt of his gun, sending him collapsing to the ground.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Had to find out about their evil plan.”

“What-- what are you doing here?” Steve asks groggily.

“Hate to break this up, but we need to find the others.” Daisy says. She looks at you, “Can you tell where he is?”

You concentrate on the bond.

“I’ve got him.”

Bucky thinks if he could avoid spending any extended period of time with Tony Stark again, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“All I’m saying is… have you noticed her?”

He’s been needling Bucky about you for the last half hour, and Bucky’s about had it. “Shouldn’t we be trying to get the hell out of here?”

Tony glares. “Well, considering I can’t move…”

The door to the cell suddenly bursts open, and both Bucky and Tony flinch.

“Took you long enough!” Tony crows at the unfamiliar woman, holding her hand up not unlike Bucky’s seen Tony do.

“Bucky!”

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice. You’re there, in front of him, real and alive, hair escaping your ponytail in tendrils, clad in a bulletproof vest and a pair of jeans that he thinks he’ll be dreaming about for days to come.

Also, a gun.

He’s never pondered the attractiveness of firearms until now.

“This seems backwards,” Bucky says. “I should be the one attempting a daring rescue for you.”

“He’s not good at being grateful,” Tony mutters.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the woman says, interrupting. “I’m Daisy. I’m with SHIELD. It’s an honor to meet you.” She grabs his good arm, hoisting him to his feet.

“Brought the calvary, then?” Bucky asks you, over Daisy’s shoulder.

Daisy snorts. “Actually, yes, but don’t let Agent May hear you say that.”

“We have to go quickly.” You say, moving to Bucky’s side. “Are you hurt anywhere else? What did they--” your voice is getting increasingly panicked, and Bucky stops you.

“I’m okay.” He says softly. “Let’s go.”

Getting both himself and Tony oriented is a struggle as they fight off the effects of the EMP, but out in the corridor, he finds the rest of the team including Wilson and Steve congregating. He fights not to notice the way you stay close to his side, close enough to touch.

“How did you find me?” Bucky asks Steve.

Steve glances at you. “It’s a long story.”

Outside, on the quinjet, you busy yourself checking everyone for injuries and any signs of trauma from the Hydra device. You’re in your element, and Bucky can’t take his eyes off you.

He realizes how close he came to being done for. If not for the quickness of the team - however they found him - and for the fact that the trigger words don’t work anymore, he would have been lights out without ever telling you that he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

They land quickly, promising the SHIELD agents a chance to rest up at Stark Tower before they head back to their base.

You head to the infirmary with Bucky, whose arm is still shorted out.

“Let’s see if we can’t get you back up and running, okay, Sergeant?” Your smile is gentle.

“Yes ma’am.”

He watches you work, watches the way your forehead creases as you concentrate and the way you have tiny flecks of light in your eyes.

He wonders if you’ve got someone. You’ve never mentioned it, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining all these little moments the two of you have had together. There’s the matter of the mark. He hasn’t seen if you have one. He’s put off thinking about his own - or the lack thereof - for… decades.

He decides he doesn’t care. Not when you’re smiling at him like that, and indulging his bad jokes, and making him feel like he’s a normal person, not someone to be afraid of.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He blurts.

You look startled. “Uh-- no, I don’t think so.”

“Do you want to go out?” He takes a minute to relish in the surprised look on your face. “With me?”

A myriad of emotions flash across your face. One he doesn’t expect to see is sadness. It makes a lead weight settle in his stomach.

“Bucky…”

He’s afraid of what you’re going to say. He finds himself rushing to reassure you. “It’s not-- it doesn’t have to be anything serious. I just-- I want to spend time with you. Just us.”

You’re so still. It doesn’t track with anything he knows about you - the way you’re always moving, always taking care of everyone else.

“You want to go out with me?” You manage. “Like, a date?”

He smiles. “Yeah, like a date.”

“You want to go out on a date with me?” You ask him again, and he laughs, unable to believe that he has to explain why he thinks you’re so extraordinary.

“I’ve felt a connection with you since the minute we met. I can’t explain it, but it’s true. And the way you burst in there to rescue me, all guns and glory…” a wry smile twists his mouth. “How was I supposed to not want you?”

“Oh, Bucky.” You say, watery through your tears. But you’re smiling now, which is a far sight better than when he thought you were horrified by the prospect of being with him romantically.

He continues, feeling a burst of confidence. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, so I’m sorry if I’m out of practice. I just-- I feel like I know you. I need you to know that even if-- if we’re not soulmates, even if you don’t believe in that shit, I still want you. I don’t see that changing any time soon.” Bucky’s voice is filled with conviction, and he watches as tears pool in your eyes and start to spill over. “Oh, honey, no.” He reaches for you, but stops halfway. “Don’t cry. I’ll-- what do you need? If you need me to fuck off and never be seen again, I know a guy who can make that happen,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.

A choked sob leaves your mouth, but now you’re smiling, so Bucky takes it as a good sign, though he’s still terrified you’re going to turn tail and leave him standing here. “What is it? Why are you-- please don’t cry.”

You don’t say anything, but it happens almost in slow motion. You lift up your left arm and slowly push up the sleeve, and start to take off your watch. Underneath, in faded black ink, is a vine of ivy, trailing around your delicate wrist, small leaves dotting your veins.

His entire world stops. He’s speechless. He has absolutely no idea what to say. His brain is just screaming, you belong to her, you belong to her over and over again.

“I knew I was yours, but I thought that you didn’t belong to me.” You’re saying. “I-- I didn’t want to trap you, I--.”

“Why would you think that?” His voice cracks.

You look confused. “You don’t have a mark, Buck, I’m your doctor, I saw your arm--”

“My left arm.” His voice is hoarse.

“What?”

“My mark was on my left arm. It showed up in 1934, before the war, before… everything.”

The air whooshes from the room.

“What did it look like?” You ask timidly.

He smiles, stepping closer. “Why don’t you tell me?” He takes your hand, slowly, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you.

“If this is a joke--”

“I would never joke about this.” He says, hoarse. “I got my mark when I was seventeen years old, and all I thought about for years was finding my match.” Feeling braver, he reaches forward, cupping your face in his palm. “They took that from me,” he says. “Kind of fitting the one to rescue me from Hydra was also the one to bring my mark back to me, right?”

You laugh, a little choked through your tears, and he leans down, tracing the pattern he knows so well with his fingertips on his good hand. “There’s a pale pink flower,” he whispers, looking you dead in the eyes. “Right about here.” His thumb presses lightly at the crook of your elbow, where you know a flower sits.

“It’s how I found you.” You tell him, and the pieces start to click into place. “I dreamed about you, but I think it was more of a vision.”

“You were the one to realize I’d been taken?” He asks, feeling his heart squeeze. “Jesus.”

“Called Steve in the middle of the night. Demanded he listen to me and he came to get me from SHIELD.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, a smile growing on his face. “In a good way,” he adds. Then, quieter, “I’ve dreamed of you too.” He whispers.

You’re both quiet for a few minutes. “What do we do now?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Don’t know. I haven’t done this before.” HIs eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh… you-- shut up.”

He grins - he has a feeling riling you up is going to be one of his favorite pastimes.

“Let me get your arm up and running, and then we’ll talk.” You eye him carefully. “I might have to get Tony for the hardwiring.”

Bucky lets his head drop back as he groans. “Anyone but him.”

You cackle delightedly. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

He brightens at the use of the endearment. He feels - it’s a dream. Seventy years of waiting, and somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew you were different the minute he met you.

He knows you have a lot to talk about - a lot to decide, a lot to work through. He feels almost invincible, though, especially after thinking for so long that he would never find his match if he didn’t have his mark anymore. He still can’t fathom how he got so lucky for it to be you.

You feel like you’re walking on clouds for the rest of the day. After some good-natured ribbing from the team, and from SHIELD - you promised to stay in touch with them, if only to convince Steve and Tony to come around and start working with them again; you quite like Phil Coulson - they mostly leave you and Bucky alone.

You hole up in his apartment for nearly the entire day, talking about everything you can think of. Your childhood, his childhood, even the rough parts that make his voice catch and harden… you sit right there and hold his hand through it.

You can almost feel your bond like a living, breathing thing now. It’s electric when the two of you touch, something that you’d always noticed but tried not to put any weight on.

Now, it seems so obvious.

He kisses you goodnight. It sends a flare of heat through you and nearly makes you dizzy, and you want him to do it again as soon as it ends.

He reminds you that you’ve got a lifetime to sort out what this all means.

A lifetime with Bucky Barnes sounds like a dream.

You can’t wait.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #this is the longest bucky fic i've ever written???#maybe even the longest fic i've ever posted to this blog #WHEW

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murderousginger · 4 years

Text

She’s A God - Part 2

Peaky blinder fic (Part 1 here)

Masterlist

Warnings: Sass. Alcohol. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 3,954

Finn was standing at your desk, shyly smiling down on you exactly ten minutes after your shift ended on Monday. Most of the women had packed up and left quickly, shooting odd glances at you as you continued working past the bell. You might as well do more work as you waited for the boy.

Finn's face was flushed and he looked like he had just ran there -- probably from whatever errands his brothers had him on. His clothes were slightly baggy, probably to give him room to grow in, and his hat hung off his head at an angle that gleamed the razor sewn into the cap. Your face broke into a warm smile as you stood up from your desk.

"Hello Finn, I'm (Y/N)," you said as you extended your hand to him.

He smiled and shook it, surprise etched on his face you even offered.

"Hello Miss (Y/N), Tommy told me to meet you here for lessons?" Finn fidgeted as you took his shoulder and guided him into Tommy's office, grabbing a book from your desk at the last moment. Tommy had been elsewhere most of the afternoon, so there was no awkward passing after his housewarming, thankfully.

"Shelly told him a woman had snuck into his study," Lizzie whispered to you at lunch, her face a mix of amusement and annoyance. "He had bought a London whore for the occasion and thought it might have been her. Imagine his surprise to find you there. Shelly knew it was you, of course. Jealousy looks ugly on all women."

"Yes," you said, trying to keep a kind tone. The poor boy seemed nervous and out of place. "Your brother said you had trouble with reading and asked if I could help. Is that alright with you, Finn?"

Finn looked at the floor and shuffled his feet.

"I don't have no issues with reading," he grumbled. "The letters and words rearrange and get all weird sometimes. I can read."

"I have no doubts you can, Finn," you reassured as you motioned to one of the two chairs in front of Tommy's desk. "You seem like a bright boy. Maybe you can just read some of this book to me, then? You'll be doing me a favor, really. Tommy said he would pay me to help you out. And I brought candy, so any page you read, I can give you some."

You pulled a handful of hard candies from your pocket as you sat down next to Finn. He eyed you cautiously.

"They treat me like a baby," he said. "I'm not. You shouldn't treat me like a baby, either. I'm 16. I've cut people. I'm a Blinder."

"I have no intention of treating you like a child," you said solemnly as you looked out the door and leaned into Finn conspiratorially. "I just thought, since you have no issues with reading, we could sit here and read together, eating sweets, and tricking that brother of yours out of money. You help me with this, and I'll happily bring you cookies tomorrow."

Finn leaned in with his brows raised.

"Cookies?"

"Any kind you like," you said as you handed him a candy before popping one in your mouth. "Now read me a page or two, please."

Finn put the candy in his mouth as he squinted at you much like his brother had at the party days before. You held your gaze to his and pushed the book closer to him.

"It's about pirates," you lilted as you nudged him with your shoulder. "They have even better adventures than your brothers do."

He ran his hand over the front before he opened it.

"Treasure Island," he read slowly, "by Robert Louis Stevenson."

You nodded for him to go on and he began reading slowly. You let him read at his own pace, only helping him sound words out after he could not get them figured out himself. You praised him, handing him another candy after a particularly hard word or completed page. It was slow going, and you had only finished a chapter or two in an hour, but Finn was looking more and more confident in his reading and he was quickly becoming interested in the story.

"I think that's enough today, Finn," you said as you reached for the book and dogged the ear of the page and closed it. "Tomorrow we'll start chapter three."

"But I want to find out why Billy Bones attacked Black Dog!" He said excitedly. "That fight was legendary. And why do these people like rum so much? Everyone knows whiskey is better."

"And how would you know that?" You raised a brow as Finn blushed.

"Everyone knows it, (Y/N)," he said. "That's why all my brothers drink it."

"Maybe it's only pirates that appreciate rum," you mused as you nudged him. "Rum is for mischief."

"Whiskey is for business, and we are businessmen."

The low rumble reverberated, making both of you jump and look at the man in the doorway. Tommy leaned against it, watching you with a small smirk on his face.

"Just thought I'd check to see how you two fared," Tommy said. "Finn, how do you like her, eh?"

Finn slowly looked between Tommy and you, giving you a mischievous curl of his lip before he grinned and nodded at Tommy.

"(Y/N)'s a good tutor, Tommy," he said as he stood from his seat. "I think I'm getting better already."

"Good good," Tommy nodded before he jerked his head to the side. "Off you go."

Finn looked back at you to be met with your grin and nod goodbye. He bound for the door and his brother, only to spin and take his hat off to look down at it in his hand.

"Can you make lemon bars for tomorrow, miss (Y/N)?"

You chuckled at the boy's attempt at propriety in front of Tommy.

"Yes, Finn," you said smiling. "Read me chapter three and four tomorrow best you can and I'll send you home with the whole pan."

"Promise?" He said excitedly before elbowing Tommy. "We never get lemon bars at home."

You nodded and Finn spun around Tommy and ran out of the room, excited for the next chapters and his reward. Tommy stood like a statue leaning against the frame.

"Did he mind well?" He asked, searching his pockets for a cigarette and light. He took his eyes off you to light the end, shuffling the lighter back into his pockets and blowing the smoke above his head. He quirked his head to the side as his eyes found yours again and he waited for your answer.

"Finn was darling, Mr. Shelby," you said stiffly as you gripped your chair. "He will be an avid reader with wonderful comprehension in no time. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave for my own home."

He didn't move, so neither did you.

"I've talked to my brothers, (Y/N)," he said. "Arthur couldn't pick you out of a crowd and John said you've only ever been professional with him despite his normal comments. Michael works in the office ten feet away and he says you are the only woman in the office that doesn't gossip and keeps to your work when the bosses aren't looking. I'm convinced the lot of them only heard you say 'Yes Mr. Shelby' or 'No Mr. Shelby.'"

You mirrored the tilt of his head with yours.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby," you said with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there a reason you hate my family?" He said as he squinted his eyes. "Have we killed someone you love? Are you related to someone I'm not aware of? Or is it just me you actively despise?"

"Have you ever seen locusts swallow a field, Mr. Shelby?" You asked, meeting his eyes with the same intensity of a forest fire. "Without the right checks and balances, they'll decimate a field in a blink. You've swallowed Birmingham and you're already moving on to London."

"We've always made sure families were taken care of," he started. "Especially Birmingham families. And I've said to call me Tommy."

"In the aftermath, Tommy," you said as you stood up and went to grab your coat. "It's an afterthought. A reaction after your family hurts others. After your plans have consequences."

"And Finn is the only Shelby without blood on his hands, is that it?" He said as he kicked off of the doorway, taking up the exit as you stood under his gaze.

You refused to flinch. You had been under a Shelby's nose your entire life, this wasn't new, just more literal than usual.

"Finn is a sweet boy that is willing to learn," you huffed. "I can find traits in all of you that I find admirable, but together you care for nothing but yourselves."

"Admirable traits, is it?" He said as he crossed his arms and raised his brow. "Do tell me. You've read enough books from the library I'm sure. Tell me about my family."

You faltered as your eyes went back to the ground and your tongue rushed to press against your teeth.

"No," he stated simply as his hand tapped your chin to raise your eyes back to his. "I want to know. From a self-learned outsider, tell me about my family."

You sighed and rolled your eyes before you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

"Polly is strong but impulsive," you said quickly, as if reciting notes. "Arthur is obviously a sweet-hearted empathetic man that's been broken by his leaders and his vices to become the erratic explosive man he is today--"

Tommy scoffed as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Obviously," he said somewhere between a statement and a question. He waved his hand. "Go on."

"John wants the world handed to him on a platter and knows his charms and smile are the best way to get it. His aspirations barely go above women and drink. Ada, who I've seen rarely, is smart for wanting nothing to do with this operation. She tries to help those around her, from what I've heard of her in London. Michael was raised a nice village boy but has your ambition. I fear the day he actually gains power. And Finn is sweet and wants so badly for you to include him that he's willing to do anything. Dangerous for a young man his age."

"And?"

"And you," you exhaled tiredly. "Are very smart but your ego could suffocate anyone else in the room with you. Are you happy now? May I go?"

"No," he said as his arms dropped to his sides and he eyed you. His tone gentled to the point of startling you and you eyed him back. "You've noticed us, our strengths -- what you consider weaknesses--"

"Are weaknesses," you corrected as you crossed your arms and leaned on one hip to better look up at him.

"Our weaknesses," he ground out. "Why?"

"You can't walk three steps in this town without hearing about a Shelby," you sighed. "You may not have noticed me but your family is impossible to avoid. Why do you think I work here? Better to work for the wolves than be preyed upon by them."

"Is that some other latin phrase I should know?"

Your smile held no joy as you watched Tommy Shelby finally remove himself from the doorway to let you pass.

"No," you said as you stopped beside him and looked into his eyes one last time. "But here's one your family should learn if you ever want to stop ruling this town in fear: Ut ameris, amabilis esto."

"And that means?"

Your smile finally reached your eyes and you stepped out of the doorway.

"You're a smart man," your mouth held in a tight line. "Look it up."

----

Tommy rolled his eyes and closed the door to his office behind her before he walked to his desk to put out his cigarette. He rummaged for another in his pocket and lit it. He inhaled slowly with his eyes closed before he sank into his chair and started shuffling the paperwork he needed to finish before he headed home.

He looked at the door for a moment, knowing she would have been out the front door and walking through the city to get back to her place by now. He smiled softly as he leaned back and scoffed at the ceiling. He took another long drag of his cigarette and watched the smoke above him disappear. After a moment he finally leaned forward to work on his papers, pushing her and her words from his head.

Once he got home, he nodded to the maid that greeted him and declined her offer for tea.

"Not tonight, no thank you," he murmured as he moved silently through the house.

He went into the study and poured himself a drink before he leaned on the shelf and looked back at his desk. The image of her leaning on it floated into his mind and he scoffed again, rolling his eyes at himself as if to shake her image away.

Walking to the bookshelf that she had been looking through, he fingered a book out and sat down at his desk, taking a drink of his whiskey before he leafed through the pages. After quite some time, he chuckled and leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. He closed the book, chuckling to himself as he finished the whiskey he had forgotten about.

"If you want to be loved, be loveable," he said softly.

----

The next few weeks went as they ever did. Other than the addition of working with Finn for an hour after work and the extra roll of money once a week at your desk, nothing seemed to have changed. You did your work, kept your head down, and thankfully the other Shelby's returned to ignoring you.

You enjoyed your afternoons with Finn, and had easily made enough baked goods to fatten the boy up had he not been so active otherwise. He was always hungry and you had no problem feeding him as a reward as he progressed. He was quickly devouring the first book -- reading faster and more pages every day -- and you had happily picked out a few more books you thought he would enjoy that now waited in your desk drawer.

Tommy had been polite and distant, always out of his office before Finn appeared. One afternoon, you had walked into his empty office to see a note folded with your name on it. You looked at it, frozen for a moment, before you picked it up and opened it. It was a simple phrase, printed carefully.

Amore et melle et felle es fecundissimus.

"Love is rich with honey and venom," you murmur with a smile.

You slipped the paper into your pocket before you picked up a blank piece of paper and wrote your reply, Vincit qui se vincit. He conquers who conquers himself. You folded the paper and placed it on top of his seat as Finn came in.

"Ready for today?" Finn asked, sitting down in his seat. "I bet we finish the book."

"I think you can," you answered with a smile as you rounded the desk to take your seat. "I have another I think you'll enjoy for after."

Finn opened the book to his marker and started reading. You allowed yourself a moment as you bit your lip, looking across the desk to Tommy's chair. Were you smart to play this game?

After that, a note appeared on your typewriter. You smiled when you opened the paper to read 'Aut viam inveniam aut faciam,' I will either find a way or make one. You scribbled your response, 'Malum consilium quod mutari non potest,' Bad is the plan that cannot change, and left it on his desk after your lesson with Finn.

You continued passing Latin phrases back and forth every few days. Some of them were silly, others were motivational, but all of them had an undercurrent of a double meaning that you couldn't quite place. You both continued to be proper and professional with each other in person, but the cheeky Latin notes felt like they should be between two people far more close.

One afternoon, Finn showed up with a lopsided grin on his face.

"Tommy told me to give you this," he said as he shoved the paper at you. "I tried to read it but that's not English, innit?"

You opened it carefully to read a scribbled 'Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.'

If I cannot move Heaven, I will raise Hell.

You smiled.

"No, it's not English," you said before playfully glaring at him. "What are you reading other people's notes for anyhow?"

Finn smiled sheepishly.

"They never tell me nothin'," he said. "I wanted to know if it was about me."

You laughed.

"It's not about you, Finn," you reassured. "Now, let's start your book."

An hour later, you hugged Finn bye.

"Finn!" You called as you finished writing and folded the paper. "Give Tommy this."

"Tommy?" He questioned with a smile. "I think that's the first I haven't heard 'Mr. Shelby.'"

"Just give him the note, cheeky brat," you laughed.

Finn stuck his tongue out at you and opened the note.

"Desti-" he read and knotted his face, "destitutes vent--"

"Destitutus ventis, remos adhibe," you laughed. "It means 'if the winds fail you, use the oars.'"

"What's that even mean?"

"It's not your note, is it?" You taunted. "You don't need to know."

Days later, you found a note stuck under a bottle of wine in front of your door. You opened it, immediately recognizing the messy writing that had replaced the clean letters of the first few notes as time passed. 'Audentes fortuna iuvat,' Fortune favors the bold. You smiled and looked around to find no one. You brought the bottle in and locked the door behind you.

You wrote your response, unsure of how to give it to him after the bottle of wine on your door. You held onto it, hoping you would find a perfect opportunity.

----

"I don't think you'll need me anymore after today, Finn," you said as you hugged the boy one Friday months later. "You've read through that last book with no problems. Just keep reading and you'll be great."

"If I woulda known that, I wouldn't have read so fast," he frowned as he closed the book he just finished. "I liked seeing you in the afternoons. I even looked forward to it after the weekends."

You laughed.

"You can still see me around and we can talk books if you like," you smiled. "Tell you what, you can come around on Sundays. I'll feed you lunch and you can tell me what you're reading, how's that sound?"

"You promise?" Finn asked as his eyes lit up. "Deal."

"Inviting Shelby's into your home now?" Tommy called from behind them at the doorway. "Did Finn break the Shelby curse and warm your heart?"

"Tommy," you said evenly. "I was just telling our Finn that he won't need me anymore, but he was welcome to talk books with me anytime."

