#streaming on my tv sorry for the swirl

[royalpain16]

Members of the Royal Family at the Buckingham Palace concert for the Platinum Jubilee, 2022

#Buckingham Palace concert #platinum jubilee #prince William #duchess camilla #princess Charlotte #princess anne #tim laurence #peter philips #prince George #savannah phillips #streaming on my tv sorry for the swirl

[beantothemax]

Cold, empty darkness.

Never before did Akechi find the bareness of his apartment so oppressive and unfeeling, but it was a feeling he hated.

So, he turned on a few lamps and the TV, and tried to distract himself by boiling some water for tea. Maybe that would help set his nerves back in order.

His stream of thoughts were interrupted by a harsh knocking on the door- if one could even call it that. It sounded more like panicked banging.

Akechi opened it, and his stomach twisted at what he saw.

Ryuji Sakamoto, beaten, bruised and bloody, clutching his hairline (Akechi forced back rage when he saw the blood seeping through Ryuji’s hair).

Ryuji keeled forward, and Akechi caught him with ease, worry and fury and a million different emotions swirling through him as he listened to the words falling on his ringing ears.

“‘M sorry for bangin’ yer door down... I didn’t... know where else to go...” Ryuji mumbled, and Akechi knew the truth behind his words. These wounds looked sickeningly fresh, as though someone (or someones) had beaten him up within the hour and left him in the cold. Chances were that Akechi’s apartment was the closest building where he knew he’d get help,

The thought of Ryuji being left for dead simply brought more rage bubbling to the surface, though he bit it back in favour of asking the question that made his voice go soft and the concern overtake the anger.

“Who did this to you?” Ryuji rested his head on Akechi’s shoulder, breathing ragged. “...don’t know their names... They were ruthless, though, man... Barely managed to keep my wallet... prolly’ ‘cause they thought I was... too much trouble.”

Akechi resisted the urge to press a soothing kiss to the back of Ryuji’s neck, instead helping him stand upright and into the apartment.

Once inside, Akechi sat Ryuji down on his bed, and ordered him to stay put while he fetched first-aid supplies from the bathroom. When he returned, Ryuji was zoned out, staring at a picture.

A picture of the two of them, the first time they’d hung out without being at each other’s throats. Ryuji’s smile was broad as ever, while Akechi’s, though not uncomfortable by any means, was more shy. His real smiles were reserved for Ryuji and Akira, and those two alone.

Akechi knelt in front of Ryuji, gently moving his head to the other side so he could clean up the bruises and cuts that littered his face. Ryuji decided to speak then, and Akechi listened with rapt attention.

“...You only smile ‘round Kira n’ I... Why’s that...?” He asked, and Akechi found himself contemplating the answer. Why was it that his smiles, full of mirth and joy and all things he had been denied nearly his whole life, were only brought forth around Ryuji and Akira? “...You both make me happy,” he finally said, both satisfied with his answer and feeling oddly empty at it. It was so, so much more than that... Not that he could place what it was. At least, it was with Ryuji. It was complex and mysterious and wonderful. It made him want more.

He finished dressing Ryuji’s wounds, and scrounged around in his dresser before presenting the boy with a white shirt and grey sweatpants. “To change into,” he explained upon seeing Ryuji’s confused expression.

When that adorable confused-puppy look didn’t leave, Akechi elaborated. “If you think I’m letting you traipse around in your state, you’re sorely mistaken. You’re staying here tonight, possibly tomorrow night too, depending on how you’re recovering.”

Ryuji took the clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, murmuring a ‘thank you’.

The rest of the night was a blur, between Akechi internally freaking out at how fucking good Ryuji looked in his clothes, and internally freaking out again as they shared a bed (and as Ryuji cuddled up to him). Akechi didn’t even remember falling asleep, but he remembered something else before he did.

That cold, empty darkness was transformed.

What once was terrifying and chilling was now welcoming and inviting.

Warm, shared darkness in the depths of his bedroom, two bodies sleeping close.

omg…. ‘I didn’t know where else to go’ ‘who hurt you’………. the prompt ever….

MAV I THINK YOU SHIPPING RYUGORO LIKE. AWAKENED SOMETHING INSIDE YOU BECAUSE ALL OF THESE HAVE BEEN AMAZING!!!!! (not saying that as in like. your other fics haven’t been good! because they have! abd they are!) BUT STILL AAAAAAAAA

akechi talking about how he only smiles around akira and ryuji because they maje him happy!!!!! akechi internally freaking out over how ryuji looks good in his clothes!!!!!!!!!!! these two live in my brain rent-free now thanks to you/pos

#asks #bewilderedgrace #inbox fic

[ironmanfridgemagnet]

Sitting On The Shelf - Marcus White x Reader

Part 23 - Rebranding (short)

SOTS Masterlist

"What does it mean to change? To embrace progress? To transform? Cloud 9 is pleased to announce that our in-store brand "Halo" has now become "SuperCloud." A new day has dawned." A stream of unrelated images flashed across the screen, butterflies and waterfalls, flowers and buildings, filling the tv despite the lack of relevance to the topic at hand.

"All right, there you have it. So it's a big day today. We start our rebranding." Jeff announced, hands clasped together and a clipboard tucked under his arm.

"He's way too enthusiastic for this considering it's like, 6 in the morning." You muttered to a half-asleep Garrett, who's head was lulled against your shoulder, not paying attention to the talk Jeff was giving.

"Does rebranding mean they're redesigning the store?" Cheyenne asked, someone finally, actually interested in Jeff's announcements this morning.

"No, we'll be taking our in-store product "Halo" and changing it to "SuperCloud.""

"And how are they different?" Jonah asked from beside you, who, unlike you and Garrett, was already wide awake and ready to face the day.

"That, uh, what I just said. It used to be called "Halo." Now it's called SuperCloud." Jeff huffed, unimpressed by the lack of a well reception at his news. "Maybe I'm not, um, selling the excitement of what's happening today. Let's see if this helps."

Jeff pressed on his speaker that sat behind him, "Are you ready for this?" blasting loudly through the break room in an instant. Wincing, you allowed Garrett to lean more into you, his head nuzzling into your shoulder as an attempt to hide away from the blaring noise of Jeff's music. Brining you cup to your lips, you blew on the steaming liquid then took a sip, letting the heat simmer down through your bones all the way to the tips of your toes.

"This is too much man." Letting out a whine, you threw your head backwards trying desperately to escape the break room and the imagine of Jeff dancing before you.

————————————————————————

"Wow, that song is a little longer than I thought. What was that, 11 minutes?" Jeff asked, the song finally, thankfully, coming to an end.

"12." Dina corrected, proud smile crossing her face as Jeff flashed her a thankful smile.

"All right, anyway 12? Sorry about that. Uh, moving on, we have buttons for everybody to wear today, and there's a VP coming in to oversee this rollout."

A box of buttons was passed around, you grabbing a handful and dropping them against the table before passing the box on. Sliding one to Garrett and two to Jonah, you faced him with a pleading expression, a silent question; wanting him to do it for you. Jonah took the pins from you, quickly attaching one to his own vest before attaching the second to yours, covering up the cloud 9 logo with the 'super cloud' promotion.

"A VP of corporate? I'm gonna need to borrow somebody's lipstick. Not Amy's, way too slutty." Dina chastised, eyes scanning across the break room in search for someone who might have what she needed.

Pulling out a pink-tinted, peach and mango, chapstick from your front pocket, you threw it over to Dina, her catching it in her hands with ease. "I got you, Dee."

"Why is a smiling white lady always the mascot? 'Cause in my experience, usually they're, like, the first to snap." Amy asked, ignoring Dina's insult and turning to Jeff, who now stood before a creepy cardboard cut out of a random white woman.

"She's not wrong." Dina agreed, smothering a healthy amount of tinted chapstick across her lips before pushing the lid back on with a pop, and throwing it back to you.

Garrett's head finally perked up from your shoulder, the pair of you more awake now after having to suffer through Jeff's 12 minute hype session. "I personally blame all the yogurt white ladies eat."

"There's just something I don't trust about it." You agreed, swirling the cooling coffee in your mug around before taking another sip, fiddling with your fingers around the handle.

"Why didn't they make it a superhero? You know, 'cause SuperCloud?" Cheyenne asked, chin pressed into her hand as she looked up at Jeff. "And it could have, like, a cape or something, and, like, little cloud muscles."

"Yeah, wow, that's clean, it's simple, it's visual, that is probably what it should've been. Damn. So all right, let's just move on. Here are some words we'd like you guys to pepper in to the conversation today whenever SuperCloud comes up, obviously, so "cool," "millennial," "on fleek"...have to go back to the superhero mascot, I'm so sorry, that's just a home run."

"Yeah, and he could be saving people with savings." Cheyenne added, a wide smile on her face as she brainstormed ideas for Jeff, each making him more impressed.

"Fuck, that's good."

————————————————————————

"Two wolves I couldn't do it, but one wolf..."

Your break had long overrun, but there was no motivation to 'get back out there' today. The warmth and company of the break room had enticed you into stay, Marcus's jacket - which you had now practically claimed as your own - was wrapped around you, your vest on top of it, and kept you warm and cozy. It smelled like a mixture of him and Amy's laundry detergent, the earthy smell of Marcus fading the longer you kept it away from him. Your third cup of coffee sat yet untouched, a mixture of snacks you found in the break rooms cupboards scattered across the table.

"How many times do we have to have this conversation, Gare? You couldn't fight a wolf." This conversation had occurred at least three times that you could name, and each time Garrett's firm insistence - and your denial - remained the same.

"Hey, guys." Sandra said as she walked into the break room, you turning and giving her a short wave as she entered; though your action elicited a sharp glare from Dina who was leaning against the cabinets.

"I could take it." Garrett assured, a look of determination crossing his features; at this point you weren't sure if he was actually convinced that he could take on a wolf, or he just wanted you to agree he could.

"I guess we'll never truly know." You shrugged, ripping open a packet of 'chips ahoy' that you had found in the cupboard, the bag wrinkly and slightly scratched up.

"Did anyone watch "Vampire Diaries" last night? Damien's really gotten out of control." Sandra asked, only to be met with dead silence as Dina death-glared the table over Sandra's shoulder.

"You stupid slut!" Dina shouted, stepping closer to the table and standing toe to toe with Sandra, an accusing finger pointing down at her alongside her outburst.

"Woah! Feel like I missed a couple of chapters here." Spluttering on the cookie you had bit into at Dina's sudden and aggressive outburst, a wide eyed expression crossing your features.

"I can't hold it in any longer." Dina relented, staring down at Sandra from where she stood inches apart from her, chest to chest.

"What's happening?" Garrett asked, his pitch heightening as his gaze flickered between the stand off.

"Sandra is having an affair with Jeff." Dina asserted, loud gasps echoing around the break room at the accusation. Sandra sullenly shook her head, eyes boring intently into the floor to avoid Dina's sharp glare. "Don't you deny it! You were seen kissing on the loading dock."

"Really? Holy shit." You gasped, such genuine scandal rarely ever happened around the store, usually as scandalous as it got was an unforeseen pair hooking up - not someone dating the district manager.

"Ooh, Sandra, Sandra, Sandra! That's crazy, boo! I didn't know you had it in you. Dish, girl." Garrett leant his head against his open palm, leaning closer to Sandra in wait.

"I don't think we need to be talking about that." Mateo snapped, seemingly much less interested in the new found relationship then everyone else.

"Oh, I got questions, like, when did it start?" Garrett asked, head tilting away from the angered Mateo and towards Sandra.

Looking up intently at Sandra who stood over you, Dina still staring her down, her face inches apart from Sandra, you asked. "How did you get together?"

"About two weeks ago." Sandra hesitantly admitted, a smile curling onto her face at the gasps the admission elicited. "He pulled me into his Kia, and he said to me, "Sandra take out your taters." And I did. And I put them in his face."

————————————————————————

"Jeff and I have these cute nicknames for each other. He calls me "Deliciousness."" Sandra bragged, looking shyly towards the ground as she recounted the ventures of their relationship. "And I call him Mr. Man."

"Yeah, let's not forget she was blabbing to Jeff about us." Mateo snapped, his eyes rolling far into the back of his head as he chastised Sandra's admiration. There wasn't anything wrong about how she was talking all lovely-dovey about Jeff. Sure, the fact it was Jeff, was weird, but other then that it was... sweet.

"Shush, Mateo. I'm listening." You chided, head resting gently in your palm as you stared up at Sandra in disturbed wonder.

"Do you have sex in his hotel?" Justine asked excitement bubbling in her words at the utter scandal of the situation.

"Oh, yeah, all the time."

"Is there a coffee machine in there?" Dina questioned, seeming to become more and more intrigued as time went on, despite her initial aversion to the topic.

"Yep, one of those pod ones."

Sandra looked to the floor before looking at the group of you that surrounded her, his face reddening and her hands wringing. "And you guys will keep this a secret, right?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, we got you, Deliciousness." Garrett teased, a smirk curling onto his lips as he waved down Sandra, a mirrored smile curling on her own face.

The crowd quickly dispersed as Sandra story was over, enough details to satiate them for now at the scandal of the affair. Garrett prodded you in the shoulder, his gaze now settled on you. "Have you been in here all day?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't feeling it today." Swirling what remained of your millionth coffee of the day, you brought your mug to your lips, drinking the last of the now cool liquid.

Garrett winced, his hand coming to cover your own, his thumb stroking at the warm flesh in light circles. "So, you didn't hear about Jonah?"

"No. Why? What's going on?"

————————————————————————

Having rushed out of the break room for the first time today after hearing the news, you ran through the store in search of Jonah. Finally having found him, stood at the store entrance hugging a guy who you assumed was this 'Rex Joshi' Garrett had told you about, you faltered in your steps. Waiting for his business school friend to walk away, you walked up to Jonah, crashing into the back of him and wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, clutching to the fabric of the front of his shirt. "Please, don't go."

"Peach..." Jonah's arms rest a top your own, cradling them against him.

"You're going. You're not sticking around and you didn't tell me?" You muttered into his back, Jonah turning around to face you at the heartbroken inflection in your words. His hands came to cup your face, forcing you to look up at him. "I get that at any other job it's just a part of your life, you come, you work, you go home. But not here. Not for me. This stupid store and all the people in it are my family. And you're just gonna leave? Were you even going to say goodbye? Or would I just show up one day and you'd be gone?"

