#I’m on my phone and they’re saved on my computer

[loveinhawkins]

i’ve recently become aware of this starcourt mall commercial & i’m dying at the thought of Eddie seeing it, bored out of his mind, until Steve appears on screen with that stupid sailor’s hat and the world’s most awkward, “Ahoy!”, and, oh, Eddie’s grin is evil.

“Why did you tape over Dallas?” Wayne asks that night.

“Wayne,” Eddie says solemnly, “I needed to record the best moment of my life.”

Of course, Steve finds the tape later, because the universe likes to laugh at Eddie, apparently.

Spring Break of ‘86 is a few weeks away—thanks to one distracted moment, Eddie unknowingly puts the wrong tape in the case before returning a rental to Family Video, then speeding off to band practice.

Steve doesn’t notice the mixup until a few hours later, when he routinely opens the VHS cases to check that the tapes have been rewound. When he sees the tape devoid of any movie sticker, he can’t resist watching it; his shift is dragging by.

He gets 20 minutes into Dallas before it cuts off, and the commercial plays.

His jaw drops, and he groans in embarrassment, but he’s laughing when he calls for Robin in the back room, and then they’re watching it together, cracking up. They both remember filming it, remember looking at each other and swearing to never speak of it again, but they’d never actually seen it, and well… it is pretty funny.

Steve gets an evil grin of his own when he sees that the rental account is in Eddie’s name.

When he calls, he gets Mr. Munson on the phone, and because Steve can also be a meddling little shit when the conditions are right, he makes up some story about the store having new forms, that he just needs Eddie to sign one quickly.

The next day, Eddie strolls in, and Steve looks him right in the eye.

“Ahoy, Munson,” he says, deadpan.

Eddie freezes in place. He briefly considers turning around and walking into traffic.

“Harrington,” he says stiffly.

“Hey, man,” Steve says, relentlessly chipper, “so we’re kinda down on one copy of—” He glances over to the computer. “—Life of Brian, and up one copy of, uh…” He lifts Eddie’s tape off the counter, smirks. “I guess, half of Dallas.”

Eddie stalks over. “It was… for school,” he blurts out unconvincingly. “Recording Hawkins history. Nothing personal, King Steve.”

Steve lets the venom in the nickname bounce off him. “Starcourt was pretty, uh, historic,” he says mildly, fighting another smirk.

“Whatever,” Eddie snaps, losing what little patience he has left—despite all of his performances to the contrary, the thought of people laughing at him still makes his skin crawl. “Let me get out of your massive hair, Harrington, and I’ll bring your fucking video back.”

Steve raises one hand, palm out. “Woah, chill,” he says, and as Eddie’s nostrils flare, he feels a little twinge of guilt; he didn’t actually mean for all of this to come across as mean-spirited or anything. “Sorry, man. I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.” But he looks a little calmer, raises an eyebrow. Well?

“Here,” Steve says, handing over the tape, and he doesn’t react when Eddie snatches it back. “Oh, and I extended the rental on your movie.” He shrugs. “Saves you a double trip, y’know?”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, after a pause.

“No biggie.” And when Eddie makes to leave, Steve calls, “Hey, Munson?”

Eddie turns at the door, no longer quite as cagey. “What?”

Steve shrugs again. “Thanks for the mixup, I guess?”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie says flatly.

“No, I mean it, dude. Like, once I got over the, well, embarrassment of, um, everything, it was actually kinda… nice to see it.” He nods to Robin in one of the aisles, guiding a customer over to a movie. “Me and Robin, we—it was nice to have something about Starcourt that we could laugh at.”

Eddie considers him. “Were you in the fire?”

Steve smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say there’s more than straightforward sadness on his face. “Yeah, got caught up in it.”

Eddie slowly, thoughtfully, opens the door but doesn’t leave, leans against it. He looks Steve up and down. “Damn shame you don’t have a hat in your get-up here, Harrington.”

Steve mock scowls, ruffles his hair. “I’m not suffering through that again.”

Eddie finds himself smiling without meaning to. “You poor thing. I guess once is enough.”

And Steve rolls his eyes this time. “Yeah, yeah, once. You’ve goddamn immortalised it, Munson.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, but I had to,” he says, tucking the tape under his arm, “for posterity. In a hundred years, there’ll be sonnets written about your sailor outfit, Steve Harrington.”

And, whoops, that wasn’t planned, Eddie thinks. Laying it on a bit thick there.

Steve laughs, but not at him; Eddie can tell now. “Go enjoy your Saturday, Munson.”

Eddie gives a lazy salute. “Ahoy.”

And as Eddie leaves, he spots a note on the counter, next to the usual Be kind, rewind reminders. It’s handwritten, with a cartoony winking face: And check what’s inside!

#this was meant to be a shitpost and become a fic woops #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday. Bring Me Home won last week's poll. But it was a close one! If you want a say in what I post next week, be sure to vote in this week's poll. ^.^

Story Summary: Danny's parents find out his secret. It doesn't go well. But he's not alone. His friend Tim Drake, better known as Red Robin, and the Young Justice will not let him suffer.

We switch to Tim's POV for this part.

Warnings: Aftermath of torture

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: First, Last

Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

The instant Kon got the door to the lab open, Tim sprinted down the stairs. The first thing he saw was Jack and Maddie standing over a table, green ectoplasm, blood covering everything.

Then his eyes fixed on Danny. Danny, cut open and bleeding with a muzzle on while his parents looked at his insides.

He rushed forward, tackling Maddie and tearing her away from Danny. She screamed and fought back, landing one punch before Tim kicked her back a step. Then he pulled out his staff and landed a hard blow across her chest, forcing her further back.

Next to him, Cassie was taking care of Jack. He exchanged a quick glance with her and the two began herding the pair towards the wall. Away from Danny.

Behind him, Tim could hear Sam call out for Kon then a cry of pain.

“He’s still alive!” called out Kon. “I can hear both his core and heart.”

Tim couldn’t relax. Alive didn’t mean much. He put more force on his next swing of his staff, aiming for Maddie’s shoulder. But she ducked and twisted just right to get under the swing and move closer.

She slashed back with a scalpel, one still covered in Danny’s blood. Tim growled as he blocked it with his arm, the armor of his suit preventing it from reaching skin. He swung his staff again, getting her in the side hard then jerking up to hit her in the armpit.

He smiled in satisfaction when he dislocated her shoulder, causing her to drop the scalpel.

“You’ve got this all wrong!” she protested as she held her shoulder. “Jack and I are the good guys here. The ghosts, they’re all evil!”

Tim snarled. “The only evil I see here are the two so-called scientists who were torturing their own son!”

Maddie tensed at his words. “Don’t you dare say that. I’m trying to save my son from the monster that took his body.”

Tim swung again, aiming for her feet. Already distracted by the pain in her shoulder, the hit landed and she fell. He hit again and he felt her ankle break. Good, she wouldn’t be getting away.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up,” growled Tim.

Jack landed on the ground next to his wife, taken out by a punch from Cassie. Tim took the time to swing at him, too.

Again and again and again, he brought his staff down on them. Not stopping as they cried out in pain or as he felt more bones break under his blows. Until the time when he tried to swing down, but his staff refused to move.

He spun around, scowling, to come face to face with Cassie who had his staff firmly in her own grip.

“That’s enough, Rob. They’re down and they won’t be moving. Impulse and I will make sure of it. You need to go with the others.”

Behind her, Tim could see Sam fussing over Danny, still on the table. Bart and Tucker were at the computers trying to download as much information as they could. And Kon was staring right at him.