"If you think he's done, I suppose it's done," he said. "Our Finn, run on home and we can talk about your future once I get there. I'll need a word with (Y/N)."

"Yessir," Finn said as he looked at Tommy's serious expression. He gave you a friendly smile and was out in a flash.

"Thank you for the wine," you said quietly once Finn was gone.

"Thank you for getting my brother's reading up to speed," he said. "In only a few months, too. I should make my other brothers see you."

"I don't think they would be as receptive," you laughed and he smiled.

"Probably not," he chuckled.

"I haven't found a note knocking around my desk," he said, taking a step forward from the doorway as you stood from your chair. "Did I lose it?"

You watched him carefully, but couldn't help but smile.

"No, Tommy," you said. "You haven't lost it."

"Tommy, you say," he teased as he stepped in front of you. "I've finally lost the chill of using proper names."

"Tends to happen when you trade notes like children. Or spies."

"Well?" He said as he smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Where's my note?"

You tilted your head to look up at him to properly meet his eyes.

"Do you pour over them by candlelight, trying to decipher them with your books you hadn't read until I upset you in your study?" You teased, smiling up at him. "Do you look forward to my responses, desperate for the challenge?"

"I've not been desperate in a long time," Tommy said, looking over your face as he leaned closer. "But I do look forward to a challenge."

"Happy to give you one, then," you said, looking down to his soft lips before meeting his bright blue eyes.

"Are you talking about yourself or my next latin phrase, (Y/N)?" He growled as his own eyes dipped to your lips, causing you to smirk.

"Acta non verba, Tommy," you said as you circled around him and out the door. "Goodnight and have a good weekend, Mr. Shelby," you called as you walked away. "I'm sure it will be filled with dubious adventures and women who find criminal activity all too attractive."

----

One afternoon a few days later, Tommy called for you and Lizzie from his doorway, leaving the other ladies in fits of whispers as to what was going on. Lizzie and you both shared a look, cautiously walking together into Tommy's office.

"Close the door," he waved at you as he sat down, "I need to speak with both of you."

You closed the door quietly and turned as Tommy sat behind his desk. He shuffled some paperwork and motioned for you both to sit.

"Now," he said as he cleared his throat. "I've been thinking about investing, or rather creating, a foundation for the orphan children of Birmingham."

Lizzie immediately stiffened before she went to say something.

"Now Lizzie is already bogged down with my other ventures," Tommy said as he spoke over her before looking at you. "And you have a good head on your shoulders as well as an eye for bullshit. This foundation is to be above board and not to be mixed with my other operations, and I'd like you to set it up and run it."

"Me?" You stammered, "I don't--"

"Lizzie will help teach you the paperwork and such," he said as he leaned back with his hands on the desk. "I'll trust you to set it up and keep it running. You'll report directly to me about it, and hopefully it will do some good around our city. What do you say, (Y/N)?"

"I don't-- I'm speechless," you said, looking between Lizzie's shocked face and Tommy's cool expression. "I'm not sure I'm fit for the job."

"You're fit as much as anyone else," he said evenly. "I trust you'll make yourself an expert overnight with that brain of yours. That'll be all, ladies, I'll fill you in more as I gather the pieces."

Lizzie stood up and went to walk back out the door but you sat shocked, still looking at Tommy's placid face.

"Why me?" You asked barely above a whisper. "Why not Polly or Ada or Lizzie?"

"Someone once told me 'deeds not words,'" he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I fully intend on living by that."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #storytime with murderousginger #lizzie stark #finn shelby

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

That G-D Ring of Yours

High Fidelity’s Robyn Brooks X Female reader

Summary: You seek comfort from your neighbor Rob

Masterlist

There's probably gonna be a part 2

Word count: 2.5k words

Warning(s): +15 | implied cheating, internalized homophobia, heterosexism, author and Rob swearing, no hate to polyamorists but major hate to bad faith players, shameless self insert, no beta, barely edited, long as fuck I'm so sorry

Author's note: I'm having anxiety for no discernable reason and my brain has decided this is ideal fuel for a fic, so please enjoy. EDIT: ha ha yeah still anxious but we're doing stuff about it

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

"-- And she just touched my hand by accident and I just felt this– this spark between us…"

It was so sweet how he was talking about it. Or at least it would be were this not your fiancé explaining how he had been seeing another person behind your back. Had you rushed into things with him? Gotten hitched after three months because of familial pressure to settle down and start your family? Quite possibly.

But it didn't make that stabbing in your gut hurt any less.

You had been a little gung-ho from date number 1, but he had been right there with you the whole time. Date number 2 happened the following weekend and then you just kept seeing each other more and more until before you knew it you had been introduced to each other's extended families and announced your engagement on Valentine's Day.

You started to suspect something was amiss on Sunday, when you were braiding your hair on the bed and he had gone to take a shower. He accidentally set his phone screen aside with a text chat still open. Thinking nothing of it (he had already told you he was talking to Mark about getting drinks tonight), you looked at the name and saw it belonged to a woman you had never heard of before. Your immediate reaction was 'she must be a new coworker or a cousin,' but then you glanced again and saw the text conversation mirrored the same kind of ‘sentiments’ he texts you.

The dirt burned into your brain for eternity:

You had looked away then. You were actually not going to say anything at all to him that night– had planned to bring it up after Tuesday dinner with your auntie's family, but something came up. It turns out that Jessabelle also frequented the same Starbucks as you (and she's your age, not a teen like you worried). You can't even find it in you to be mad at her since it seemed like she had no idea who you were when she showed you the picture of her date at a baseball game. You tried not to puke as you asked for her number and to send her that picture "for her contact profile."

You hadn't heard a word your fiance had said since the beginning of the phone call and you cut him off with some excuse you barely remember. You tossed your phone carelessly onto the couch and laid back on the cushions in defeat. What now?

You weren't really a drinker or a smoker, and you didn't exactly have friends who would be supportive right now. You could hear them now, your family too– asking you what you did wrong, telling you to just forgive him or how to get even, or simply saying 'well what do you expect? Boys will be boys.'

Maybe… no, you definitely need to get this off your chest before you do something stupid like pretend to forget about it. You had a bad habit of that because you tend to fall fast and hard. Perhaps your neighbor could give you some advice.

Thank the Lord for fire escapes. Rob lived on the floor beneath you, always playing something good from her huge collection of vinyl records. You've told her at least a hundred times before if she played nothing but Phil Collins for the rest of eternity, you could die happy. You crossed your fingers and hoped you weren't being weird or invading her privacy.

Thankfully, she seemed to be expecting you. She even motioned that the latch was undone and waved you inside. Ok the second wine glass made your face grow hot.

"I'm not interrupting am I?"

Rob gave you a warm smile. "I could hear you pacing around your kitchen for about an hour. Was about to come and get you actually."

She pressed the glass into your hand and you made an effort not to grimace. Rob liked her drinks cheap and strong and she never held back. You tried a sip just to be polite, and she snorted at the face you pulled.

"That's right, you like that sweet stuff. What's it called again?"

"Stella Rosa," you mumbled, grateful when she takes the glass back and hands you a water to replace it.

"Favorite flavor," she asked looking at her phone.

"Uh… the peach and the rosé. They're all pretty good, not gonna lie."

"OK, take this, grab a blanket from the hall closet, and tell me what's going on."

You curled up on Rob's couch and put your feet up. There were piles of records all over the place, empty beer cans and a pizza box or two on the coffee table. Your neighbor tapped away at her phone screen before silencing it and slipping it in her back pocket. She gave you a minute or two to speak up, sipping her drink like you two had all night. Which actually you did as you did not want to see your fiancé right now.

You felt two fingers gently tap your forehead. "Come on, dreamer, tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I feel a little over dramatic saying my life is about to fall apart."

Rob raised her eyebrows at you. "Damn, OK."

You rush to correct yourself– explain your weird sentiment in more detail but you end up just vomiting words until your voice is hoarse.

"I mean– like– like it's not falling apart per say or whatever– I… the rest of my life is fine its just my relationship that's screwed. Which I guess I'm more worried about because it's gonna screw up all my other relationships for a while too– dang it, let me start over–"

"Babe! Slow down. Breathe." Rob switched drinks with you and against your better judgement you took a sip. Oddly enough it did calm you down. "So… it's your fiancé, right? What did he do?"

You stared at her trying to unscramble your thoughts. "He… I found out he was kind of... dating another person. After I found out, he tried to explain that he didn't think I would mind–"

Rob barked, "let me guess: he didn't think you were exclusive? Pull the Main Chick, Side Chick schtick? Tried to claim 'polyamory' after he got caught?"

Two and two clicked together at last. "Yeah… yeah, he did!," you scoffed, "and it's not like it didn't ever come up in conversation: we spent our third date talking out our, like, sexualities and fantasies and fetishes and shit. If he was polyamorous, wh- why wouldn't he have brought it up then?"

"That is so fucked."

You took a deeper draft of her wine, coughing before setting it aside. Up until now, you've been numb. Now there's this wave of anger boiling up to the surface and you hear yourself getting louder. Rob doesn't flinch but she does give you this look of empathy unlike anything you've seen before.

"If he– if he would have just asked me, I would have told him it was fine. My family does shit like that all the time: nobody bats an eye! If he really thought I wouldn't mind, he wouldn't have been so freaking sneaky about it. He literally lied, Robyn!"

You whipped around and for a brief moment you knew you looked crazy. "He said he was going out for drinks with his guy friend, but he was making plans to go to a baseball game with a girl I've never heard of! If he really thought I wouldn't mind, or if he 'thought I would understand,' then why would go out of his way to lie about who he was with?"

Someone buzzed Rob's door and she left you on the couch momentarily, coming back quickly with two bottles of your favorite wine. "Damn girl, these are kinda bougie: Peach or Rosé?"

"I--"you choked, "Robyn you didn't have to–"

"Peach it is!" She unscrewed the caps and handed you the whole freaking bottle of white, downing the last of her merlot and getting a fresh glass for you.

You felt a little guilty she had spent money on you. But then again it had been her choice. If she didn't want you there, Rob wouldn't have let you in in the first place. Maybe you were just a tinsy bit worried you shouldn't be here.

You and Rob took a break from talking to put on music and get a little tipsy. It came much easier with the help of the Stella Rosa, though Rob initially complained it was 5.5%, she did get accustomed to the sweetness pretty fast, and after consuming half the bottle, realized it was a little easier to get carried away with a drink like this. She admitted it was her first time trying rosé and now she was hooked. Eventually you started talking again, just spilling your guts out with no filter anymore.

"I really think I just hate myself," you said cuddling the cool glassware. "When I found out, I wasn't even thinking of it as a betrayal of my trust– it felt like I was trying to come to terms with it so I could continue with the relationship. Not because it would make me happy but because… I don't know… it's what everybody else wants me to do. They don't even know about it and I was fully prepared not to tell them even though they'd want me to marry him whether they knew or not."

Rob barked a laugh of surprise. "Doh-K!"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing…" she said, "keep going."

You stared off into the middle distance and leaned into her side. She was a tiny bit warm despite her lithe figure. Made you want to throw your blanket over her shoulders and share your greater warmth.

So you did (you're not great at acting out your desires but this is nice!)

"It's just easier," the words left your mouth unbidden, "I don't even know what that means, but it's true. I don't want to marry him anymore but I don't want to break it off. Not marrying Fiancé means disappointing my family. It means having to find an entire new man to marry sooner rather than later because I'm already 'behind' and lowering my already low expectations.

"It's not gonna make me happy, but I just think it's easier to keep this wedding going because at least I won't have to find somebody new who might not be as good for me just because I didn't want him. Another man won't make me happy so there's no reason to drop him... except that I don't want him."

Rob's brow furrowed. "Are you saying it's easier for you to please your family than it is to be happy?"

"Yes? I– no, I– … I don't know," you sigh. "I guess you could say my priorities are a little… mismanaged."

"Sure, you could say that." Rob wrapped her arms around your shoulders and you inhaled the scent of her soap and cigarettes. "What if you tried… like… not doing that anymore...? You just said you do whatever your family wants you to do. So, just like do what makes you happy for a change."

It really does sound so simple the way she puts it, doesn't it? Why are you doing this to yourself? You're not dependent on them for money or security or happiness for that matter. So... why has your whole life been centered around pleasing them?

"I think… I think I've never really sat down and thought about what makes me happy," you admitted. "I think it's just been that way forever and I might have been too scared to try anything else."

Rob hummed. "Are you still scared now?"

Are you? You look into her eyes and ask yourself a question that has never crossed your mind with such depth. You used to be scared– but what is it about your happiness that you are so afraid of? OK, let’s start a little simpler: what are things that make you happy?

“I like…” you swallowed, trying to break down the barriers you’ve built years and years ago. “I like… coffee. I like… short skirts. I like… girls– I like�� my job. I like… music. I think I’d enjoy camping, you know, some day…”

Your words… these things seemed so arbitrary and trivial. But in your house, these things cause dissent. “My family has an opinion about everything. There’s no right way to live in all of their eyes, but I think I figured out a way to get past it. Keep my head down and do what’s expected of me. Graduate college, get a respectable job, find a man to marry, drop the job and become a mother. Just… don’t make waves. It seemed better because the cousins who didn’t or couldn’t… well they became the butt of every joke at the family dinner. Lisa had one miscarriage so she was a ‘failure’ and Don never dated girls so he was gay and that was ‘bad,’ but grandma Zelda did everything a good Christian woman could do and they still gossiped about her behind her back…

“And I just… I just let their ignorance control me for my entire life.” God, you could cry right now, but somehow it just felt too good to say it outloud. “That.. that is so fucked.”

Robyn snorted, and you turned to her as if you’d forgotten she was there. There it was again, that sympathy. Not pity, she did not burden you with tears of her own or try to be angry for you. She just listened and understood. You twisted the diamond encrusted ring on your finger and stared at her. You felt it, that feeling in your heart. No one else had given you that look, like she could really see you.

“You’re not going back to Fiancé, are you?” Her question was equal parts worrisome and hopeful and you already knew the answer in your heart.

“No.”

And that was it. Decision made. Actually easier than you'd thought. Maybe not down the road but it felt good for now. There's the telling your fiancé it's over, the moving out, the public announcement, the inevitable feeling of failure, your family, god, his family too. Untangling your lives would be long and hard. You're not sure if you have that level of commitment and motivation in you but fuck it. Problems for tomorrow.

You rest your head on Rob's shoulder and hope your not pushing any boundaries. She doesn't stop you though, in fact she snuggles you deeper into her. You get the feeling she's been here before though your not sure which side or how bad it was for her.

"I like you way more in the few times I've met you than any man I've ever dated," you heard yourself say. "I'm sure that means something but I'm too tired to decide anymore. No tonight at least."

Rob chuckled. "I like you too, sugar."

If you made it this far, hi 💛 appreciate you, leave me a comment! Or just comment "💛"

#Rob Brooks x Female reader #high fidelity rob brooks #three bees writing #rob brooks x reader #black reader insert #I just think about her sometimes #🐝🐝🐝✒#angst?

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honeylikewords · 3 years

Text

jack daniels ship questions!

(Remember that ship questions prompt list I posted a while back? Here are all of those prompts, filled out for Jack and his wife! Hope you guys enjoy! Content Warnings: Not much to speak of, but some mentions of conceptual peril, Jack’s latent PSTD-linked behaviors, pregnancy. Word count is 6.8k. )

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

There are plenty of good options for this, but I prefer to imagine that Jack and his future wife met at work; the New York Statesman office is a functioning business, after all, and would therefore hold many people in its employ. Though Jack may be deployed to the field every now and then, he’s actually used surprisingly sparingly, and spends a great deal of his time actually working at the New York headquarters at a very real job as a chairman of the board for the company. His future wife worked on the same floor of the building in marketing, and the two of them crossed paths often, both in corporate meetings and just out and about in the halls of the building.

What was their first impression of each other?

Jack immediately was drawn to her after hearing her speak up during a meeting; she’d been sent in as one of the marketing presenters and had a wonderful breadth of ideas for the company, and he was charmed by her warm presence, intelligent voice, and sweet manner. His first impression was deeply positive, and he spent the rest of the meeting eyeing her curiously, his tanned cheeks flushed with pleasure at being able to watch her shift her files around and toy with her hair as she listened to other speakers and nodded along: she was very, very pretty in exactly his kind of way, and he liked that very, very much.

Her first impression of him was, contrastingly, rather fearful; she knew him only as “Mister Daniels”, and had only heard of him through memos and word of mouth around the office. When she was called in to speak to some of the board members, she was petrified with anxiety at the idea of slipping up in front of such important people and, in fact, barely noticed Jack the first time they shared a boardroom: she was so nervous about getting everything right and speaking clearly and conveying the correct information that he sort of blurred with all the other execs and suits. That said, she did notice him watching her throughout the meeting, and any time their eyes met (and he often smiled at her when they did), she became acutely aware of just how handsome he was; his features striking, his mannerisms coolly lackadaisical, his posture wide and relaxed, his deep brown eyes smoldering under a firm brow as he flashed her a sharp smile. No wonder his name flew around the office so much.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Nobody really knew, frankly: Jack has no family to speak of, and not that many friends, either. For someone so charming and socially adept, Jack is surprisingly something of a loner, and tells very few people anything about himself, much less about his feelings or attachments. Literally nobody knew that he was developing feelings for her, much less was intent on pursuing those feelings and manifesting them into a relationship, and he liked the privacy of that.

Likewise, she didn’t mention her growing infatuation with him to anyone, particularly because it would be so embarrassing: if word got out around the office that she was making eyes at a higher-up, it’d seem deeply unprofessional. Besides, she wasn’t really close friends with anyone at the office and they didn’t need to know, especially when she believed that her feelings couldn’t possibly be returned.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Jack. He may not seem like the type, but when he falls in love, it hits him like a train: hard, fast, and unforgiving. It knocked him off his feet and flat onto his ass, and he didn’t mind a bit. The only hard part was keeping it a secret from her for so long!

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Big time. Jack felt it would be inappropriate to make a pass at her at all-- his gentlemanly nature insisted he was only to subtly imply his feelings for her, but otherwise treat her with ladylike gentleness and cordiality-- especially when he did hold some sway in the office, and that could be misinterpreted as, well, something unsavory. He tried hard to push the feelings down, to make them quieter and less intrusive, but he couldn’t help growing more and more attached to her, particularly when they ended up spending more and more time together as coworkers. Every new side of her that he saw made him fall more hopelessly off the steep cliff’s edge of adoration, and he barely had the willpower to hold on to propriety. Still, he did his damnedest!

Similarly, she resisted a great deal; how embarrassing would it be for her to try and flirt with a man so far out of her league, and so far up the ladder from her rung? It’d kill her, socially and in terms of her career, to make a faux pas like that, so she kept the feelings bottled up deep, deep inside herself. Still, whenever he smiled at her or went out of his way to be so intoxicatingly gentlemanly towards her, she found herself swooning; sure, maybe he treats all the girls like this. Maybe he’s just a well-raised man. But she still couldn’t resist the inkling that, maybe, just maybe, he was particularly fond of her; even if it was just a girlish fantasy, it made her heart race to imagine him harboring some secret affection for her, and, as she would later find out, that fantasy ended up being more than a little factual.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Jack is a sucker for the idea of soulmates. He fully believes in commitments of the heart, body and soul, and would be utterly unsurprised to know that the woman he’d given his heart to so wholly was his soulmate. He may talk a lot of big game and posture all the live-long day about pleasing women and seeing “the whole doughnut”, but that’s just pretense: Jack’s a one-woman man, and he’s happy to pledge himself as her soulmate. More than happy.

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Jack, presumably, would have continued his work without ever knowing there was something missing, but would be distinctly less engaged in the office, sharply unhappy, and would have been more inclined towards keeping himself busy with field work. He would have closed off even further from attachments and affection and continued in his hollowed state, scraped clean of any remnants of the possibility for love, and would have, likely, kept running missions until his luck ran out. A dark ending to a cold story.

Her life would be entirely up to her, ready for any path she might be inclined to follow, though she would never know the joy of being treated with such respect and love as Jack treats her with, and she would never meet a man so gentlemanly, so adoring, nor so intensely loyal. Perhaps she would meet someone else she could love just as much as she would have loved Jack, but her life would be a painting lacking the warm hues of Jack’s mirth, love, and tenderness.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

I have a whole fic about that! But, in short, Jack did! I like to think of Jack waiting for ages and ages to find the “right” moment to tell her he had feelings for her and ask her out, and though he was petrified of making a mistake and losing her forever (and coming off like a creep), he managed to show her the sincerity of his attachment, and be granted the greatest gift of all: returned affections. She wanted to go out with him as much as he wanted to go out with her, and, from there, they melded together and the relationship progressed!

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

In that aforementioned fic, I suggest that their first date was sitting together on a long flight and watching movies together during a corporate excursion, and I like to stand by that! But if you mean first “date where they went somewhere”, after that flight, the two of them rented a car at the airport, went for breakfast at a local diner, and then took in the sights of the town before capping off the night with dinner and a movie. They ended up spending the whole day together, talking about everything and nothing, shy but ecstatic to be finally able to be open with their attraction to the other, and adored every moment of the date. It was a little awkward, at first, but they quickly matched one another’s patterns, especially towards the end of the night, cuddled up together at the theatre, resting their heads on each other and holding hands, exchanging little kisses on the hand back and forth.

It was like magic.

What was their first kiss like?

Nervous! Jack, normally so confident and slick, found himself trembling as he leaned in closer to her, hovering his lips over hers and feeling the quakes and tremors careening through every muscle of his body: all he wanted was to grab her by the face and kiss her as hard as he could and never let go, but he knew that would hardly be appropriate, so he just inched in, millimeter by millimeter, until she pressed up and closed the gap herself, sending him spiralling with fireworks behind his eyes and pure jolts of adrenaline coursing through his heart.

He ended up accidentally deepening the kiss by leaning in and groaning through his nose-- he’d held back for so long that his body wanted to take everything it could get before it lost its chance-- and felt her hands rise to cup the back of his head, locking him into her, which made his legs turn into jelly and his eyes roll back in their sockets in delight.

Suffice to say, they were out of breath when they parted, and not just from holding their breaths during the kiss.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Well, she wasn’t Jack’s first kiss, nor his first girlfriend, but she is definitely Jack’s first and only love of his life. And his first and only wife! As for the other way ‘round, Jack is his wife’s first long-term boyfriend, then her first and only husband, and, of course, the one and only (and thus first) true love. Ain’t that sweet?

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Jack comes in at 5’11’’, 6’1’’ in certain sets of cowboy boots, and often likes that his wife is just short enough for him to comfortably rest his chin on top of her head during hugs. As for their age difference, Jack wouldn’t be at ease with anything more than a ten year age gap, and even that’s pushing it, so his wife is somewhere in that range. While age may be “just a number” to some, development isn’t, so he isn’t looking for a woman who isn’t at the same point in life he is. He wants to always be in sync with his missus, so being close in age and close in life plans is important to him.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Jack has no real family; his parents both passed on a while back and he was an only child. He’s charming and affable with his wife’s family, but gets surprisingly nervous at family events and prefers to keep to himself: frankly, he’d rather spend all their holidays alone at home with the missus than be around her parents or siblings.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Jack. His savoir-faire attitude, pleasing manners and general suave presence makes him a natural fit for taking the lead in just about every situation, but especially when out and about; his wife leans more on the quiet side, and he’s fine doing the talking towards others for the both of them. He’s fine ordering for her at restaurants, fine handling chit chat with drivers or dinner guests, fine charming businessmen or clients. He’s happy to be her voice when she doesn’t feel like talking, and happy to be the conversational springboard for her when she wants to make a foray into it.