"I wasn't planning on going, peaches." Jonah whispered, him holding your head against his chest, as you bit back whimpers, trying to keep the tears in.

You hadn't expected Jonah's soft words, for him to cradle you to his chest and sooth the worry out of you. But, by all accounts you'd heard, he wanted to go - sooner or later - and who were you to stop him? You'd expected some kind of gentle let down, "I'm going sooner or later but I'll always be there for you." Not this.

"I just never cancelled my deferral incase I wanted to go back. But I don't - I can't - and I wouldn't want to." Jonah brushed the hair that had fallen over your eyes back behind your ear, his hand coming to rest against the skin of your neck there, his thumb soothing over the apple of your cheek. "You guys, here, are everything to me. I'm not going anywhere, if I can help it."

Still hugged tightly against Jonah, you revelled in the touch, the fear that he was upping and leaving all of a sudden dissipating with every moment shared with his arms wrapped around you. A wobbly smile and creased eyebrows had Jonah dissolving into worry once again, pressing a kiss to the tense skin and then another to your temple.

Jonah was something else, he was one of your best friends and seemed to know you inside and out; the idea of him leaving made your stomachs churn and your chest ache. Jonah wasn't leaving though, not now, and not anytime soon.

"You know what's weird?" Jonah asked, suddenly peeking up again as a thought raced through his mind. "I had a similar conversation with Amy and Garrett earlier, and it went nothing like that. Garrett's main concern was he'd have no one to force him to try tahini."

A breathless laugh slipped past your lips, muffled by the shirt that covered Jonah's chest that your face pressed into. Jonah slipped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you tightly into the warmth of his side - the warmth of Marcus's jacket not enough for the mid-winter night that awaited you outside the store - and led you out towards the Garden centre, where Amy awaited, holding two to go cups of steaming liquid.

"Hey, did you know Jeff and Sandra were banging?"

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Want to be added to the taglist? send an ask to let me know <3

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Hey guys!! This is the second of the two short updates for today. No upload on Wednesday as I won't have access to WiFi.

This one definitely isn't my best as I finished it very hungover lol. However, so much is to come and the next few parts are some of my favourite and have so much Marcus content!!!

As always, have a lovely week <33

#sitting on the shelf marcus white x reader #superstore x reader #cloud 9 #superstore imagine #marcus white #marcus white x reader #marcus superstore #marcus white imagine #superstore marcus imagine

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '21 Prompt No. 19 — "I feel strange.“

Category: Original WIP: For The Stars Rating: T Timeline: an AU in which both Warren and Thrive are human CW: Mature situations Word Count: 737 Additional Notes: this is way too short lmao

***

PART IV ➳ PART III ➳ PART II ➳ PART I

"Hoo, boy," Warren sighed, running a hand down his face. "I feel strange."

Thrive nodded from his seat at the opposite end of the couch from him. "I've noticed this happens when you've had red wine."

"You think I could be allergic? I haven't even had two glasses."

Swirling his own wine in the stemmed glass held between his long fingers, Thrive shrugged, using a remote in his other hand to flip through the streaming titles on the TV. "It's possible. I'd stop drinking that one to be safe."

Warren perched his glass on the coffee table. "Dinner was great, by the way. Thanks for cooking."

"I'm happy to do it." Thrive switched to a music app and started one of Warren's playlists, getting to his feet. "I'll do the dishes tonight since you're not feeling all that well."

"You sure? I could probably still do 'em…"

"Don't worry about it. There isn't that much to do."

"Only 'cause you clean as you cook." Warren chuckled, tapping his foot to the song. "You fuckin' nerd."

He caught a good-natured eye roll as Thrive entered the kitchen with both glasses.

The song changed and Warren shot off the couch. "Oh, here we go!"

"What's that?"

"I choreographed a whole thing for this," Warren said, already into it, moving as if it were second nature. The up-tempo dance beat kept a wide smile on his face even when Thrive paused his task to watch him with an odd look from the open kitchen. "Didn't you know I danced from middle school to college?"

"…Can't say that I did," Thrive said.

"Yeah, man," Warren cheered, letting the music overcome him. He danced around the coffee table, singing along, and he brought his hyped energy into the kitchen, where the closer he got to Thrive, the higher the corner of Thrive's mouth inched upward. "Nearly threw my hat into the erotic dancing ring to pay for school."

"Hmm." Thrive used one hand to spray the dishes in the sink with water from the detachable nozzle, not taking his eyes away from Warren. "There's an abundance of qualification, in any case."

Warren stopped and quirked an eyebrow. "Well that's an interesting development. Like what you see, Judge?" He spread his arms and swayed his hips. "This doin' it for you?"

Thrive cocked his head. "Would you want it to?"

"Considering I'm half a misfired synapse away from grinding on you, I'd say so, yeah."

"Maybe not into that, per se," Thrive said, turning his full—yet visibly reluctant—attention onto the pans he cooked with, "…but I may want to revisit the erotic dancing topic in a little bit."

"If you want a lap dance, it's fifty bucks."

Thrive laughed. "Don't ask how I know this, but that's a bit steep."

Warren paused between songs and ambled the few feet to him. He snaked a hand around the back of Thrive's neck and leaned in close to his ear. "My guy…this would be the best lap dance of your entire life."

"It would be the only lap dance of my entire life," Thrive muttered, though his voice had subtly tightened.

"And god, would I be honored to give it." Warren's fingers raked through Thrive's hair, rubbing into his scalp with gentle firmness.

Thrive forced out a breath as he attempted to focus on his chore. "Give me ten minutes."

"You have five."

"I can do three."

"Speedrun it, baby," Warren purred. He snickered, starting up a dance for the next song and moving into the hallway that contained their bedrooms.

—

Warren opened his eyes to complete silence and a pitch-dark room. The playlist had clearly run out ages ago and someone had the forethought to shut off all the lights in the apartment. He shifted and knocked his elbow into a body beside him, earning a grunt for the occasion.

"Oh, fuck, sorry…"

"What's wrong?" Thrive asked groggily into the side of his head.

"Uh…nothing. Whose…whose bed is this?"

"…I don't actually remember. After a certain point, I wasn't exactly paying attention to our surroundings." A few beats passed during which the sound of rustling filled the silence and the mattress shifted. "This is a double. We're in mine."

"That tracks," Warren yawned. "Probably still night. Brain feels like noodles. More sleep."

"No arguments here," Thrive murmured, looping his arms around Warren and lacing their fingers together before they both drifted back to sleep.

#fp3 #Darkspace Portent #For The Stars #repost

[greta-van-chaos]

Cane

Pairing | Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Smut, cursing, degradation, spanking, caning (lightly), pain kink, hair pulling, choking

~

The house is eerily quiet and now that the sun has set it's pitch black everywhere except for the living room where I'm curled up on the couch staring at the blank tv screen. Jake has been gone for far longer than he had planned and the worry is starting to set in. I resist reaching for my phone to call him, knowing that it would be overbearing considering they're most likely out getting drinks. Jake, Danny and his brothers were shooting some sort of Q and A live stream today, they all invited me to watch but I declined, hoping to have the day to myself. My worry slips away from me as I hear the sound of keys jingling and the door opening. I slip off of the couch and greet Jake in the entryway, turning on a light so he can see.

"I'm sorry I'm home so late, I didn't think we'd stay out that long, I should have messaged" Jake kicks off his boots after swiping them on the door mat and I look him up and down. His outfit shouldn't suit him as well it does, a dark navy shirt with a brown vest and slim red scarf around his neck. He also holds a cane in his hands and I feel my cheeks heat up at the dirty thoughts swirling around in my mind, begging to be spoken. I thought I had given him a good look over before he left but clearly I didn't. When the silence between us seeps into awkward territory he steps towards me, taking my chin in his hands and tilting my head up so our eyes meet. "Are you okay?"

His grumbly, half-drunk voice sends heat straight to my core and I practically melt in his hands "You look so good right now"

He lets out a breathy laugh and kisses the tip of my nose "You're not too bad yourself" He chuckles, gesturing at the oversized t-shirt hanging off of my otherwise naked body, save a pair of underwear. Jake rests the cane against the wall so he can unbutton his vest and shirt, slowing popping the buttons and slipping off the brown fabric. My mouth is practically watering at the sight and I pounce on him, wrapping an arm around his neck and trailing a hand down his now exposed chest. He hums against my lips and grasps my hips. "Why are you so worked up" He laughs, raising an eyebrow. He holds me with one arm around my waist and brushes some hair behind my ear with his free hand.

"I didn't really see what you looked like before you left and the cane-" I trail off, cringing at how desperate I sound.

"The cane? It's for my Master Class character. I felt like a grandpa all day" He grins when I bury my face in his chest.

"I like it, you look sexy"

A deep laugh rumbles through him and it vibrates against my face, that of which is still flush against his bare chest. "Are you trying to tell me you like old men y/n?"

"Fuck off" I push away and pad back into the living room, listening for his steps trailing behind me. When I plop down on the couch I watch him enter the room, holding the cane and caressing it with the tips of his fingers.

"I think I can see the appeal" He states blandly, feeling the weight of it in his palms.

"Jake" I whisper, almost pleading, for what, I don't know.

"Is this what you want?" He asks, looking into my eyes for any sort of apprehension. I nod, wordlessly casting my gaze to the floor when I feel heat creeping into my cheeks , making them flush. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Stand up" The command makes my knees weak but nevertheless I scramble to my feet and stand in front of him, my chest heaving with excitement. "Let's go upstairs, it'll be more comfortable." He extends a hand out to me and I take it, letting him lead me to our shared bedroom.

"Take off your shirt and bend over on the bed. I'm not going to do this hard, I don't want to hurt you more than necessary but I'm willing to be experimental here. If you need me to stop, you say red." My heart throbs at his gentle approach. I follow his commands and discard my shirt. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees me fully exposed. I walk over to the bed and lay the top half of my body on it, raising my ass into the air. I hear him approach me and I inhale sharply when his hand runs across my back, trailing from my shoulder blades to my ass. He pulls my panties down harshly and delivers a slap with his hand to one of my cheeks. I grip the sheets and release a small moan "How was that?" He asks, his tone stern.

"Good, really good" I can practically hear him smirking behind me and the shift in the air is sudden as he brings his hand down on me again. I moan louder this time, my knuckles already turning white from gripping the sheets. I shove my ass further in the air, wordlessly begging him to do it again.

"Such a pretty slut, aren't you, you're so fucking desperate for me" I whine into the bed at his change in demeanor. Once he knows that I'm comfortable, his personality changes. "I'm going to use this now" He drags the cool metallic handle of the cane along where he smacked my ass and I hiss at the sting. He pulls it away and holds it against me before bringing it back a short distance and slapping it against me, the wood and metal biting into my delicate flesh. He immediately rubs his hand along where he hit, helping curb the sting. The shock of the impact shoots straight to my core and at this point I'm probably dripping all over myself. "How was that?" He asks, his tone softer again.

"So good"

"How about two more? I want to go easy on you since we haven't done this before"

I hum into the mattress but that isn't enough for him, he grabs a fistful of my hair and brings me up so he can whisper against my neck, a strangled moan leaves my lips and I hear him sigh lustfully "I need you to use your words baby"

"Yes, whatever you want, just, do it again" I practically beg and he releases my hair causing me to fall - a little ungracefully - back onto the bed. I stick my ass back in the air and he draws the cane against my heated flesh once again. As soon as I feel it leave my skin I hold my breath, waiting for it to strike me. I am not disappointed as the smack echoes through the room. I moan Jake's name and grit my teeth as he soothes the skin with his hand. I feel my wetness seeping down my legs and turn to look at him, both of our eyes blown wide with lust. I wrap my legs around his torso and pull him in. The cane drops to the floor with a delicate clatter and he crawls over me so I can lay back on the bed, hissing as I do so, the pain of my ass still fresh. We're nose to nose, staring into each others eyes, his breath his hot and heavy against my face and I reach up to card my fingers through his hair, bringing him in for a kiss. It isn't graceful or romantic, it's a battle for dominance with our tongues and teeth clashing, our hands gripping at every part of each other we can reach.

He dips his hand down and parts me with his fingers bringing them back up coated in my slick. Placing them in his mouth he pulls them out of his mouth with an obscene pop. "You taste so sweet" He huffs "I can't believe how wet you are for me. Such a little pain slut" This spurs me on to kiss him again, gripping him harder and reaching down to palm him through his pants, an obvious tent having been there since he saw me undress.

"Fuck me, Jake" I whisper, begging more than commanding.

"You don't have to ask me twice" He mumbles, unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants down with his underwear. He wastes no time in lining up and thrusting himself into me. He stills for a moment, allowing me to adjust then rolls his hips, grinding against me at a torturously slow pace. I cry out and dig my nails into my back, clawing at the fabric pulled taught against him.

"Get this off" I whine, trying to unbutton the last few buttons holding it together. In my plight I end up snapping them off and ripping his shirt from his body.

"Naughty girl, I quite liked that shirt" He groans, sliding a hand to my throat and thrusting himself into me harder. He squeezes my neck slightly and I feel something low in my stomach coiling deliciously tight. Jake pounds into me mercilessly, causing tears to form in my eyes and streak down my cheeks. "Look at you, crying for me, so pathetic" He remarks and I feel myself getting closer, his smirk prompting me to grip his shoulders harder. He tips his head back, eyes rolling back with his mouth open slightly, an absolutely beautiful sight.

"Jake- fuck" He rolls his hips, pulls them back and snaps forward. The animalistic groan that rips through my lungs borders on a scream. "Jake, I'm so close"

"Cum for me, let me hear your pretty moans" He huffs, opening his eyes and watching me. His hips stutter and that's what tips me over the edge, stars dancing behind my eyes. I squeeze around him, groaning and whining. He's thrown out of pace and his hips stutter again before he cums. He waits before pulling out and once he does he carefully lays beside me. Both of us lay for a moment, heavy breaths filling the room. Jake turns to me propping his head up on his hand. "How are you feeling, can I do anything? Run you a bath?"

"Yes please" I smile, feeling absolutely fucked out and sore.

"Okay, I'll go run it" He says helping me to my feet and walking me to the tub. While it fills he gets a towel and wipes my thighs clean. "Do you want me to stay or go?"

"Stay please?"

"Okay give me a few minutes and I'll be right in" I hear him bumping around in our room and when he finally enters the bathroom again after about 10 minutes he sits down in the opposite side of the tub and puts my legs over top of his. "How's your bum doing? Hope I didn't hurt you too badly?"