“Transport?” asked Tim.

Kon pulled out his phone to check. “Just arrived. Let’s go, Rob.”

Tim nodded. “Fine.” To Cassie, he said, “I want them in custody.”

She nodded. “Obviously. We all do. Impulse, Tucker, and I will take care of things here.”

“Then let’s go.” Tim stalked away from Jack and Maddie, refusing to look back. He wasn’t sure he could stop a second time.

Someone must have found a blanket and gotten it under Danny. All Kon had to do was touch the blanket, and it lifted up. Danny was held completely straight in the make-shift stretcher as Kon single-handedly used his TTK to carry him, Sam leading the way out of the lab.

The doors opened for them on the way out, Kon’s TTK again. And sure enough there by the curb was a nondescript van, engine still running.

Jazz got out the driver’s seat the instant Kon appeared in the doorway to open the back of the van.

“Bring him in here! I’ve got a bed set up,” she said.

Kon, of course, went first. But Tim and Sam were only steps behind him. Inside the van, the bench on one side had been fitted with a futon mattress to form a makeshift bed. Overhead, lights had been fitted to make sure the area was bright enough to see. Kon carefully laid Danny down then backed up so Sam and Jazz could move in.

“Keys are in the ignition,” said Jazz. “Get us away from the house, then let Sam and I patch him up.”

“You’ve got it,” said Kon who took his spot behind the wheel.

Tim shut the doors to the van and stood against the opposite side of the van. This was his first good look at Danny.

His friend was still in his Phantom form, but his jumpsuit had been torn and peeled away from his body. His chest was covered in so much blood he could barely see the wound, but the tell-tale y-incision was unmistakable.

Jazz and Sam were carefully wiping away the blood as best they could, using towels that had been neatly stacked in a box next to the cot.

Tim looked around until he saw an empty bucket. He pushed it towards the two girls. “Put the dirty ones in here.”

Kon pulled away from the Fenton house, aiming for their local out-of-town-limits rendezvous spot. “I can keep Danny from being jostled by the road. Don’t know if I can do the same for the rest of you if you’re moving, though.”

“Let’s not test it right now,” said Tim. “But we will be practicing that later. Never know when we might need it again.”

Jazz dropped her first towel and grabbed another. Her hands were shaking.

Tim knelt by her side and placed a hand on her wrist. “Let me. Right now we’re just trying to hold him together and I can do that as well as you can. He’s going to be just fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

“But I’m the one who trained with Frostbite.” Her voice cracked on a sob.

Tim grabbed the towel from her hands and used it to put pressure on Danny’s wound. “And I don’t need specialized training for this part of it.”

Jazz hesitated a moment longer, but with a last look at her brother, she spun and ran to the other side of the van. Tim listened to her muffled cries as he held the towel to Danny’s chest.

Sam shifted until their shoulders were pressed together and he leaned slightly into the touch. Neither said anything.

Soon enough, Kon was pulling off the road and the van came to a stop. The instant it did, Jazz was pushing her way into his place, two boxes in her hand. She opened one to reveal a large first aid kit, as well stocked as anything he had in his most-used safe house.

Tim took up a position at the foot of the bench and pulled out a small camera he had in his belt. He took careful pictures of all the visible wounds. Kon came up besides him and put an arm around his shoulder.

Jazz opened the second case, letting out a hiss of cold air and frost. Without hesitating, she put on two heavy duty gloves and lifted out what looked to be an ice cube.

Sam, meanwhile, was measuring out enough glowing green thread to cover Danny’s wound. Tim took another picture.

Jazz placed four ice cubes into the injury—one at the end of each cut and one where the lines intersected. Then Sam laid the thread over the wound. She muttered something and it phased into Danny’s skin without the use of a needle and pulled the injury together.

The glow faded slightly and if he didn’t know better, Tim would’ve thought they were regular stitches.

From there, they focused on cleaning off the remaining blood. The van was mostly silent—Sam and Jazz only communicating the bare minimum necessary to care for Danny. Even Tim’s camera was entirely silent, designed as it was for stealth.

As Danny was wiped clean, more and more injuries were revealed. Only years of bat training kept Tim standing and taking pictures. But his grip on the camera was much tighter than it needed to be. Kon’s fingers were digging into his shoulder almost painfully, but Tim didn’t say anything. Sam and Jazz were forcibly holding themselves together, but the odd hitch in their breath or tremble in their fingers gave them away, too.

A nasty burn spanning Danny’s left side was revealed. Tim clicked the camera, and Sam applied an ectoplasm-based ointment to it. Then Jazz covered the injury with a bandage.

The process was repeated time and again for each injury they discovered. But eventually, all the wounds were tended to. Once Jazz did a final look, she nodded with grim satisfaction.

“Superboy, could you use your powers to wrap his chest?”

“Of course!” Kon left Tim’s side to grab a roll of gauze and took up his own place at Danny’s side. All he had to do, though, was place the roll on the bed and his powers took care of everything else.

Tim wished he could do something half so useful. Next time Danny managed to get to the Realms, he was so joining him and getting his own lessons directly from Frostbite.

“Just one more thing to do,” said Jazz. She reached into the first aid kit and pulled out a small box. Inside sat a syringe filled with ectoplasm. She jammed it into Danny’s thigh and pressed the plunger.

Danny’s eyes flew opened and he let out a yell as his back arched off the bed.

Sam was already hovering over him. “Danny? How are you feeling?”

Danny panted for breath, but looked at her with a wry smile. “Pretty much the worse I’ve ever felt.” He looked from Sam to Jazz to Kon before meeting Tim’s eyes. “You came.”

“I always will,” said Tim.

-----

Please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

I'm not an expert on emergency medicine, so I figured why not go the magical route?

Tim wishes he could help in a more hands-on way, but documenting injuries is important if you want to bring them up in court. No one knows yet if Danny will want that, but this way they have them in case they're necessary.

Tucker, Bart, and Cassie are remaining behind to bring the Fentons to JL holding cells. Tucker is the one who knows the Fenton computers best after Danny, after all.

All ready we can see some major changes from my original version. What else will change? And, more importantly, what will stay the same?

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #kon el #jazz fenton #sam manson #these poor kids #should not have to deal with situations like this #whatever adult heroes are on duty #when impulse and wonder girl come up #with some trussed up mad scientists #with a bunch of broken bones #crying about illegal experimentation on sapient creatures #are going to regret being on shift #they're not gonna be getting much sleep for the next #... #long while

[mockerycrow]

SICK MOMENTS; Gaz Edition (GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist — gaz render by @ave661 <3

summary; this is the second part of my four part series of the 141 taking care of you, who’s sick. enjoy!

[WARNINGS; sickness, medication, civilian!reader, slight military inaccuracies, sick comfort.]

YOU’VE BEEN FEELING quite under the weather for the past two days. A weird pressure in your skull, a tickle in the throat. You didn’t really think much of it as you had much more important things to focus on like your job. You usually switch between working from home and working in an office setting every other day and unfortunately, your illness decides to make an appearance when you’re in the office.

You’re sitting in your office with all of your lights off, your computer screen turned down to low brightness. You’re squinting as you’re staring at the screen that is burning your eyes, an impossible to ignore pain settling in your skull and rattling around inside.

You make the mistake of swallowing, your throat muscles spasming when they figure out they’re tender, sore, and uncomfortable. You wince at the sharp pain as your hand reflexively goes to the front of your throat, your stomach churning uncomfortably. You sigh quietly, unable to deny that you’re indeed sick. You take a glance at the time on your computer and you realize you’re not even halfway through your workday yet. You contemplate what you should do; a good thing for yourself is to go home and rest but you have deadlines you can’t ignore. You decide that you should try to work through it. It’s not like sitting at a computer screen is taxing, right?