Who gets jealous easier?

Jack has a shockingly vicious mean streak in him, and he can border on being possessive, at times. Sometimes it’s sweet how much he cares and how protective he is over her, but jealousy is a wholly different beast; when Jack feels like someone is flirting with his wife or has caught her eye, something hardhearted and controlling in him claws its way to the surface in him, and he looks at the object of her imagined affections with nothing but pure, boiling hatred.

For example, he can get more than a little insecure if he thinks she’s staring too closely at a particularly attractive actor during a movie-- does she think that man has a better body than him? Does she like that man because he’s younger? Prettier? Has a smaller nose and brighter eyes? Fewer wrinkles?-- and ends up hating the actor in every subsequent movie, even going so far as to refuse to watch films with that person in them.

He also can be more than a little rude to other men in public, but in a backhanded, “disguised” way, his cruelties and biting remarks hidden under a balmy layer of “Southern kindness”. Once, at a coffee shop, a barista gave his wife an extra baked good for being “the cutest customer he’d seen all day”, and Jack grabbed the pastry, smiled toothily at the man, and remarked that the barista had “good taste, though you wouldn’t guess it”, pointedly looked the man up and down as if judging his apparel, then took his wife’s hand and left the shop in a cloud of bitterness.

She’d really let Jack have it after that one.

Inversely, Jack’s wife can be more than a little guilty of jealousy, herself; after all, she knows her husband is a very, very attractive man, and that more than a few women find him alluring-- she’s heard how other women talk about him at the office-- and upon finding out that some of his field work can involve seducing women for information, she was in a near-constant jealousy tizzy for weeks. He’d had to promise her that he wouldn’t ever allow the seduction to be more than flirting, and even sworn to her that he would turn down operations where such a means of extraction was baked into the plan, but the feeling lingers, burning sour in her stomach whenever she knows he’s deployed. Is he out there, somewhere, flirting with some floozy, whispering things in that woman’s ear that he once whispered in hers?

It takes Jack eons to assure her that all his affection for her is earnest and passionate and that he never once used “the moves” on her that he might use for a mission, but every now and then, she still gets frustrated at the idea of him being coy with other women and he’ll have to take her aside and show her just how special their love is to him.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Mister Daniels. What he whispers is a secret between himself and the missus, but rest assured knowing that he likes to spare her no detail when elaborating on what exactly it is he’s thinking about when it comes to her.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

Jack wanted to say it first so, so bad: he had a whole moment planned out, where they’d be on a night drive, parked in his truck, watching the stars, and he’d have beautiful music in the background as they lay in the flatbed, and he’d turn to her and say those three words, sweeping her off her feet, but… she beat him to it.

She’d come down with a horrible cold, one that left her practically bedridden, and he’d come over in a panic, carrying bags of medicine and ointments and cool patches and Gatorades and soup from the best deli in town, and he’d spent the entire rest of the evening taking care of her. After propping her up on her pillows, putting on a calming movie, throwing out all her used tissues, getting her changed into clean, comfy pajamas, and feeding her warm soup and cool drinks, she was drifting off to sleep. Jack was getting ready to spend the night sleeping on the couch, and just before he left, she tugged him by the hand, looking up at him with cold medicine-calmed eyes. Dreamily, she stroked his cheek and hummed a soft “thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, kissing her knuckles. “Get some sleep, alright, Princess?”

“Mmm,” she cooed. “Goodnight, bunnykins. I love you.”

And with that, her medicine kicked in, and she dozed off, leaving Jack floating on air, hovering by her bed, staring with utter adoration at this sleeping angel who… loved him.

Loved him.

He barely slept that night, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he tried to fight off the silly, creeping smiles of a boy in love.

What are their primary love languages?

For Jack, he feels the most loved when he receives physical affection and is able to spend quality time with his wife. He has a deep attachment to her and feels that it’s best expressed when they’re able to touch each other; he adores being hugged by her, feeling her kiss his whole face, the way her hands playfully squeeze his butt when he wears those jeans she loves, the sensation of her fingers in his hair, tracing down his jawline and throat. Any time she’s touching him, he feels his life is complete and full, and when they’re apart, he feels fuzzy around the edges, as if only she can bring the whole picture into focus for him.

Add to that the enjoyment of quality time: Jack loves being able to spend days on end in only her company, doing anything she wants, talking back and forth and just absorbing the pleasure of being in her presence. He especially enjoys working on something together, like learning to dance together or building something (he, somehow, fell even more in love with her as they built a bookshelf together for their new, shared apartment), and, of course, traveling with her for trips and vacations. Once, they were snowed in together during a stay in Oregon, and he spent the whole three days of the snow-in just following her around the cabin like a lovesick puppy. They ended up sitting together on the couch in front of the fire, her perched on his lap, he with his arms fettered around her tummy, watching YouTube videos on resin pouring for, like, ten hours. He loved it.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

“Well, excuse me, miss, but there seems to be something wrong with my phone--”

“Jack, no, don’t--”

“Because I seem not to have your number in it!”

“Oh my god.”

“Did I wander on in to the Louvre? Because my, oh my, I am staring at a true work of art, little lady.”

“Jack, please--”

“Lemme go get my glasses on, beautiful; you’re too fine for me to see without ‘em.”

“I’m going to lock you out of the bedroom if you keep this up--”

“Now, sugar, come on, can you blame me? I’m in such terrible pain!”

“Mhm.”

“Because it sure hurt when I fell for you!”

“OH MY GOD.”

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Every single day that Jack’s home, they’re cuddling in bed at the end of the day. He can’t sleep unless he’s got her in his arms, and he just can’t help but be a little handsy; he’s a lover of touch, after all! As for PDA, Jack tries to keep public affection “tasteful”, but also lets a little of his possessive nature pull through, at times: he likes to “mark” what’s his, and she’s his, all the way, so he likes to walk with his hand on the small of her back, sometimes cheekily stuck in the back pocket of her pants to get a feel of the nice curves back there, or periodically lean down to kiss her cheek and see if she’s interested in a more full-on kiss. At the office, they keep it limited to the occasional kiss on the cheek when there’s fewer people around, though that’s not to say Jack hasn’t teased the idea of going for something more intimate at work, before.

Who initiates kisses?

Both of them! They’re a very affectionate couple, but out of the two of them, Jack can be the most forward when it comes to making his intent to be kissed known. He has no shame about taking her chin in his hand and leaning in for a nice, deep kiss, or in pulling her by the waist away from whatever she was working, planting a wet one on her. Jack loves to feel her smile against his lips, and he’ll take just about any opportunity he can to snag a kiss from her. On her end, she loves to walk past him and press little kisses on his temples, cheeks, or the top of his head (provided he’s sitting down!), and will often try to walk off and continue what she was doing, only for Jack to grab her by the hips and tug her back for an even bigger kiss. He claims she “tempted him” into doing it; after all, a little kiss like that is more of an appetizer for the greater meal, is it not?

Who’s the big and little spoon?

They sometimes alternate, but more often than not like to go back to their favorite position, with Jack (and all his long limbs) as the big spoon, curled around his wife, resting his chin on his plumpness, pressed up against her. That said, he also adores feeling her softness surround him as she holds him from behind, all warm and cuddly. It makes him feel loved and cared for, and he melts for it.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Both of them enjoy exploring the town together: walking around the city, trying new restaurants, strolling in the park, window shopping, going to museums, anything! They like to walk and talk, discuss what they’re seeing, things going on in their lives, or what they’re hoping to do, next. They love trying new foods together, especially when it’s something unusual to them or something they’ve never heard of before. They also love to go to the movies together, and take great pleasure in reviewing films together or just canoodling in the theatre seats. Hell, sometimes Jack doesn’t even watch the movie: he spends all 90-some minutes with his face pressed into her neck, giving her hickies and letting his hands wander.

They also like to snuggle up at home and watch television, with Jack’s indulgences being cooking competition shows and dancing shows. He also has a secret indulgence: RuPaul’s Drag Race. He knows it’s trashy, he knows it’s staged, and he knows it can be, well, problematic at times, but damn, if he doesn’t get a kick out of how some of those queens fight! His wife will watch with him, even if it’s not her style, just because it’s cute to watch him gasp when one queen throws a drink at another or hear him complain that a queen is underdressed for the challenge. Watching Jack is ten times better than any entertainment the show itself could provide her!

Who’s better at comforting the other?

Both of them are actually pretty emotionally intuitive people, and Jack is deeply sentimental and emotionally intelligent, so it naturally follows that he can comfort her and show her all the examples of his love and protection when she feels low and fragile. Inversely, his wife knows him, and all his broken pieces, and is able to wrap her arms around him and tell him just what he needs to hear: the truth. That she loves him, that she’ll never give up on him, that she’s always by his side, and that they’ll weather any storm together. That he isn’t irreparable, unlovable, alone.

They both take great comfort in one another, and many couples envy their emotional honesty and how much they genuinely do care for and protect each other.

Who’s more protective?

Jack; he’s constantly anxious that something horrible is going to happen to his wife. He’s seen some pretty grisly business in his line of work, and participated in more than his fair share of that kind of business, and the ghosts of those deeds float around in his head and haunt his visions, making him fearful that something dreadful will befall her, as he’s seen befall so many others before her. He gets antsy and tends to hover around her, though he pretends he doesn’t. He also feels an obligation to protect her, as the “man of the house” and her husband; he’s old-fashioned and believes it’s his job to provide for and defend her, and while the sentiment is sweet, he can be a little overbearing at times, trying to coax her into letting him handle everything for her sometimes teetering on the edge of condescension.

She knows he’s only trying to be her gentleman, her knight in shining armor, her cowboy, but she has to assert that she’s a fully capable adult woman to him every now and then and show him that while she loves and appreciates his dedication to her safety, she’s going to be just fine, and they can work together on things, not leaving it all up to him to take care of. He’s still learning, and he can sometimes regress into old habits, but he’s made wonderful progress!

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

It’s an interesting mix of both! Jack loves to dole out praises and pet names and playful little flirts with his wife, but he’s also not afraid to get handsy with her to express his affection for her. He prefers to use both at the same time; holding her hips in his hands, swaying from side to side, murmuring teasing tones and warm whispers to her about how beautiful she is, how sweet and kind and lovely, and how she’s all his. And for as physical a man as he is, Jack feels truly loved when his wife tells him honest and earnest things she loves about him, or when she tells him he did a good job at something, and he can tell she’s sincere. It reminds him that he’s not just a body for her to love, but a soul, a person that she admires and takes comfort in. And that’s the most loving thing of all!

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

They both really love Dolly Parton, so “Islands In The Stream” comes on fairly often as one of their “dance around the living room and sing to each other” songs, as does “Why’d You Come In Here Lookin’ Like That” by Dolly! He also loves Johnny Cash, so “I’ll Remember You” is one of their favorites. Elvis’s “Love Me Tender” is one saved for special, quiet moments; it was played at their wedding, and holds a special spot in their hearts as a song to hold each other to, or murmur the lyrics to one another to show them how much they are adored.

Similarly, they also have “When I Fall In Love” by Nat King Cole as one of their special songs: after all, they had both promised that “When I give my heart it will be completely, or I'll never give my heart,” in their own ways, so dedicated to true and loyal love, and then they found one another, and their hearts were given in totality.

There are more, but these are just a few (particularly romantic) ones!

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Jack calls his wife “Darlin’,” obviously, but also loves to use terms like “Honeycomb,” “Miss,” “Sugar,” “Little Lady,” “Babydoll,” “Princess”: heck, what doesn’t he call her? He loves using pet names for her!

She calls him “Mister Daniels,” “Cowboy,” “Baby,” and “My Big Man”, among other things.

Who remembers the little things?

Both of them! Each of them loves to keep track of special, unique things about their partner; she remembers that Jack hates acrid coffee and likes his with two sugars and two creams, or that he always puts his socks on left to right, or that he won’t leave the house until his tie is the perfect length, or that he always checks his mustache in every reflective surface he passes. He remembers that she brushes her teeth anytime she eats something that leaves the “fuzzy sweater feeling” and that she loves when he gently fingers combs her hair so much that her eyes close and she makes the same little pleased hum every time or that she only can sleep if there’s at least some cool air so she can bundle up and get snuggly.

The little things are what let you know you’re in love, you know?

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

Jack, ever the picture of the classic gentleman, absolutely takes the initiative on proposing. He makes a whole big-to do about it, planning everything down to the exact detail and sparing no expense in trying to procure the perfect moment for him to pop that perpetual question. He actually quite enjoys the planning and that enjoyment does carry over to when they’re planning the wedding itself!

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding itself, despite Jack’s indulgences, was actually rather small: Jack doesn’t have that many people in his life he’d want to invite, so his side of the affair was rather empty, and so, in keeping, his wife decided to limit the event to just very close friends and immediate family. Both were very happy about that, being rather private people, and enjoyed being able to have an intimate wedding with a greater attention to atmosphere and personal touches than would be afforded for a much bigger wedding.

Jack had a few firm policies about the “tone” of the affair: he didn’t want a bunch of loud music, he didn’t want people getting drunk, and he wanted it to be fun but not “trashy”, a loose term he threw around at anything he didn’t really like or considered “gauche” when shopping around for wedding ideas. He also wanted to have at least part of the event take place outdoors, so the wedding ceremony was held indoors while the reception was outside, under the stars on an autumn night.

He hired a full, live band to play the affair, and had a fair amount of fun dancing with his wife all through the night, from the traditional slow dance to up-tempo square dancing to just uncoordinated wiggling as they laughed their way into their brand-new marriage. Jack loves to dance, and having her in his arms, swaying to whatever beat life threw at them, made his heart soar.

I could go into more detail about themes and color palettes and the ceremony itself, but that’s for another day!

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Jack wants tons of kids. He wants as many kids as nature sees fit to give them, and has absolutely no shame in expressing that desire to his wife. Thankfully, she’s on the same page: while she may not want to be pregnant every bout of nine months or so, she also wants kids and is happy to raise as many as come along over the course of her and Jack’s lifetimes; a big family does not daunt either of them. As such, their marriage became a very fruitful one as time went on, and they soon welcomed their first child, a baby girl.

Jack was absolutely, unbelievably smitten with the little creature the moment he found out his wife was pregnant, and became even more resolutely devoted to her when she was placed, wriggling and crying and all red and small, in his arms, mere moments after her birth. He’d stared at her, half-sobbing, half-laughing, as his wife gripped his hand, and both of them fell utterly, hopelessly in love with that tiny little girl as she took her first breaths.

The little family only continued to grow after that; a few years later, when their little lady had grown into a chubby, grinning toddler, she met her baby brother, a squirmy bundle of miniature limbs and his Daddy’s dark curls, who Jack swore was born knowing how to smile, giggling as soon as he felt his Daddy take him into a hug. Three years after that, another tiny Daniels came into the world, a bright-eyed and curious baby boy who seemed to only snuffle, not cry, when he was placed in his Mama’s arms that very first day, peering around with a wondering gaze that made Jack’s heart break with utmost adoration.

(There may definitely come more little babies, but I think three is a good number to start with describing!)

They’re each amazingly different, and Jack loves them all as unique souls: his daughter, Lucinda (shortened to Lucy), is playful like her father, and loves to follow him around the house and ask him what he’s up to, sometimes running off with his hat just to win his attention away from desk work or some other ‘unimportant’ task. She adores her Mama, and hangs off her mother’s every word, copying her mannerisms and asks near-constantly to help with cooking or with playing with her brothers, who she loves to play “pranks” on (translation: she raspberries their tummies, then shoots off to another room, laughing hysterically).

Their first son, Joseph, is a rowdy little whirlwind, and learned to walk quickly just to keep up with his older sister, giving chase wherever she went. He loves to toddle around the house, squeaking and cheeping, showing his Mama and Daddy what he’s doing (often putting something in his mouth that he absolutely should not be putting in there). He loves being carried by Daddy and will crawl into Jack’s lap on the couch, sitting on his knees and making faces until Daddy laughs. He absolutely loves to make people laugh, and will play games like peek-a-boo for hours, gleefully shrieking and adoring when he hears his parents laugh at his silly noises.

The littlest one, Johnnie, is the quietest of the children, and enjoys cuddling up to his Mama and Daddy and taking naps on their chest. When not sleeping, he likes to sit and watch what others are doing, and seems the happiest when resting in his carrier on the table, watching his Mama hard at work on a project, and especially enjoys watching her partake in crafts like knitting, sewing, or cooking. Johnnie also enjoys watching animal programs on TV: he cries if they play anything loud and bright for him, and calms immediately when Animal Planet or National Geographic is on. He’s barely old enough to hold his head up, but will stretch in his bassinet to see his favorite animal, horses, on TV, or if Daddy is reading a book and doing horsie noises. He loves to wiggle his miniature arms around in circles, delighted by the pony sounds, and Jack can’t help but grin at how adorable his little man is.

Do they have any pets?

Yep! Though they save getting pets until the kids are older, the family gets a pair of dogs, both adoptees from a local shelter. The bigger dog is a mutt between a lab and German Shepherd named “Messy” by Lucy, and the smaller dog is a beagle-mix named “Buster”. They’re both deeply well-loved dogs, and though Jack may have pretended to not want dogs, he dotes on the two of them relentlessly.

Who’s the stricter parent?

Jack can be paranoid, at times, about anything bad befalling his kids, and he while he tends to be relaxed and fairly easy-going with the children, he can sometimes have bouts of militaristic tenseness and scold them for going somewhere without telling him, playing in the street, talking to strangers, et cetera. He gets so nervous that sometimes it bubbles up in controlling mannerisms, trying to keep his children as safe as possible, but going about it the wrong way. That said, he is a loving father, willing to apologize if he steps out of line, and he never yells at his children.

Who worries the most?

As mentioned before, Jack can teeter into paranoia that something will hurt his babies, but his wife gives him a run for his money, at times, especially because it can be harder for mothers to be separated from their little ones at first. The truth is, all loving parents worry about their kids, and always will, and both Jack and the Missus worry about their wee ones out in the big world.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Joseph keeps trying to eat them! But it’s usually Jack, if only by default as the taller partner with the long, willowy limbs that can actually reach the corner of the wall where the damn spider is hiding.

How do they celebrate holidays?

As best they can! Mostly, they like to keep it to just the family, and don’t do any huge parties, unless it’s a birthday, especially for one of the kids: Jack tends to indulge the kids, particularly on their birthdays, so while the parties aren’t massive, they often have lots of kids and their parents come over for a big playdate and run around the house, lots of cake and balloons and party hats and presents wrapped in puppydog paper.

As for holidays like Christmas, Hanukkah, et cetera, they like to stay home and do all the decorating themselves, and often involve the kids in the decorating process. A cozy, safe at home feeling fills all their hearts and Jack loves seeing his family all gathered together, making little ornaments or snacks together, cuddled up watching movies or playing with toys, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Ol’ Missus Daniels has the greatest track record in the world of being able to coax her early morning-riser husband back into bed, back into her arms, and back to sleep. He can’t resist her sleepy eyes and beckoning smile, the way she opens her arms and pouts at him, the rusty creak of her tired little voice cooing “c’mere, you big lug, they can wait”. He has yet to convince himself to leave her side after a ploy like that.

Who’s the better cook?

Jack is flat out terrible. He’s great at a lot of things, but cooking is not one of them. He really is doing his best to improve his cooking, but he gets frustrated with how long it takes to make a good meal; he was so used to getting exactly what he wanted at fine dining restaurants and having things delivered to his apartment as a bachelor that he barely touched any of the dishes in his kitchen, and kept his fridge almost bare. Now that he’s a family man, he really does try-- he practices alongside his wife, watches the Food Network, stuff like that-- but he ends up burning things and getting pouty, and his wife will have to take over and show him how it’s done, which he appreciates. She was always the better cook out of the two of them, anyway.

Who likes to dance?

Very often, Jack’ll click on the radio and take his wife’s waist in his hands, giving it a loving squeeze as he twirls her around the kitchen, out through the living room, sometimes at the foot of their bed, his cheek pressed to hers, grinning from ear to ear. Sometimes, the babies will want to join in; Lucy will stand on her Daddy’s feet and hold his hands, swaying all around and screaming with delight, or Johnnie will be held to Mama’s chest and bop around with her to the tune of one of his favorite songs. Joseph, much like his father, likes to boogie on down and shimmy his diapered tush around, giggling as his Daddy applauds him. They all love to dance together!

Thank you for reading! Feel free to send in any requests for similar questions!

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #kingsman #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #long post #original #BEHOLD. content.#and i named all the kids after relatives of the Original Jack Daniels (whiskey guy) and after Johnnie Walker (another whiskey company) >;3c

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hiimsociallyawkward · 3 years

Text

the darkest hour pt 2

i'm back with my bs. this is for my bestie @lady-ofmagic-andstars. basically, all of my dumb thoughts while i watched 'darkest hour pt 2', 04.02 of merlin. in case you weren't aware.. ✨spoilers✨

right off the bat i'm sad

ok when i first watched this i was really confused. i mean, you see others when they interact with the dorocha have that perpetual frost on their face right? all of them, every single one. so imagine my surprise when merlin has no frost on his face, and he's miserable yea- but he's not dead??

like tbh, watching this again, ik why but when i first watched this, i was SO confused.

arthur looks so worried slkdjfalskfsd

him being willing to abandon the mission to get merlin back to camelot to be treated 😔🤪😎🤤🤩 lots of emotions

LANCELOT. of course it's lancelot. santiago is perfect. actually.

merlin looks so SICKLY. it physically pains me to see him like that

okok hahaa. the scene where percival is carrying merlin. i have several notes on that.