I smile and look him in the eyes, they have a puppy dog quality to them as he waits for me to respond "I'm sore but it's nothing too extreme"

"Good" He rubs his thumb along the inside of my ankle.

I look up at him and flash him a mischievous look "I think next time you could do it a little harder"

If you want to be tagged in upcoming posts you can join my taglist!

#jake kiszka #gvf #gvf x reader #greta van fleet #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner

[bokuroskitten]

c-cockwarming with kuroo kenma bo ushi and iwa? 😳

I’ve got some real big brained anons asking me real big brained asks😌

ℌℭ ❦

〈 Kuroo, Kenma, Bokuto, Ushijima and Iwaizumi and how they like cockwarming

✵ genre: NSFW 18+ (Minors DNI)

✵ warnings: cockwarming, dom/sub dynamics (daddy, papa, & sir titles used), mentions of voyeurism

Kenma would have you warming him up all the time if he could, so every chance he gets he’s calling you over. Gaming, streaming, watching tv, doing just about anything, he loves sliding you down nice and slow on his cock. Your walls have been fit to his cock by now, so it’s always the perfect squeeze when you sit on him. Typically he’ll have you sit in his lap, back against his chest so you can do what you want as well, but mostly it’s so whenever he is live steaming he can suddenly thrust within you, watch the way you desperately try to keep your composure so the chat won’t start talking about how flushed you suddenly look.

“K-Kenma...” you murmur softly, feeling the warmth from your face slowly begin to spread along your chest. A smirk flickered over Kenma’s features, only for a brief moment, before he was back to that serious look, eyes glued to his game. “Yea babe?” He spoke, nonchalant as ever. That had your cheeks puffing up briefly, eyes darting from his game to the webcam that had the little green light on. You knew very well the stream was on, and considering the number in the bottom corner just kept steadily rising, you couldn’t just blurt out loud ‘Quit moving your hips’. Before you could even really get the thought out, Kenma knew, thrusting his hips up once more. One fluid motion of his body and his cock was hitting perfectly along your sweet spot. This time you couldn’t hold back the little Yelp that bubbled from your lips. Kenma had to laugh, quick to mute his mic as the chat began to pop off. He wouldn’t turn it off though. Oh no. He just got close to your ear, whispered in that voice he knew you loved.

“Better relax Kitten, or I’m gonna have to fuck you right here on stream. So sit pretty for me... unless my naughty girl wants it... you want it, baby?”

⋆⋆⋆

Kuroo is on his computer a lot, doing work and attending online meetings. He has set up a nice little office space for himself and he finds himself in there a little more than he likes. Especially since he has such a cute little kitty at home just waiting to be played with. Sometimes, when you just can’t stay away from him you poke your head in the door, the little mewl you let out making Kuroos brows twitch. Only a couple of pleas from your pretty lips has him caving. He likes when you straddle him, your little cunt fluttering so perfectly around his cock. He also likes how hard you cling to him, face in his neck and fingers getting lost in the hairs at the nape of his neck. Whenever he feels your hips begin to rock he’ll tsk, putting an easy stop to it.

“Kitty, don’t get greedy,” Kuroo speaks right beside your ear, goosebumps easily rising along your arms as you let out a needy whine. You hope it’s pretty enough to make Kuroo cave, or at least enough to make him let go of your hips. “P-Please Daddy, needa feel more of you in my cunny.” And it was true, you’re puffy walls were currently hugging him so perfectly, squeezing along his cock. Your legs tightened about his waist, wanting to add some friction to your clit that was currently throbbing for it. But Kuroo still had work to do, and even though your pleas made him weak at the knees, made his resolve wanna crumble so he could fuck you right here on the desk, he had to teach his pretty baby some patience. So he gave your rear a swat, a warning along with a hum.

“I know baby I know... your cunny is just fluttering like crazy around Daddy’s cock today. But just a little longer. So no more whining.”

You clung to him tighter, muffling your whines into the side of his neck and suckling the skin there instead. You stilled your hips though. Kuroo had to smile, fingers beginning to tap away at his keyboard again while your perfect velvet walls hugged his cock.

⋆⋆⋆

Part of Bokuto’s job was staying fit, considering he was constantly active out on the court. The gym he set up in your shared apartment was nothing short of impressive, and you couldn’t help poking in there while he was grunting away. Skin shining with sweat, muscles ripping as he lifted the next set of weights, you couldn’t help but lick your lips, or the little flood that happened between your thighs. Usually, Bokuto could wait until he was done, but sometimes you just looked too good, so desperate and needy as you clung to that door frame, basically drooling at him. He would take a seat, pulling you into his lap.

“12...13...14...” Bokuto’s voice was strained in the best possible way, his chest fluttering as you suddenly clenched down around him. He slowly lowered the weights to his sides a grin growing on his face as he felt your little nails dig deeper into his thighs. He pressed up into you, grin growing at the yelp you released. You could feel your cheeks heat up, pussy desperately milking his cock when it slapped against your cervix. “P-Papa!” You whined, looking back at him with tears swimming in your pretty eyes. “‘M sorry pretty Birdy... sometimes I can’t help but tease you when this perfect little cunt is squeezing me so good.” He pressed a few kisses along your cheeks, before he took hold of your jaw, forced your eyes back on the mirror in front of the two of you. “But Papa needs more motivation so he finishes his workout. So spread so legs back open, wanna see your pussy splitting.” And you had no choice but to listen, only thinking of how he’d pin you to the mirrors later to fuck you stupid. So you lulled your legs back open, biting your lip as he moaned at the sight of your stuffed hole.

“Perfect...” he breathed, keeping his eyes glued to the reflection as he hauled the weights back up to continue his count.

⋆⋆⋆

Ushijima isn’t much for PDA. Those little touches you always give him, running those pretty fingers along toned arms in public. It’s just too much for him. But Ushijima is a collected man, knows how to hold himself back. And know very well you’re doing it all on purpose. You’re his pretty baby, after all, he knows how you like to tease, pressing into his side on the subway or leaning down to look at something with a skirt that’s just a little too short. Ushi knows, when the two of you get home, your frame already vibrating with excitement, he had no problem pulling you onto his cock.

“More... more Sir....” the whine you release around his fingers as he stuffs them between your lips is high pitched, almost a little offended as tears swirl in your gaze. But Ushijima doesn’t budge, doesn’t move one inch other than his long fingers which are now pumping in your mouth. Your left whimpering around him, his cock throbbing within your walls and stretching you open without even moving an inch. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so handsy today and just asked for some dick like a good girl, you wouldn’t be in this position.” Ushijima huffed out, brows knitting together at the mess of drool that already started to bubble down your chin and around his knuckles. “But because you can’t keep your hands to yourself, you’re gonna keep my cock warm until I feel like fucking, are we clear.”

He knew you couldn’t respond, but the mewl you release as your fingers dig deeper into the skin of his thighs is satisfying enough to have a subtle smirk twitching on his lips.

⋆⋆⋆

Iwaizumi likes the closeness that comes along with cock warming, especially after a long day. There are some days where your schedules just don’t aline until late into the evening when the sun has already set. You’re both too exhausted for any sort of sex, but still want to be close to one another, want to share soft kisses and embraces. So once you two have dressed down for the night you curl up on your shared bed, finding a comfortable spot together.

“Princess...” Iwaizumi sighs into your ear, his palms slipping under the fabric of your shirt so he could the warmth of your skin. You mewl in response, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck before pressing wet kisses along the column. “Love you so much daddy...” you murmur back to him softly, your eyes fluttering a bit as he twitched between your walls. He was slowly growing, filling you up inch by inch until that familiar squeeze was apart between your thighs. It always felt so good, being stuffed by him when you drifted off into sleep. A smile curled on Iwa’s sleepy features, the familiar grip of your cunt around his dick making him sigh out in content.

“Love you too, my pretty princess.” He kisses along the crown of your head, hands massaging down your back as you cling to him tighter, sleep weighing down your eyes.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #hq headcanons #haikyuu hcs #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kenma headcanons #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto headcanons #bokuto x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima headcanons #ushijima x reader #iwaizumi haijme #iwaizumi hcs #iwaizumi x reader #kuroo smut #bokuto smut #kenma smut #ushijima smut #iwaizumi smut

[crackheadgeminibby]

better for you

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, angst, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and is very poorly edited, i’m sorry but on the plus side, i surpassed 400 followers yesterday!! so thank you to those 400+ people🤍🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape of form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. Much less a jealous girlfriend. Not at all. Never had and you thought you never would.

You had practically raised yourself as your parents had always been more preoccupied with their jobs. You loved your parents, you really did, but when your high school counselor told you that you could graduate high school a year and a half early, you took the opportunity to start college immediately and move out of your parents’ house. This drastic change when you were so young made you become extremely independent. Which is why your relationship with Chris worked almost perfectly. You valued your independence, as he did his, and you respected his independence, as he did yours.

As a corporate lawyer that had multiple firms around the country, you traveled a lot, needing to meet with clients. Chris, as an actor, also traveled a lot.

You both trusted the other without a doubt at the beginning of the relationship despite that Chris was, at first, a little wary of being with someone as young as you. As a 24-year-old, he thought that you should be living your life, partying, sleeping with whomever you wanted without being tied down, but you had explained to him that despite your age, those were not the things that you wanted.

You and Chris were truly made for each other, knowing the other more than they knew themselves. You would even dare to call yourselves soulmates.

Which is why you could not fathom why you were in your current situation.

You had left early in the day for California, where you were overseeing the opening and start-up of your newest firm. Chris, on the other hand, had left 3 days ago to go on some trip his publicist had arranged for him. You hadn’t bothered asking what it was about, assuming that it was about ASP. Plus, you didn’t mind it: he had to do what he had to do.

But now, you couldn’t believe yourself.

You were sitting on your hotel bed, in a white and fluffy robe, fresh out of the shower. Your computer was open in front of you, the TV was blaring the news and you had your phone in your hand. It was almost 11pm but you had been doing this for at least 3 hours. All three electronics were talking about the same thing: Are Chris Evans and Lily James dating??

It was a bit your fault that people gave themselves the right to assume things like that, to be honest, since you had been the one to pressure Chris about keeping your relationship secret. You knew that people would talk and judge you for your 15-year age gap. You, personally, didn’t care and neither did Chris but his career was dependent on his public image and you didn’t want to hold him back, especially not at a pivotal moment in his life like right now.

So, you had agreed on telling your families and your very close friends and Chris had convinced you to let him tell his publicist, Megan. God, she fucking hated you. When Chris arranged for you guys to meet, she had called you “a walking, breathing PR disaster”. You had laughed it off calling her funny, but you knew that she was 100% serious. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would do something so fucked up at some point.

A bunch of different news outlets were pumping out new stories every 30 minutes, each article a little more detailed than the previous. It was all over the Internet and it seemed to be the only thing that people cared about today.

Considering the 8-hour difference between London and San Francisco, you hadn’t been able to talk to Chris at all since you got to your hotel. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him. He hadn’t even tried to talk to you. Why was he avoiding you and acting like he had something to hide?

You’re reading the latest Daily Mail article on your computer about how Chris and Lily apparently got to his hotel in the same car when you hear your phone ring on the nightstand. You don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as you reach for your phone, eyes still glued to your computer and answer,

“Hello?”

You hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone before you hear Chris’ tired voice, “Baby, hi.”

You tense up slightly before asking, trying to seem nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“Have you watched the news today?”

You bite your lip, thinking, before replying, lying through your teeth, “No, why? What’s going on?”

Chris sighs again before answering, “Nothing, it’s fine. How was your day?”

You roll your eyes. Was he seriously not going to say anything?

“Fine, but it’s really late and I have to get up early tomorrow so good night.”

You hang up the phone before Chris can answer anything. You throw the phone at the end of your bed, frustrated beyond belief.

You continue to read the Daily Mail article as you hear a message coming in. You don’t bother to get up to pick up your phone as you see the message appear on your computer screen a couple of seconds later.

chris💙, 11:01pm:

Good night baby girl. Good luck tomorrow🤍

You groan loudly at his message. Even when he had pissed you the fuck off, his words still brought butterflies to your stomach.

You disregard his message and finish reading the article. You roll your eyes as you close your computer and get up to put it on the hotel desk. As you’re walking back to bed, you take your phone from the end of the bed and put it on its charger, ready to go to bed.

You’re not sure how you manage to fall asleep that night as your mind swirls with unending thoughts.

When your alarm wakes you up at 6am the next day, you feel groggy, having slept very badly last night. Which was to be expected.

You get up and change while eating a protein bar before heading to the hotel gym: you needed to do something to get your energy up. Once you finish your workout, you head back to your room to get ready for the day.

When you get out of the shower, you open your computer and, having left the Daily Mail website open last night, you see a new article posted 2 minutes ago: Chris Evans and Lily James seen on a date in a London park.You groan loudly, closing your computer as you hear that your cell phone is receiving multiple texts.

You reach for your phone on the hotel desk and your eyes widen as you see your lock screen.

5 missed calls

12 messages

You open your Phone app seeing one call from Chris, two from your best friend, one from your brother and one from your mom.

You open the Messages app as a new message from your brother comes in.

will, 7:31am:

When did you break up with your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell me?

you, 7:32am:

i didn’t

yet

will, 7:32am:

You know i’m gonna fucking murder him right?

You smile fondly at your brother’s concern, chuckling softly as you type your reply.

you, 7:33am:

as you should(:

You open the rest of your messages, mostly asking the same thing. You didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so, you ignore them until you get to your conversation with Chris.

chris💙, 5:22am:

Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now.

I’m so sorry

Call me when you can, please. I really need to talk to you.

You bite your lip as you think about what to answer. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this right before your firm’s opening. Shaking your head, you lock your phone, putting it back on the desk, getting dressed.

As you get back to your hotel room, exhausted from your day, you hear your phone signal an incoming text for the millionth time today.

You sigh loudly: you knew it was Chris texting you again. You had been ignoring his texts all day because you didn’t want to get in a bad mood while you were opening the firm.

You put your purse and work bag on the floor, unlocking your phone. You open the conversation with Chris, scrolling through his messages.

chris💙, 6:15pm:

I’m leaving a bit earlier than I planned, I should be home tomorrow morning.

Are you back in Boston or are you gonna stay in LA?