..Right?

An hour later and you’re having to save your documents and powering down your computer, your hands trembling as the pounding in your head is nearing unbearable. Tears spring up in your eyes, nearly spilling as you croak out a voice command for your phone to call Kyle. You hear your phone dial up and begin to ring his number. A crumbling guilt settles in your stomach as you know Kyle has to be on the local base right now, doing whatever he is doing. Your mind begins to race, saying that he’s going to be too busy to help you out, that calling him is a waste of time. You don’t even realize he picked up after the third ring.

You snap out of your state of overthinking after you hear Kyle’s calm voice call your name for likely the second or third time. “What’s going on?” Kyle asks, his voice ever so slightly muffled by the quality of the speaker—and your hearing is probably a bit scuffed, too. “Sorry if I’m bothering you, but..” You croak, grimacing at how horrible you sound. “..Can you come pick me up from work?” 

“You’re never a bother, love.” Kyle reassures, his voice considerably softer than his previous sentence. “Are you feeling alright? You don’t sound too well.” You shake your head no before remembering it’s only a phone call and not a video call—and you regret shaking your head as your vision spins for a moment. “No,” You utter, the ache in your throat worsening. “I’ve come down with.. something. Not sure yet.”

You hear shuffling and Kyle’s muffled voice say something, something that wasn’t directed towards you so you pay no mind to it. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. I’ll pick up some medicine on the way to ya, yeah?” Kyle murmurs, making your chest all fuzzy with how concerned he seems. “Mhm,” You him. “Love you.”

“I love you too, see you soon.” And with that, Kyle hangs up.

It doesn’t take him too long to leave the base and pick up some medicine, but to you? It feels like an eternity. You sit there in the dark, occasionally tapping the screen of your phone so you can check the time. You feel like your guts are churning and twisting and you feel like someone is taking a sledgehammer and is ringing a bell—like one of those giant bells you can find at Christian churches that ring every hour. There’s a soft knock at your door, which you croak a sickly “come in”, assuming it’s your knight in shining armor as you already got the okay from your boss to leave through text.

The door opens, letting the light pour in which makes you wince. You recognize the silhouette and the stature of the person almost immediately—it’s Kyle. “Hey,” He calls out to you softly. You can’t see his face, but you can tell he’s wearing the zip up you bought for him months ago on his birthday and he’s holding a plastic bag. Your lips curl into a small smile, and your pain fades for a moment as the fact that he wears the hoodie you bought him to work hits you. Kyle closes your office door and finds his way to your desk in the dark. “Hey.” You echo, your voice gritty and scratchy.

“I’m going to turn on your desk lamp, alright?” Kyle hums as he sets the plastic bag of goods down onto your desk. “Alright.” You echo once again, your voice quieter than before. You dreaded the light. Alas, he turns the light on and you see his beautiful brown eyes look at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly with concern very apparent on his face. “Aw, sweetheart.” Kyle utters, which gives you an idea that you likely don’t look too well. His hand reaches out to touch your forehead; his palm then flips to the back of his hand. “You’re burnin’ up. Good thing I got medicine, hm?”

You lean into his touch, Kyle’s hand cupping down to your cheek instead. “Sweaty,” Kyle points out, making you huff. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You reply with a playful snark, but you sound a bit pathetic from how stuffy you sound. “It’s sergeant, actually.” He replies with a grin, making you snort—and then wince because it hurt your entire head. Kyle begins to grab items from the bag; pain and fever reducers, cough drops, anti-congestant, a bottle of water.. And a box of tea for home, despite already having likely a box already waiting in the cabinet.

You watch with a warm stomach as Kyle pops out the pills for you and you notice he did his research for what medicine could go with what. “I love you.” You blurt out suddenly, meeting Kyle’s eyes. He blinks for a moment before smiling—his fucking smile—and responding with a tilted up tone, questioning. “I love you too..?” Kyle questions the sudden pushed tone, but you don’t elaborate as you stare up at him, thinking about how you’re going to marry this man one day as he frets over your health without complaint.

🏷️; @mlmxreader @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheeto @frazie99 @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch

SHHH i didn’t forget the tag list, you did. /j

wrongly tagged? let me know!! if you aren’t tagged, i was confused about your taglist form or i couldn’t because of your settings. join the taglist here

#casually taking care of you?? AUGH what a man #call of duty #cod #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #modern warfare ii #mw2022 #mw2 2022 #gaz #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #i love gaz #stan gaz #gaz <3 #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x gn!reader #kyle garrick x gn!reader #kyle gaz garrick x gn!reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz x reader #scheduled post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 4

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Around noon, you think about leaving. You should head out before you grow bothersome. As you slide your laptop into the crochet bag, that man approaches. The young one with the bright brown eyes.

“You leaving?” He asks. His apron is gone and he has one of the flat cafe boxes in his hands.

“Yeah, should go,” you stand, at least half a foot taller. You slope your shoulders and bend your neck, “got a long way to go.”

“Oh, yeah? You walking?” He asks.

You stare at him, hesitantly nodding.

“I’m done. Half-shift today so… yeah. Um, could I walk with you?”

You blink, “why?”

He chuckles, “because I want to.”

You look down and hook your bag over your shoulder, “you don’t have to… you already gave me the tea–” your lip starts to tremble, “you don’t have to be nice because you think I’m pathetic.”

“I don’t think that,” his tone turns steely, “I just thought… we seem close to the same age and you’re nice so, well, yeah, I don’t have a lot of friends and I was hoping…”

“Oh.”

He shifts his weight on his feet, “oh?”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off and shrug, raising your eyes meekly. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t insult you.”

“No, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” he lets himself smile again. “It’s a nice day. I wouldn’t mind a walk.”

“Hm, well, maybe halfway,” you agree.

“Sure.”

You twist your finger in your fist, not sure what to do next. He outstretches his arm towards the door, “you first.”

You slouch and go to the door, pushing outside and stepping quickly out of Peter’s way as you hold it open. He follows and you let go. You turn and head back along your usual route. He catches up and keeps pace with your long legs.

“Do you like strawberries and cream?” He asks as he flips up the lid of the box, “special scones. They’re yummy.”

“Oh, uh, that’s nice but…”

“You haven’t eaten,” he offers the box to you.

“I’m not hungry,” you argue but your belly rumbles in rebellion. You hang your head in embarrassment.

“It’s fine, I just need to save one for May.”

“May? You’re girlfriend?”

“My aunt,” he fills in and takes a scone, shoving it in your direction. “Come on, you think I can finish all these?”

You accept it and chew your lip. You walk to the corner before you dare to take a bite. It crumbles and you try to catch the mess with your hand. It’s so good and sweet it makes your empty stomach squeeze.

“Good?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you hum.

“So, you got a boyfriend waiting at home? You can take one for him.”

“Boyfriend,” you murmur, “no…”

“Ah, not that far in yet.”

“No boyfriend,” you insist.

“Right, well, me too. No boyfriend, no girlfriend,” he laughs.

You’re quiet as you nibble on the scone. You take measured bites, both savouring the taste and trying not to show how ravenous you really are. You don’t often get treats like this. You don’t always eat in a day.

“Shame about your computer. You know, I’m a bit of a techy, I could try to fix it,” he says.

“No, that’s okay, it’s… broken.”