1) ik it's supposed to be all 'noble' looking. yk? them walking in slow mo, percival carrying merlin like he's been slained in battle. knights looking knightly

ALL I CAN FOCUS ON IS THE LACK OF PROPER NECK SUPPORT FOR MERLIN. PLS TELL ME I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE.

like pls

second note, idk why this remind me of hagrid carrying harry back

idk maybe that's just me but it feels oddly reminiscent

colin is SO pale my heart is actually hurting for him what the heck

asf;lsdjfa;lsdfj 'take me with you' stop.

dude they ACTUALLY care about each other. i just love them. arthur is so worried rn and while i'm like 'alsjfalsdj i don't want arthur to be sad and worried' we can see just how MUCH arthur cares about merlin.

like yea, we KNOW that they care about each other. but arthur is the prince and merlin's a servant so arthur can't have friends, but they're friends, and they care, and it makes me happy

ok it's sad and everything that merlin's basically dying but is it bad of me that i chuckle at merlin SLUMPED over on his horse?? probably.

but i mean, merlin is already raising himself up so he can sit more comfortably on the horse. ik that doesn't mean that he's in the clear yet, but he's doing a LOT better than the other people who ran into the dorocha. idk where i'm going with this

to quote the destiny and chicken podcast (who i love btw, if you want an awesome merlin podcast, check them out), they stay on arthur's face for SO long after merlin and lancelot leave.

i feel EVERYTHING that arthur is feeling in this moment. he's so pretty

there's another beautiful landscape. i'm not even sorry i'm gonna attach them ALL.

tell me that's not gorgeous

LMAO WHAT IS GWAINE DOING IN THAT TREE.

gwaine is the EMBODIMENT of 'boys will be boys' when he sticks his hand into that tree and gets swarmed by bees.

he's adorable and i love him

ok but also, someone tell me why capes are so hot. someone TELL me.

separate from the episode but on the note of capes being hot, i want a cloak SO BADLY. like the whole gist. floor length, big hooded cloak. why?? it's not like i'm sneaking anywhere but still. ✨cloak✨

ok the line where leon goes 'if anyone can get merlin back to camelot, it's lancelot' and arthur's face?? idk what to make of it. someone help me pls.

ok actually this probably isn't the best reaction shot but someone please help

the only thing i can think of is that arthur momentarily forgot and was reminded that merlin was in danger bc of him?

another thought is that he thinks he should take merlin back instead of lancelot?

ik for a fact you guys are better at analysising this stuff than i am so pls, thoughts?

i love lancelot so much. first time i watched this, i was CRUSHED

him carrying merlin to the lake(?) pond(?) area and then covering him with his cape? i love it

ok idk why but i love the idea of merlin instinctively going towards the water

it makes me think back to how he's made of magic and basically everywhere, espeically nature, has magic and instinctively- he wants to connect with nature as much as he can so his body just puts his hand in the water

a dumber thought i had, his hand is ✨sparkly✨in the water HAHAH

omg when the water called lancelot i deadass thought it was freya. i'm actually dumb i have WATCHED this before and i STILL thought it was freya

'a future that has been written since the dawn of time' makes me so proud but also so sad at the same time

it's like, yes, merlin is going to 'save the world' but it's like he's there just to do that. anyways, i just want him to be happy

MORE SPARKLY

these water spirts are op but also MORE SPARKLY. hehe i thin kthat's so funny

also, i'm literally only like 7 mins in. buckle yourself in

l;askdjflskdjf arthur going into the tunnels with the wilderons?? i miss merlin ouch. AND THE GAJA BERRIES. arthur misses merlin.

ok percival tackling gwaine?? cuties ;))

heheheeh gwaine kicking a skull and then running directly behind arthur for protection?? pls stop. i already love you

HAHA OK. THEM WEARING THE GAJA BERRIES ON THEIR FACE REMINDS ME OF THIS FACE MASK . THAT'S LITERALLY HOW I LOOK WITH THAT THIS FACE MASK ON HAHAA

yes im dumb, but the 5 of them slowly peeking over the rock and then ducking back down?? i love that so much they're so cute

omg what's wrong with me. not these knights literally FEARING their lives and me going 'they're so cute'

ANYWAYS

gwaine you absolute dumbass. smh merlin just took it but you just HAD to stab it. #cancelled

FRICK. YOU. AGRAVAINE.

YES. i have a love hate relationship with gaius, but BUST into the council room. king energy right there

smh gaius you pUSH over.

I LOVE GWEN RIGHT HERE

YES

FIGHT FOR WHAT IS RIGHT

DON'T LET ALL THOSE SMELLY OLD COUNCILMEN PUSH YOU AROUND

THIS IS ACTUALLY QUEEN SH!T RIGHT HERE EVERYONE ELSE CAN LEAVE

stfu agravaine 'gueniviere'. ST F UP

ok gwen. pop OFF

you KNOW that arthur would've fought agravaine on this. GO GWEN for speaking her mind

oh look at me with anotehr fic rec. sort of, not really. ok but this scene with gwen talking about all the villagers remind of this fic called To Love, Honor, and Piss Off by @thenerdyindividual .

ok so it's basically a fic where basically merlin and arthur have this 'arranged marriage' type thing for 3 years, and merlin is arthur's 'common consort'. what that means is that arthur marries merlin as a show of good faith and to learn more about what it means to be a commoner- merlin giving arthur the tea about commoner life

anywAYS. check that our if you want, but i loved it

stfu 'i feel the pain as much as you' agravaine. hop off my dick

YES. GWEN. PLANT THAT SEED OF DOUBT THAT AGRAVAINE MIGHT NOT BE ALL THAT HE SEEMS. i love gwen :,)

wow when she's intellegent with her speaking so everyone HAS to side with her but also respectful so NO ONE can get mad at her?? i stan. i ACTUALLY stan

santiago is so pretty

the PANIC in his voice. i stan.

HAHA AND MERLIN'S SNARKY 'SHH'

merlin is ready to GO. he's like, sorry for almost dying. that was ill advised of me.

i'm actually soft for any displays of friendship ever. what does that mean about me 💀 KIDDING. anyways..

i love the *swing* *duck* 'yea, not as quick as arthur

sa;kfs;akdfj lancelot insisting that merlin go back to camelot and merlin just nOt

LADS

stop rn. lancelot's face when merlin turns away. i am in pAin. I AM SO SAD OVER LANCELOT. PLS LANCELOT.

this isn't exactly, but morgana's paleness from here on out reminded me of merlin when he was literally DYING.

anyways, that's my note on that

like, yes- i get it- morgana is evil now. but idk should i feel bad for her? she looks so pale and ghasty and just :(

aksfhaskdjfas;ldf morgana

HAHA MORGANA IS SO EDGY IN THIS MOMENT. 'I'D RATHER DROWN IN MY OWN BLOOD THAN SEE THAT DAY' SO DRAMATIC. WHY IS SHE SO EMO/GOTH. LIKE IK I SHOULD BE SCARED FOR WHAT THAT MEANS BUT I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING

stfu don't kill gwen i'll KiLl you

agravaine literally needs to die

stop. i am literally SCREAMING when agravaine is asking gwen to meet him in his chambers. PLS. STOP. STOP STOP STOP. I NEED A WHISLTE. I BITE MY THUMB AT AGRAVAINE. HE NEEDS TO SACK THE HATEFUL MANSION. BETTER YET I'LL BURN HIS MANSION

again, someone tell me why capes are so hot. especially these red ones?? i'm in love with them.

ok see this guy?? he just died with the forst on his face. not merlin?? he started getting better. surly that should've tipped them off that merlin was different

merlin's little head quirk when he does magic. ALSFJASLDFJAS MERLIN. NO ONE SAID YOU WERE USELESS. AND IF THEY DID I WOULD BEAT. THEM. UP. GIVE ME ADDRESS RN.

wow. seriously. i'm gonna attach all the pretty landscape pictures

morgana's like 'i'll cut a b!tch'. ok ik morgana's evil and everything, but morgana flinging that guard against the wall is bad ass

oh this is weird but gwen telling agravaine to 'show courage' but the whole room tinted green? ik this isn't harry potter or anything but idk i thought that was interesting. i'm not abt to go into if i think agravaine is a slytherin or what but still

STOP. GET. YOUR. HANDS. AWAY. FROM. HER. I ACTULALY HATE HIM. SHE'S SO UNCOMFORTABLE. BACK THE FRICK UP AGARAVINE.

morgana :( smh you can't deny that morgana and gwen carried for each other and morgana flinging gwen away is making me sad. don't touch me

asldjfasldasd 'you're never alone' elyan i love you

lancelot and merlins being lads. omg no them talking about gwen

lancelot is SO noble. stop this reminds me of Die for you in secret by @emrysofmagic so much right now. not gonna lie. your fic LITERALLY lives in my head rent free and sometimes i think of it and my heart just HURTS in those last few chapeters. PHYSICALLy. i am in pain. anyways.

stop the trope where it's like "i love them, but i just want them to be happy. it doesn't matter if they're with me or not. i just want them to be happy"

I WAS LITERALLY SCREECHING AS MERLIN WAS CALLING KILGHARRAH i'm not even capping

ok so it's been like a month ish since i've watched merlin bc i was waiting for @//f-f-podcast 's destiny and chicken podcast, so i don't exactly what terms kilgharrah and merlin are at right now

still i think it's very sweet of merlin to bow slightly when kilgharrah looks at him

'the bravest and most noble of them all' 🥺

aw. merlin is really saying good bye right now

ok this scene is weird bc like i said, i don't rlly remember how merlin and kilgharrah are right now but it still makes me sad

asldjfslakdjfasd merlin and kilgharrah are old friends now. that makes me happy but sad at the same time

ok the 'it will be an empty world without you, young warlock' kills me.

obviously, we know that even though they butt heads, kilgharrah and merlin both care about each other

not only is kilgharrah being forced to let merlin go right now, but he's making peace with the fact that he'll be alone

the last dragonlord is planning to die. and kilgharrah is going to be alone again, like he was in that cave.

another thing is that if merlin died rn then we would never have aithusia. i'm kinda going on a tangent now but idk this scene is sad

this forest is so pretty

literally just lancelot's face and lancelot in this whole episode.

that's my note

HAHA GWAINE BURNING IS SOCKS

LADS BEING LADS

I LOVE THEM

omg i always see posts about this.

like merlin and lancelot planned that lancelot was going to walk in first and trick them and THEN merlin walked in

that's so funny to me. they're SO dramatic HAHAH

merlin looks so happy

BRO

ARTHUR

JUST HUG

HIM

PLS

STO

JUST HUG HIM WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM

Tell me why they actually look MARRIED here. PLS

🥲🥲 SELF SACRIFICING IDIOTS I LOVE YOU BOTH YOURE BREAKING MY HEART

LADS I LOVE THEM

🤠🤠 arthur wanting Gwen to be happy is KILLING ME. He loves her so much

This is so pretty. Honestly like how

Who let merlin have this many pretty landscapes

HOENSTLY

Lajs;dlkfajd buds in a boat together.

This reminds me of going to amusement parks and there’s always that boat ride

They’re the cutest

Ok so they also have this picture. It’s actually 3 pictures spliced together because the episode pans down and it’s really badly spliced (sorry) but LOOk how pretty that is.

WTF

Omg not me literally copying merlin with his slow mo head flick at the wyverns to make them go away

;sldkfjasdlkjasd leon percival and elyan and my heart.

Ok i’m not even gonna try to lie. They all have my heart

Frick you cailleah

Omg i was like ‘gwaine you dumbass’ jK i love him. Pls don’t come for my neck

Asldjfasldjfka ‘i’m prepared to pay whatever price is necessary’

HAHA CAN YOU NOT. WHAT IS WITH THIS CREEPY ‘COME HITHER’ HAND MOTION MS CAILLEAH

Stopp rn. ‘It’s my density

STOP. I AM HOWLING. LANCELOT

WHY

COME BACK

NO NONO PLS. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME.

stop rn merlin is all alone.

PAN TO ARTHUR WHO IS LITERALLY SURROUNDED BY EVERYONE.

Stop they all look so sad. I’m so sad.

merlin looks like he’s cried

I’m not sure abt arthur with his ‘no man is worth your tears’ type business but still

I am ✨sad✨

I screamed at this picture. I am depressed

Anyways

Gwen’s face is killing me

I’m so sad i don’t even want to write commentaries

Arthur realizing that lancelot only died because he loved gwen

Gwen standing in front of the fire

Aslkdfjasldjfa im so sad

HER STANDING IN FRONT OF THE FIRE ALL ALONE.

I. AM. SO. SAD.

STFU THAT THRONE IS NOT “RIGHTFULLY” YOURS MORGANA

STOP PLS GET AWAY

WHAT IS WITH THIS WEIRD TENSION

PLS DO NOT STAND WITHIN KISSING DISTANCE

IK YOU’RE NOT TECHNICALLY BLOOD RELATED BUT STILL.

PLEASE.

STOP.

I HATE AGRAVAINE

✨we hate agravaine in this house✨

😭😭 not merlin having ANOTHER secret. I’m so sorry bby

Anyways! I’ll be back next week to rant more about the wicked day so I’ll see you then! thanks I love you bye

22 notes · View notes

bulkyphrase · 3 years

Text

Everybody & the Avengers Team

I've got a new fic rec list for you!

The stories in the "X & the Avengers Team" tags focus on one person's relationship to the Avengers team as a whole. Courtesy of AO3's tag browse and Excel, here's a ranked list of the top 20 most popular pairings:

Tony Stark | 2470 total, 240 OTP

Peter Parker | 2255 total, 85 OTP

Steve Rogers | 602 total, 56 OTP

Loki | 387 total, 26 OTP

Natasha Romanov | 308 total, 35 OTP

Clint Barton | 268 total, 46 OTP

Bruce Banner | 244 total, 15 OTP

Thor | 209 total, 7 OTP

Avengers Team | 174 total, 24 OTP

James "Bucky" Barnes | 156 total, 7 OTP

Wanda Maximoff | 143 total, 4 OTP

Phil Coulson | 105 total, 9 OTP

Darcy Lewis | 91 total, 6 OTP

Matt Murdock | 60 total, 8 OTP

Sam Wilson | 53 total, 5 OTP

Nick Fury | 41 total, 5 OTP

Harry Potter | 40 total, 0 OTP

Pepper Potts | 31 total, 1 OTP

Vision | 29 total, 2 OTP

Stiles Stilinski | 25 total, 0 OTP

In chart form, if you like charts:

Notes:

The numbers after the names are the number of stories tagged with that ship. OTP means the number of stories where that is the only relationship tagged on the story. Numbers are accurate as of July 2021.

Story Recommendations

For your reading pleasure, included below is at least one fic rec for each pairing except the crossovers from non-Marvel fandoms (apologies to Mr. Potter & Mr. Stilinski). Most are gen fic, and even in the ones with a romantic pairing, romance is not the focus.

Tony Stark

As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration by petroltogo (Teen, 8949) tumblr: @tonystarktogo

Standing inside his penthouse, listening to Rogers, Barton and Banner explain to Fury how they just happened to stumble over the Tesseract on a routine security check of Stark Tower’s roof and wouldn’t you know, they’ve managed to fight off the looming alien invasion before it could really start and secure the missing overpowered nightlight is one of the most surreal situations Tony has ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

Peter Parker

the worst field trip ever by shrill_fangirl_screaming (Teen, 3420) tumblr: @i-am-having-an-emotion

"We're on a field trip," Peter said. "To here. And Tony decided to be our tour guide and absolutely embarrass me, so can you please help get him under control?"

Which is how Peter Parker, architect of his own destruction, ended up with not one but two superhero pseudo-dads being annoying on his school field trip.

Steve Rogers

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (Teen, 11022) tumblr: @galaxythreads

That seems about right. He doesn't know how he knows that, though. He does have vague memories of an annoyed fondness at finding peanut butter in some sort of jam. Thor's doing, because he doesn't see the point of using two knives when one works just as fine. He knows that. How does he know that? He knows all those little details, though, almost innately. How can he know these strangers so deeply?

Everyone else below the cut!

Loki

Proprietary by TheThirdMarauder (Teen, 7639)

No, Loki simply wants the Avengers conquered. The details of whom, how, and when matter not. Unless, of course, said details interfere with Loki's plans. Then, well, then none can fault him for protecting his own interests.

Loki has always been exceptionally good at lying to himself.

Natasha Romanov

What Girls Are Made Of by enigma731 (Teen, 4613) tumblr: @enigma731

She rolls her eyes but does as he’s indicated, using his shoulders to leverage herself up onto his back, her arms around his neck and her legs hugging his waist.

“You know,” he says blithely, “this isn’t really what I tend to picture when I think of a hot girl riding me.”

Natasha groans, deciding that if his sense of humor gets them arrested, she’ll kill him herself. “Just go.”

Clint Barton

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (Teen, 4221)

With a normal person, this might count as blackmail material, but a) this is a case of mutually assured destruction if ever there was one, and b) Fury is immune to embarrassment. Not just in the regular, Tony Stark way, either, oh no. Things that could possibly end up being embarrassing to Fury get somehow warped and changed until they go from mortifying all the way over into useful and/or good for his image. It’s like a superpower.

Carrying Clint’s small child self around on his shoulders more than once has probably already hit the interagency rumour mill as an example of Fury’s innate awesomeness: good with rocket launchers and small children.

Also available as a podfic!

Bruce Banner

They're Not Wrong by Trumpeteer34 (Teen, 10163)

As Tony began to pace around the hole in the road to keep himself from shooting repulsors at the nearby buildings in a fit of rage, Thor began to study the nearby area. There was no sign of either the Hulk or Bruce Banner beyond the crater. The surrounding area, aside from the rubble of the fight, held no clue as to their friend’s location.

“Guys, he’s gone,” Tony growled into the communicator on their private line, drawing Thor out of his darkening thoughts. “Someone tranqed him and took him. He’s gone.”

Honorary mention goes to the Responsible Science series by @letteredlettered - the stories don’t have the "Avengers Team & Bruce Banner" tag, but they could, and they are amazing. The best Bruce Banner writing I've ever come across.

Thor

Fortunately, I Am Mighty by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 3062)

Steve was the first one to speak. “Are you okay?”

Thor nodded. Which was a bad idea, as it turned out, because now there were little gray lights flashing in front of his eyes. “I’m fine.” Absolutely everyone narrowed their eyes, and he added, “But, uh. Could we possibly not get back in the car just yet?”

Avengers Team

Civil Wasn't by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 7123)

"We're having an ideological conflict here," Tony stated with disbelief. "Are you telling me you still want to go out to dinner?"

"It's a standing engagement, Tony," Rhodey reminded him.

"Not you too—"

"We already had to reschedule from Friday when Natasha was..." Rhodey frowned. "What were you doing?"

The question was directed toward Natasha, who shrugged and said, "Spy stuff."

James "Bucky" Barnes

You Know How I Feel, aka, The Adventures of Bucky and Muffy the Dinosaur by ifeelbetter (Not Rated, 4511) tumblr: @ifeelbetterer

“As you may have heard, Bucky Barnes, a.k.a. The Winter Soldier, recently rescued a tiny part-robot dinosaur during the Avengers’ battle with Dr. Doom in Antarctica,” the other newscaster explained. “Pictures of Barnes and the dinosaur were posted on twitter by fellow Avenger, Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye, and immediately made Barnes’s new pet America’s sweetheart.”

“Her name’s Muffy,” said Steve."

Wanda Maximoff

and the woman was young again by Mira_Jade (General, 3669)

Tony Stark called them the Cap's Kooky Quintet, and sometimes the term amused her – causing her to lift a sardonic brow where someday a smile would truly smile. She enjoyed the presence of comrades – true comrades – and she enjoyed the way their minds wove and bound together about each other to fluctuate against her senses as one. There was something soothing about being in their midst, and even when their loud and brash ways – their painful Americaness - rubbed her raw and drained on her, it was ever the knitting of their minds that soothed those moments over, and made them inconsequential.

Phil Coulson

Coulson's First Day of School by storiesfortravellers (Teen, 3055)

Coulson looked up at him. “I like drawing pictures with Mr. Rogers. I like having tea parties with Ms. Potts. I like it when Dr. Banner reads me books, and I like it when Natasha teaches me things. And I like when you play with me. You do really good voices when we play action figures. And you’re the only one who lets me do stuff like jump off the high diving board at the pool or eat three cupcakes or play tackle with kids at the park.”

Clint didn’t realize that. He was pretty sure that meant that he was doing something wrong.

Darcy Lewis

Beginner Yoga for Dummies (Darcys) and Sad Hobos by chailover (Teen, 3434)

Darcy had a theory: crazy attracted crazy, working kind of like gravity. It was pretty much her explanation for her life after Thor. And if she had thought the type of crazy Thor attracted was bad, be it Loki or the Warrior Three and Sif, or the dark elves and the Convergence, it was still nothing against what the Avengers manage en masse.

Matt Murdock

Double Blind by smilebackwards (Teen, 2381) tumblr: @smilebackwards

Stark snaps his fingers. “You can’t see half of my inventions. This explains so much about you and why you’ve never been properly impressed by me.”

“Does it?” Matt says, ambiguously.

Sam Wilson

Bystander by scribblemetimbers (Teen, 52029)

“I just want you to know,” Sam says loudly, cautiously raising his hands, “That I’m very poor and very sleep-deprived and literally the only thing you can kill me for right now are my notes.” He pauses. Wait. On second thought: “Please don’t steal my notes.”

“I’m not—I’m not a mugger,” Not Mugger rasps out, and for all that he looks about to keel over and die, the man actually manages to sound offended.

Nick Fury

Bedtime Story by dixiehellcat (Teen, 2532) tumblr: @deehellcat

Fury snorted. “I have to check in with the duty officer. I’ll be back in, let’s say twenty minutes. I expect all of you to have whatever your pre-bedtime routines are completed, and be in here pajama’ed and ready to be read to.”

He tapped the book under his arm, then left with the usual dramatic swish of his long coat. Bruce scratched his head. “Did…he just say be ready to be read to?”

Pepper Potts

Pepper and the Avengers (Which She Knows Nothing About) by rebelmeg (General, 6696) tumblr: @rebelmeg

The Avengers, that mismatched group of hurt and heroism, was one of the most important things in Tony Stark’s life. So, naturally, Pepper had made them an important part of her life too.

Vision

039. Intoxicated by aimmyarrowshigh (Teen, 100) tumblr: @aimmyarrowshigh

It might be nice to fit in, just this once. To lose a bit of composure.

Vision floated over to the refrigerator and, with some timidity, pulled off a magnet. He stuck it to his forehead.

#marvel fic rec

6 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Salty Baby

Chapter two

Authors note- thanks to @official-and-unstable-satan for being my beta. I’ll give you a thank you gift soon enough. No smut today next time i promise. happy reading.

Please do not repost or steal my work. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- When you moved to New York in hopes of living a glamorous life this isn't what you expected. Steve offers to help you but your pride gets in the way. Pride isn't going to pay your rent and college loans.

Pairing- Steve Rogers x reader

Series warning- smut, sugar daddy/baby themes, angst, salty reader.

Word count- 1.5k

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE

Masterlist

The whole week you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. You went as far as to research him. He had lived such an interesting, accomplished life so many things. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

Steve had texted you the details of the restaurant. When you said your favorite food was pizza he took it upon himself to book a table at a five star Michelin star Italian restaurant. You being an uncultured simpleton said yes without knowing what you were getting yourself into.

You had never been to a fancy restaurant. You didn’t own a single dress. Neither could you afford one right now. There’s no way in hell your sister would let you set foot in her closet let alone borrow a dress.

“Are you coming to the party tomorrow?”, your coworker Alyssa asked. She had perpetually been nosy and annoying. Always oversharing or probing you about your personal life.

“No I have a date”

“Oh wow!”, she exclaimed jumping up and down. “Is it with that tall drink of water who’s totally obsessed with you?”