You sigh, feeling guilty that you had been ignoring his texts all day. You start typing a reply, your finger hovering over the send button for a couple of seconds before clicking on it.

you, 6:17pm:

i’m still in san francisco i’m leaving tomorrow morning

As soon as your message goes through, you see the three dots pop up in the conversation.

chris💙, 6:17pm:

Oh my God, hi. Are you okay?

Can I call you?

You chew on your bottom lip: you really didn’t think he was going to answer that fast.

you, 6:18pm:

i’m about to take a shower then i’m gonna go to bed i’m really tired sorry

chris💙, 6:18pm:

Okay, I’m sorry

Good night

You groan loudly. You really didn’t know why you felt so guilty: he was the one running around with another woman. As you think about this, you realize that you didn’t really know who she was.

You shake your head at yourself as you pull up Google on your phone and look for her. You don’t even realize it but, 20 minutes later, you were now at the oldest post on her Instagram.

You curse at yourself, dropping your phone on your bed, and head to the shower.

You stay under the hot stream of the shower for at least an hour before you finally get out, toweling off.

You order some room service for dinner, settling down in front of a random show playing on the TV. After pushing your food around for half an hour, you sigh loudly, put the tray on the hotel desk and get under the covers before finally falling asleep.

You had not slept very well so you had been in a rush to leave the hotel and catch your flight to LAX in the morning. You were exhausted and hungry when you got to your shared LA home with Chris but there was no food in sight, considering that neither of you had been here in a couple of months.

As it was not too late in the day, you decide to take a nap and order some food after.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun has already completely set and the house is pitch black. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and take your phone before heading to the living room to order some food.

As you enter the kitchen and are about to head to the living room, you hear a deep voice, “Hey, you’re up.”

Taken by surprise, you throw your phone in the direction of the sound and scream, “Holy shit!”

“Ow… What the fuck?”

You’re breathing heavily, clutching your chest as you turn on the kitchen lights, brightness illuminating the area as you see Chris holding the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ, Chris! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Chris rubs at his head as he looks towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you roll your eyes.

“What are you even doing here?”

Chris frowns and replies, “Well, you never told me where you were going to be but when I got back to Boston and you weren’t there, I assumed you were coming here.”

You groan silently, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows,

“So, London seemed to be very fun.”

Chris shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, before making eye contact with you, “I didn’t know that’s what the trip was about.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Really, Chris? Since when do you go on trips, not knowing what they’re about?”

Chris exhales loudly, taking a couple of steps towards you, “I promise that I didn’t know. Megan planned everything and just sent me the info.”

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. Chris frowns before asking, “What?”

“Megan, Chris? Really? She fucking hates me, of course she would pull a stunt like this.”

Chris frowns again, shaking his head, “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hate you.”

You laugh, this time, actually finding this funny, “Chris, she literally called me a walking disaster.”

Chris struggles to find an answer to that: he knew that Megan used this exact kind of formulation so he couldn’t deny it.

“And you know what? It’s fine. Maybe you really should be dating her instead of me.”

Chris’ face contorts in a mix of hurt and anger, “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, Chris. She’s better for you. She’s actually your age, not a fucking child compared to you. She can give you the things you want from life that I can’t. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What way?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at your feet, mumbling, “If we weren’t together.”

Chris scoffs, “You literally have to be kidding me.”

Chris takes large steps, making his way towards you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I do not give a shit about your age. And I thought you didn’t either. So, what’s the problem here?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously, “Because what if what Megan said is true? I mean… If people find out that we’re dating, the shit talking would never stop. I can’t do that to you.”

Chris sighs, enveloping you in a hug.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters if we’re not together.”

He lets you go, stroking your cheek, “You’re it for me. There is no one better for me than you. And no one is going to take that away from us. Not you. Not Megan. And certainly not my fans. If they love me as much as they say they do, then they’ll respect you.”

You chuckle slightly, “Chris, I don’t know what kind of fantasy you live in, but in real life, that’s not how things go.”

“Okay, but who cares? There’s two people in this relationship, you and me. Not you, me, Megan and my fans.”

You scoff, mumbling, “Yeah, tell Megan that.”

“I will. The same goes for her. I didn’t know she actually meant those things about you and I’ll tell her that she needs to knock that shit off.”

You sigh, nodding slightly, “Okay.”

“And, baby, I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, trying to understand, “I never should have agreed to Megan’s little plan thing. But, most importantly, I should have told you as soon as I knew. It’s just that I kinda owed Lily a favor and she needed this. But it doesn’t erase the fact that I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You sigh, “I know, it’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen when I decided to be with you, and I overreacted a bit so I’m sorry too. I knew it wasn’t true and I should have asked you about it instead of ignoring you. I just… couldn’t let go of the fact that maybe you should be with her.”

Chris shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. And I never will be.”

Chris laughs a bit before continuing, “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Looking back at Chris, you smile warmly before hugging him,

“I love you, Chris. Like, a lot.”

Chris chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I love you too.”

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfictions #chris evans fanfics

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Fix You - C.B.

Why Don't We fanfic

I've been listening to Fix You (by Coldplay, but there's also a good cover by Heart & Colours) a lot recently, and it fitted a scene I had in my mind so I had to write it. I've been feeling pretty burnt out when it comes to creativity recently, and wanted to make something to try and shake that off. (Hopefully I'll get to writing some more Hartford chapters soon, but for now here's a oneshot <3)

Background: we all get down sometimes, but at least Corbyn has you

Warnings: sad angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

The drone of the TV was almost lulling you to sleep as you sat in bed, scrolling through your phone and waiting for Corbyn to get home. He had messaged you earlier saying that he would be late getting home tonight, which you normally wouldn’t mind but you had seen the bags under his eyes this morning, and knew that all the hard work at the studio was starting to wear on him. All the sleepless nights and energy that he poured into his work was ever so slowly dimming the light in his eyes, and you hated it.

So you wanted to be there for him. And you knew that no one should have to bear it alone.

Just as the clock ticked over to 11pm, you heard the click of the front door. Keys were quietly dropped on the kitchen bench and a few moments later, Corbyn appeared in the door way. “Hey. You’re still up?”

“Yeah,” your hand reached for the remote to turn the TV down as Corbyn sat on the other side of the bed kicked off his shoes. “I thought I’d wait for you.”

A smile ghosted over his lips then disappeared as he stood and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up everywhere. “Thanks, y/n.” He walked around the bed and dropped a kiss on your head, then went to the ensuite adjoining your shared bedroom. “I think I’ll have a shower before bed.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. All you could think of was how tired he looked, the smudges of purple under his eyes darkening and his mouth so used to not smiling. You were worried for him.

A moment later the water started running in the shower, a loud patter sounding close by as he hadn’t bothered to shut the door to the ensuite. You tossed the blankets off you and padded across the carpet to the door.

“Hey Corbs, can I get anything for you? A drink or..” steam was already flowing out of the open shower in the corner, so you could only just him see as he tipped his head back into the water, then shook it off and looked back at you.

“A hug?”

He said it quietly, but you still heard him clearly. Taking another step into the bathroom, you nodded towards him. “Mind if I join?” he shook his head in response, dipping his face back under the water as you tossed your clothes off to the side and stepped into the billowing steam.

The hot water sprayed over you both, making your hair stick to your face as you pushed it away. The water flowed over Corbyn face too, head titled back as it washed over his closed eyes. Your worry was growing, a ball in your chest that was getting tighter and tighter. The spray of the water was the only noise as you reached out a hand to hold his face, and his eyes opened as he leant forward at your touch.

“You ok Corbs?”

Words escaped him as he stared back at you, a ghost in a body too heavy for him. So he didn’t even try to express himself through sound. Instead, he gently pressed his lips onto yours and his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to feel your warmth, finding comfort in the feeling of your skin against his. You softly kissed him back as you ran your hands up his bare chest, feeling his heart beat under the flow of hot water.

Eventually you broke away and Corbyn dropped his hands from your waist. You could see the exhaustion through every moment as your hand cupped his face again, tears beginning to prickle in your eyes.

He smoothed a stray piece of hair from your cheek then he spoke quietly. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired, but I- I know it’s more than that.” He gently grabbed your hand and guided it to his chest, pressing your palm right over his heart. “It hurts, here. Like I’m just… running out.”

His ocean eyes overwhelmed you and you could see his tears about to fall, sorrows and apologies swirling in them like a dark sea. You could see all the waves crashing over him and dragging him down, so you reached out your hand to try and stop the hurt.

“Come here, love.” Your hand held the back of his neck, gently pulling him down so his head rested on your shoulder. Normally it would be the other way around, but he was beyond feeling any kind of shame at showing weakness to you. You knew him too well for him to hide it anyway.

His cried silently as you stroked his head, slowly rubbing circles over his back as you whispered in his ear, “it’s okay Corbs, It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You could feel your own tears flowing down your face as you held him, a picture of a broken spirit.

When his shoulders stopped shaking he lifted himself up, supporting himself with his hands pushing on the wall either side of your head. Words were beyond you both now. Instead you pushed your hands through his hair, making sure it was all wet before you grabbed his bottle of shampoo and squeezed a bit onto your palm.

His eyes closed and a shaky breath escaped his lips as your finger tangled in his hair, trying to wash away his pain. Then in the silence of the shower, with the water running over you, you began to sing. You knew you weren’t the best of singers, but Corbyn always said you sounded like an angel to him. So you sang.

When you try your best, but you don't succeed When you get what you want but not what you need When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep Stuck in reverse

The sound of your voice bounced around you both, echoing through the bathroom. Corbyn squeezed his eyes shut as you kept singing and your hands still massaged the shampoo through his head in soothing motions.

And the tears come streaming down your face When you lose something, you can't replace When you love someone, but it goes to waste Could it be worse?

You finished washing his hair so you gently pushed his head under the water with a hand on his shoulder. The water sprayed over you both as he took over, running his hands through his hair to rinse the bubbles out. You took a moment to admire your boyfriend in the dim light, the water rushing over his strong arms and chiseled abs. A small smile crossed flitted across your lips as you looked up at him, and he almost smiled back when he finished rinsing and looked back at you.

Then when you started to sing again, he joined in.

Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you

Your voice blended perfectly together, the echo of it sounding around you both when you stopped.

For a moment you both just stood in the silence, letting the water wash over your bodies as you watched each other. You couldn’t help yourself as a smile took over your face and you reached up to kiss him. Hearing him sing… it always made you happy, but this was different. Because he was singing through a storm.

You parted for a moment so you could speak. “You’re so strong, Corbyn.” You mumbled onto his lips. “I love you.”

This time you could feel the little smile growing on his lips. “I love you too.”

Thanks for reading!! Let me know what you thought <3 [masterlist]

Tagging some friends! @hiya-its-amber @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @jonahlovescoffee @stonecoldinlaley @chilling-seavey @johermione

#corbyn besson #why don't we #my writing #fan fic #corbyn besson x reader

[spencers-renaissance]

you look after everyone, but who looks after you?

Summary: Penelope is sad and lonely and thinks nobody can see her struggling, but Emily does. When she shows up at her apartment unannounced, one thing leads to another, and soon a miserable evening turns into one of the best in Penelope's life.

Tags: hurt/comfort, sad penelope, angst w a happy ending, cuddling, tooth-rotting fluff, getting together, first kiss, friends to lovers

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Penelope Garcia

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I'm imagining s5/6 penemily for this one!

Penelope's small and bright apartment is her only source of comfort tonight, and although she does absolutely everything in her power to maximise the cosiness, to feel as safe and warm as possible inside its protective walls, it still doesn't feel like enough.

She's sad, and she's tired, and a larger part of her than she'd like to admit is bitter, which is an icky emotion, and she hates more than anything that it exists inside of her but tonight, it does, and there isn't anything she can do to stamp that stubborn little flame out.

She has always prided herself on the way she acts towards others. She makes sure that people are okay, and she bakes homemade muffins and puts them on their desks with one of her colourful toys when the bad stuff is getting to them, and she gives out hugs like there's no tomorrow; that's who Penelope Garcia is, and it's something that will always be important to her, no matter what.

But sometimes— sometimes she wants her own Penelope Garcia. It's easier to cheer other people up, to make them smile on a sad and rainy day, than it is to pick herself up out of her own all-consuming, utterly inexorable funks that creep up on her every now and then. And because happiness, colour, and bright smiles are who she can't help but be, people don't always see through that facade when it's no longer an instinct but a mask.

And because she would never dream of putting her bad mood or her sadness or her heavy, weighty grief on the shoulders of anyone else, she's left on her own.

When the last candle is the living room is lit, and her favourite lamps are on; when she's taken a hot shower, and she's put on her favourite pyjamas; when she's placed the order for her dinner-for-one, she sits down slowly on the sofa and pulls her knees up to her chest, staring at the inky blackness of the one window she forgot to draw the curtains over. As she stares, the inky blackness she feels on the inside only grows until it consumes her, swirling aggressively until tears are streaming down her face, and she's choking back sobs that threaten to rip her chest in two.

She's only brought out of her miserable, desolate stupor when the intercom buzzes with a visitor that she supposes is probably the delivery man with her Chinese order. She'd fancied Indian, but it reminded her too much of the team dinners Spencer always dragged them to, and that was just a little too painful for a lonesome night like this.

"Come on up," she says into the intercom, not bothering to hide the tiredness in her voice from a stranger she'll never see again, and without waiting for a response, she sits back on the sofa, staring at the purple walls of her apartment until there's a soft knock at the door.

Almost on auto-pilot, she stands up and opens the door, and her eyes widen as she stares in shock at Emily Prentiss standing in her hallway.

"You're not the delivery man," she whispers, still staring at her with wide eyes.

Emily chuckles sadly. "No, Pen. I'm not."

Penelope nods, blinking a couple of times, very unsure of what to do next or why the woman she's secretly in love with is standing in front of her at 10pm on a Tuesday night.

"Can I come in?" Emily prompts.

"Oh, uh— yes, of course." She opens the door wide enough for Emily to slip into her warmly lit living room and takes the opportunity of Emily's back briefly turned to scrub fruitlessly at her makeup-less, tear-stained face.

"This is cosy."

"Yeah, I just reread my favourite book about Hygge."

"Hygge?"

"It's uh. It's a Danish thing." Usually, she jumps at the opportunity to talk about Hygge and all the things she'd learned from her trip to visit her Danish friend last year, but right now, she's far too tired.