“Never know if you don’t try,” he suggests.

“I can’t pay you to fix it.”

“That’s fine, I didn’t say anything about money.”

“So why would you want to?”

“Well, I thought we were making friends. Friends help each other out.”

“Friends.”

“Yeah, actually, I was gonna ask, do you like video games?” He chimes.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He echoes.

“Never played em.”

“Never… well, guess what? I got a few friends coming over, you could tag along, we could play some MarioKart.”

“Wouldn’t be any good,” you mutter.

“You’d be great,” he insists, “It’s Friday night, if you’re interested. I can give you my phone number.”

“Don’t have a phone,” you grumble, looking away in embarrassment.

“Well, you could have my email.”

“Computer’s busted.”

“Yeah, right, forgot,” he sighs, “well, how about if you’re interested, you could meet me at the cafe on Friday. At three? My shift ends then.”

“Maybe,” you reply evasively and take the last bite of scone.

“You live alone then?” He asks.

“My dad…”

“Oh, that’s cool. Just you and your dad?”

“Mom remarried.”

“Ah,” he accepts coolly, “it’s just me and Aunt May. My parents are gone and Uncle Ben passed a few years ago.”

You gulp as a shiver rolls over you. You feel awful for him. You can complain about your dad’s outbursts but at least he’s still around.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t, please, I’m lucky, I got May and now you, right? Cause we’re friends.”

“Sure,” you stop at the crosswalk and turn to him, “it’s far from here. I can go on my own.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You live around here?” You wonder.

“No, actually, the other way, but I’ve been standing behind a counter all day–”

“You worked. You should go home,” you say.

He sniffs as his smile falls, “do you think you’ll come on Friday?”

You think about it. After all he’s done, the tea, the scone, and just being kind, you shouldn’t say no.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Yay!” He claps his hands and you wince. “I’ll see you Friday at three.”

“Friday,” you confirm, “er, bye then.”

“Bye,” he chirps back, “be safe, alright.”

You hum and cross the street. As you get to the other side, you look back. He stands and watches you. You give a tiny wave and keep going, walking until you’re certain he’s out of sight. 

You hope your dad’s calmed down. He usually has by now. You stop just a block away from the building. You can’t make yourself go any further.

You turn and head down to the small park behind the pharmacy. You find a bench to sit on and bring your bag into your lap. You peek inside, examining the cracked edge of your laptop. You wonder if you still have your library card laying around, though you don’t know if you can scrape up the money to pay for the computer time.

You look up and your head snaps around as you see a spec at the corner of your sight. It’s nothing. Just the old swings and slide. Probably just a robin or piece of trash blowing by.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #series #drabble #au #the club #treat you #spider-man #avengers #mcu #marvel

[fatkish]

I found this post you made and idk how old it is but it was about writing stories to heal inner child to give readers someone who stepped up for them as a kid since they didn’t have someone… idk if ur still taking requests for that, but if you are, any chance you could write smthing related to saving a kid from sex trafficking? Specifically where it was perpetuated by the parents if that makes sense?? Idk. I want Aizawa to come get me outta there lol(I’m okay now). Maybe he was undercover or smthing for a bigger operation and came in contact with.. that. Thanks for reading my whole request ^^;;

Aizawa x SA Victim Child Reader

TRIGGER WARNING: please be aware that the following content contains allusions to rape, the sexual exploitation and abuse of minors as well as unwanted sexual advances. Please be warned

Aizawa goes undercover disguised as a potential buyer for an illegal quirk boosting drug that the reader’s parents are selling and finds readers parents offering reader to buyers as well.

Reader is 12 and still hasn’t developed a quirk yet. They are a late bloomer and their parents decided that their kid needed to ‘help out the family’ since they haven’t developed a quirk

Reader is forced to take lessons on ‘dancing’ in order to entertain the clients. The reader’s parents have made them believe that they are not worth saving and that heroes will treat them like a villain because what they’re doing is wrong and because their parents are ‘evil’

Aizawa was back in his underground days and came upon the house acting as a corrupt hero. He had found an actual corrupt hero who used the drugs and knew about the kid. Aizawa followed the hero and was talking to the parents when they offered the reader to him.

Aizawa, not believing this, actually went to the room and paid the parents before going in alone.

The reader’s parents don’t really care how long people are along with the reader, as long as they pay them good money. The father’s quirk allows him to distort electrical circuits and signals rendering any device that investigators might use to capture evidence of their deeds, to be useless.

Once alone with the reader, Aizawa was revolted by the way the reader was sexualized by their own parents. He talked to the reader and it took some convincing but he eventually gave the reader a phone that they could use to gather evidence from the inside.

After Aizawa left, because there wasn’t anything he could do at that exact moment that wouldn’t make things worse for the reader, he informed the police as well as the other heroes he was working with about the situation and within the next three days, they had all the information they needed in order to get a search warrant and arrest the parents

Aizawa was the one who was in charge of the kid. It was during the raid that the reader’s quirk finally manifested.

Their quirk allows them to build up and store massive amounts of electrical energy and basically turn their body into electrical energy as well as manipulate it. The reader can travel through electrical circuits like landline phones and computers. They can create a force field of electrical energy that fries anything within it as well as control electricity and shape it.

The reader was being ‘used’ by a rather violent man who was being far rougher than anyone had ever been before. It was during all the stress and anxiety that the reader finally had enough. When Aizawa busted the door down he saw the man had been electrocuted to death and had electrical burns all over him.

Aizawa realizes the severity of the situation and instead of using his quirk he decided to have the reader try to control their ability themselves. Aizawa gently removed his goggles and slowly approached the hyperventilating child. He gently talked to them, speaking in a soft voice, he told them that it was over. That their parents have been arrested and that they will never have to deal with this kind of treatment ever again.

The reader obviously wasn’t comfortable with touching others and Aizawa understood that. Aizawa had given the reader the space they needed and made sure to always be within the reader’s sight and also made sure that anyone who had to be near the reader, followed the reader’s directions.

If they didn’t want to be touched, Aizawa made sure they wouldn’t be. If the reader was uncomfortable, Aizawa made sure that whatever was causing it was dealt with. For the first time ever, the reader actually saw and believed that someone was willing to protect them and after a few months the reader was finally comfortable with sleeping in the same room as Aizawa.

The doctors and nurses were worried about the reader since they refused to be touched and would use their quirk to defend themselves. It was only after Aizawa was able to gain the reader’s trust that the doctors had Aizawa be their proxy and do the tests needed. With every test that Aizawa had to do, he would explain in detail what he would be doing, why he was doing it and made sure that the reader felt comfortable and safe, making sure that they understood that they had to give consent before anything would be done.

Eventually a therapist and counselor where provided to the reader to help them deal with the trauma from their experiences. The reader wouldn’t really talk to anyone besides Aizawa

Seeing this the courts as well as the reader’s doctors suggested that Aizawa become the reader’s legal guardian

Aizawa adopted the reader and had Hizashi introduce himself to the reader. After that, the two of them decided to take the reader shopping since this was more of Hizashi’s area of expertise rather than Aizawa’s. They bought clothes for the reader, toys, books, electronics, snacks, toiletries, bedding, furniture, etc.