“Well... yeah”

“What are you going to wear?”, she asked propping herself up on her elbow batting her eyelashes at you.

You sighed deeply. “I don’t have anything to wear.” You considered cancelling just because of that. You didn’t have a lot of free time to date or socialize. But then you have been in New York for over a year and had yet to have a fun night out on the town.

“Well we’re about the same size. How about you borrow a dress of mine? On one condition! You have to tell me literally everything.”

“Why?”, while you weren’t keen on accepting help from her there weren’t many other options.

“Because that’s just what girls do!”

Alyssa set you up with a beautiful red dress that ended just above your knee that showed just a hint of cleavage. ‘To leave something to the imagination' apparently.

She also warned you at least ten times not to put out on the first date. Which you probably weren’t going to anyway. After a few touches of makeup you were good to go.

***

To make sure he doesn’t make a fool out of himself, Steve went to Natasha for some advice on modern dating. She was his only female friend. Probably his only friend.

She convinced him to buy bunch of new clothes and a new haircut. He wasn’t so sure about the new look but from what he had observed he looked quite modern.

“Oh new haircut”, Tony comments on the Steve’s new look when he comes and sits in the conference room in front of him. “You don’t stick out like a sore thumb now”

“Steve has a hot date”, Natasha smirked. “he’s kind of nervous about it”

“There’s no need to be nervous”, Tony drawls out pushing back on his chair. “Women love to talk about themselves. Just ask her about her hopes and dreams. She is a real human woman right?”

“I’m not sure I should be taking advice from you” Neither did he want to discuss his love life before an important meeting. Although he had to agree it was pretty good advice.

“And money. Women like money”, he continued going through his phone

“Don’t listen to Stark’s misogynistic wisdom. Not all girls are after money” Natasha said throwing Tony a glare.

“Yeah he’ll find out for himself soon enough”, he threw back.

Steve knew money played a part in relationships. It provided security. He was grateful about the more than sufficient funds in his bank account. Some from his army back pay and some from working for shield and the Avengers. After the days he had seen during the depression he considered himself very lucky to treat you to an expensive meal or anything else you would like. But at the same time he didn’t want you to be interested in him solely for his money.

He parked the car he borrowed from Tony outside your apartment building. Both him and Natasha had given him long lecture while laughing at him when he said he was going to pick you up on his motorcycle.

When he looked at your red dress he was more than glad that he didn’t bring his motorcycle. He tried to supress the fact that he was so mesmerised by you. He gave you the small bouquet of roses he had bought on his way.

“Wow”, you exclaimed looking at his hair. “It suits you. Can I touch it?”

He couldn’t supress his lovesick grin and shyly nodded his headed. Sighing in content feeling you run your fingers through his shirt hair.

He felt you shifting in your seat on the drive to the restaurant. It somewhat calmed him to know you were just as nervous.

You both took and seats and ordered some food. You were looking around at the decor in awe talking about how beautiful and sophisticated everything is.

He hasn’t been on a date in more than 70 years. He did take your coat but forgot to pull your chair out for you, the hostess beat him to it. In his anxiety he had already knocked down a fork and cringed so hard he was sure you noticed.

He was going picking at his brain to find something to talk about. This was your first date. He had to make a good impression.

“So... what are your dreams?”, not the best start but he could still recover.

You tilted your head at him giving him a small laugh. “Just the normal things, I guess. To have a successful career... to be happy. What are your dreams?”

“I... well I’m not so sure anymore. I used to want the simple typical things. But then I became Captain America...can’t exactly have that now”,

Maybe he shouldn’t have started with something so heavy so early on. When he became Captain America his life didn’t belong to him anymore. That alone would be more than enough to scare you off.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still want those things”, you said lightly shrugging “Why did you? Become Captain America, I mean you’re great at it. But it must be a huge responsibility” you asked as the server placed your food in front of you and filled your glass with wine.

“I’ve just never liked bullies”, he started as soon as the server left “being Cap gave me a chance to fight them”

“That’s ironic. Considering America is the probably biggest bully in the world”, you said with a humorless laugh.

Glumness settled over his face. He nodded at you. He had hoped that 70 years would bring about positive changes in the world. While things were better than before they weren’t nearly as good as he wanted them to be.

“It’s a good thing though. You and your superhero friends can keep the country and the world in check”, you said giving him a cheeky smile stuffing the pasta in your mouth. He returned your smile digging into his food.

As the conversation flowed he found himself relaxing and settling down. It didn’t feel like he had only known you for two weeks, not from how comfortable he felt with you. Talking to you. Holding your hand for a few seconds here and there.

After dessert he drove you back to your home. Walking you to your doorstep something caught his eye at the many mailboxes that aligned the wall.

You looked at the mailbox he was staring at. “That’s my Anna’s married name” You looked back at him. “My sister”, you continued still staring at his confused face.

He gave you a small nod “I work with someone called Rumlow”

“Probably a coincidence”

“Yeah. Thanks for keeping me company tonight doll” As much as he didn’t want the night to end. He had to leave just so he could see you again. Preferably sooner rather than later.

“Doll?”, you asked frowning

“You don’t like it?”, he asked nervously. He still wasn’t sure what was considered appropriate. Everyone told him different things.

“I... well I like my name”, you averted your gaze looking at the tiles on the floor. “Thank you so much for today though. I had fun. Can we do it again?”

“Yes!” He gushed instantly “When are you free I’ll call you or text you?”

You nodded at him playing with the buttons on his shirt before slowly stroking the lapel of his blazer looking up at him with a pout.

Steve maybe clueless when it comes to women but he wasn’t an idiot. He took the hint leaning down to meet you in the middle as you stood on your tippy toes. He lightly pressed his lips to yours.

He had planned to keep it chaste and modest, he was a gentleman after all, but then you slipped your tongue into his mouth and threw your arms around his neck pulling closer to you. There was no holding back now. He slid his hands to your waist and hoisted you off the the ground. Up in the air a few inches to match his heights.

You smiled into the kiss. Stifling your giggle so you didn’t have to break the kiss. Feeling completely pampered and spoiled. He put you down on the ground putting his hands in pockets of his dress or he’d to tempted to steal another kiss.

“Good night” You breathed out after a couple of moments of just staring at each other.

“Good night” He almost called you doll again but stopped himself. Choosing to just say your name. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, he couldn’t help it. And left. Already excited to see you again as soon as possible.

#steve x reader #steve x you #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #steve rogers #captain america #salty baby #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers x reader

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

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Happiness Begins

Part 19

Chapter Summary: Jared needs some time to come around to the idea of his best friend and his sister, but will he be able to get over all the lies?

Warnings: Language, angst, descriptions of anxiety, a mild physical altercation

Word Count: 2.1K+

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Happy Sunday! First, I’d like to say a huge thank you to all of you still here with me. This past semester was a difficult one for a number of reasons. Until I started writing again, I hadn’t realized how much I truly missed these two and being in this little world I created. It was a truly therapeutic experience to get back to it. Also, I already have our sequel all outlined and ready to start. xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

Jared was gone before she woke on Monday. Well, not technically before she woke as she didn’t actually sleep. The sound of the front door startled her before her alarm for the morning had gotten the chance to. She wasn’t surprised. Jared didn’t come out of his room the rest of the weekend. Only once for food and even then he just stockpiled what he could into his room.

This wasn’t exactly what she had expected, but again, it didn’t surprise her. After he had stormed out, she rolled out of bed and decided then to start her day. What difference did it make whether she got up now or stared at her ceiling for another half hour anyway?

When Clif showed up with the car at his normal time, Jensen was already in the back seat. He smiled at her as she climbed in next to him, the corner of his mouth dropping when she shook her head at him. Jensen nodded his understanding.

Y/n stared out the window as the lights of the city flashed passed them, one hand on her chin as she chewed on the nail of her thumb. Jensen’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her hand to his face, kissing the back of her knuckles. She turned to face him, a weak smile on her lips.

“Take a breath.” Y/n did as she was told, breathing in deeply and holding it for a beat before letting it back out. A move she had perfected years ago when her anxiety first started to go from bad to worse. She repeated the deep breath a few more times, allowing the action to help the stuttering in her chest slow down to a more bearable rate.

“It’s gonna be a long day.” She noted. Jensen nodded at her and linked his fingers with hers. There wasn’t much else to say between them. She had kept him up to date via text all weekend, so they were on the same page when it came to Jared.

Friday, she had said all she could to her brother. If he couldn’t accept her apology, what else was she to do? They both knew they had messed up and the guilt that has settled in her chest was suffocating. At this point though, she wouldn’t take any of it back. Jensen was the light she hadn’t known she was missing. He was her safe place, the one person that somehow knew her better than she knew herself. There was nothing that could persuade her from giving that up. Maybe it was selfish, but after everything she figured it was her turn to be a little selfish. If Jared had been there to peer over their shoulders, who’s to say they would have been able to truly find each other. No, that was a risk she couldn’t take.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, neither knowing what would greet them when they reached set. With the tension in all of their relationships sure to be noticeable by everyone else, it was best that her and Jensen kept up their facade. The last thing either of them wanted was all their dirty laundry out for everyone to see, something they had come to an agreement on during their many conversations over the weekend.

Jensen led her towards the makeup trailer as she trailed behind a step. Crew greeted them on their way like usual, a ‘good morning’ here and a nod of a head there. Y/n noted as they walked past the trailers that Jared’s was dark. This didn’t mean much as the set was a large space, and he could still be anywhere. She knew what time he left the apartment, but she couldn’t be sure when he actually arrived on the set, if he had yet done so at all.

Jensen stepped up and pulled open the door to the makeup trailer, allowing her to enter first. She was greeted by a warm smile from Trish as she peeked over Jared’s head. Jared’s body stiffened as he caught his sister's eye in the mirror. Neither of them said a thing, allowing a heaviness to blanket the inside of the trailer. Neither looked away from each other either, their looks of longing and sadness literally mirroring each other’s. They stayed that way for what felt like minutes when in reality it was less than thirty seconds. Just enough time for Jensen to enter behind her, his visage in the mirror stealing Jared’s attention.

“Morning.” Trish broke the silence in the trailer as the door shut behind Jensen, who muttered a noncommittal response along with Y/n. Trish’s brow furrowed slightly, now picking up on the energy in the room, though she chose not to say anything.

“It seems like the sun might actually be on our side today.” Y/n noted, trying to break the tension and pull Trish’s focus. They had an outside shoot, and originally the forecast had called for rain, switching at the last minute to partly cloudy.

“As long as Jared here doesn’t sweat off all my hard work.” Trish teased as she leaned back to inspect her work. Jared’s clipped voice cut through the light conversation.

“Am I done?” Trish nodded, a soft ‘of course’ leaving her mouth. The poor woman had no idea what to make of the sudden mood shift in Jared. He jumped up from his chair and exited the trailer, the door slamming behind him. Y/n flinched at the noise and shared a quick, tense look with Jensen before Trish rounded on them, the furrow in her brow insisting on some answers.

“What’s up with him?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” Y/n lied, the words tumbling out of her mouth like vomit. “I haven’t spoken to him at all today.” That part wasn't a lie, though she didn’t feel any better about it. The purse in Trish’s lips had Y/n’s heart rate picking up for a moment as she tried to assess if the woman believed her. Trish hummed under her breath, content for now not to ask anymore questions. She collected her things in silence, bidding Jensen and Y/n a goodbye in no time. Y/n let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

“I can’t do this.” She hung her head as the tears returned. Never before did she think she could cry this much, and she already admits to being a crier. She had been so sure that her tear ducts would have run dry from how much they were being used. A sob shook her chest as she just let go in the presence of just Jensen.

“Hey, come here.” Jensen’s hands found her waist and pulled her to sit in his lap, her legs laying across his own. “Please, don’t cry. Jared just needs more time.” His thumbs wiped the streams flowing down her cheeks away, the action in vain as the salty liquid just kept coming.

“I know, but I’m not sure how much longer I can handle this. I’ve never seen my brother like this and I just feel so damn guilty.”

“I get it, I do. But honey, you’ve said your peace. What else can you do?” Jensen placed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her breathing was beginning to even out as she got control of her emotions, allowing the proximity of Jensen to ease her mind. At least, she knew that she was not alone in all of this. There was one person that could understand this feeling in her gut. A soft hiccup fell from her lips before she spoke again.

“Beg for his forgiveness.” She suggested.

“If that’s really what you want to do, I’m here for you.” Jensen promised her, his eyes intent on hers as he made his promise known. A hint of a smirk appeared at the corner of his lips, offering her a view of her favorite dimple. He understood the hyperbole in her statement, something that she could never repay him for. Even still, she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. It was just something to add to her list of the ways he had changed her life and view on the world.

****

The rest of their day consisted of much of the same. Jared was absent when he absolutely was not needed on the set. Though both of them still delivered Sam and Dean like they have been for the past fifteen years. Not that she doubted either of them. They were still professionals after all. The one big difference became their demeanor in between takes.

Y/n could tell people were clearly suspicious of both of the men’s activity, it was written all over their faces. Though, not one of them chose to comment, much like their dear Trish. She wasn’t sure it would last. Someone was bound to open their mouth sooner or later. She was just surprised it came almost a week and a half later.

Things had not gotten better in any sense of the word. Jared hadn’t said anything to either of them since the incident. Only interacting with Jensen when the script dictated so. It was the director who opened his mouth after the two men were struggling to connect for the first time in fifteen years.

“Okay, what is up with you two?” The man came out from behind the camera, his ball cap low on his head as he yelled cut. He hadn’t been getting the performance out of the boys for the dramatic brother scene they were filming today, and he knew something was up.

“Nothing.” Jared’s nostrils flared as he spoke, one of his little indicators that Y/n had picked up on growing up. He was annoyed and trying desperately to hide it.

“Bullshit. You guys haven’t so much as said two words to each other this whole episode.”

“It’s just stress. We are coming up on the end here and I think we are all getting a little emotional.” Jensen stepped up to offer an explanation.

“I’ve known you both for years. I’ve seen you go through all sorts of things, and never before have I seen this coldness between the two of you.”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. We will get it right.” Jensen promised. Though he didn’t seem convinced, the director left the two standing on stage and returned to his seat behind the camera.

“I’m so sick of you.” Jared’s voice was soft, but Jensen heard it.

“Excuse me?” He rounded on Jared.

“You heard me. You always think you know best. Nice cover story for Bill, didn’t want to tell him the real reason why I can’t even look at you?” Jared hissed. Jensen had no idea where this was coming from. Sure, he knew Jared was pissed, but he had never seen him act out like this. It was scaring him to be completely honest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would want our business spreading around the set. You know how gossip can travel, especially when it involves the leads.” Jensen shot back. Trish nudged Y/n’s shoulder when she noticed the heated exchange between the actors. Y/n whipped around to where she had indicated. From her spot, she couldn’t hear exactly what was happening, but it was a safe bet that it had to do with her.

“I’m not the one that has anything to be ashamed about. I’m the victim here.” Jared shoved Jensen. The force wasn’t anything that the man could’ve done at his full strength, but it was enough for Jensen to stumble backwards on his feet. Jensen made no move to react, instead simply accepting the punishment that Jared was dealing out for him.

It was what happened next that was a blur. Jensen’s lack of a reaction seemed to only piss Jared off more, and he moved to push Jensen harder this time. Jensen dodged the movement, ready this time, only for a swarm of crew members to step between them before things could escalate even further.

Y/n couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of her heart thrumming in her ears as the tears threatened to fall once again. The sounds of grumbled shouts from the director for everyone to take a thirty minute break sounded like she was underwater. Jared was pushed back from the set by someone with their hand against his shoulder. Jensen walked off on his own in the opposite direction.

What did it feel like to be kicked in the gut? Right now she was sure the feeling in her abdomen was a close approximation. The two men she loved most in this world were at odds because of her. Panic, guilt and fear all swirled into one nauseating sensation. She just wanted the world to stop, if only for a few hours, so she could get her shit together. So she could figure out a way to fix all of this. She had to fix this.

Part 20

Forevers: @spn-impala @22sarah08 @turtlepad @callmekda @chaldei @hobby27 @cowboysnwinchesters @tranquility-or-chaos @pikabootoyouchu @dawnie1988 @grease222 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @polina-93 @clarinette07 @moonlight-babeh @suckerforfanfics @witandnargles @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @geeksareunique @akshi8278

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl @hillface89 @arses21434 @thevelvetseries @sslater34 @mrsirishboru @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @encounterthepast @facadeformyrealblog @supernatural-bellawinchester @screechingartisancashbailiff @rebeccathefangirl @squirrelnotsam @heartinmyhead1 @1d-killed-me @samsgirl93 @deans-baby-momma @deanmonandnegansbitch @woodworthti666 @supraveng @onethirstyunicorn @heartsaved @know2grow @littlewhiterose @surprisinglysarah @stoneyggirl @carryon-doctor-lock @thebookisbtr @youaremyfiveever @kalesrebellion @lilulo-12 @winchester-fantasies @vicmc624 @supernatural3002 @winchester-writes

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huaanonigiri · 3 years

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guys I'll say this one and I don't take criticism, or anything bc I won't change my mind. But Wanda Maximoff is the most powerful being in the MCU that I know of. Let me expalin: like many other heroes in Marvel, she's got a lot, and seriously, A LOT of trauma that have characterized her and made her who she is,we know that right? so, my argument is: Wanda, even after all she's been through, after losing everything she held close to her heart was taken away from her, has managed not to only stay strong, but to show just how strong and how much she can do even at her worst. For example, after loosing Pietro, we can see how, when she had her breakdown while fighting, she kinda like, activated some type of power wave that destroyed all the robots around her (rrwatch that scene if you don't get what I mean). Then we have Inifnity war. My girl literally managed not only to stop/greatly slow Thanos from advancing while breaking a FUCKING INFINITY STONE while ALSO killing her love (and the last person that she held close to her heart), which caused her to literally have an emotional breakdown literally in the middle of all of this scene, and she managed to achieve that goal of sacrificing her love and break the Mind Stone before Thanos could get to it. and not to add that she had to Watch Visión die by both hers and Tganos' hands, since Tahnos sued the Time Stone to reverse time and all that (which FOEDNT INVALIDATE and all the fact that Wanda managed to successfully stop him and destroying the mind stone while having an emotional breakdown and experienced a traumatic event). Not only that, but, because of her emotional state, she managed to create her own fake/desired reality of a whole ass town (BEING FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS THAT SHE HERSELF DID IT, SHE HONESTLY DIDN'T KNOW WTF WAS GOING ON UNTILL LIKE, MID SEASON1). She also managed to fight an idk-how-old-but-surely-really-old witch that held a lot of knowledge about witchcraft (or well, the magic they possessed), more than heldef, who didn't even consider herself a witch, and come out victorious (and is currently learning from a surely-dangerous-that-contains-dark-spells spells book). what I mean to say is, Wanda, inher average, controlled emotional state, is very powerful itself, but when mixed with intense emotions she becomes a being so fesrfulling yet amazingly powerful.

Now, I'm sure many of you will come at me with soemthing about Thor or some other avenger. But let me argue with this: Wanda managed to unbalance Thor in AoU with her mind manipulation. Also, clearly has lost as much things as Wanda has, and I'm not trying to invalidate him, bc it's not about that, but he has something that she doesn't have: he has a new family, if I remember well after End Game he kinda joined (or went with) the Guardians of the Galaxy (but correct me if I'm wrong please). What I mean to say (regardless of who he ended up with), Thor was not left alone and found a place and people to be with. Meanwhile Wanda was all by herself: Steve: Dead. Natasha: Dead. Clint: unknown but surely being with his family and mourning Nat. Sam and Bucky (who were part of the CAP. Team so surely they must e bonded one way or another): not as close as the first three (I like to think she had a closer relationship with Nat and Clint, but still, even if that's not the case Clint had his own struggling and Idk why or how, but they separated paths, so that's that). She practically lost everyone who she held closest to her heart: Parents, Pietro, Vission, HER SONS! She was left to grief on her own with no one to reach to her, and while Thor has indeed lost the same things as her, he either already mourned them or (specifically in Loki's case) already knows how to deal with. But Wanda? no, she lost loved one after loved one. When she lost her parents, she only had her brother, and when she lost her brother she found love in Vision, died twice in a row (literally) in front of he, and after her fake/desired reality was broken because she unintentionally was hurting other and knew she had to stop, meanignt hat she didn't only had to let go of Vision, AGAIN, but also of her twin sons, of her PERFECT, HAPPY LIFE. Also, Thor is a God, so he obviously will be more powerful than mere humans, but that's the thing. For a simple human such as Wanda to be so fucking powerful, especially when her emotions are out of control (or even being aware of what she does), clesrly tells ME (and I enphasise in ME bc it's my opinion) that she is one of the lost powerful beings in the whole MCU (also, Thor missed killing Thanos the first time just bc he wanted to have some quick revenge talk, which was a mistake, and when he DID kill Thanos, it was never a real fight like in the end of Infinity War and End Game, so I wouldn't really count that. Meanwhile, I'm sure that Wanda wouldn't have hesitated even a bit, fuck revenge talk, decapitate the grape the moment the opportunity presents itself).

Also, if someone is going to mention Captain Marvel, my argument fort hat debate is that, as far as I know, CAP hasn't gone through the same thing as Wanda (unlike Thor), and her powers are always like, under control, because honestly, when you see when someone has true, strong power is when hey loose control of it (like when Wanda created her own fucking reality and mad eit what she wanted, which I really relate it with the Reality stone, but that's a talk for another day). What I mean to say is, Captain Marvel is strong, but when it comes to power, I honestly think Wanda has the upper hand 6and same with Thor, she's got the upper hand on both)

And this, people, is my analysis and explanation on why Wanda is the most powerful Avenger and character in the whole MCU (of what I've seen, since I havent like, watched or read ALL of what Marvel has). As I said, I take no criticism and I will not change my mind, also, this is MY PERSONAL OPINION, and I'm saying this bc I already see some ppl coming at me as I said the most insulting thing (everyone has opinions, and this is mine). So, all THAT being said, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

#marvel #mcu #wanda maximoff #wandavision #pietro #age of ultron #infinity war #end game #Wanda máximos if powerful af and no one can change my mind #vision #scarlet witch #elizabeth olson

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shesawriter39049 · 4 years

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|Got Me Loosin All My Cool| M|

Pairings: Jungkook X Reader | Jimin X Reader( Smut) FT- Side Tae & Yoongi

Note: Kook is in 80% of this but he’s “new” to the dynamic...so the smut is with Jimin and the OC...not Kookie!

About- Jimin and yourself take Jungkook shopping for a new suit to wear to the “Spectrum” launch party! OH, and Jimin fucks you in the backseat of your truck in the parking garage of the mall…..

OR: You know Kookie still in that “Broke college grad” phase only being with the company barley a month, and you don’t want him to feel self-conscious at the event! You’ve also been too busy to really check in with him to see how he’s adjusting! So, you thought something like this, in a more laxed atmosphere, would be a good solution! Oh and Jimin, honestly he’s just nosey as fuck and inched himself along, like nobody really invited him he invited his damn self! Also Jungook can’t underatand why the fuck your all so damn attractive...like...why!?