Emily nods, dropping her handbag by the door and walking over to take a seat on the sofa. "Come sit."

Penelope obeys and curls up in the opposite end to Emily, pulling a blanket over her lap and cuddling into it in another vain attempt to cheer herself up. Still, when pretty candles and the promise of takeaway can't make her happy, there really isn't much hope.

They stare at each other for a couple of minutes before Emily speaks, leaning forward a little. "How are you feeling, Penelope?"

Penelope blinks. "I'm fine."

Emily smiles, and again, it's sad. "No, Pen. How are you really feeling?"

She continues staring but doesn't say anything in response.

Emily scoots a little closer on the sofa. "Listen, I've watched you over the last couple of days. I know you're having a hard time, and I know that you won't say anything to anyone because you're brave and strong and quiet in your suffering. You look after everyone, Penelope, but who looks after you?"

Immediately at hearing those words, her face crumples, and she descends into the tears she'd only just managed to stop moments earlier. This time, though, the sobs she'd been choking back spillover, wracking her shoulders as she hugs her knees to her chest, desperate to hold herself together as she completely falls apart.

"Oh, Pen." Emily moves even closer and pries Penelope's hands away from her knees until she's able to guide her into a hug. Penelope usually tries to keep her physical distance from Emily, too scared of what she'll do if given a chance to touch her, but right now, she can't help but bury her face in her neck and cling on to her for dear life as Emily holds her back just as tightly.

"Shh, you're okay, honey," she soothes quietly, running her hand up and down her back gently as she lets Penelope fall apart in her arms. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She says everything Penelope needs to hear as she cries herself out, sobs eventually receding to tired sniffles as she pulls away from Emily slightly, a little embarrassed of her actions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry on you like that."

Emily brings a hand to her chin and lifts her face gently until she's looking directly into Emily's warm, kind brown eyes. "You have nothing to apologise for, okay? I'm just sorry you've been having such a rough time and haven't had anyone to talk to about it."

Penelope nods, still embarrassed that she fell apart so easily but feeling soothed and comforted by Emily's warm words and gentle hands.

Just then, the buzzer goes again. "That's, uh, that's my dinner."

"Ah," Emily says, nodding in understanding. "Is that who you thought I was?"

Penelope looks away sheepishly. "Yeah."

"That explains the abrupt invitation upstairs," Emily says, smiling at her as she gets off the sofa and buzzes the courier up. "You mind if I stick around while you eat?"

"No! Please— please stay," she says, hating the desperation that bleeds into her voice.

"Okay, I'll stay, of course I will," Emily promises, rushing to soothe her again as she hears the agitation and distress in Penelope's voice. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Penelope nods gratefully. "You can even have some of my eggrolls," she says, managing a little smile as she references the well-known fact that Emily despises eggrolls and makes such a big, dramatic deal out of it every time any of them order Chinese.

Emily laughs, her head tipping back a little. "You're so generous."

She opens the door for the delivery man and takes the bag from him, before bringing it over to the coffee table and laying it out in front of Penelope.

"You should eat up, sweetie," she says in that kind, concerned way of hers as she comes to sit next to her on the sofa, "I'm sure that crying took it out of you, hm?"

Penelope nods tiredly and tucks into her dinner as Emily flicks through the TV channels before settling on a rerun of Will & Grace. They sit in comfortable silence for a little while as the familiar sound of a 90s laugh-track sitcom fills the room and Penelope eats her dinner.

"You need another hug?" Emily asks once she's finished her food and is inching closer on the sofa, and Penelope might be delusional but she swears she sees an inkling of hope on her face, so she doesn't hesitate in nodding.

Emily beams and pulls her closer, arranging them until they're lying horizontally on the sofa, comfortably tangled up in one another, idly watching the TV while they enjoy the comfort of one another's company.

"Pen?" Emily whispers, after a good couple of episodes; after most of the tealights Penelope had lit earlier have burned themselves out. "You know I love you right?"

There's something in her voice that makes Penelope feel brave. "Yeah," she whispers back, burying even closer into her side. "I love you, too, Emily. More than you know."

The last four words are uttered with a weight the fragile air in the room can't hold, and they crash back down between them, making Emily shift to look at her properly. Her face is a myriad of earnest emotions, and Penelope can't look away.

"When I say I love you," Emily says, nerves and anticipation and hope in the whisper of her voice, "I mean it. I don't— I don't love you like a friend, Penelope. I love you more than that."

Penelope stares at her, her heart pounding in her chest as she looks at the woman lying next to her, anxious, hopeful features illuminated by soft candlelight.

"I love you more than that, too."

Emily's nervous features smooth into something warm and eager and happy. "You do?"

Penelope nods, and she's sure her face holds a similar expression. "I do."

"Can I kiss you?" Emily whispers, lifting her hand to rest in Penelope's blond, tangled hair.

"Please," she whispers back, and not a second later she's being kissed like she's never been kissed before; like the ocean's dried up and she's the last gulp of water to be found; like all the world's oxygen's disappeared, and she's the only gasp of fresh air left behind. She's kissed like she is Penelope Garcia and that is enough for Emily Prentiss, she's kissed like she doesn't need anything else but to exist in this moment, right here, right now.

She doesn't want it to end, but when it does, when they've pulled away and their faces are inches apart and they're breathing heavily, when she looks into Emily's eyes and sees everything she's always wanted to find in them, she's glad it did, because the first kiss ending means that they can do it again.

Yes, I'm gonna keep writing that Penelope is very invested in Danish culture okay, it's my fav headcanon, leave me alone. I hope you liked this one! <3

taglist: @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @reidology @spencerspecifics @hotchedyke @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @sapphic-stress @wifeyprentiss @cmily @notevanbuckley (add yourself to my taglist here!)

#my writing #penemily #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #criminal minds #cm #penemily fic #penemily fanfic #penemily fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #penemily fluff #sad penelope garcia #hurt penelope garcia

[ponds-of-ink]

Some Miscellaneous FNAF + Don Bluth “Project” Headcanons (Part 1?)

Because this idea has been bouncing around in my noggin, here’s my attempt at thinking like a writer in the 90’s. Keep in mind, this is just me spitballing the ideas that have been swirling in my noggin for days now.

*If Don Bluth is anything to go by, fantastical stuff is a must. Sure, Sci-Fi’s a genre that’s been done in that style. But, if some of the lineup’s anything to go by, then it might lean more into the ‘90s Fantasy genre.

*So, I’m thinking like Narnia but with teleport machines that William and Henry built. Like, you slip into some hidden corner of on of their houses and it’s there. This… mirror-looking portal.

*Henry originally made this with the intention to play out potential Fredbear and Friends scenarios like a Star Trek-like Holo-Deck. But, unfortunately, William requested one for Evan so the little guy could get used to the animatronics indirectly. Evan and Charlie both got lost and um… Yeah, they’re stuck.

*Speaking of those kids, Evan went in first but got captured. Charlie was sent by William to get Evan back, but she became this project’s version of The Puppet. Needless to say, Henry wasn’t happy and William (understandably here) panicked. This was not part of the plan.

*Btw, the Nightmares weren’t originally in the system, but William might’ve accidentally “created” them while setting the machine up. Nightmare Bear probably is both the leader of that group and maaaaybe the over-arching Big Bad. Maybe.

*Anyway, let’s switch to somebody you might actually be curious about: Michael. Well… How he appears in this thing differs from story to story. At first, he’s the fox-masked teen we know and loathe/love. Next, after returning to the real world for a bit, he’s practically an adult. And then, after a tangle with Circus Baby/Elizabeth and her crew, he actually becomes Rockstar Foxy but with a stitched-up gash down his stomach. Idk why exactly on that last one at the moment, but I think it’s because his “avatar” of sorts had to be reconstructed.

*(Oh, yeah. I probably should’ve brought this up sooner. There’s time skips between each hypothetical… episode? Made-for-TV movie specials?… Whatever you wanna chalk this up to. Now, granted, it’s just time skips in the Holo-World and not in Real Life. Be weird to explain thirty-year irl time skips here.)

*Point is: Michael is our Main Man for, at least three of these after the FNAF 4 “pitch pilot”. Though I mentioned Nightmare as the overarching Big Bad, he’ll just be biding his time while the other Main Villains take the spotlight. He can wait for his grand finale.

*So, who are the villains we do see? Welp, we first have William as Spring-Bonnie. TL;DR on his deal is that he sent five random kids through the machine to test the waters, got trapped there himself as his own character, and kinda went stir-crazy after those kids locked him up somewhere. The only thing keeping him from not losing his marbles are his constant song and dance rehearsals… Which, in turn, render him completely unable to talk for the FNAF 3 section.

*Circus Baby/Elizabeth (and her gang). William, during the test run days, accidentally left the machine on one day. Liz stumbled across it while in the newfound Circus Baby’s mode, peeked in, then got scooped into it. She suffered the same fate as the five kids and quickly transformed into Circus Baby herself. Long story short, she’s been running a circus in Nightmare’s own backyard for quite a bit now. You can call her the ringleader of it, since she pretty much is.

*The overall main goals are (1) Freeing the Missing Kids/Afton and Emily Families, (2) Defeating Nightmare, and (3) Making Amends. [Maybe not in that order, but okay.]

*Oh, and the Shadow Animatronics? Henchmen for the Nightmares during this saga. Shadow Bonnie is a Dr. Frankenstein type while Shadow Freddy is a Spy for King Nightmare himself… Well, maybe on Shadow Freddy.

That’s all I’ve got so far. Sorry if this is a little stream-of-conscious-ish and rambling. I have so many ideas and too little brain cells to spill them all out in an orderly manner.

#don bluth #fnaf fandom #fnaf headcanons #the afton family #henry emily #charlie emily #william afton #elizabeth afton #michael afton #shadow bonnie #shadow freddy #the puppet fnaf #nightmare animatronics #so many ideas #so little time #also sorry for skipping Fnaf 6 and onward #just getting started

[sunlightdances]

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

[hispipsqueak]

Moon and Stars

Tsukishima x F!Reader Fluff

A/N: I didn’t proofread this. I just had a lot of thoughts and needed to get them out and also I am kind of sick so yeah....my one braincell is barely functioning yall! 

But I love Tsukishima with all of my heart and wanted something fluffy to make me feel better so I hope you enjoy it. <3 Pip

TW: mild cursing. some suggestive words from Kuroo but it’s pure fluff!

Tsukishima was a lot of things.

A good volleyball player, a smart museum employee, and a handsome guy.

One thing he was not good at, was romance.

He had no idea how he had got you. You were beautiful, sweet, smart. You were like a ray of sunshine in his life and he thanked his lucky stars every day he got to be your boyfriend. However, somewhere deep down, he always felt inadequate. 

He saw your eyes brighten every time you two watched those sappy Christmas movies on TV. Even though you both made jokes about how cheesy the storylines were, (“Yes I will just leave my job as CEO for you, farmer boy!”), he could see the blush on your face when the onscreen couple shared a kiss in the snow. He could feel your body tense when you were cuddled against him and he knew some part of you wanted the whole romantic movie moment.

But every time he tried to express it, it felt...awkward. You were so open to him, complimenting him, posting selfies with cheesy captions on social media, and leaving kisses on his cheek when you shopped for groceries. 

When he tried to kiss you spontaneously, he panicked and headbutted you in the middle of the convenience store. When he tried to post a cute photo of you, he stared at ten websites for “romantic photo captions” before deleting it. Every compliment he could think of made his heart race and he would either say it so monotone, or sounding snarky that you would just roll your eyes.

----

Tsukishima was on his third drink at Kuroo’s “Mandatory Guy’s Night” and the scotch began to unravel his thoughts.

“I just don’t know. Y/N is fucking great. And I just...I suck at this shit.” He mumbled into his glass, thinking out loud.

“Oi, Tsukishima! What are you mumbling about?” Bokuto shouted over his beer, clearly more than tipsy. 

“Are you talking about your hot girlfriend?” Kuroo teased, his eyes narrowing. He let out a chuckle as Tsukishima’s ears reddened. “Better treat her right, or I’m stealing her.” 

“I seriously doubt she would date an actual farm animal.” Tsukishima replied, dryly. He swirled his glass before downing it. The scotch burned his throat. “But, and I hate to say this, I might need some help.”

“TSUKKI!!! ASKING FOR HELP?! LET’S TAKE A PICTURE!!”, Bokuto shouted, fumbling with his phone, before snapping a very blurry selfie. 

“One, I’m pretty sure you just took a photo of yourself owlboy, and two, what do you need help with? Are you not pleasing her in the —” Kuroo started before Tsukishima glared at him.

“You finish that sentence, and I will beat your ass.” Tsukishima said, his voice tight. Normally, Kuroo saying stupid shit didn’t bother him as much, but now that he was a little drunk and emotional, he was not in the mood.

Kuroo’s eyes softened, “Tsukishima, you know I’m kidding. Now, what is it you need help with?” 

Tsukishima waved the bartender over for another glass. “I just...Y/N is so fucking perfect. And I can’t help but think that she’s gonna wake up one day and realize that she wants someone that can express that shit to her. I’m not a roses and wine type of guy. I’m not some guy that’s gonna be able to give her the world. I can’t even compliment her without adding some stupid ass comment at the end. And yes, maybe Christmas is, as she puts it. ‘Getting me in my feels’, but I just want her to know that before I–”

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He placed it on the table between the three of them. Both Kuroo and Bokuto stared, eyes widening.

“Are you…?”

“TSUKISHIMA!!! YOU’RE GROWING UP!”

Bokuto began tearing up while Kuroo smiled and pulled Tsukishima into a hug.

“I’m proud of you man.”

Tsukishima placed his head in his hands. The waitress brought his drink out and he threw it back, before letting out a long groan.

“I can’t just say ‘Hey idiot, wanna marry me?’ She watches these movies and they have fucking musical numbers, stadiums, fucking Santa Claus, in their proposals. How the fuck do I tell her that every time I see her face, I realize that there are good things in this world? That every time I see her across the room, I wanna wrap my arms around her and never let go. That I would watch a million cheesy ass romantic movies if it meant I could lie next to her and run my fingers through her hair. How the fuck do I tell her that if I’m the moon, then she’s the fucking stars?” Tsukishima spoke louder than he meant.

He heard a small gasp. He looked up to see both his friends staring behind him. He turned around.

You were standing in the bar, eyes glassy with tears and smiling so big, he could feel it in his heart.