Once they got to Aizawa’s house, they helped the reader get everything inside and showed the reader their own rood with an attached bathroom. The reader even had a lock on their door that they could control from their side. Aizawa even helped the reader instal one of those chain locks on their door

It took a lot of time but eventually the reader began to trust Hizashi too. Eventually one day the reader had fallen asleep on the couch next to Aizawa. Aizawa was so touched and smiled softly. He made himself, as well as the reader, a promise, he would do whatever it took to keep them safe and make sure that they were happy and felt loved and cared for

(I hope this helps you and that you enjoyed this. I hope that your inner child finds some peace with this and that this helps them heal.)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #dadzawa #mha pro heroes #bnha pro heroes #pro heroes x child reader #aizawa x child reader

[mikage-rehoe]

A Bouquet of Red Roses (but make it a hundred)

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.7k

tags: post-timeskip, office au (office workers to lovers), mutual confession (is that even a thing? 🤔), Japanese honorifics are used, one cheesy chemistry pick-up line is used, LOTS AND LOTS OF RED ROSES!!!

a/n: dedicated to mami @quirrrky (ayiiiiiiiiiiieeeeee 😏♥️). Based on a request drabble by another Kuroo-simping moot @jotatetsuken from my old blog, rewrote and expanded it into a full-fledged fic. The original version’s been betaread by @krystalgaia, and this expanded version’s betaread by my fellow residents @unknownspecies @blackfire2013 @kenslilove at @enchantedforest-network—thank you 🙇🏻‍♀️ heart dividers by @cafekitsune 😘

Kisa’s General Taglist

RIIIIIIIIIIIING! “L/N-san speaking, yes! …yes? …a package for me? Hm… I don’t know… Hmm, mhm… I’ll receive it there at the lobby, thanks.” You placed the phone receiver back on its cradle, ending the call before quickly saving the worksheet you were doing on your computer.

“Going for a break, L/N-san?” Your co-worker Kuroo asked, face peeking from behind his cubicle across yours, his brown eyes looking curiously at your figure, while you shut down your computer and fish out your phone and wallet inside your bag before standing up.

You shook your head and grinned, fetching your coat from the back of your office chair and draped it around your shoulders. “Ah, no! Kikutani-san from the reception area just called, saying a delivered package of some sort that’s addressed to me came in, and I was to receive it at the lobby today.”

“‘Of some sort’, huh…,” he hummed, looking a bit perplexed. “I wonder what kind of package that is… Hope it’s not some weird stuff some random dude just sent it to you.”

You sighed vexingly. “Same here… though I don’t remember ordering some stuff online these past few weeks.” You started heading towards the double sliding doors, waving at Kuroo. “Kuroo-san, if someone asks for me while I’m away, please tell them I’ll be quick!”

He waved back, grinning softly. “Okay! Be careful on the way~” 

At the office lobby…

“...ah, L/N-san! Here are the papers you need to sign on for the package,” the senior receptionist, Kikutani, said while handing you a clipboard and pen. She rested her chin under her intertwining hands, pouting. “Lucky you, receiving such a sweet gift from your darling~ I’m envious!” She continued on rambling dramatically. “Ahhh~ when will the day of meeting my own Prince Charming finally come?”

You stopped midway through signing upon hearing her and turned to look at her. “Pardon?”

The receptionist then glanced sideways, which you followed suit, at a seemingly large bouquet of red roses sitting on the far right of the front desk, slightly obscuring the brass nameplate of the company’s logo on the wall.

“Wow… what a sight…,” a fellow employee who happened to pass by the lobby muttered, subtly taking a picture of the huge red-colored package from their phone’s camera. “Lucky~” A few other employees also followed suit.

“W-Wait a second, Kikutani-san… you don’t mean… these are mine? This whole bouquet of roses is mine?!” you blurted out in confusion, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” Kikutani nodded in reply as she watched you pick up the card from the bouquet. “All ninety-nine red roses.”

You stopped yourself from opening the card and reading its contents, side-eyeing the senior receptionist. “Wait… how do you know they’re ninety-nine in total?”

She winked amusingly at you. “I counted them earlier while waiting for you to receive them.” You shook your head in disbelief as you gently opened the card that was attached to the bouquet and read: “‘Forget hydrogen. You’re my number one element ♡’” You softly chuckled at the cheesy chemistry pick-up line written on the card. Cute. Whoever wrote this knows their science stuff very well and how witty of them to incorporate it into a good pick-up line.

“You know, in the language of roses, even the number of roses have their profound meaning, too,” the receptionist said out of the blue. “Receiving a bouquet of ninety-nine red roses from a special someone means that they’ll love you until the day they die.” She added thoughtfully, “…it’ll be wonderful if you were to receive a hundred red roses, though.”

You gently felt the soft-rough texture of the petals with your fingertips, and hummed, “Is that so…?” But, if there are ninety-nine roses in the bouquet… where is the one-hundredth rose, if ever there is? you asked yourself.

You then looked at Kikutani in a nonplussed expression. “But, Kikutani-san, how can I receive such a beautiful and expensive bouquet when I don’t have a lover yet? Much less a suitor…”

The receptionist stood quiet for a few seconds, staring at you. “You haven’t?”

“Since birth,” you replied, nodding in embarrassment.

Kikutani blinked once before clearing her throat. “Oh Lord... I’m sorry I misunderstood, dear,” she apologized.

You quickly dismissed it, waving your hands in front. “Ah, no! It’s okay, Kikutani-san, you don’t have to apologize. It’s just… this is my first time receiving a bouquet of roses so I feel kind of overwhelmed for a bit,” you chuckled softly.

“Oooohhh~ L/N Y/N-chan from the IT Department getting a bouquet of ninety-nine red roses from a dashing secret admirer, huh? Pretty romantic, if you ask me~” she said in a singsong voice, before her eyes noticed something behind you and smiled sweetly. “Ah! Speaking of dashing…”

“Oya? What do we have here?” You jumped on your feet and turned around to see your ‘dashing’ co-worker approaching the front desk, practically surprising you.

“Eh? Kuroo-san, why… what are you doing here…?” you asked in puzzlement.

“‘Why,’ you ask…?” Your tall male co-worker with bedhead hair then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. “I… I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all…,” he muttered; you failed to notice the faint red tinge coloring his cheeks as he said that.

“Ne, ne, Kuroo-san, did you hear?” The receptionist clapped her hands, drawing both your and Kuroo’s attention to her, and pointed her thumb at you. “L/N-san’s got a rich secret admirer and sent them a huge bouquet of red roses!”

You’re exaggerating a bit, Kikutani-san…, you thought, shaking your head.

Kuroo cocked his head on one side and looked at the card in your hands, feigning disinterest. “Uh-huh… a ‘secret admirer’, huh…”

You leaned your head into your hand and laughed, looking flustered at the thought. “Kikutani-san, even if there exists a ‘rich secret admirer’, I don’t know who would spend their money buying such an extravagant gift for me…”

“Hmm… I think I know of one—me,” he admitted, magically producing a single long-stemmed red rose from his hand, and gave it to you, smiling genuinely. You heard Kikutani gasp in the background and say, “A single red rose… it means ‘love at first sight’!”

You stared at Kuroo, your cheeks getting redder and redder, the beating of your heart pounding louder and louder.

“W-what’s the meaning of this, Kuroo-san?”

Earlier…

You started heading towards the double sliding doors, waving at Kuroo. “Kuroo-san, if someone asks for me while I’m away, please tell them I’ll be quick!”

He waved back, grinning softly. “Okay! Be careful on the way~” As soon as you were out of sight, he opened his cubicle drawer and carefully plucked something red from inside the drawer.

Kuroo stood up from his seat, took a deep breath and straightened himself up. “Good luck, me… you can do this!” he said to himself before heading out.