Jungkook’s a sweetheart and lowkey confused and whipped for everybody

Tae’s kinda being a spoiled asshole

Yoongi’s over it!

Jimin’s being a brat, he’s not use to having to “Behave” around others, espeically while your wearing “that” dress.....

-Song Reference- COOL- Dua lipa

WC: 6K

WARNINGS: Semi-public sex/Top OC/Power bottom Jimin/ Spit play/ Cum play/ Fingering (F receiving) Cockrings/Lube (yes ppl actually use that IRL )Dirty talk/ biting, finger sucking

FINAL NOTE: This little excerpt is the prequel to the next full-length one-shot “All Eyes On Me” which is Hoseoks official ‘Intro” if you will. The full Summary for that can be found in the Masterlist which is linked below! Also if you’re new here..this is a stand-alone one-shot within my OT7Poly AU called “7 Deep” Short version: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with!

(Sneak peek)

~~~~~~

ONXY ENTERTAINEMENT 10:45 AM

Jungkook’s happy I guess almost surprisingly so, I mean yeah Yoongi and yourself seemed cool in the interview, and when he did is work interview the vibe was chill. But let’s get real, we all know shit always seems better than it actually is in the interviews!

For one he honestly wasn’t expecting to be given such free reign already which is also why he’s happy as hell he didn’t listen to his roommate’s Mark and Ten and lie on his resume. Granted, everything still had to go through Yoongi first but he wasn’t just... I don’t know editing thumbnails like he thought he was actually doing real work. He’s been here barely a month and he already has reels he can add to his portfolio! Learning new tips and tricks, believe it or not, even through his internships he’s learned that some people are stingy when it comes to sharing knowledge. Yoongi however was far from that, thankfully he was well aware that just because you teach someone your “secrets” doesn’t mean you’re essentially replacing yourself! What makes you good at your job isn’t just how it’s done its how you do it!

If only Kookie could stop internally fangirling over Yoongi his life would be a little easier! He’d seen hundreds of your companies films before and being the production major he is..of course, he’d watch it the first time to jack off..then the second time he’d find himself just as if not even more turned on for the production quality. That’s something Onyx is always praised for..”Aesthetically pleasing porn”. Every morning, Yoongi would sit him down and show him something new and for the first time he finally understands what people mean when they say that someones mind is..attractive! Not Yoongi himself though, because that’s his boss and that would be weird but like his brain, ya know? Yoongi’s brian is sexy in a broboss way...I don’t know just go with it!

Anyway, Kook’s current project was actually one of his favorites so far because it was forcing him to actually challenge himself! This was something actually requested by Hoseok, who he learned was 26, the head of marketing, always bouncing around like he’s had 6 expresso shots and somehow manages to make streetwear look professional…. But anyway the task is creating trailers for films that are pc enough to not be blocked on platforms like IG but spicy enough to get ppl to wanna watch the full thing. Making a climax without the actual climax if you know what I mean. So he’d have to sit there and watch the films, try not to get hard and wanna jack off while watching said films...then take notes and screencaps of the best moments and compile them together without showing “too much”. He’s never been so thankful that he could wear sweatpants to work….because…..yeah it was hard..literally and figuratively hard...but like I said he’s happy and can pay his bills so that’s cool too!

Don’t get me wrong he still feels a little out of place at times and surprisingly enough not for the reason he expected! Two months shy of his 21st bday he assumed he’d feel a type of way because he’s the youngest but that’s not the case! Hell, they went to Nobu for lunch last week and Jin actually slid him his drunk so he wasn’t the only one not drinking! Flashing him a cheeky little wink and whispering “Don’t tell mom” in reference to you once Kook looked back at him like a deer in headlights! It seems as though they care more about his talent than his age which is the way it should be because he knows he’s good at what he dose!

However, Onyx is kinda like those offices you see on TV, the kind he never thought where real, behind closed doors the environment is far from pc! It’s not a normal morning unless somebodies cursing out there computers! This morning he swore Taehyung told Jimin he had a shrimp dick…… There’s “that’s what she said” jokes being thrown out left and right, people cracking jokes on one another. And it’s not that he feels uncomfortable by any means again he’s a 20 y/o kid from LA it’s just ...he’s new...ya know? So he doesn’t know if he’s “allowed” to do that! So in the meantime, he just spends his days laughing until his chest hurts!

But besides that everybody’s chill , he’s still trying to learn people, regardless of how laxed the office is everybody’s busy as all hell especially Namjoon and yourself! The two of you are actually his biggest mystery, he’s never thought of marriage being something that he’d want. He’s always heard that people change, and shit gets boring, but even in a work environment that’s far from the vibe he gets from the two of you! You actually make marriage seem exciting, worth it, like a gift, not a task…..

Something else that he can’t truly wrap his head around is that your his boss, like legitimately his boss! Somebody that looks like you,I mean fuck your not even 30, you sway around the office in your little dresses and designer heels! Always dolled up hell sometimes he questions if he’s the one in some upscale porno! Actually, not just you all of you why the fuck are all of you so effortlessly attractive and put together?! To make it even worse you all know your shit too! Two days ago for example Kook went to Yoongi to ask if there was a certain way he wanted the ending credits to come into frame, and instead of Yoongi responding you did! Using terminology that had him ready to run home and pull out his “Intro to production” text box! Shit don’t make any Goodman sense...even Yoongi sitting in his office looking like he could be in one of the films he’s editing and no, god no why is he thinking this about his higher-ups?! No, no, nope try again Jeon!

However, now that we’re on this topic, there is one person that he can’t quite wrap his head around...I mean yeah he’s nice but he just seems more reserved around Jungkook than everyone else. Which is odd considering he’s the one Kook meet first, he’s actually the one that encouraged him to even submit his resume, to begin with! What makes it even odder is Yoongi and yourself actually told him that Tae was the most outgoing...it’s not that Jungkook nessercally thinks Tae dislikes him it’s just ...I don’t know, I don’t know…I guess he was just...warmer when the two of them met at Starbucks then he is now that they actually work together!

...And I guess that’s why he almost shit himself when his phone rang and the incoming name rang though as….”Taehyung Kim”...he kinda hoped he pocket dialed him and would just hand up! But wait, I guess you can’t really do that from a landline can you?? Fuckkkkkk

“I know technologies come a long way Kook, but phones don’t answer themselves ya know…” Eyes fluttering over to see Yoongi smirking at him, tone blatantly amused as he flipped through a file he had in his hands.It’s like he could sense how nervous he is too “Don’t worry about Tae, he’s more bark than he is bite, he’s literally a puppy dressed in Gucci…” Flicking his chin in the direction of the phone with a reassuring smile.

With a timid nod and shaky fingers Jungkook picks up the call on the final ring “H-hello??”

“Jungkook? Can you come to my office in the next 5 or so minutes?” His tone wasn’t rude by any means but it also wasn’t the most inviting. Eyes fluttering overly timidly in Yoongis direction because he knew Tae was loud enough that the elder could hear and he smiled fondly, nodding in approval. Arms crossed firm against his chest, head cocked to the side, eyes squinting slightly from under his black baseball cap, as if he was now purposely trying to hear the conversation.

“Umm, yeah, yeah of course…” God, why does he sound like he’s still going through puberty right now!? Voice fluttering ina and out of an octave!

“Great!”

Tae just hangs up, no goodbye ...promoting Yoongi to roll his eyes, with an exasperated sigh...Jungkook just sits there for a moment, not too sure what to do!

“You’re free to go, Seok dosen’t need these until Friday and your deifiently far enough along, a little time away from your desk wont hurt! Oh, just save your stuff first though! The systems moving slow as fuck and I’m about ready to break my damn computer so I’ll probably do a system reboot while you’re gone!”

Jungkook nods timidly, swallowing so hard he’s sure Yoongi heard it, fingers scattering to do as Yoongis instructed, he literally feels like he’s going to throw up! Why does Tae make him so nervous? I mean no offense but Tae isn’t even his boss why is he more freaked out of Taehyung than is actual boss!

He hears a heavy sigh fall from behind him, as Yoongi invites himself to take a seat, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder ‘First off, you’re doing fucking great, and I mean that, so step back...and breath...” Squeezing his shoulder slightly, tone calm yet stable enough to ground the younger!

“Second, I’m ordering lunch from that coney up the street, Hyungs treat” He watches Jungkook go to open his mouth in protest and Yoongi just groans, loud and obnoxious, eyes fluttering to the back of his head more times than he can count!

“Don’t even try and give me that “Your not hungry bullshit” Eyes narrowing in the youngers direction challangingly “So let’s try this again, what do you want? And yes Tae can wait I already texted him and told him so you’re fine! Now go to google and pull up Leo’s menu and lets order lu-”

“Yonngggggiiiii!!!’ Whines through the studio, which only promps the man in question to slowly sink into his chair as if he was trying to make himself dissapear! And before Jungkook can even make heads or tails as to what’s happening...a pair of skin-tight leather pants, a florial silk shirt, that was sitting so low it mideswell not even be buttoned, flashy shades and windswept pastel pink hair comes strutting in... Looking like something straight out of Vouge so again he asks why the fuck does everybody look like this!?

Not even botherng to ask if he’s interupted anything, just flinging his arms around the production manager’s neck, propping his chin on top of his head,

“I need like...20 headshots edited...in the next half hour” Jungkook watched Yoongi go completely ridgit a scowl on his face as he tried to pull away but the casting manager only held on tigher “...and before you kill me even though I drunk some of it this Amerciano is for you soooo, I feel like I’ve made it worth or while, please and thank you! ” Smiling so big his eyes dispered into his face it took everything in him not to coo and swoon all at the same damn time!

Jimin fucking Park......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heyyyyyyyy,

That’s all she wrote for now, don’t know the post date yet, I’ve written up wo when they actually go to the mall so it’s like halfway done.....

MASTERLIST FOR THIS AU IS DOWN BELOW, I’M GLAD PEOPLE ARE ENYOING THIS “UNIVERSE”!

7 DEEP

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jimin au #bts #bts au #bts smut #yoongi #yoongi au #bts poly #bts poly au #kpop #kpop smut kpop au

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viostormcaller · 4 years

Text

JSE Fic- An (Almost) Unhappy Birthday

AN: I know it’s a day late and the drawing I originally planned isn’t done, but I had to post SOMETHING for the sad dad’s birthday, so I settled on something I know for sure I’m good at. And hey, late is better than never! This took me SO long and I swear I cried every time I read through it to edit it. But I’m really, really proud of it and I hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much as I did writing it!

((TW: Alcoholism, suicidal ideation))

Chase sat in the back of his car, splayed out across the seats. He stared out of the windshield from where he was, watching the wind rustle the low-hanging branches on the trees that lined the sunlit street. He didn't know whether to be grateful for the pleasant weather or wish for rain to better match the mood. Luckily, it wasn't hot enough to need the AC, so he had that going for him, he figured.

He sighed, running a hand down his face before allowing his arm to fall limp against the leather seat. He looked over to the bottle beside him. It was half-empty. He never drank and drove -- he wasn't stupid -- so he would only pull out the bottle when he was in the forest, at the cairn he made in honor of love lost. But today… he didn't care. He didn't plan on going anywhere. He just wanted to sit and drink and do nothing else until the day ended.

He'd been paying attention. He knew what day it was. April 11th. His birthday. But he didn't plan on celebrating. What the hell was there to celebrate? His miserable existence? Chase scoffed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head bitterly. No, all he's known since the day he was born was pain and heartbreak and suffering. He tried to be that ray of sunshine he wanted to be, he really did. And despite everything, he succeeded, for a time. But the day he lost his wife, lost his kids, lost everything… it all went downhill from there and only got worse as the years went on. His best friend is in a coma, has been for three years now. Chase already resigned himself to believing Jack was dead. And for a time -- nine months exactly -- Henrik was gone, too, leaving him with nothing but Jack's channel and the job to take over while the YouTuber was out of commission. He had no one to turn to, not really. And sure, Marvin was watching over him, protecting him, but… he wasn't a therapist. He wasn't about to bug Marvin with his problems. That wasn't his job. His only job was to keep Anti away while Chase recorded, while he wore Jack's name. And forget about Jackie -- hell knows where he went. Hadn't heard from him in years. So he turned to whiskey to ease the pain, and while he still had hope left, visited Jack as often as he could.

But you all already know this story, don't you?

Chase wrapped his fingers around the familiar neck of the whiskey bottle, keeping them there and making no moves to pick it up. He laughed to himself, absentmindedly wondering how much whiskey it would take to get alcohol poisoning. He glanced down at the paper bag on the floor of the car, seeing that same, familiar cap peeking out, this one new and untouched.

Today, he planned to find out.

It's not like anyone would fuckin' find me, anyway, Chase reasoned. No one can see through my windows, and I haven't heard from anybody in fuckin' forever so it's not like they'll be checkin' up on me. Chase felt himself tearing up again as he pulled the bottle close, unscrewing the cap. The familiar smell hit him, strong as ever. A strange comfort, for sure, but the only comfort he had left.

"Down the hatch," he whispered. He was just about to press the bottle to his lips when out of the corner of his eye he saw his phone light up. Not a second later it began to buzz. Chase sighed, screwing the cap back on and setting the bottle down. He picked up the phone with reluctance and read who was calling.

Henrik. Of course he was.

Chase debated on just letting it ring, just ignoring the call. He didn't exactly feel like talking. All he wanted to do today was (quite literally) drink himself to death in peace. He wondered if Henrik would even care, if he would even think to call back if he didn't answer. Would he come looking? Would he be worried? Chase sat and debated and pondered over this, and by the time he went to react, the vibrating had stopped and the car was silent once more. Chase tossed the phone aside and slumped back against the seat, blowing his unkempt hair out of his face.

Would Henrik miss him if he was gone? Of course, Henrik's saved his life before, but things were different now and he knew that he hadn't exactly become the easiest person in the world to deal with since all this happened. He wondered if Henrik would care, or if he would be glad to be rid of him, of someone who's just become a nuisance. He went to reach for the bottle again when his phone lit up once more. A glance told him that it was Henrik calling back. He didn't make any moves to pick up the phone, just letting it ring and ring and ring until it stopped. No use ruining Henrik's day with the same depressing bullshit he always spews. Just because he wasn't happy didn't mean Henrik had to be unhappy, too. The man already suffers enough.

Though he refused to touch the bottle, just in case he changed his mind.

Once more the phone lit up, the generic ringtone filling the still air of the car. Chase didn't move, just staring off into space and stewing in his thoughts. And once again, the phone eventually fell silent.

Though a second later, it lit up again. This time, it was a text message. And then there was another. And another. And Chase finally gave in and picked up his phone, reading the messages -- all from Henrik, of course.

Henrik: Chase?

H: Chase are you okay?

H: Answer me please

Chase unlocked his phone and stared at the messages. A moment later a new one came in.

H: Please tell me you are safe. Please.

Chase couldn't help but feel bad. He didn't want Henrik to worry, that wasn't his intention. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Finally, a final message came in.

H: Chase, please do not tell me you did what I think you did. Please, answer me!

Chase's heart was in his throat and a pit opened up in his stomach. He began to type out a short, two-word reply when he was interrupted. Henrik was calling again. He let out a breath to calm his nerves. No way he was ignoring him now. Out of all the things Chase was, what he wasn't was an asshole. He slid his finger over the answer button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Chase! Oh, danke dem Herrn oben. Chase, I am so glad you are alright. I was so worried about you, my friend! I thought… I thought something had happened to you!"

Chase chuckled humorlessly. "Don't worry, I'm okay."

"Were you busy?"

"I was…" Chase sighed. He was going to say he was driving, but he didn't want to lie to him. It would be wrong of him to make him feel foolish on top of scaring him half to death. "I'm sorry. I… didn't wanna bog you down with my bad mood. Just because I'm always sad… that doesn't mean you should be, too."

"Oh, Chase…"

Chase grimaced. He could practically see the pitied look on the doctor's face.

"Chase, you know that I am always here for you, yes?"

"...yeah," Chase answered reluctantly. Though everyone always says that, yet no one ever stays.

"You may not believe it," Henrik continued, "but I like helping you. Nothing worthwhile comes easy, you know."

"...so you're saying that I'm hard to deal with?" Saying that out loud caused a sharp twinge to resonate in his chest.

"Ch-Chase, no! That-- that is not what I am saying at all!"

"It's whatever, Henrik. I…" Chase sighed. "I know what you meant."

There was an awkward, strained silence between them before anyone spoke again.

"What was it you were even calling me for?" inquired Chase.

"I, um… I wanted to take you out for dinner tonight. You know… for the occasion. Like we used to do."

Chase bit his lip. Right, like they used to. Only it used to be him, Henrik, and Jack. He quickly wiped away the tears that threatened to spill.

"U-uh… n-no thank you, Henrik. I'm… I'm good."

"...Are you sure?"

Chase's heart lurched at the blatant disappointment in Henrik's voice. "Y-yeah, I mean… I'm not really… not really in a state to be goin' out anywhere…"

"Have you been drinking?" Henrik asked curiously.

"Huh? Oh, no, no," Chase answered honestly. "It's not that, just… I don't have any clean clothes and I haven't showered in… a while. Tch, much less fuckin' brushed my teeth."

"Oh, is that all?" Chase could hear Henrik laugh over the phone. "Well, those are an easy fix! You can clean yourself up at my place, and I have plenty of clean clothes for you to wear. We do wear the same sizes, after all. Come on! What do you say?"

Chase sighed. He had no excuses now. And hey, maybe it was for the best, he figured, if he spent his birthday with someone rather than alone. Plus, the whiskey he bought will still be there by the time the day is over and he's back to living out of his car. He can still do what he planned to, even if it's a day later. So he could take today to make his last meal with his closest living friend a good one.

"Alright," Chase decided. "Text me your address and I'll be over in ten."

"Oh, great! Yes, I will do that right away. See you soon, Chase!"

"Yeah, see you soon, Henrik."

He let Henrik hang up the phone, keeping it in his hand until the text message came in with Henrik's address. As he waited he couldn't help but grin to himself, recalling the sheer excitement in Henrik's voice. It's been a long, long time since he's heard him that excited. Though, to be fair, there was nothing of late that would ignite such excitement, not with everything going on. As soon as his phone buzzed and lit up, Chase moved to open the door and step out of the car. He opened the driver's seat door and turned the car on, rolling down the windows to remove the towels he'd draped there as makeshift curtains. Once the back passenger door was shut, his "curtains" laying bunched up on the back seat, he finally got in the car, buckled his seatbelt, and entered Henrik's address into the GPS. As he began to drive off, he was thankful he held off on drinking. He wouldn't be driving to see Henrik right now otherwise.

It took Chase about a half hour or so to reach Henrik's house. He always loved how big it was. Of course, doctors make a lot of money and Henrik was a doctor of more than one degree, so he was, needless to say, doing very well for himself.

And, of course, you can't exactly get evicted from a house you bought if you leave for nine months.

Shaking the thought from his head, he stepped out of the car and headed up the steps to Henrik's front door. Just looking at the exterior of the house made him feel gross. Henrik's place wasn't a mansion, exactly, but it was a really nice house. Very clean and well-kept, which Chase was not. Not currently, anyway. Suddenly he was really looking forward to that shower. He raised his hand and began to knock.

Chase could hear a faint call of "Coming!" from behind the door, and not a moment later the door swung open and Henrik was standing there, arms outstretched and eyes sparkling. Chase gratefully accepted his hug, biting down hard on his lip to keep himself from crying. It's been so long, too long, since he'd gotten a hug from anyone. He didn't realize just how much he missed it. How much he needed one.

"Oh, it is so good to see you, my friend!" Henrik beamed, squeezing Chase lovingly. He then pulled away, stretching out his palm to welcome him inside. "Come in, come in!" he ushered.

Chase headed inside, hearing the door click shut behind him. A sense of what Chase could only describe as warmth washed over him. Of course, he'd been over to Henrik's place many times over the years, but this time it felt… different, somehow. He couldn't place why.

"House looks great as ever, Henrik," Chase smiled.

"Oh, why thank you!"

"New table, I see?"

"Oh, yes," Henrik headed over and stood by the kitchen table. "Yes, it was time for a new one. The other one was getting old."

"How long have you even had that for? Almost as long as you've had a house you've had that table."

"Yes, it has been years. It was bittersweet, letting it go, but… in with the new, out with the old, as they say!"

I'm sure he said the phrase backwards, Chase chuckled to himself.

"Now, while I am in the kitchen, can I get you anything before you take your shower?"

"Uhh… no, I think I'm good. Thanks, though."

"Oh, is nothing. I will grab you a change of clothes. Wait one moment."

"Righty-o," Chase replied.

"Oh, um, feel free to take a seat. You do not have to stand around. Go on, make yourself at home! I will be right back." With that, Henrik ducked out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs to his room.

Chase just nodded to himself. With how dirty he was (or at least, how he felt he was), he didn't feel all that comfortable sitting on the couch. He didn't want to dirty the new table either, but wood could be more easily cleaned than fabric, so he opted to sit at the table.

He agreed with Henrik on how bittersweet it was to let go of his old dining table. He didn't realize how much he missed the familiar squeak the chair made as he sat down until it wasn't there anymore. But he knew that, with time, this chair, too, would become worn with use and have its own signature squeak.

Though Chase knew he wouldn't be here for that.

He sighed heavily, resting his head in his hand, his elbow propped up on the table. He could feel that familiar ache blooming in his chest, threatening to swallow him. He sighed again and shivered, teeth chattering even though he wasn't cold. And then he yawned. He hadn't realized just how tired he was. Of course, sleeping in the back seat of your car every night meant you never slept well. And even before that, he was always tired, always worn down. But that's what a hopeless life will do to you, he knew.

Before long he was pulled from his thoughts, hearing footsteps bounding down the stairs. Henrik came into view, a bundle of neatly folded clothes in his arms.

"Here you are, Chase," Henrik said, handing him the pile of clothes. "The bathroom with the shower is upstairs."

"Mm, yeah. I remember. Thanks, Schneep."

"Is no problem at all! Now, go wash up. I will be waiting in the living room."

"Yeah, alright."

Chase headed up the stairs, one hand cradling the bundle of clothes and one hand remaining firm on the hand rail. It may have been forever since he'd been here, but he knew the layout of the house like the back of his hand. He could see Henrik's room at the very end of the hall. On the right was his office, and on the left was the bathroom. He ducked in, not hesitating to turn the shower on and get undressed.

Chase could have cried, feeling soap and hot water enveloping him for the first time in what felt like ages. He gave everywhere a good scrubbing, running fingers through his now-untangled hair, letting the hot water hit his body, taking in the smell of steam and body wash. He regretted all those times he didn't have the energy or motivation to shower, swearing that he would never take it for granted ever again.

Though, he remembered that it was going to be his last. That same melancholy opened up in his chest again and he sighed, movements slowing as he mulled that over. It was almost funny, how easy it was to forget his plan. He scoffed to himself, knowing that that probably meant he wouldn't have the balls to follow through with it when the time comes.

He decided he'll see what happens when that moment arrives.