“You pocket dialed me dumbass.” You giggled.

He stood up, shakily and pulled you close. He kissed you hard, dipping you down. You could taste the scotch on his breath and felt something wet hit your cheek. You realized he was crying. 

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I can’t always express that but I love every fucking thing about you.”

“Tsukki, the box.” Kuroo stage whispered.

Tsukishima’s eyes sprang open and he grabbed the box from the table. 

“I know we are in a sticky bar with shitty music. I know I’m a little drunk and Bokuto is crying in the background. I know there’s not some old guy who is vaguely supposed to be Santa Claus here. But I know that I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” Tsukishima whispered to you. He opened the box and your mouth dropped at the gorgeous ring inside. 

You looked up at him and nodded, tears streaming down. “I love you. I love everything about you, Kei. I’d spend every night in a shitty bar with our drunk friends if it meant I could be your wife.” 

Tsukishima may not have been perfect. But he was yours. 

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #tsukki fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq #hq tsukki #haikyuu x reader

[marvelsimp]

THE NEW KID: Leaving

Ch. 1

The New Kid Masterlist

-This is going to be a series so I’m going to do my best so that you may read it in any order.  Also, I’m going to apologize in advance for my writing, any tips are appreciated. 

Pairing: Peter x Lesbian!reader (Platonic duh)

Genre: ANGST, fluff

Warnings: Homophobia (being kicked out), mentions of death, vague mention of suicide, general angst, swearing (I swear fuck is like the only one I know smh)

Description: Reader gets kicked out by her homophobic parents, Peter invites her to stay with him, and reader reflects on her and Peter’s relationship.  

-Takes place after far from home and Gamora, Vision, Loki, Heimdall, Nat, and Tony are still alive, Steve didn’t leave, and Mysterio didn’t reveal Peter as Spiderman. (aka my dream MCU)

Reader’s Powers: Healer, telepath, and empath.

Word Count: 2,350 

“You can stay the night but, in the morning, you have to leave” You could feel it all, the disgust, the anger, the sadness. Every bit of what they were feeling was being thrown at you.  You didn’t even get to tell them about your powers.  You thought that maybe they would understand that maybe they would love you enough… but they didn’t.  You were in shock; your parents were throwing you out because you like girls.  You made your way back to your room to pack the essentials and figure out where you would go. Peter. He had told you before that if this happed or if you ever needed to you could stay with him.

(Y/n): Does the offer still stand

Peter: you told them?

(Y/n): yeah… theyre kicking me out 

Peter: Im so sorry

     You and Peter first met through Instagram almost a year ago.  He posted some picture of him and Ned posing with a LEGO model of the Death Star. You decided you had nothing to lose so you messaged him.  That was that easiest friend you had ever made, and he was the only friend you had now.  

You got to know each other over the months, you would text and facetime, sometimes you would play Minecraft or Animal Crossing or whatever game you both had your hands on. You would talk for hours about Star Wars, video games, and even The Avengers.  It was amazing. Then you told him.

“I’m gay”

He looked shocked at first, which scared you a little, then his shocked expression morphed into a grin.

“Now, I have someone else I can talk about girls to.”

You laughed tears forming in your eyes. You felt a huge weight come off your chest.  He told you about MJ and how he planned to ask her out during the trip to Europe. You told him about your huge crush on Captain Marvel and it was perfect. You had someone who loved you for you and didn’t want anything more or less, someone you could tell everything to.

* * * * *

     “Oh my god,” you thought to yourself as you put it altogether.  You felt like you were going to faint or throw up or both.

Night monkey on tv had the same powers as spiderman, spiderman was from New York, and Peter was from New York…  The late nights, the weird bruises, and cuts, injures; him suddenly having to leave out of nowhere. Every bit of it made sense.  Peter Parker is Spider-Man. Your best friend is fucking Spider-Man.

At first you were shocked, then you were excited, then you were scared. You rushed to your phone to call him. You dialed his number and nothing... no answer. That’s when the panic started. 

(Y/n): Are you okay?

There was no answer for minutes then hours. You were really panicking now, he usually texted back within ten minutes, but it was now six hours later. 

(Y/n): I saw what happened are you ok

(Y/n): Pete youre scaring me please text me

You couldn’t sleep or eat or do anything, all you could think about was him.  Is he alive? Is he injured? Did he lose his phone? These thoughts swirled in your head; you couldn’t breathe.  Finally, fifteen hours later you heard a ding.

Peter: Im ok my phone died

(Y/n): Can you call me

Peter: Sorry Im getting on the plane to head home can I call you then?

(Y/n): yeah

Your panic calmed and you felt like you could breathe again but the fear and the anger were still there.  You were furious not that he didn’t tell you, you couldn’t care less about that there were still plenty of things that you hadn’t told him yet.  But you were furious at the universe, that your friend could die, that your friend could be taken away again.  That you could lose that person that helped keep you stable, help keep you grounded.  You couldn’t lose someone like that again, the last one almost killed you and losing Peter would destroy you.

Ten hours later he FaceTimed you.

“Hey, sorry about not answering.  My phone died and all this stuff happened and- “

“Are you Spider-Man?” 

“Wh-what?” He was shocked, another one of his friends figured it out. He couldn’t believe it.

“Are. You. Spider-Man.” You replied bluntly with your brows furrowed. You could barely keep the tears from flowing out.

He let out a sigh shaking his head, seeing no reason to lie so he nodded, “Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” you breathed out. 

He looked up back at the screen confused, “Y-yeah I’m okay. I have a few scratches but nothing bad.”

“You could’ve died,” you grunted as your breath began to pick up.

“I’m okay Y/n. It’s ok,” he looked at you confused but mostly concerned because you were usually level.  You tried your best to hide your negative emotions from others, so he only ever saw you smiling.

“NO! No, it’s not okay! You could’ve died. I could’ve lost you; I could’ve lost my best friend AGAIN. Two best friends in two years. I barely survived when she… I-I don’t even know what would happen if I lost you, too!” You were crying, you didn’t even notice, you didn’t even care.

He froze, not knowing what to say not knowing what to do.  He just looked at you. He didn’t know that you never talked about your friends, he assumed you had them. He just thought you would open up when you were ready, but he never predicted this.

“Y/n, I-I’m okay. I’m alive and I am safe. I promise you that- that I’m going to be okay.” He just stared at the screen again. “Do you… want to talk about her.”

“You would’ve liked her,” you smiled while the tears were still streaming down your face.  “Ava was the most stubborn person on the planet.  She was kind… and talented… she was so smart… she wanted to go and help animals that are going extinct. She was my everything... and then she… she was gone.” You sobbed uncontrollably, not even stopping to breathe.

You’d never cried for her before, when you had found out it destroyed you.  You were numb to everything, but you hid it with a smile always saying you were fine.  Then you met Peter, he saved you and he didn’t even know it.  He helped you feel ok again.  He helped you feel alive again instead of a walking corpse.

“Y/n, you need to breathe.” You heard through the phone that was now lying on the bed as you continued to sob. “Please, just breathe.”

All that he wanted to do was hold you and comfort you, he knew what it felt like to lose someone. He knew that pain and wanted to help you but all he could do was talk and listen so that’s what he did.

You collected yourself, it took a while, but you did it.  “I’m breathing,” you said letting out a slight chuckle.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked with worried eyes.

“Will you- could you just stay with me, till I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

      You called him the next day asking about Spider-Man.  You asked how his powers worked, how long he had them, how his web shooters worked and how he made them, you even asked if the Start Internship was really just¬¬¬ him being Spider-Man. He answered every question you had and then some.

“Um, I have something to confess,” you said nervously, “I have…powers, too.” 

‘WHAT,” he screamed from excitement while jumping out of his chair.  “You have powers, too,” he said with wide eyes and a huge grin.

You went on to explain your powers of telepathy, healing, and empathy.  You told him as much as you knew about them and how you didn’t know their limits yet.  He just listened and grinned at every word you said.  

“Can I tell Mr. Stark about you powers?”

“What?!?!”

“I already talk about you enough to him.  Can I tell him about you powers? He might be able to make you something to help you.”

“You talk about me to Tony fucking Stark?!?!?”

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. Of course, I talk about you. So, can I tell him.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can tell IRON MAN about my powers.”

     Life went on from there, you continued to talk to him like normal.  Nothing had come up from him telling Stark about your powers or at least nothing yet.  You had grown closer and you would talk about when you had a bad day, and he would tell you about his friendly neighborhood adventures.  Then Christmas came and a few days later you deiced to come out to your parents…

* * * * * * 

      Next thing you knew you were on a plane headed to New York then you were in a taxi headed to Peter’s apartment.  You couldn’t stop thinking about how they felt: disgust, anger, and greatest of all sadness.  You felt this relief of finally being able to be your self but also the terrible pain of your parents abandoning you.  You somehow made it through the plane and the taxi without crying.

Then there he was standing outside of your taxi, smiling with sad eyes. He quickly got your suitcase out of the trunk while you got out of taxi and put on your backpack.  When the taxi drove away you both just stood there for a moment, neither of you knowing exactly what to say or do. There was a rush of emotions from both of you: happiness, excitement, and most of all sadness.  Peter was mourning with you.

He walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your body in a tight, welcomed embrace.  It was then when tears streamed down your face. You sobbed into his shoulder and neck for what seemed like days.  Then he pulled away, “Let’s go inside.” 

When he opened the door there was Aunt May, the only interactions you had with her where quick hellos or stupid jokes you told her about Peter.  So, it was nice to actually meet her.  She gave you a soft hug as soon as you came in the door.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here,” you said pulling out of the hug.  “I promise I will pull my weight and get a job as soon as I can.”

“Of course, sweetheart, all of Peter’s friends are welcome here and don’t worry about that right now we can talk about it in a few weeks. For now, you guys do what you want, and I got some work I gotta do so I will see guys in a few hours.” She gave your hand a squeeze, grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

You put your backpack on the couch, what was going to be your bed for a little while and sat down putting your face in your hands.  Peter put your suitcase up against the wall, then he sat down next to you putting his hand on your back.  

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You started to sob again. Peter just wrapped his arms around you pulling you into his chest.  You cried and cried and cried.  Eventually you fell asleep.

     The next few days were rough for you.  The first two were full of tears and crying but also full of laughing and smiling. The third day you were there was New Years Eve, Peter asked you if you wanted to go to see the ball drop, you declined.  You told him the large crowd would probably overwhelm your powers and that some alone time would be nice.  Peter understood so he went with MJ and Ned while Aunt May went to a party.  

It was nice to be alone.  You cried again but for most of the night you just laid there thinking of everything and thinking of nothing.  You were worn out and fell asleep before the clock struck twelve.

You woke up early the next day, which was a little weird, but it was nice.  When peter woke up, he deiced to show you around.  He didn’t show you the big touristy places, but he showed you where he would watch for thieves, where he got sandwiches, or donuts, or ice cream.  You just enjoyed the day doing nothing important at all.  

The day after that he invited MJ and Ned over.  You had never talked to them much less met them.  You were nervous and excited so Peter eased your fears and told you that, “They will love you.”  And they did, it went amazingly.  They were both huge nerds just like you and Peter.  Ned was loud and very vocal; his laugh could shake the world.  MJ on the other hand was quiet, only speaking up when she felt it was needed.  She was a lot like you, but she didn’t hide behind smiles like you did, she showed everything she felt even if it wasn’t very loudly. You got why Peter liked her, they fit like a glove.  

Most of the night was filled with laughter and smiling.  You played video games, board games, harassed Peter, and overall had a nice time.  A few times you could’ve sworn you felt a pinch of jealousy from MJ, which brought you some comfort and reassurance towards Peter.  It meant that he hadn’t outed you to MJ which you appreciated.  You felt comfortable and safe for once, you didn’t feel afraid to talk about whatever for once.  They left right before midnight, both with smiles on their faces as they did.

“We gotta go to bed,” Peter grinned. “I got some big plans for your birthday tomorrow.”

You had forgotten, tomorrow’s your birthday, you’re turning seventeen.  You nodded and smiled at him.  You were tempted to read his mind and find out what the surprise was but decided it might be better to just go along with it.  So, you changed into your PJ’s and fell asleep on Peter’s couch.

Next Chapter

Arriving

#the new kid #the avengers #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x platonic!reader #avengers x reader #angst #avengers angst #avengers #wandavision #spiderman

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Hesitate

You’re going through a depressive episode, but your boyfriend Sebastian is going to help you as much as he can. Title inspiration: Hesitate by the Jonas Brothers 

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x female reader

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, small mention of self-harm. Please do not read if this triggers you! 

-

Sebastian wrestled his key into the door of your apartment, growing even more frustrated by the second when he couldn’t get it to turn. Finally he heard it click and your door opened. He grabbed the key out of the door and placed the set of them on the hook you kept by the door. He didn’t quite know what to expect when he opened your door, but he hated what he saw. 

You lived in a small studio, even though you stayed at his house most of the time. He’d gone out of town and you’d gone radio silent, which was completely unusual for you - normally you were sending him funny memes, asking him how his day was, or FaceTiming him with your smiley face. But while he was checking back in his apartment in New York for the weekend, you’d stopped. And he knew it couldn’t be a good sign. Over the time he’d known you, he knew you struggled with depression and he understood it because he did, too. But he’d never been with you through a manic episode, at least not one like this. He didn’t know what to expect, but this definitely wasn’t it. 

Your kitchen was wrecked, even though you clearly hadn’t used it in a long time. Dishes and trash were piled in the sink and on the counter, making the kitchenette look even smaller. One of the chairs was toppled over, probably something you’d done out of frustration because your bag and its contents were scattered across the floor, too. You hadn’t tried to do your laundry and the hamper was beyond full. Your TV was on and had been playing for a long time, he assumed, because the remote was across the room on the media stand. The couch was a mess, too. You were a lump in bed, curled up so small that he didn’t even see you at first. 

“Babe?” He asked. You finally opened your eyes, wiping the little yellow-green pieces of crust out of them, and turned over your sore body when you heard his voice. You tried to sit up, but you didn’t feel strong enough, so you didn’t. 

“Hey, I thought...” Your head suddenly throbbed and you shut your eyes, taking a second to think about what you wanted to say. “I thought you weren’t coming back ‘till Thursday?” 

“Sweetheart, it is Thursday,” he muttered. “Have you... been here since the weekend?” Your heart started pounding, right away. You started sweating, your stomach churning. You felt sick. 