He opened his lips. “L/N-san, I like you… ever since the day you were assigned to our department months ago. When I first laid my eyes on you, I thought I was blown away with your cute looks, but then I also witnessed your adorable personality that’s uniquely you. You’re charming, sweet, kind and down-to-earth—good traits that I love about you.”

Suddenly, he gently placed his hand over your head and ruffled your hair a bit. “I also love your clumsy side, too…,” he added teasingly, pulling his hand before you swat him away.

“L/N Y/N, I’d be more than happy if you would go out on a date with me.” Kuroo held your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss while looking sincerely at you. Then he began to panic and pulled his hand away from yours, his face a flushing red. “A-ah, sorry! Was my confession straightforward? Did it weird you out?”

You giggled and shook your head in reply. “No, you didn’t… and I would gladly accept your offer for a date with you!” you said, happily accepting the rose from him before placing it together with the other ninety-nine red roses. “I’m also glad you’ve confessed that you like me… because I like you, too, Kuroo-san.”

Both Kikutani and Kuroo were stunned at your sudden confession, with the latter asking: “…you like me, too?”

You shyly nodded in response. “…it was also a love at first sight for me. You’re really sweet and always helping me out! A true gentleman… Also you made me giggle with that cute chemistry one liner you wrote on the card.” You brought the card to your lips and chuckled softly. “I love it!”

Cute… you’re so damn cute… I swear to God you’re gonna be the death of me, L/N-san, a blushing Kuroo thought, quickly clutching his chest to stop his heart from beating past the normal rate.

“Ah! I don’t know if you remembered but… you helped me before, during my first month here…” You then pointed at a nearby snack vending machine, and smiled at Kuroo. “You know, the stuck bag of chips?”

“Eh!? Is that you?”

“Mhmm… I was so hungry at that time—I forgot to bring my bento from home—and I couldn’t get myself to go out to the nearest restaurant without sacrificing my precious lunch hour,” you said to him. “So, I resorted to buying some chips at the vending machine for lunch. But just as I dropped some coins and turned on the knob, it stuck between the coil mechanism and the glass wall…”

“…that’s why I found you teary-eyed and kneeling in front of the machine and pounding your fists on it,” Kuroo continued, reminiscing about that fateful encounter with you. “Then, I remembered kicking one side of the machine and you get to eat that bag of chips…”

“I was so happy that time, and I was going to thank you but you’ve already left. I forgot to ask for your name or from which department you were part of. So…” You and Kuroo continued to chat some more for a while in front of the reception desk.

“A hundred red roses—‘a gesture of commitment and supreme devotion’...,” the now ignored receptionist murmured, sighing dreamily as she looked at the both of you getting all shy and lovey-dovey in front of her, chatting away.

Bonus, a few minutes later:

“Shoot! I forgot to finish signing the receipt form for the bouquet earlier.”

“What?”

Likes are okay (but useless), reblogs are nice, reposts and plagiarism stuff are frowned upon 🥰 | ALL WORKS BY MIKAGE-REHOE © 2023

#enchantedforestnetwork #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kitty☆writes

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 1

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [next]

“....-N…. Y/N..? Helloooo? Y/N!”

I jolt when I hear someone calling my name through the music I’m listening to. I take off my headphones and let it hang around the back of my neck, answering without looking away from the computer screen in front of me.

“My bad, what?” I question disinterestedly as the music continues to play faintly below my ears. The clicking of my mouse can finally be heard since I threw my headphones on for full immersion a while back.

“The guys are coming over, throw on some pants.”

I take my eyes away from the RPG that I’m currently playing and when I notice that my brother is wearing nothing but boxers and a graphic tee, I lazily lift an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He mocks as siblings typically do when he notices my condescending gaze and I roll my eyes at him, saving the progress I’ve made on my game.

“Clyde got that new video game we were talking about last week.” He continues to say as he lifts his body up from his laidback stance against my door frame, typing something on his cellphone. Probably the guys telling him that they’re on their way.

I hum a simple hmm in answer to him as I get up from my chair and stretch the kinks in my body after spending the past few hours sitting down.

"Oh yeah, do you know whose burrito is in the fridge?” My brother distractedly asks as I take my time walking to my closet to look for some shorts to throw on.

Similar to my brother, my current attire is just an oversized band tee and my underwear. On me, however, it reaches my mid-thighs. Dwarfing my body, I wear these types of shirts often to sleep as a makeshift pajama dress, meaning I forgo any bottoms since no one but my family sees me like this. Because of this, my brother and I wear each other's shirts, which is often the cause of our mom’s headaches when we fight over clothes.

“You know it’s mine.” I quickly glare at him as I pull the article of clothing out from its designated shelf.

I do this carefully so that I don’t disrupt the other pajama bottoms its in between because Lord knows that if I fuck up this area in my closet, I’ll carelessly handle my other clothing until the whole closet becomes a rat's nest.

It’s already messed up here so it shouldn’t matter if I do the same to everything else. I’ll clean it soon anyways… Not.

“Yep, I know. I already ate it.” He laughs, a shit eating grin on his face as he slams my bedroom door shut. The sound of his feet quickly hitting the floor can also be heard as he runs to wherever the fuck he decided to hide.

“STAN, YOU DICK!” I yell, pulling up my shorts in anger.

I grumble and pout to myself while I do a quick check in the mirror to make sure I’m presentable. I was looking forward to reheating my leftovers after getting in a good amount of progress on my game.

Why the hell do siblings touch shit that isn’t theirs? Ugh. And the audacity he has to directly ask me about it when he already ate it. If he's still hungry, I'll just give him a knuckle sandwich.

I throw myself onto my bed to check my phone since I went MIA for the past couple of hours that I was preoccupied with the gaming world. The date catches my attention and I grimace when I notice that tomorrow would be the first day of sophomore year. It’s easy to lose track of summer when this shitty town is covered in snow all year round. Hearing the front door slam open and multiple muffled voices overlapping, I bring myself downstairs to the living room and spot Clyde putting a disc into the gaming console in front of the television.

“Sup?” I call out to no one in particular with multiple variations of hey being thrown back at me.

I jump over the back of the couch and settle myself in between Kenny and Tweek, with Tolkien sitting to the right of the coffee addict. Kenny automatically pulls my legs up to settle over his lap, resting a hand on my calf as he fiddles with his phone with the unoccupied one.

“How the hell do you guys not have any cheesy poofs? What kind of household is this? I’ve been busting my balls for years waiting for this game to come out and when the day finally arrives, I can’t even enjoy it with the best snack ever?? I’d expect this from broke ass Kinny but not the Marsh’s!” Cartman complains as he follows the ever aloof Craig over to where the rest of us are lounging, stomping his feet from the kitchen to the dining room in a normal Cartman-like tantrum.

“Shut up, fatass! Stans ordering pizza so stop complaining before we put a limit to your slices!” Kyle threatens from the kitchen while Kenny and I roll our eyes.

“You’re welcome to leave.” I sarcastically mumble with my eyes still trained on Clyde setting everything up. He always looks really cute when he's concentrating.

“Oh shut up Y/N, this is your poorass pantry I’m talking about.” Cartman shoots back as he dramatically plops down on a seat at the dining table, his head down on the tabletop and his arms stretched out on either side next to Butters. I flash my middle finger at his pathetic display and see that Craig is sending him one too so I snicker when the black haired boy and I make eye contact.

“Instead of bitching, here's a suggestion. Why don’t you make your fat self useful for once and get some at the store then? You can even take it back to your house and just stay there for the rest of the night.” I snark back despite the sickeningly sweet tone of voice I adorn.