For now he stepped out of the shower, drying himself off with the towel Henrik had laid out for him. He pulled on the fresh pair of boxers Henrik gave him alongside his clothes, and--

Wait.

For the first time, Chase took a good look at the clothes Henrik gave him. He stood, befuddled, mostly surprised that he hadn't noticed. Did this man really just give me a suit? Chase questioned. What the hell kind of restaurant is he taking me to?! Whatever it was, it was going to be fancy, clearly. Chase wasn't sure he was ready for all that, but it was too late to back out now. He sighed and looked around the bathroom. Now that he was clean, he realized just how awful his breath tasted. A glance at the sink allowed him to find a clearly new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste laid out side-by-side, as if put there on purpose. He knew it wasn't Henrik's -- his toothbrush was in a little plastic cup by the faucet. This new toothbrush could only be meant for him, then, since Henrik lived alone. Chase headed over to the sink, thinking that the smarter idea was to brush his teeth before he got dressed, just in case he spilled toothpaste on his suit jacket.

He chuckled to himself as he brushed his teeth, remembering the time he did that before a date with Stacy. Hardly anyone noticed, but god did he feel ridiculous the entire time. He could only laugh now. It was funny that, at one point, a toothpaste stain was the only thing he had to worry about. Something that mattered so little at the end of the day.

And now look where he is, what's happened to him since then.

He shook his head to clear it, pulling himself back into the moment. He brushed his teeth well, rinsed with mouthwash, spit, and wiped his mouth. As he breathed in, he could feel how cool and minty and fresh his breath was. Brushing his teeth was another thing he wouldn't take for granted.

Chase looked up, staring at himself in the mirror. The first thing he noticed was his eyes, deep, purple rings around them, no doubt from constant exhaustion. He shook his head. I look like a raccoon, he thought bitterly. As he did this, he watched his hair flop back and forth. He brushed it out of his eyes, thankfully staying in place because it was still damp. He needed a haircut; it was far too long for his liking. But he could deal for tonight.

For what felt like the billionth time within the last few hours, he pulled himself from his thoughts. He went to get dressed, slipping his arms through the sleeves of the white shirt and buttoning it up. Next came the pants, which he pulled on and tucked the shirt into. Then came the tie -- which had been hidden underneath the shirt -- and finally, came the jacket. He looked himself over in the mirror. He looked… good. He actually looked good. He couldn't help but smile and puff out his chest a little. Of course, the pants were a tiny bit big, but he knew Schneep had a belt he could borrow. He was a little surprised, though; he figured he would have gained weight thanks to all the crap he's been forced to eat. But at the same time… it was rare for him to have much of an appetite nowadays, so he ate a lot less than he used to. Maybe that was why, he figured. But, no matter. He threw his dirty clothes into the hamper on instinct, though after doing so wondering if that was the best thing to do. He wasn't sure if Henrik was willing to wash his clothes. He'd have to ask later. For right now, he headed out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

Henrik gasped when he saw Chase, hands flying to his mouth and eyes sparkling. He looked like a proud father. Even more so, since in the time Chase showered, Henrik seemed to have also put on a suit of his own. "Oh, Chase, the suit looks so nice on you! Does it fit okay?"

Chase couldn't help but blush, looking away sheepishly. "Uh, y-yeah, it fits fine. Gonna need a belt, though."

"Ah, no problem. I definitely have one lying around. I will grab it for you."

"Thanks. Um…"

"What is it?"

"What kind of restaurant are we going to, exactly?"

"Oh, um…" it was Henrik's turn to look sheepish. "I, um… Well, I know it was a bit of a, how you say, ballsy move to do this, but… I made reservations for a nice restaurant downtown. I passed by it sometime last month and knew from the very moment I saw it that I had to take you. I remembered your birthday was coming up, so I figured the timing was just right and made reservations over the phone as soon as I got their number."

Chase couldn't help but feel touched. Touched, and really guilty that he'd originally declined. Henrik must have noticed it flash briefly on Chase's face, because he was quick to reassure him.

"O-oh, it would have been alright with me if you did not want to go. I know I did not tell you beforehand so you would not have known. And I could have easily canceled, anyway. No need to worry about that."

Chase just nodded, looking away. Finally, he drew in a breath to speak. "I… I dunno what I did to deserve you, man, but… seriously, thank you. This… this means a lot to me. It really does."

"Aw, is no big deal. I would do anything for you. And I know that you deserve to have a good birthday, one that is not spent in the car all alone and drinking yourself away."

Chase flinched a little when Henrik said that. He knew he probably didn't mean anything by it, but… that was exactly what he had planned to do, quite literally. It was impossible, of course, but he couldn't help but wonder if Henrik knew more than he was letting on, if he read him so well that he knew that that was his plan. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind, instead just chuckling nervously.

"Uh… what time is the reservation for?"

"Six-thirty. It is…" Henrik glanced at his watch. "four o' two now, so we have about twenty or so minutes to kill before we should head out. You know how traffic is."

"God, do I," Chase agreed with a roll of his eyes.

Henrik patted down on the spot next to him, beckoning Chase to come sit. Chase obliged, sitting himself down next to Henrik. He sighed pleasedly -- it had been so long since he'd been on a couch. Yet another thing on his list of things he wouldn't ever take for granted.

And so the pair talked and caught up, and Henrik nearly forgot about the reservation entirely until he just so happened to check his watch and saw that they were two minutes past the time they should have left. Henrik shot up with a curse in German, hurrying up the stairs to grab a belt for Chase, and then coming back down and putting on his shoes. As Chase was buckling his belt, Henrik set a pair of black dress shoes identical to his own over by Chase's feet, mentioning that they were for him to wear. Chase nodded, pulling them on, and as soon as they were both ready they hurried out the door and into Henrik's car.

The ride was pleasant, thankfully the lessened traffic saving them a bit of time. The pair talked and laughed and joked the whole ride through -- they were halfway to their destination before Henrik remembered to turn on the radio. They arrived at the restaurant just as the sun was setting. It made for a pretty sight as they both stepped out of the car.

The restaurant was prettier, though.

It was dimly lit and very, very classy. For one thing, the carpet leading to the check-in counter was red, and the nearby rope partitions were gold with red rope, so that was the first indication of how high-end this place was. Chase looked around in awe as Henrik went up to the ornate, wooden counter -- there seemed to be ornate wood everywhere -- and stated his name and the reservation. And soon Henrik was beckoning Chase along, effectively pulling him from his trance, as a waitress guided them to their table. Chase couldn't help but feel giddy as the waitress set the menus down at a small booth seat meant for two people. Chase always loved the booth seats. He wondered if Henrik remembered that when making the reservation.

"How do you like it so far, Chase? Is nice, yes?"

"This place is… wow." Chase was breathless. It's been so long since he was somewhere this fancy.

"Well, let us hope the food holds up." Henrik noted.

"Oh, for sure," Chase nodded, agreeing.

The waitress came by, asking for their order of drinks. Henrik and Chase both got the same thing -- Diet Coke. Chase wanted a glass of wine to fit the mood of the place, but decided he wouldn't have any alcohol since Henrik couldn't have any. In the meantime, the pair looked over the menu.

"Have you decided on what you want to eat, Chase?" Henrik asked.

"No idea," Chase answered. The menu was so… expansive. He was having trouble deciding. It had been so long since he'd ordered from a menu like this, on top of that. He didn't even know what he was in the mood for. He was thankful, however, that on today of all days he had an appetite. It was probably because he didn't eat breakfast, but still. Well, he at least knew what he didn't want, which was a hamburger. He's eaten enough of those.

"Hm… I think I will get…" Henrik hummed, adjusting his glasses as he looked over the menu. "Well, the veal parm looks good. Maybe I will get that."

"Mm, I still need longer to look, I think," Chase responded.

Just then, the waitress came by, dropping off a small loaf of bread and a tiny ramekin of butter, as well as two small plates -- along with their drinks, of course. Chase and Henrik thanked the waitress as she passed by.

"That smells so good…" Chase commented. It took all he had in him to keep himself from drooling. He was so hungry.

"Ooh, I am definitely having a piece. I assume you want one as well, Chase?"

"Yes, please."

Henrik smiled, cutting Chase a piece first and spreading butter on it, placing it on one of the plates and passing it to him, before cutting himself a piece of his own. Chase thanked him gratefully, picking up the bread and taking a bite and--

Oh.

Chase felt his eyes well up. One hand squeezed into a fist and he took in a breath through his nose as he chewed. Do not cry, Chase, he willed himself. Do not cry. It was just… so good. The bread was warm and lightly sweet and the butter was salty but not too salty and melted perfectly on the bread and god, he'd forgotten entirely what it was like to eat real food. He'd missed this desperately. All he'd known these past few months was cheap dollar-menu cheeseburgers and unsatisfying, tiny breakfast sandwiches.

"Are you okay, Chase?" Henrik asked, brows knitted in concern.

"'m fine," he spoke through a full mouth. He realized how impolite that was and swallowed. "I'm fine."

Henrik nodded, watching as Chase took a moment to compose himself before going back to eating. He understood, of course, after all he'd been through. He certainly wasn't judging him for it, but he did worry. And he wasn't oblivious. There were a lot of little hidden cues he's picked up on. From the scare over the phone this morning to how hopelessly sad he looked up until he got out of the shower, he knew that Chase needed him now more than ever. And Henrik would be there for him, he swore, until his dying breath. It's what Chase needs, and it's what he deserves.

Despite knowing what he wanted, Henrik had gone back to absentmindedly flipping through the menu. He spotted the salad section and perked up.

"Oh, Chase, did you want to order a salad with your meal?"

"Oh, yes please. I desperately need one of those. Something healthy for once after all the junk I've been eating."

Henrik laughed at Chase's response. He's gotten so mature over the years. At one point he'd gawk at getting a salad, and now he's completely on board with it. Henrik felt a strange sense of pride swell up within him at that.

The waitress came back over finally and asked each of them what they wanted. Henrik got a house salad with Italian dressing and he decided on the veal parm. Chase got a wedge salad (Henrik was sure it was the bacon bits that enticed him) and a steak with grilled vegetables on the side. Chase swore it was the most adult meal he's ever ordered at a restaurant -- usually he doesn't go for steak, but this time he felt he should get one. Just because. The waitress marked down their orders, thanked them, and left, heading to wherever the kitchen was, the pair assumed.

"Are you enjoying yourself so far, Chase?" Henrik asked.

"God, yeah," Chase nodded enthusiastically. "I'm probably gonna say this a bajillion times, but seriously, dude, thank you so much for taking me here."

"Oh, you are very welcome, Chase!" Henrik beamed. "It makes me happy to see you happy. And that is all I want. I just want you to be happy."

"God, dude, stop it, you're gonna make me start cryin' again!" Chase laughed, wiping his eyes. He seriously had no idea who blessed him to have a man like Henrik in his life, but he knew for certain he'd be nowhere without him.

Actually… without Henrik, he'd, quite literally, be dead. If Henrik wasn't in his life, who would have saved him? He doubted another doctor with his level of expertise and deft of hand even… existed. He owed this man his life and more. He wished there was a way to properly repay him, but there wasn't anything bigger than life itself he could give.

He'd definitely have to think of something.

For now, though, he spent his time enjoying Henrik's company. They talked about everything under the sun, they joked and laughed, and before they knew it, their food had arrived. It was funny how quickly time passed when spent with someone you're close to.

"Ooh, this looks delicious!" Henrik exclaimed.

"It looks like a lot," Chase commented, staring at the massive wedge salad and the huge steak. It was… very intimidating, to say the least. "No way in hell am I finishing all of this."

"Well, eat what you can and take the rest to go. Just… save room for dessert, hm?"

"Oh, duh. Like I would pass up dessert!"

Henrik laughed, shaking his head as he picked up his utensils and began to eat. He hummed pleasedly -- the food was very good, indeed! He'd definitely remember this place. Maybe all of them could go, once everything is back to normal and Jack is awake? That was a bittersweet thought.

Chase looked between the salad and the steak, trying to figure out which beast he should tackle first. He chose the steak, because he already knew what salad tasted like, but every restaurant makes steak differently. He picked up the steak knife, cutting off a piece and sticking it in his mouth.

As soon as the steak touched his tongue, everything hit him all at once. This wasn't just a measly piece of warm bread. No, this was real food. An actual meal. Something he hasn't had in months. All he'd eaten was fast food once or twice a day, if at all, depending on if he was hungry or not. And one of the things he missed the most was being able to go in his kitchen whenever he wanted and make himself something to eat, something he liked that wasn't just the same few things every day. Even when he was so depressed that he couldn't eat, he'd at least have something in the cabinets or fridge ready for him when he could. But he didn't have that anymore. He had no idea when he'd have that again. For another few months, maybe even longer, after tonight this could very well be his last true meal. After all of this, it was back to his normal. Back to suffering and drinking in the back seat of his car with the towels covering the windows so no one could see him crying, or in the forest by the little rock shrine he made with the picture of his ex-wife and youngest son placed delicately against its base.

He didn't want to live like that. He didn't want to suffer anymore. And yet… he had no choice. This was his life now, whether he wanted it or not.

"How do you like your food, Chase?" Henrik asked without looking up. After a moment too long he didn't hear a response, but he did hear Chase sniffle, which caused him to look up. At first, his brows furrowed in confusion. Chase was staring off into space and--

Wait.

Wait, shit, Chase was crying.

"Chase? Chase, what is it? What is wrong, my friend?"

Chase, hearing Henrik's voice, was pulled out of his trance. His breath hitched and he swallowed what was in his mouth.

"F-fuck…" He realized he'd started crying, though now he couldn't get himself to stop. "Fuck," he repeated, his voice nothing more than a shaky whisper. He propped his elbows up on the table, his hands holding up his head as he kept his head down. He grit his teeth, trying to hold back his sobs as best he could.

Henrik quickly rose, moving to sit besides Chase and pulling him close. Chase shivered, crying a little harder now. "Shhh, shh, shh, shh, shhh…" Henrik soothed. "I am right here. Let it out, Chase. You are okay."

Chase held on tightly to Henrik, weeping into his shoulder. He was trying his hardest to make himself stop -- especially since a fancy restaurant is not the place to be bawling your eyes out -- but more tears just kept coming. Especially with Henrik encouraging him to let it out. It was helping, sure, but… not in the way he wanted it to.

A waitress who just so happened to be rushing by glanced over at the pair and paused. She knew she was in a rush but she couldn't help but be concerned -- someone crying in a restaurant (who wasn't a child, anyway) wasn't a normal sight.

"Is he okay?" asked the waitress.

Henrik quickly looked up, turning towards the voice. "Hm? Oh, yes, my friend, he… he is fine. He is just… having a moment." he explained. "Um, he… has not had a proper meal in very long of a time, and the world has been very unkind to him, so I decided to treat him... you know, for his birthday, because it is the one day he deserves to be happy, if he cannot be every day."

"Oh… I see."

Chase swore he would never stop crying at this rate. He just held tighter onto Henrik. This man's compassion, his kindness… it was too much for him to handle sometimes. Or, rather, most of the time.

"But do not worry!" Henrik reassured. "He will be okay. With time, he will. He always bounces back. He just needs this moment, right now."

"You're a very kind man," replied the waitress. "This world needs more people like you."

"Oh, I am just doing what any logical human being would do," Henrik dismissed. "When someone needs me, I am there. Is my job as a doctor, and as a friend. And I want my friend here to know that."

"What are your names?"

"My name is Henrik," he answered, "And my friend's name is Chase."

Chase wanted to greet the waitress properly, or at least say something, but he was still trying to reel himself in.

"Well, it was very nice meeting you both. And, Chase? Stay strong, okay?"

Chase nearly broke down entirely right then and there. He managed to get out a shaky, teary "thank-you" before the waitress left. Henrik kept hugging him tight, not letting go, allowing Chase to recompose himself. And soon enough, his crying slowed into hiccups, and then he was just sniffling and wiping his eyes and Henrik was guiding him to take deep breaths to calm himself.

"Are you okay, Chase?" Henrik asked, his voice gentle, his tone similar to the one he used for younger patients but a lot more… personal.

"Y-yeah… I… I th-think so…"

"Good, good. Do you want to head to the restroom and clean yourself up a bit?"

"Yes, please," Chase nodded. He wanted to blow his nose more than anything at this point.

With a nod, Henrik got up from the booth and Chase followed right behind him. They headed for the restroom, finding it eventually, and Chase went to blow his nose and wipe his face. His eyes were still red and teary, but he felt calmer now. After a few more deep breaths, Chase washed his hands and both him and Henrik left to return to their table.

They found their food had cooled a bit since they left, but it was still warm, at least (aside from the salads, obviously), instead of burning hot. Henrik continued to eat his food, and Chase… he ate reluctantly at first, worried he'd start bawling again. But after a few bites he found he was fine. It was just that first bite that threw him for a loop, he figured. And so he relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy his meal.

"It's really good," Chase spoke up, his voice meek.

"Hm?" Henrik looked up, hearing Chase speak. He then registered what it was that he said. "Oh! Is it?"

"Yeah, it is. It's… the best thing I've had in ages." There was that melancholy again, boring a hole in his chest. He forced it down.

"I am glad to hear it. Very glad." Henrik gave Chase a warm, heartfelt smile. Chase returned it, but it wasn't as bright or as wide as it should have been. He was still feeling pretty down, Henrik could tell. He did expect, however, that an experience like this would be a bit overwhelming for Chase. His only hope was for Chase to have a good birthday, one he could look back on with contentment or even bittersweet joy instead of resentment or sadness or regret.

Chase decided to take a break from eating the steak, moving instead to tackle the salad. It took a little effort, but he managed to get a good forkful of it.

"Fucking vegetables, thank god," Chase muttered to himself.

Henrik, who had been sipping on his soda when he heard Chase's comment, quickly clapped a hand to his mouth and ducked his head away as he tried his hardest to control his laughter and willed his body to swallow the soda that hadn't already gone up his nose.

"What? What's so funny?" Chase asked through a full mouth, a small smile beginning to tug at the corners of his lips.

Henrik swallowed and started to cough, laughing in between breaths. "F-fuck, I-- I am sorry, just…" he coughed some more before clearing his throat. "That made me laugh very hard."

"Oh, what I said about the salad?"

Henrik nodded, already going back to giggling. Chase snorted.

"I mean, you know how fuckin' long it's been since I've had a fuckin' vegetable, man? Not even a baby carrot. Like, I need my greens, bro!"

Henrik was trying so hard and failing to contain his laughter. And seeing Henrik laugh made Chase laugh, too. And then they were both laughing and trying to reign themselves in so they could get back to eating before their food got any colder.

The rest of their dinner was spent laughing and joking and talking, with Henrik feeling relieved that Chase seemed to be in mostly good spirits again. Their waitress came over and offered boxes for their unfinished food; Henrik said yes, while Chase said that he had nowhere to keep it if he did. Plus, he wasn't one to just casually eat leftover steak, anyway. So the waitress brought back over a box for Henrik, and with that, all that was left for them to do was wait for the check.

Or… so they thought.

The pair were kind of just looking around in content silence when they heard it. Clapping, a lot of clapping, all in unison. They didn't pay much mind to it at first, until it grew louder. Closer. Chase and Henrik looked at each other in confusion. And suddenly they were surrounded by a dozen waiters and waitresses, and one of them was carrying a monster of an ice cream sundae, complete with brownies and fully-lit sparklers sticking out of the top. They set it down on their table and began to sing the restaurant's "happy birthday" song to Chase. They all cheered when they were finished and then dispersed, but not before Henrik caught the glance of the waitress who checked up on them earlier. She winked at him. Henrik knew immediately this was her doing. He looked over at Chase, watching him with that warm, parental gaze and gleaming eyes, and he saw Chase was tearing up again, but they were happy tears this time. And Henrik swore, this is the widest Chase has smiled in a long, long time.

"Ho-ly shit," Chase laughed. "Dude… you gotta help me finish this. There's no way I can do this on my own."

"Oh, with pleasure!" Henrik agreed.

"Yeah, grab a spoon!"

They both blew out the sparklers first before digging in. They hadn't planned on actually getting dessert here, but this sundae was far too good to pass up. Chase swore it was the best ice cream sundae he's ever had in his life. Henrik could easily agree. They never did end up finishing it, but they got a good way through before they both threw in the towel, at least. Finally, their waitress dropped off the check. Henrik, who was the one paying, immediately took it. He was pleased to find that the dessert was on the house, but the note written in pen at the very bottom is what made him smile.

"Aww…"

"What?" Chase asked, trying his hardest to fit one last bite of brownie in.

Without a word, Henrik slid the bill over so Chase could read it.

"Our entire staff wishes you well! Stay strong, Chase!" There was a little smiley face at the end.

For the third (and most likely not the last) time that night, Chase's eyes welled up. He bit his lip, smiling wildly. He really, honestly and truly was touched. They didn't have to do all that… and yet they did. That meant more to him than they would ever know. He took that copy of the receipt and folded it with care before sticking it in the front pocket of his pants. He'd stick this somewhere in his car, he decided. Somewhere where he'll always see it and remember this moment, remember those people who cared when they didn't have to.

Henrik paid for their meal, making sure to leave a very generous tip, and the pair got up and finally headed out, saying goodbye to the staff members they passed by and thanking them as they left. The night air was quiet and calm, albeit chilly. Chase felt that surreal feeling he always got when he headed into a building during the day and didn't come out until dark. He sighed when he got in the car, buckling his seatbelt and getting comfortable. Henrik did the same, just sitting there for a moment before turning the car on.

"Dude… even though I was a crybaby the whole time, that was the best restaurant experience I've ever had."

As much as Henrik wanted to validate him and say that he wasn't being a crybaby, that he was having valid emotions as a person dealing with trauma, he held off. Now wasn't the time for a therapy session. "They are getting a very good review, I will tell you that much!"

"More than worth the money, definitely," Chase agreed. He let his head hit the headrest with a sigh. "I am so full…" He realized then how long it had been since he felt full. Another contender for the "stuff Chase will no longer take for granted" list.

"Mm, agreed… I feel like I will be full for days. Weeks, even."

Chase snorted at that.

"Ready to head back?"

"Yes, please."

With a nod, Henrik started the car and off they drove, traveling down the highway. Thankfully there wasn't as much traffic now that it was getting late. Chase turned on the radio and on the way home they belted out stupid song after stupid song, laughing the entire time.

It was funny how much being with Henrik made him forget, Chase thought. He'd forgotten all of his troubles, his worries, and his plan. They would come back to haunt him, he knew, but right now, in this moment, none of that mattered. It was just him and Henrik, making the best of the time they had.

It didn't feel like any time at all had passed when they arrived back at Henrik's house. As soon as they got inside, though, they both shrugged off their jackets and kicked off their shoes with a sigh. Chase went to go sit on the couch, but Henrik stopped him before he could do so.

"Uh… Chase, could you… come to the kitchen for a moment?"

"Hm? Oh, sure." He did as such, though as soon as he saw Henrik duck into the fridge, he paled a little. "Oh, god, you didn't."

Henrik made a knowing face. "I, uh… wasn't expecting to have dessert at the restaurant," he explained sheepishly.

"Hen, I can't fit another bite into me. I'll explode."