“What? No, it’s...” Your voice trailed off. He had to be playing a trick on you or something. There was no way it was Thursday. The two of you had gone out for brunch, and then you’d dropped him at the airport, and he said he would see you on Thursday night when he got home. You swirled around, grabbing your phone, only to find that it was dead. Sebastian walked closer to you, taking his shoes off, and he got on the other side of the bed. 

“Have you been here all weekend?” He asked again. “Baby, do you feel okay?” He put a hand to your forehead, trying to figure out why you’d been in bed all this time. Part of him knew it had to be the depression, but he’d never seen you this bad. He’d never seen anyone this bad before. You started crying as soon as he shook his head, clicking his tongue to say you didn’t have a fever. 

“I’ve literally missed a week of work, I’m gonna get fired, I’m gonna lose my job and then the apartment and then...” Sebastian put his hands under your legs and your back and pulled you into his lap as you burst into tears. 

“Shh, shh,” he tried to calm you down. “It’s okay.”

“No! I’ve missed a whole week of work because I was too depressed to get out of bed. I just ruined... You probably think I’m crazy now. I ruined everything.” 

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly. “But I want you to be honest with me. Did you know you were in bed all this time?”

“No.” 

“Have you been eating at all? Or showering?”

“I... I guess not.”

“You haven’t even been to the bathroom?”

“I don’t remember the last time. I kind of have to.” Sebastian sighed and hugged you, tightly, listening to you cry for a minute. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. Let’s just get you cleaned up and we’ll figure all this out, alright? I’ll call your boss,” he said as he started to rub your back up and down. “I’ll call your boss right now and talk to her. And then I’ll make you some of that pasta you like. And then I’ll help you clean this place up, okay? I’m staying here tonight.” You listened to his plan and were only able to nod in response. You sniffled a little, but the first bit of crying was over. He told you to get up so you did, and you gave him your computer password to find your boss’s number. You nearly cried again when you saw all of the missed messages and emails, but you didn’t have time to deal with it. 

You entered the bathroom just as you heard Sebastian start calling your boss. You must have been in bed all of that time because your dirty clothes were the same they’d been because you always did your laundry on Saturdays. You started the shower, even though you felt like you might either throw up or faint or maybe both. You were shaking as you reached for your face wash, noticing that you’d started developing acne. The mirror you kept in the shower showed bloodshot eyes, puffs underneath them, skin that was suffering from not being taken care of. How could you let things get this bad, you thought. How could you possibly let yourself do this? 

Just as you were about to pump some onto your hand, the door opened. Sebastian. 

“Mind if I join you? I need to shower the airport off,” he said. You nodded, opening the curtain. His eyes checked you up and down, able to tell that you’d lost a little weight from not eating. And then you were ashamed again, backing into the corner of the shower as he took off his clothes. Normally when he came back you jumped at the chance to do things with him, but now you just wanted to hide. You were sure he was ashamed of you, he had to be. Right? 

“Don’t hide. It’s okay. Let me get you,” he insisted. He got underneath the stream of water and pulled you into a tight hug. The water was just hot enough as it beat against your back. You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. He gave you a kiss on the forehead before taking the face wash from you. His fingers were incredibly gentle as they rubbed over your cheeks and your forehead, then let the milky white cleanser fall off your face. He continued to help you with your hair routine, then let you wash yourself as he washed his hair. The two of you showered together often, and this was no different. 

“Am I fired?” You asked eventually, just as Sebastian was about to shut off the water. He shook his head, wringing out a little of the hair he’d been growing out for another role. 

“No. Your boss said she just wants you to call her when you get the chance. I talked to your mom, too, and she said...” 

“No.” You already knew what he was going to say, and you hated the idea. “No, don’t.” 

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.” He shut the water off and started wrapping a towel around your body for you. You noticed him looking at your arms as he did so, and you jerked yourself away from him like an angry child.

“Yes, I do. You’re going to say that you’re afraid I’m going to hurt myself or kill myself and you don’t want me around and...” You could feel yourself beginning to lose control. You were suddenly angry, so angry that you wanted to push him and scream, but you didn’t. There was a burst of energy in you, for the first time in days, and a fire that burned in your chest and threatened to come alive. Sebastian knew what was happening because he just let you go. You walked into the other room and started pulling a t-shirt on, trying to forget about everything you were feeling. You put on a pair of shorts and then you couldn’t contain it anymore - you sat down on your bed and started crying, for real this time. 

“You want me to come cuddle with you?” Sebastian asked. “If you wanna do this alone it’s okay.” You shook your head, looking up at him. He had tears in his eyes. You knew you were hurting him by pushing him away and then pulling him back, and you hated hurting him. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was all you were doing. 

“You don’t want me anymore,” you concluded out loud. He looked confused. “You’re gonna tell me that you’re worried about me but you can't deal with me because I’m too much and I need constant reassurance and I need... And I’m jealous, and I’m everything you don’t want, and...” Your voice was lost in a sob. Your heart was starting to hurt so badly and you didn’t know if it was because of everything you’d gone through or if it was the thought of losing the person you trusted the most in the world. 

“Baby, I want you,” he said softly. “I wasn’t gonna say any of that. I promise. Just come here.” You let him take a seat next to you and pull you into him. He let you cry for what felt like hours before you were finally done. You had a headache. Your nose was stuffed up. Your eyes stung from the way you rubbed at them when you were upset. It wasn’t a pretty kind of cry. But you were done crying, finally. Sebastian moved you onto his lap, sitting back in the bed, letting you lay there for a few minutes. You took in the sound of his heart beating, the gentle throbbing of it in his chest as it rose up and down. You took in the way that he was rubbing your back, shushing you in a calm voice. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Stop apologizing to me. I was going to tell you that your mom and I are worried about you. And that we both thought it might be a good idea if you go back to see your therapist. And, if you want, we can try and get you on some medication to make you feel a little better. Maybe give you some more energy to get through the day. I want you to come stay with me for a while so I can watch you. But I need you to be honest with me right now, baby.”

“About what?” You sniffled. 

“Have you ever thought about hurting yourself at all?” 

“I’ve thought about it. But I don’t... I’m scared to. So I won’t.” He nodded. It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, it was an answer nobody wanted to hear, but it was the best thing you could’ve said to him in that moment. 

“Good. That’s so good. How about I start making you something to eat? And you can start cleaning up a little bit. If you’re up to it we’ll go back to my place. If not we’ll go in the morning.” You sniffled and nodded, trying to find the energy to get up. He kissed your temple two or three times, muttering that he loved you.

Eventually you got up and started changing your sheets. You started folding your clothes, picking up the stool that had fallen, and organized your desk. You cleaned your toilet and the shower, then the kitchen. Around the same time, Sebastian had finished making food for you. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were until you ate all of it. 

You helped Sebastian clean up the dishes and then you were packing a bag to go stay at his house. You finally flipped the light off in your apartment and gave Sebastian your car keys so he could drive. He had been so concerned that he came straight from the airport - he hadn’t even gone home to change clothes or anything. 

“You know I love you, right?” He asked as he stopped at a light. His right hand snaked over to you, grabbing onto the inside of your thigh, his thumb rubbing against the skin you’d just put lotion on before leaving. 

“I want to believe you do, but it’s hard,” you muttered in complete honesty. “I feel so un-lovable like this.” You sniffled, not wanting to get into another pity parade but still wanting to be honest with him. 

“I know you do. But I love you. I love you and we’re gonna get through this, okay? Together. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, sweetheart, I swear. I just want to help you get better.” You leaned against his arm, shutting your eyes. Eventually you heard him pull into his garage and you got out, bringing your bags inside. 

“I guess I should probably try to work some,” you thought out loud, realizing how much work must be sitting in your email inbox. You were only doing office administration stuff, but it could still pile up while you weren’t working. 

“Yeah? I need to get some sleep. How about you try to get a little work done and then come and join me. We’ll go for a long walk tomorrow morning, and then we can go get coffee at your favorite place?” You nodded. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out a fresh, chilled bottle of water, before walking back over to you. 

“Thanks,” you said. He must have known you were thirsty from all of your crying. 

“I want you to drink this whole thing before you come to bed, okay?” He instructed. “It’s not healthy that you’re this dehydrated.” 

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” Your whole body tightened at hearing him say those words - normally he said them in another context, but right now it was what you needed. You were so lucky he knew that. You walked upstairs with him and went into his office while he went into the bedroom, starting to get through some of your work. You didn’t understand how you could be so tired after sleeping for almost a whole week, but you were. 

You crawled into bed with him at 3:05 AM. You remembered that time because you looked at the clock on your phone, realizing that while you were gone earlier he’d changed the lock screen to a post-it note you always kept on your desk. One he’d written you. It said I love you, baby. X Your Seba. Your heart melted as you looked at it, putting it down on the nightstand. Then you got into bed beside him, worming your way into his arms. 

“Seba?” You said. He was obviously awake because he wasn't snoring, and when you said his name he tightened his grip on you. “Thank you for taking care of me. I love you.”

“It’s my job, baby. I miss seeing you smile. I miss seeing how happy you are to see me when I get back. I miss hearing your voice. I miss you.”

“I missed you, too.” 

“And I promise you. I won’t hesitate. Anything you need, I’ll give you.”

A/N: This was... a lot. And probably the most true to life thing I think I’ve written, at least in my experience with depression. If you’re going through the same thing, it gets better. Trust me. ❤️

Taglist: @an-adventureland, @ssebstann, @firstangeldragonranch, @winterreader-nowwriter, @eviemarvel 

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan imagine

[sicjimin]

love ur fics, they’re always amazing! could you write a namkook one with 6, 9, 16, 32, with joon as the sickie and jk as the caretaker? maybe make it rly awkward bc Namjoon is the hyung and doesn’t want jk to see him but jk is the only other one home and jk doesn’t like seeing his hyungs in pain and thinks he can’t comfort. it ends up fine and jungkook wants namjoon to sleep with him (just in case) and joon secretly does too? please only do this if u have time, thank you!

6. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

9. “I think it was something I ate.” 

16. “I can’t throw up…”

32. “Your belly is really sick, isn’t it?”

A.N : AAHHH my first sick!namjoon !! thank u for requesting hehe i love this idea so much, its so adorable :( and i hope this does justice to your expectations? I'm sorry this took way too long T.T i hope you like this one :D

TW : emeto, graphic descriptions of vomiting

Jungkook perked up from his phone and slightly lift his head when he heard the door opened, followed by a tall figure walk in —a little bit too sluggish, Jungkook afraid that he might trip.

"Oh, Namjoon-hyung ! You're home already? i thought you said you were gonna stay up late with Yoongi-hyung?", Jungkook greeted the older happily, finally he's not the only one at this big dorm, he started to get bored. The older just hummed as the answer while putting on his winter coat on the hanger and slowly toss his shoes, " Yeah, it went faster than I thought too so I figured to catch some rest. Do you mind if I go to my room and clean myself a bit? I will join you here later"

"Sure hyung, do you want something?", Jungkook lifted himself to walk to their fridge, rummaging for some snacks and soju. He heard a loud " No" from upstairs, but he still decided to grab two can of soju and a big bag of chips. He sets himself back to the couch, when he heard his phone ding with notifications.

Yoongi-hyung : 2 New Messages

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows, all 7 of them were not too fond of texting if it's not for a really urgent matter. They preferred to talk in person or do it on the gc. That's why when someone is messaging him personally, his mind grows alerted.

Yoongi-hyung : Jungkook

Yoongi-hyung : Is Namjoon already get home?

Jungkook : Yes, he just arrived few minutes ago

Jungkook : Why hyung?

Jungkook already sees Yoongi typing, not even a minute after he pressed send. He once again feels a little bit surprised.

Yoongi-hyung : Watch him for me, he's sick. That's why he gets home earlier. I still need to finish this song, I will get home as soon as possible.

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows deeper. Hyung is .. sick? but he looks f—. Jungkook clicked his tongue, Jeon Jungkook you dumb. He steals a glance upstairs after replying to Yoongi . It's been 10 minutes and there's no sign the older gonna out soon. An ugly anxious feeling starts creeping up as his brain starts to make the worst scenario ever. What if Namjoon-hyung faints inside and he couldn't scream for help. What if hyung get dizzy and fall and—

"Earth to Jungkook, hello?"

Jungkook blinked and meet Namjoon's tired eyes waving his hand in front of him before plopped himself on the couch along with a sigh. Jungkook gulped, he's trying to act all cool and natural since he knows the older ones didn't like to be coddled too much but he just can't help to be worried. Damn, this gonna be hard for him.

They decided to watch some dramas that airing, but they know none of them paid attention to the storyline. One is too busy stealing glances to make sure the latter is fine and the other one is too busy calming down his stomach that has been rolling up and down since he stepped home. Jungkook takes notes on how Namjoon hands never leave his stomach, buried under the baggy sweater he wears— he always uses that when he's not feeling well— and how his other hands occasionally moved to stifled a quiet burp. Jungkook is itching to ask but he feels awkward too if he suddenly drops the question. He knows that the older gonna say that he's fine.

"Jungkook, I need to go to the bathroom, okay?", Namjoon says a little bit too quickly, not even waiting for Jungkook to mustered a response. Jungkook's train of thought got cut off as his eyes watches the older walk away until he hears the sound of the door closed and later, the water running. He diverts his eyes back to the TV, maybe Namjoon hyung is fine.

Jungkook has already finished his snack but Namjoon is still not back from the bathroom. It's been more than 5 minutes. The worries spiking inside him. He walks to the bathroom and knocks, "Hyung .. are you okay? You've been in there for a long time"

Silence.