“Aye!” Fatass sits up and yells back at me before Kyle walks into the room, rolling his eyes.

“Dude. You can lay off the snacks for one night, can’t you? Cause you know, I’m pretty sure you have enough fat stored in your body to last you without any type of food for a few months and you’d still be alive.”

“Shut up, Craig!”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Loud, but this is just a typical night in with the boys. The boys, meaning Team Stan, Team Craig, and of course, Butters. We all hang out together as one but like any other group, there are cliques within it. I guess they formed when we were younger and would play games that required opposing teams having to go against each other.

Having to split, these are the groups that always formed when we played stuff like catch or basketball, and why the guys in each respective teams are a bit closer to one another as opposed to the other team. They naturally formed because Stan, Kenny, Cartman, and Kyle live near each other whereas Craig, Tweek, Tolkien, Clyde, and Jimmy live closer to one another.

Of course, I’m usually in my brother's “team” and this works out for us because Butters typically likes to sit our games out and play moderator instead.

Speaking of. My brother, Stan, and I are actually twins. Because of this, our parents decided to separate us and have Stan and I go to different schools when we got into elementary. They wanted to encourage us to be independent individuals and to make our own friends, instead of being comfortable with sticking together after we went to preschool together. Yes, we met all the guys and became friends with them when I still attended the same place as my brother, but my parents were worried that I wasn’t spending enough time with other girls my age.

Even though I went to a separate elementary school and middle school than the others, I still grew up and spent all of my time with them when we were outside of school. Because of this, I’m still as close to everyone else as they are with each other.

This year, however, my parents finally decided that we were old enough to make the decision of whether or not my brother and I wanted to finally attend the same school. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to go to school with my older brother and our friends. Well, okay. It was more like I insistently begged them and they finally caved in and gave me the green light to transfer.

Gathered around the television on either the floor or the couches and with pizza in our faces, Kyle silently curses as he checks his phone.

“My ma wants me home early since tomorrow is the first day of school.” He informs us, wincing when he remembers the start of a new school year.

“Ack! I completely forgot!” Tweek’s eyes widens and twitches as he clenches his shirt in first day jitters.

“Oh gee, me too! But that means we’ll finally be able to go to school with you, huh, little buddy?” Butters nudges me with his elbow and I smile into the can of soda I’m drinking from.

"Yessss! I can’t wait! I’ll finally be able to meet the other schoolkids at South Park!” I beam, throwing my arms around the blonde and hugging him in euphoria.

Growing up with the boys and being the only girl, everyone has naturally grown to be rather protective over me as they see me as their pseudo-little sister. This meant that they constantly whisked me away from others our age and would promptly pull me away if I ever did something as simple as wave to someone outside of the group. They called it taking me away from the lame-o’s, as Cartman constantly reminded me.

Of course, I knew the other people that my friends are cool with like Timmy, Scott Malkinson, and Dovahkiin. They tag along with us from time to time and it’s a refreshing change of pace when they do.

“I’m also excited about the commute! Finally, I get to catch some more sleep in the morning because mom or dad don’t have to drive me thirty minutes just to get to North Park!” Cue me dramatically fake sobbing into Butters shoulders as he consoles me by petting my hair.

“There, there, buddy. You won’t have to worry anymore!” I giggle as Craig pulls me away from the little cutie.

“Lameee, I already see your ugoo face enough. I don’t need to see it at school either.”

"Shut up, Cartman. How do you think we’ve felt seeing your fatass in and out of school for all of our lives? That’s a decade too much.” Kyle tiredly says.

“Aye!”

“Well, I’m excited to finally see my bestie at school!” Clyde throws his arms around my shoulders from behind me. We giggle to each other in excitement as I place my hands on his arms.

“I’m going to get so much second-hand embarrassment when I finally get to see you try to flirt with a girl, Clydey.”

“Y/N! You wound me! Did you forget that I’m the most handsomest, most charming, and most smoothest guy in school—no. In all of South Park!” Clyde boasts while I continue to laugh, consolingly patting his arms in pity for his delusions.

“Besides, I wouldn’t think to do that anymore now that I have my baby girl going to school with me!” He says as he puckers up his lips and exaggeratedly makes kissing sounds towards me.

I’m still laughing as I lightly block his face from me. Clyde is always so silly and more sensitive than the guys (ahem, a crybaby, ahem), making him my partner in crime in stupid antics like this.

“Dude.” Stan pinches the space between his eyes and furrows his brows at the obnoxious flirting. The boys and I play flirt all the time for fun, but mostly to annoy my brother.

“You’re like this now, Stan, but wait until tomorrow. In a small town like Shit Park, a new student will be the talk of the school.” Tolkien slyly smirks, trying to get into the ravenette’s overprotective head.

“Oh shit. Fuck, I forgot. You’re fresh meat.” My brother stares at me uncomfortably, his face going pale at the overwhelming thought.  

“Leave him alone, guys… Besides, my princess will have her trusty knight by her side.” Kenny gloats.

When we were younger, there was a fantasy game we liked to play, involving a “Stick of Truth” that we fought for. Kenny chose to be a princess at that time to cheekily spend more time with me, another princess in the game. The pet name stuck and has been something he’s fondly called me from then on.

“More like mangy dog. You’re just going to drop her as soon as you see someone else with legs and a pulse, McWhoremick.” Craig deadpans, setting Kenny off as he clenches his jaw in anger.

“Anyways!” I cut them off before it escalates, “I’m most excited to see the poor girls you guys have dated!” I teasingly smirk.

“No. No, no! Respect my authoritah, Y/N! I'm seriously! Don’t come anywhere near those stupid skanks, nothing good ever comes out of girls!”

Cartman always gets defensive when his ex or any of the girls that the boys know gets brought up. Probably because the guys still clown him for the voicemail they got ahold of when we were kids, crying and threatening to commit suicide if she didn’t get back together with him. They like to joke around and say that they’d use “dying pig Cartman” the way those rappers use voicemails in their hit songs.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

As I lay in bed after the guys go home, I restlessly toss and turn, repositioning myself in bed for hours into the night. I can never sleep due to both excitement and anxiety before the start of any school year. Deeming all my attempts futile, I pull out my phone from under my pillow and text the group chat to see if anyone else was in the same boat as me.

GROUP CHAT (EVERYONE)

N/N: yoooo

Toolshed (Stan): nooooo (barf emoji)

N/N: aye! fucking RUDE >:(

N/N: imma stuff you back into mom’s womb

HumanKite (Kyle): LOL gross dude.

theCoon (Cartman): not as gross as ur mom’s jew vagina

HumanKite (Kyle): Shut the fuck up, fatass.

theCoon (Cartman): you know, its ironic you call me that when you have a fat bitch mom!

SuperCraig (Craig): idk cartman, your mom’s must be gaping to have been able to push a fat baby like you out

Mysterion (Kenny): LMAOOO tru dat

Mysterion (Kenny): phat pussy

theCoon (Cartman): AYE! at least my mom didn’t willingly fuck a soulless ginger like urs craig!

SuperCraig (Craig): (middle finger emoji)

Tupperware (Tolkien): Your mom literally did, Cartman…

HumanKite (Kyle): Fucking dumbass.

theCoon (Cartman): details, DETAILS

theCoon (Cartman): his parents are still together so she still does!

HumanKite (Kyle): Yeah, but that just means your poor mom has to work hard to make enough money to feed herself and 10 other people because you eat enough for an army.

theCoon (Cartman): shut up you fucking JEW!!!