"Pfft, do you think I am eating any of this now? Definitely not!" Henrik said with a laugh. "But… it is your birthday, and I did not want to go the day without singing "happy birthday" to you."

"Ah, gotcha. That I can do."

"I will grab the candles and get the lights. You go sit."

"Okay, will do."

Henrik did exactly that, grabbing the candles he bought and stuck them all into the cake -- one for every year Chase was alive. Quite a lot of candles for one cake, but he managed. Judging by the box, Chase knew it was a bakery cake, and his point was proved when he saw the words written in cursive on the top. It was a very nice cake, covered in vanilla frosting and with bright, primary colored sprinkles coated around the sides. It was decorated with red icing drizzling around the top edges and his name was written in blue. And then the candles were lit and the lights were dimmed and Chase was peering at Henrik's candlelit form through the darkness of the kitchen.

"Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday, dear Chase,

Happy birthday to you!"

Chase smiled, making his wish and blowing out his candles. He imagined his kids beside him, helping him out, and there was a longing pang in his heart. He didn't know what to wish for this year. There was so much he wished was better that it was hard to choose just one. So he wished for a better life, if not for him then for the others. He wished for things to get better and for it all to return to normal… whatever their "normal" was before all this happened.

Henrik smiled, turning the lights back on. He pulled the candles out of the cake, tossed them, and then closed the box and put the cake back in the fridge. They could have some tomorrow, he reasoned. Then, he turned to Chase.

Right. Time to come clean.

"Chase?"

"Hm? What's up?"

"Um… I… I must confess something to you," Henrik admitted.

Chase felt a twinge of worry at his words. Was it something bad? He hoped not. "Which is…?"

"The reason I wanted you to come over was… because I have a gift for you."

A gift? "What kind of gift?" Chase asked curiously.

"It's upstairs. Um… it's supposed to be a surprise, so I will take you to it. Take my hand, close your eyes, and follow me."

"O-oh, uh… okay." He almost hesitantly took Henrik's hand and held his other over his eyes, allowing Henrik to carefully guide him up the steps. He was led a good way down the upstairs hallway before Henrik stopped. Then there was the sound of a door being opened.

"You can open them now."

Chase opened his eyes, looking into the room, and his hands slowly went to his mouth.

It was Henrik's office, but… his desk and file cabinets were no longer there. Instead, it looked like a bedroom. A very well-furnished one, at that. A bed, nightstand, desk and chair, cabinets and drawers to store stuff in, familiar posters taped to the walls...

"It, um… took me a few months to move and reorganize my things to the lab downstairs and furnish this room how I wanted it to look," Henrik explained. "I wanted to tell you sooner but it wasn't ready until recently. But anyway, um… this… this will be your room from now on."

His room, his mind echoed. That meant… no more living out of his car. No more junk food every day. No more sleeping in the back seat and waking up sore. For the first time in months, he had a home. A roof over his head. A warm bed.

It was finally over. He was no longer homeless.

Chase fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His breath hitched and he was crying, sobbing, reveling in the utter relief of knowing that he didn't have to return to how he was living. He didn't have to suffer like he was anymore.

For the first time in months, he was thankful he was alive. And for the first time in months, he didn't want to die.

Henrik crouched down besides Chase, rubbing his back in slow circles, although he couldn't help shedding a few tears himself, on behalf of his dearest friend.

"Happy birthday, Chase," Henrik said finally, his voice low and gentle in Chase's ear. "And welcome home."

Those final words only made him cry harder.

#alcoholism tw #suicidal ideation tw #jacksepticeye #chase brody #dr. schneeplestein #vio stormcaller #also i swear i still cant spell restaurant properly on my first try after all of this :')#ALSO also i started crying again while going back in to edit all the italics so now i need to go wipe my eyes again lmao

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Lucky charm

A/N: This was requested by anonymous. Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you enjoyed! let me know what you think!

Summary: Hi I was wondering if you could do a reddie x reader, where they’re doing the ritual of Chud and the reader confesses to always loving them but never admitting it till now and they all make it out alive and live happy lives.

‘Your artificets’, Mike proclaims, ‘place them in the fire. The past must burn with the present.’

At his words, everyone goes to reach for their token, ready to burn them for the ritual. You hesitate, and decide to wait before bringing it out of your pocket.

You’re scared of the consequences. Despite only remembering the losers for a day, you couldn’t imagine having to live without them ever again. Bev pulled up the postcard where the poem was written on. The same poem that you and Bev had spent hours analyzing when you were kids. The times spend questioning who the boy could be that wrote it were some of the best times you had ever had in your life.

Back then Bev had hoped it was Bill, but looking at the way Ben stared at her and the card, suddenly the answer was pretty clear. You wondered if Bev had noticed, she never did when you were kids, and she didn’t seem to notice it now. She was the only one who knew the truth about you. The only one who knew that you had been in love with both Richie and Eddie.

It wasn’t really that you didn’t trust the other losers, minus of course Richie and Eddie, but you were afraid of what they might think of you. To be in love with one of them is already bad enough, let alone being in love with both of them. Bill is the first one to speak. He hold up a paper boat, with the initials SS Georgie on it.

‘This is the boat that I built, with G-‘, he paused, Georgie.’ He reaches forward and drops it into the fire. Nobody speaks for a couple of seconds, just letting it sink in that they were about to say goodbye to gimmicks of their past. Eddie is next. He’s holding his inhaler, toying it around in his hand. You don’t dare to make eye contact with him, the shame is already burning too deep for that. ‘It’s my inhaler’, he says. His eyebrows raise up while looking around the group. He and Richie share eye contact and your heart clenches. Then he reaches the inhaler to his mount to take one last puff.

‘Come on, dude’, Richie inquires, causing you to let out a wet laugh. Their dynamic hadn’t changed at all. Eddie then tosses his inhaler in the fire, looking at you as he does so.

‘Something that I wish I held on to.’ Bev stares at the postcard as she speaks, seemingly saying goodbye to it. Ben stares at her, captivated. The same way he has always looked at her, you wished someone would look at you like that.

‘This is a page from my yearbook. That only one person signed. I probably should have forgotten it, but I couldn’t because I kept it in my wallet.’ Ben takes a deep breath, ‘for 27 years.’ Beverly looks shocked, amazed at the fact that Ben still had that. It takes her a few seconds to realize that she was the one that Ben was talking about, but once she does, an emotion appears in her eyes. One that you had never seen in her before. You hoped they would man up soon, and confess to each other how they felt. That is, if they made it out of here alive. You didn’t want to think about that, but it was a real possibility.

Richie is quick to utter; ‘this is a token from the Capitol Theater,’ literally tossing the token in the fire.

‘You brought an actual token?’ Eddie mussed.

‘Yeah man’, Richie answers. You notice for the first time that Richie’s glasses are broken. You wonder if that isn’t annoying him. It’s such a unimportant thought that it almost makes you laugh. You are certain that Richie had had worse things happen to them but still.

‘Do you have any idea how long that’s gonna take to burn?’ Eddie complains crossing his arms on his chest.

‘Eddie’, you groan, though everyone can clearly hear the laugh in your voice.

‘That’s what we were supposed to do’, he adds exaggerated.

Richie grins at you. ‘Yeah but so is your inhaler, dude.’

‘Can you please stop calling him dude, dude.’ You beg rolling your eyes at the two man.

‘Guys, come on,’ Ben backs you up. You shoot him a thankful smile, missing the way throws him a heated stare.

‘All the toxic fumes and the plastic and shit so.’ Richie adds, not one to back down. Mike ignores them. He taps you with his elbow encouraging you to throw your artifact in. You falter though, and Mike must still know you well enough, because he relents after seeing your face. Instead he shows his tokes first, a rock from the rock right after which he joined the losers club all those years ago.

He drops the rock into the fire, without pause, and suddenly, you’re the only one left to show your artifact. Eddie taps him on the shoulder, ‘that’s not gonna burn either.’

Shakenly, you take the necklace out of your pocket. You refuse adamantly too look at anyone, staring ahead to a spot on the floor. You shake your head, trying to think of anything to say. You come up empty handed. You know what you would like to say, but you’re afraid of saying it, and you’re afraid of how the others might respond. You wonder if Eddie and Richie recognize it.

There’s a part of you that hopes they do, and a part of you that hopes they don’t. ‘This is the Necklace-‘, you pause, clearing your throat before continuing. ‘-this is the necklace that my two best friends gave to me. They spend a really long time making it, and they gave it to me when I was really sad.’

Technically that was lie, Mike was your best friend back you were still kids, but you couldn’t tell Eddie and Richie that you had been in love with them at that age, that was way too embarrassing. Your laugh sounds empty, without any joy.

You were happy to have the memory back of the day you got it, you were glad to have the necklace back. It was given to you when you were twelve, after a boy had stood you up for the school dance. It had seemed so important back then.

It was the first heartbreak experience you had ever had, and it seemed like the world was going to collapse. Richie and Eddie had followed you after seeing you upset, all the way up to the quarry, and Eddie had even joined you and Richie sitting down on the Forrest ground, despite how he must have been dying inside of doing so.

Richie and Eddie had gone to the prom with each other, mostly because no one wanted to be their date, but it still warmed your heart that they chose to come after you. Richie had offered you the necklace, apparently he and Eddie had been working on it for two months. It had a few different blue and green stones. It was tied together by a wooden string. It looked like it would fall apart at the seams, though as you kept it for many years, it turned out that it was more than sturdy enough.

Still, as soon as you got it, it became your favorite thing you had ever received. You wore it everyday and to every occasion. It was like your lucky charm.

You liked to believe that it was the necklace that kept you safe during pennywise, but maybe that was superstition. Either way, whenever you had a bad moment you would clench the stones in your hand, and it helped to settle you down.

When you remembered the necklace, you felt awful, put it also made some things make sense. Like when you first got to college, and you reached for your neck, as if you were looking for something, but you couldn’t find anything. Now that you knew it existed you had trouble letting it go.

‘And it’s really important to me because I’m in love with them.’ Your eyes fill with tears instantly, and your shaking gets even worse. You hear Eddie gasp, so you know he must have figured out what you were talking about.

‘Yeah, I’m in love with two people like some weirdo. I’m so sorry guys. It’s just that I can’t keep it to myself anymore. In my whole life I’ve never had anyone know me completely. I understand that I might have just ruined everything, but I don’t want to keep any part of me hidden anymore. I’m tired of hiding my feelings.’

You’re addressing Eddie and Richie, but it’s Bill that responds. He places his hand on your back, in an effort to comfort you.

‘That’s okay, Y/N, that doesn’t change a-a-anything,’ Bill consoled.

‘Yeah’, sniffing you shoot him a small smile. You refuse to look at neither Richie nor Eddie.

‘Let’s talk about this after we make it out of here alive okay?’

You glance up when you see shuffling from the corner of your eye. It’s Eddie, his face a bright red. It makes the white of his bandages stand out even more. ‘That also isn’t going to burn’, Richie mumbles, just as shocked as Eddie. Richie clears his throat opening his mouth, probably to say something stupid, but you interject.

‘Hey what about Stan’s artifact? We should probably throw that in there too.’

Eddie is still stuck, his eyes darting between Richie and you, before getting an elbow to the ribs from Ben and reaching for the shower cap in his back pocket.

‘Right’, he laughs nervously before throwing the cap into the still burning fire.

Mike reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, turning around to do that same with Bill. It reminds you of the time after killing pennywise, 27 years ago. Except Stan was still there, and you hadn’t ruined your friendship with Richie and Eddie. However you couldn’t focus on that now, right now you needed to make sure that you killed IT for real.

‘The ritual of Chud. It’s a battle of wills. The first step was our reunion. The second was the gathering of our tokens. This is the final step.’ Mike explains. He looks determined, and you’re glad at least one person was confident that you were going to win this.

Eddie and Richie are holding hands, for the circle, but they’re still holding hands. You wished you knew what they were thinking, because it would help to calm your franticly beating heart down. You just wanted to know if they hated you. You could live with them not returning your feelings, but you couldn’t live with them not even wanting to be your friends anymore.

They weren’t looking at each other either, and it would rip you heart to shreds if their relationship was ruined by your confession. The fire suddenly blows out on its own. A quite ‘what the fuck’, falls from you lips squeezing Bill’s and Mike’s hand tighter.

Out of nowhere a light suddenly appears above you and the losers, and your gaze is instantly pulled towards it. It feels like you can’t look away.

Next to you, you hear Bill utter his own ‘what the fuck’, but you can’t pull your gaze away.

‘Don’t look at it’. Mike screams, having issues looking away aswell. ‘Don’t look at it’, he repeats.

‘Are those the deadlights?’ Eddie asks fearfully, but he follows Mike’s order without waiting for the answer.

You keep staring, mesmerized by the blinding lights. You know you have to stop gazing at them, but you’re having difficulty listening to reason. It’s Richie’s frightful scream of your names that snaps you out if it. The sound of his voice is so chilling, it causes you focus on him, suppressing the shiver that wants to roll through your body.

‘Turn light into dark. Turn light into dark. Say it’, Mike screams loudly. Frowning in confusion, you begin to repeat the words. It doesn’t seem to do anything, but considering everyone is following Mike’s lead, you continue to bellow the words anyway.

The lights come closer and closer, and suddenly it appears that they’re gone. The dark returning. Mike lets go of your hand, and reflectively you reach for him, but he’s already trying to push the lid back on the artifact.

‘Holy shit did it work’? You question, hope shining through in your voice. Mike laughs, a little manic, but he stops abruptly when a red balloon tries to push the lid off. ‘Is that supposed to be happening’? Bev squawks.

‘Mike is this supposed to be happening’?

It clearly, by the look of panic on Mike’s face, is not supposed to be happening, and in an effort to help him, you too reach forward to try and keep the lid in place. The damage is already done though, and the balloon continues to inflate, until you have to take cover before it explodes completely.

The blast slams you against a sharp piece of rock, hurting your shoulder in the process. Your ears are ringing, and for a second all you can focus on is the feeling of blood, dripping from you shoulder down your arm. Then Eddie appears in you sight.

He crouches down beside you, placing you in a sitting position. His eyes widen when they the blood, and he’s pushing your jacket off before you can even fully process that he’s here. ‘Hey Y/N, are you okay’? He ask franticly, but it sounds like you’re listening to him underwater. After shaking your head a few times, your hearing clears out, and you can hear Richie calling yours and Eddie’s name.

He too, worries about the wound on your shoulder, but you assure them both that it’s not that serious. You’ve had much worse. You realize with a startle that they’re both here and worried about you, so they must at the very least not hate you. The thought makes you smile.

‘What are you laughing at weirdo?’ Richie teases, and Eddie laughs. Before anything more can be said, Pennywise appears from behind the spikes where you had just stood a minute ago.

He startles you, and you jump up with a small scream. Mike’s ritual didn’t work, and you didn’t know what other options there were to beat this demon clown.

‘Oh did it work Mikey, did it work?’ IT taunts, and a guilty look takes over Mike’s face.

‘Tell them why your silly ritual didn’t work.’

‘M-m-mikey?’ Bill asks, the whole group peering at Mike. Promptly you understand what’s happening.

‘It wasn’t real was it Mike?’

‘What the fuck do you mean, Y/N? What isn’t real? Somebody answer me’, Eddie demands.

Mike nods solemnly. ‘I’m sorry guys. But, but they didn’t believe.’ He stammered. ‘They didn’t believe they could kill IT. That’s why it didn’t work back then, that’s why it was supposed to work now.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me Mike?’

The deadlight make a sudden reappearance, and in shock you grasp Eddie’s sweater, because he was the closest to you.

‘For 27 years, I dreamt of you, I craved you, oh I missed you’, IT chuckles darkly. ‘Time to float’; his hand turns into a sharp claw, going after the entire losers club.

‘Fuck’, you manage to say, right before you’re dragged along by your friends, running as fast as you can. You have no time to think about it rationally, all you think about is running and surviving.

Richie, Eddie and you seek coverage behind a giant rock, watching as the rest of the losers also find a hiding spot. IT goes after Bill first, but he must have made an escape as IT’s eyes turn to you.

‘Do you think he can see us’? Richie asks, making you laugh for a second before IT slams forward, causing the three of you to scream and continue running.

You bolt further into the cave, feeling IT’s eyes still on you. When you’ve run far enough to have a small semblance of safety, you pause, trying to catch your breath. You’re worried about your friends, and hope that they’re somewhere where IT couldn’t catch you.

You’re startled, once your brain process the fact that you are now alone with both Richie and Eddie after just confessing your love for them. They’re already looking at you, most likely waiting for you to say something, anything, but you can’t think of a thing. Your mind comes up blank, and you panic. You’re not ready for whatever they’re about to say.

‘oh no’, you mutter, before turning around and going back the way you come. Richie’s arms circle around your middle before you have even moved so much as a step, pulling you against his chest.

‘Where are you going, back to IT to get killed’? He ask which yeah, he has a good point. He puts you down, only when you promise to stay put.

Eddie stands behind you, pulling you into a hug as soon as you stand on the ground again. All three of your breathing is still heavy, but you do your best to calm down as soon as possible. It’s only when Eddie lets you go that you notice the three doors. On each door respectively is written; not scary, scary, very scary.

You’re not particularly interested in opening any one of those. Eddie and Richie day something, but you don’t listen to them as you step forward toward the door scary. ‘No no wait’, Richie says, ‘he’s fucking with us. He did this to me before.’ He walks towards the very scary door, and you’re terrified that he’s wrong. You hesitate alongside Eddie. ‘Trust me’, Richie begs, and Eddie and you look at each other, shrugging before coming closer to Richie.

He opens the door slowly, trying to gauge what’s behind it. It’s a dark closet, pitch black so you can’t see anything in it. All three of you are quite, until a fourth voice speaks up. ‘Where’s my shoe?’

You could swear you had heard that before somewhere, but before you can place it, Richie turns the lights on, and you hear footsteps coming your way. the legs and only the legs of someone come running towards the door. A woman’s voice is laughing. Richie, Eddie and you screeched, and Richie doesn’t hesitate one second before slamming the door shut before the legs can reach you.

You, not trusting Richie anymore, open the door in the middle, labeled Scary. You pull the door open without waiting for Richie and Eddie, not wanting them to be in danger. Behind this door, is your old bedroom. You frown, you can’t remember something happening to you in your room. You hear weeping sounds, and deciding to investigate, you walk further into the door.

‘Hey, Y/N, are you insane get back here’, Eddie whisper shouts. When you don’t respond both Eddie and Richie follow you into the room. The window was open, and despite being in a sewer, you could swear you smelled the lavender of your neighbor’s garden flowing in. You turn towards the bed, Richie and Eddie following your lead. It’s you that’s crying. Your 15 your old self, writing something down in your diary, you have no idea where that thing was.

You’re talking to yourself, and even though you know you never did that, out of fear your parents would hear, you still listened intrigued. You know that it’s one of Pennywise’s tricks, but you can’t figure out what he’s playing at. ‘Dear diary, today I got rejected by the two boys that mean the most to me’, you hear the fake-you say. You turn red, hoping to god Richie and Eddie couldn’t see it.

‘I mean why would they when they have each other? They’ll never fucking love you Y/N’, your fake-voice gets increasingly louder, until it’s so high pitched it hurts your eyes. Fake-you lifts her head, and you gag when you see what she looks like. Your eyes have fallen all the way into your sockets, it seems like you don’t have them at all. There’s blood instead of water on your cheeks, And there’s scratches all over your face out of which a black puss is streaming out. It’s a disgusting sight.

The fake-you cackles loudly, her arms coming up and aiming for you, but Eddie and Richie both take a hand and run out of the room. As soon as your back in the cave, you fall down on your knees, your breath heaving. Richie and Eddie sit in front you, doing their best to calm you down, but it’s not really helpful considering they’re not calm either. ‘Hey Y/N, look at me, I need to tell you something’, Eddie requests, but your too busy focusing on your breathing to comply.

‘Hey Y/N come, on. You’re okay’, Richie tries, but you still feel like there’s no air getting sucked into your lungs, so you ignore him for the time being to.

‘Fuck it’, Eddie proclaims, before tumbling forward, catching your lips with his. You choke, and the kiss is quite honestly terrible. When Eddie pulls back, you follow his lips, this time making it a proper kiss. Your lips slot together, eagerly reciprocating the emotion you feel behind it. When Eddie and you break apart this time, he turns around and kisses Richie.

The sight of them makes your heart grow twice it’s normal size. You’re breathless for a whole different reason now. When Eddie and Richie sink back, Your hand slots behind Richie’s head, bringing his face towards yours. The kiss you share it sweet and amazing. You never thought you would ever be able to kiss one of them, let alone both of them, yet here you were. The happiness you feel almost makes you cry.

‘Listen to me, I love you, the both of you. I can’t imagine my life without either of you. So let’s get out of here, kill this fucking clown and then we can figure this all out later. You just both need to know I love you.’ Richie says, looking mortified at the fact all those words just came out of his mount. ‘Almost as much as I love Eddie’s mom.’

Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, and you give Richie a light shove, but the truth is that you are more determined than ever to kill IT, and to hopefully start a knee life with the guys that you have loved since you were thirteen. You didn’t need your lucky necklace as long as you had them by your side.

Standing up you reach for Eddie and Richie’s hands, and together you get ready to defeat it. Despite all the determination, defeating Pennywise is not easy.

You awake with a startle, reaching out for the light you know is somewhere on your bedside table. You can’t find it, but you do find a mop a dark hair, knitted with curls. You pull your hand back, startled, but accidentally pull at the hair aswell.

The person who the mop of hair belongs to groans, turning to face you. Richie’s face, what you can make of it in the dark, looks heavy with sleep, still, but seeing you panicked turns a switch, and he’s awake in seconds. On your other side, another person stirs, but doesn’t wake up. When you turn you see it’s Eddie. A breath of relief makes a way out of your lungs. The events after your first kiss were traumatizing.

For Richie because he got caught in the dead lights, for Eddie because he nearly got stabbed, and for you for seeing both of them get hurt so badly. Luckily, you all made it out alive, but it was a close call. You often had nightmares, but you tried your best not to let that deter you. You were happy in life, living with Richie and Eddie. Eddie got a divorce and moved to L.A, with you and Richie. After realizing how close you and Richie lived from each other, you too decided to pack up and move in.

Life was going great, and you weren’t going to let a silly little nightmare destroy any more of the peace. ‘You okay’? Richie asks, plucking a piece of your hair behind you ear. You nod without speaking, shuffling down to claim your place between the two boys again. Eddie, I’m his sleep, throws an arm around bit you and Richie.

You giggle seeing the drool that slipping out from between his lips. Richie snorts when he follows your gaze, stroking his hand affectionately through Eddie’s hair. He presses a kiss to your neck and tangles your legs together. When you fall back asleep, there are no more nightmares, and when you wake up, you thank your lucky stars that you got to have this.

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