"Yeah Kook, I'm fine", Namjoon answered from inside. He tried to sound convincing but his throat has another decision for him as a harsh and quite loud gag escaped. He squeezed his eyes shut because of the force even though nothing come out from the gag—just like how it goes the moment he kneeled there 5 minutes ago. He coughs, his throat feels itchy and it just triggering his gag reflex more. He keeps opened his mouth wide along with his tongue arched, touching his palate, delivering another series of gag. But still, nothing comes out except a trickle of thick saliva. Namjoon wants to cry, there's nothing worse than incredibly nauseous but you just can't throw up. He leaned back from the toilet, placing his back on the wall, and buried his head on his knees. Hands still aggressively rubbing and pressing his stomach, urging the rollercoaster of food inside it to just finish their business and out of his body. Namjoon lift his head when he hears the door opened and feels a hand awkwardly rubbing his shoulder

"Kook, what are you doing there"

"Um ..." the younger trailed off, it supposed to be an adorable sight for Namjoon on how Jungkook can't meet his eyes when he's talking nervously, if his mind isn't clouded with waves of nausea that keeps going on and off in his body. "I just want to check up on you hyung", he adds shyly. Namjoon mustered a strained smile, " I'm fine Kook-ah. Just feel a little bit sick, but I will be fine. Don't worry"

"A-ah, is that so? Um .. I-", Jungkook stuttered. Damn this situation is so awkward, Jeon Jungkook man up! Namjoon hyung need you, just offer something that could make him feel better maybe—

Jungkook's train of thought got cut off once again, changed with a spike of his heartbeat as he sees Namjoon scrambled to the toilet, the older body leaned forward followed by a series of empty gag. Jungkook stunned. His body finally managed to react when Namjoon's gagging stop, leaving the older cough and let out a pained hiss, "Fuck, it hurts"

Jungkook stands up silently and brings a glass of water, seated himself beside his hyung again, "Hyung, try to drink this. Your throat might hurt and maybe this could trigger your stomach"

Namjoon was too out of his mind, taking the glass with his shaky hands and gulped it quickly. His stomach starts to make loud rumbled noises, he's sure Jungkook could hear it, "I'm sorry. This is so gross", he mumbled shyly, gaining giggles from Jungkook, breaking the awkward air between them, " Woah, your belly must be really sick hyung"

"Mhm, it is. I've been so nauseous since lunch. That's why Yoongi-hyung sending me off because i keep dry heaving in the office too. I think it must be something i eat but i don't know what. God, Jungkook, i just want to throw up and get over this", Namjoon practically rambling now but he doesn't care. He's tired of holding himself back and maintaining the hyung image, his body is aching for comfort, and he gonna get it from Jungkook.

Jungkook shifted his body, hands moving to the older backs, giving a slight massage on shoulders and nape, "I'm sorry you're so sick hyung. Do you want me to rub your stomach, it might help"

Namjoon shakes his head. "It didn't work .. i still cant throw—", his words cut off as a sudden splash of liquid hitting the back of his throat and quickly rushing out of his mouth, making some of it spilled on his sweater as he didn't prepare with the commotion. His stomach clenched again as a stream of water he just takes earlier keep spilling from his mouth with such force. As he goes and goes, the clear liquid morphs into a pale-colored and thick liquid. He could feel the sashimi he eats earlier on his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut while his stomach and throat working on getting out everything in his body.

"That's it hyung, let it out all", Jungkook murmured beside him, hands never stop rubbing and massaging his back.

Namjoon finally managed to catch a breath when the heave tapered off. He flushed the almost full toilet and wipes his lips and nose.

"You're done hyung?"

He shakes his head, eyes trailed on the swirling of the murky liquid below him. He could see the remnants of whatever he took earlier and it's setting his stomach off again. His body bent forward as nausea dragged another stream out of his stomach. Namjoon coughs and winced few times when there's no more lingering taste of food— but a bitter one now. Oh, only bile left, he thoughts while his stomach keeps spasming.

"Hyung, you're empty", Jungkook speaks. Namjoon nods. It took him a few dry heaving and trickle of bile until he finally sagged his body back. Jungkook quickly flushes the toilet before Namjoon could open his eyes, not wanting the older to see the toilet again in case it might set the older off.

"Kook-ah, 'm exhausted", Namjoon hoarse voices trickling Jungkook's ears.

"I know hyung, let's get you to bed, okay? it's more comfortable there"

Namjoon let his body dragged by Jungkook to his room. He's practically half-conscious and moving like a robot right now as he just moves his body as Jungkook pleased. The younger managed to make Namjoon changed his wet sweater and tucked the older into bed. He's halfway to stand up and leave the room, figured that Namjoon wants to have time alone and rest, before a clammy hand grip his wrist, "Stay here"

"Huh?", Jungkook short-circuited.

"Stay .. until I fall asleep, please? I don't feel like being alone", Namjoon mumbled sleepily, but hands still tightly gripping Jungkook's wrist like he is afraid that Jungkook might suddenly disappear.

"Uhm ..", Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly. " Okay hyung .. rest well. I will stay here", he adds gaining a soft hum from Namjoon.

"Thankyou, i'm sorry you must take care of me like that", Namjoon says softly almost like whispers if Jungkook didn't manage to catch it well.

Jungkook could feel his cheeks heated before breaking into a smile, "that's my job too hyung, get well soon"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!namjoon #caretaker!jungkook

[harrywavycurly]

*a/n anddddd here it is! I haven’t written anything in quite a while so be gentle? It’s angsty and sad as per the usual for me lately. As always I appreciate feedback and likes/reblogs! Enjoy my babes!*

“A tumbleweed heart, chasin that wind. Goin’ too far, wherever that is.”

“I know I still can’t believe she actually agreed to go on another date with him.” You laughed as you shrugged at your best friend who was sitting across from you reaching for the bottle of wine that you had just opened and placed in the middle of the kitchen table.

“She’s always had a thing for men with a sense of humor,” You explained making your friend laugh as she poured herself a glass of wine. “She loves-“ You looked down as your phone began to vibrate making the table shake a bit, you felt your heart drop when you saw the name that was flashing on the screen.

“It’s him isn’t it?” You looked up at her just in time to catch her rolling her eyes as you stood up, grabbing your phone in the process. “This has to stop eventually you know that right?” She added while she placed the bottle of wine back onto the table and shook her head as she watched you wave her off with your hand while you walked into the living room. You slid your finger across the screen before bringing the phone up to your ear.

“Hello? S’you yeah?” The moment you heard his raspy voice you felt your shoulders slump as you looked at the clock on the wall above your tv, of course he would be drunk at three in the afternoon. “Ello?” You just shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of your couch.

“Yes Harry it’s me.” You answered, making a sigh of relief escape from his lips. “Do you need something?” You asked and you tried not to sound annoyed. You really did, but this was the third time he’d called you drunk in the past two weeks. You knew by all the noise you could hear in the background that he most likely was at the bar down the street from his house, the bar that you’d become a regular at with him during the time you were together.

“Jus wanted to hear your voice.” Harry looked around the bar and felt a frown form on his face when he noticed how empty it was. “S’empty today.” He smiled and nodded at the bartender, who pointed at Harry’s empty glass.

“Well it’s not even four in the afternoon yet in California Harry.” You explained as you ran a hand through your hair. “Most people aren’t at the bar this early.” Harry just chuckled making you let out a huff, you never did enjoy dealing with him when he was intoxicated let alone doing it over the phone from states away.

“We used to be here at noon an stay till it closed,” Harry smiled as a fresh drink was placed in front of him. “Member that?” You nodded your head as you scooted back and got comfortable on the couch when you realized this wasn’t going to be a conversation that was going to end anytime soon. “That was back when ya loved me.” Harry looked down at his drink and gave it a stir as memories of the two of you began to replay in his mind.

“Not tonight Harry,” You pleaded even though you knew it was useless given the state he was in. “You had a good week, don’t go ruining it with thoughts of us.” Harry just picked up his glass and spun around in his barstool so he could look out the window and watch the waves of the ocean come crashing onto the rocks.

“Yer not gonna argue with me?” Harry gave a small smile and a nod to a couple that walked past him to sit at a table by the window, the same table he’d sat at with you countless times while sharing a bottle of wine or just a few mid afternoon drinks. “You love to argue with me.” You rolled your eyes at Harry’s playful statement, Harry knew if he got you on a rant that would mean he’d have you on the phone for a little bit longer and that’s exactly what he needed, he just needed to hear your voice for a little bit longer.

“You’re right Harry,” You smiled when your wine glass came into your view from above causing you to look up and see your friend, she gave you a sad smile as she handed the glass to you as you mouthed the words thank you. “I’m not going to argue with you.” You stated making him laugh, a sound that made memories threaten to flood your mind with images of Harry with his head leaned back, his eyes crinkled and his nose the tiniest bit scrunched up as he laughed at a stupid joke you’d told or a story about your day at the office.

“How did you know?” Harry asked as he looked down at his drink and gave it a little stir before taking a sip. “That I’ve had a good week? How’d you know?” He added as you took a sip of your wine and looked over at your coffee table that held the little stack of magazines you’d collected over the past few weeks all with articles about various things Harry had been seen doing as well as a few awards he’d won.

“You’re Harry Styles,” You took another sip of your wine while Harry just raised an eyebrow as he waited for you to finish explaining yourself. “When aren’t you having a good week?” When you heard Harry chuckle you just sunk a little deeper into your couch before taking a sip of your wine.

“I mean for the most part you’re not wrong,” Harry couldn’t help it as he looked down at the ring on his right hand and shook his head as if it was going to help erase the memory of the night you gave it to him, to celebrate the fact he’d told you his second album was finished. “But I’ve also had my share of shitty weeks.” You bit down on your bottom lip as you watched the wine in your glass swirl around, the hurt in Harry’s voice wasn’t anything new, it had been something you’d found yourself growing used to and that’s probably the thing that caused you the most pain. The fact that all you were beginning to feel was complete nothingness when, the once love of your life, sounded utterly heartbroken on the other end of the phone all because of a choice you made.

“Do we have to do this every time Harry?” You sat up so you could lean over and place your wine glass on the coffee table. “Because it’s getting a bit redundant isn’t it?” You could tell by the sigh coming from Harry’s end of the phone that he was not in the mood for the conversation you were about to start with him.

“As is you telling me every single time we talk that what you did was a choice, one that I didn’t give you any other option but to make and that’s such bullshit.” You rolled your eyes as you stood up and began pacing the living room as he spoke and even though some of his words were slurred your knew he meant them all wholeheartedly. “You left. You, not me, you did this,” You stopped in your tracks as you heard Harry let out a deep breath. “This is broken because of you.” You felt the all too familiar lump begin to form in your throat as you looked out the window in your living room as it started to rain.

“I know.” Harry closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as your sad voice hit his ears, admitting to him that you were aware that the whole reason the two of you were in the situation at hand was in fact all your fault. “I broke us. But you know why I had to do it, there wasn’t anything left for me in California.” Harry just let out a low chuckle and rolled his eyes.

“Right you didn’t have anything left for you here. Ya know besides me, and I’d like to think I was a pretty decent part of your life?” You just let out a sad sigh as you sat on the armrest of your couch and ran a hand through your hair. “At least back then, back when you loved me enough to write me a note telling me you were leaving.” You knew he wasn’t done talking so you just rubbed your lips together. “Oh right sorry. More so to tell me you had already left. Seeing as I didn’t find the note till the next day since you know I don’t check my mail every day, but that was the plan right? Drop a note in my mailbox and drive off into the sunset to a new life. How’s that life going for you by the way? Is it worth everything and everyone you left?” You felt a few tears stream down your cheeks as Harry’s words hit you like a smack in the face, he’d never talked to you like this before but you knew he needed to get it all off his chest if you had any hope of getting these random drunken phone calls to stop.

“I’m sorry Harry, I’m sorry okay? I left and you didn’t want me to, but I did it anyway and that’s something you’re going to have to get over because you calling me every week drunk and heartbroken isn’t going to change anything.” You felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest as you wiped off the tears from your cheeks with your free hand. “It’s been four weeks already.” Harry just let out a shaky breath and shook his head as he looked down at his drink that he all of a sudden had no desire for anymore.

“It could be ten years that’ve past by and I’d still want you to come back.” His voice was a little above a whisper and it made your heart sink when you heard him sniffle, letting you know he was fighting back a new batch of tears. “I think about you everyday and I know you at least think of me sometimes because you still keep up with me, how else would you know if I’m having a good or bad week? So what’s the point of all this if we still care about each other?” At this point you could tell Harry was just pleading with you to give him any spark of hope and you felt your heart begin to break as you let out a shaky breath and looked up at the ceiling as you gathered your thoughts.

“Caring about each other wasn’t the issue Harry,” You felt the lump return to your throat as you struggled to fight back the tears that so desperately wanted to flow down your face. “I just don’t want to be with you right now, I have to do my own thing for a while. I lost myself in California and I need to find myself again, and I have to do it alone.” Harry let out a deep sigh as he ran a hand through his hair after sliding his sunglasses onto his face so they could help hide his emotions from the people as they walked by.

“You don’t want to be with me right now.” He stated making you just nod as if he could see you. “You’ll be sure to let me know if that changes yeah?” Harry turned around in his stool and looked at the bartender before he laid a few bills on the counter letting the man know he was done for the day, the bartender smiled at Harry as he walked past him and towards the door.

“Of course.” You felt yourself fall backwards onto the couch so your feet were now hanging off the edge of the armrest. “I’ve gotta go now okay? Have a good rest of your day Harry, don’t forget to take some Advil and drink lots of water when you get home.” Harry just shook his head as a chuckle escaped him.

“It’s scary how good you’ve gotten at saying goodbye.” You closed your eyes as Harry crossed the street so he would be on the side his house was on. “You make it sound so casual but we both know this is it huh? No more calls after this one?” He stopped walking so he could make sure he heard your response even though he already knew what your answer was going to be.

“You’re right,” You swallowed back the lump in your throat and let out a sniffle making Harry’s heart feel like it was about to crumble into a pile of broken pieces right there on the sidewalk outside of his gate. “No more calls after this one.” You let out a shaky breath as Harry just ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his roots. “Goodbye Harry.” You took the phone away from your ear just as you felt a sob working it’s way up your chest.

“Goodbye love.” With that Harry pressed the end call button and never had he felt the urge to just throw his phone into the middle of the street as badly as he did in that very moment but he just took a deep breath and entered his gate code allowing him access to his driveway.

He felt as if his heart was truly ripping apart as he took a few steps forward allowing the gate to close behind him. He slid his sunglasses up into his hair as he felt the familiar stinging sensation so he just took a few step backwards until his back was flush against the metal of his gate so he could slide down it until he was sitting with his head in his hands and the tears freely streaming down his face as the conversation the two of you just had replayed in his mind.

You tossed your phone onto the coffee table before bringing both your hands up to cover your face as you let all the emotions you’d been fighting back come to the surface. You knew Harry deserved someone better than what you could offer him at this moment of your life and in the end what you did was for the best, and just because you left, didn’t mean you couldn’t hurt just as much as he was.

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