N/N: i can’t sleep :(

Toolshed (Stan): no one cares lol

N/N: shut up

N/N: you know how theres always a twin who's less attractive, even when they're identical?

N/N: that's you, stanley

N/N: ur just bitter cause im the cuter twin

Toolshed (Stan): ur literally ugoo but i admire ur confidence i guess

Tupperware (Tolkien): I never get why you always insult each other's looks, you're literally twins

ProfChaos (Butters): poor buddy

ProfChaos (Butters): want me to hop on my switch? we can play animal crossing together until you get sleepy :3

Mosquito (Clyde): oooo, i can’t sleep too so i’ll also visit ur island :D

theCoon (Cartman): laaaame

theCoon (Cartman): kick these pussies out of the chat ffs

theCoon (Cartman): lets hop on our PCs and start an online campaign instead

FastPass (Jimmy): hop on this dick instead :P

Mysterion (Kenny): AYO??

Mosquito (Clyde): LOL, NO HOMO BRO???

FastPass (Jimmy): nah bro, all the homos (sunglasses emoji)

Mysterion (Kenny): AYEEEE

Toolshed (Stan): LMAOOO

FastPass (Jimmy): lmao wait no i was just kidding (crying emoji)

theCoon (Cartman): you guys are fucking idiots.

N/N: ewwww, with cartman?? who can be that desperate, even as a joke jimmy? (barfing emoji)

Mysterion (Kenny): want me to swing by N/N? i know a few ways to make you tired (winking emoji) (smirk emoji) (devil emoji) (tongue emoji)

SuperCraig (Craig): (middle finger emoji)

Toolshed (Stan): DUDE.

WonderTweek (Tweek): Want me to oo br ing you coffee eee tomo rrow Y/N?? ??

Tweek’s twitching often has him typing like this. He doesn’t bother fixing his typos since it’s not hard to make out what he says, anyways.

N/N: my gate is open butters :3

N/N: idk clyde, you trampled on my flowers last time.. >:(

N/N: ily tweek!! <3

Mosquito (Clyde): Y/NNNNN!!! T—T

FastPass (Jimmy): he did it on purpose too, Y/N

FastPass (Jimmy): i saw him

FastPass (Jimmy): i kept telling him not to

FastPass (Jimmy): he laughed like a maniac and everything while he did it

FastPass (Jimmy): he also threatened to chop down your trees

Mosquito (Clyde): LIEEEEES

Mosquito (Clyde): DON’T LISTEN TO HIM Y/N

Mosquito (Clyde): people are always trying to take me down because im HANDSOME so SHUT. UP!!!

Mosquito (Clyde): jealousy is a disease, jimmy, and i hope you get better soon because it looks UGLY on you!!!

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Despite sleeping late due to playing on my switch with Butters and Clyde, I wake up earlier than my alarm multiple times. Because of this, I decide to give up on going back to sleep when I notice that it's not that long until I should start getting ready anyways. I opt to pass the time on my phone instead, scrolling through social media like Coonstagram.

With my morning routine out of the way, I barge into my brother’s room without knocking to make sure he’s not still asleep so we’re not late to the bus stop… and also, to be annoying. After confirming that he is, in fact, awake when he throws a comic book at me, I go downstairs to eat some breakfast.

“I can’t believe you and Stan are already starting your second year of high school… Soon, you’ll be off to college like your sister and leave your father and I behind.” My mom laments as she places a plate of food in front of me.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’m pretty sure Stanley will still be living with you guys until he’s at least 35!” I smile sweetly at her while I spread butter onto my toast, as a muffled AYE! can be heard from upstairs. She tiredly sighs at us for getting onto each other's nerves so early in the morning but I continue to innocently eat my food.

“You remember what we talked about, right?”

“Hmmm..?”

“Even though you're going to school with your brother and the others now, I still want you to try to branch out into other things without them. You’re in high school now and I don’t want you to miss out on once in a lifetime opportunities and experiences because of the boys,” The brunette continues.

“Yeah mom, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll make new girl friends when I try out for sports. Maybe volleyball? Or basketball. I don’t know—something. I still haven’t decided yet.” I shrug around a mouthful of food.

“You know that's not what I mean, Y/N… Just think about at least trying to join, maybe, I don’t know. Cheer? We don’t care if you don’t make it, but at least just attend tryouts? Who knows, maybe you’ll like it.”

Ahhh, and there it is. Even after all these years, my parents are still trying to push me to be more independent from my brother and the boys by doing more female dominated activities.

“Pffffttt!” Shelley snorts behind a glass of orange juice and I glare at her, angrily stabbing at my poor eggs.

“Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be on campus, at your dorm or something? I bet she’s ditching classes, mom! Wasting all that college tuition!” I tattle annoyingly on my elder sister in spite.

“Shut up, TURD!” She voices over me, kicking the leg of my chair and making me pout even more.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When my brother and I walk to the bus stop, I’m still pouting at what my mom reminded me of. I get more upset when I think about how we have to take the bus, even though most of the guys know how to drive.

Admittedly, we’re not of age to even get our license yet but some of us have their driver’s permit. They learned a little earlier because all of our parents are pretty chill with us learning how to drive as South Park doesn’t get traffic at all. This eases their anxiety as there are barely any other drivers on the road.

It doesn't ease my anxiety though, which is why I never learned to drive. I mean, why would I need to when I have a servant—oops, I mean brother, who can? The only problem is that none of our parents have gotten any of the guys cars to freely use (except for richass Tolkien) and aren’t planning to until they can legally drive.

“Mmph mmmph mmph? (What’s up with you?)” Kenny asks me before pulling down his parka’s hood.

“I don’t know, man. She’s been pouting since breakfast. Just ignore her,” My brother shrugs in answer for me and I pout even more.

“Probably that time of the month,” Cartman snarks before Kyle punches him in the arm.

“Shut up, fatass.” He says so I seek comfort from the ushanka wearing teen for coming into my defense, hugging his arm and leaning my head against him so I can comfortably mope.

“Hey! I asked how you were first. Come here, Princess.” Kenny whines and makes grabby hands at me but before he can do anything, the bus pulls up. As I look around at the new faces sitting all around me, Kenny grabs my arm and pulls me to the seat beside him.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asks, putting his arm around me but I just shrug in response.

“Is it because you didn’t get enough sleep last night? You know you don’t need beauty sleep when you’re already so pretty. And Tweeks bringing you coffee, yeah? Just wait a few more minutes and you’ll be able to get your fix,” He gently offers but I just shake my head.

“Are you nervous for your first day? Don’t worry baby girl, daddy’s here.” He teasingly says while winking at me, and it works. I crack a smile because of how cheesy and ridiculous his words are and softly slap the hand that's on my shoulder, leaning my head against him for the rest of the ride.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

South Park High looks the same as it did on orientation when we got our class schedule, prior to the first official day of school. Even then, I’m not as nervous about transferring to a completely different environment since I have my boys with me.

Kenny still has an arm around me as he walks me to my locker, until Craig pulls him by the hood to take him off of me, choking him in the process.

“Fuck! You asshole!”

“Can any of you guys not get into trouble on our first day of school?” Kyle sighs with his eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose when he and the others get to us. I finally get my much needed coffee and hug Tweek out of appreciation.

“That’s like asking Cartman not to eat.” Clyde snickers to the guys, eliciting laughs all around and lifting my mood up even more.

“Aye!”

“Ngh! Whoever gets to the cafeteria first grabs us an empty table, right?” Tweek interrupts while we voice our confirmations, my arm wrapped around his lower back from our earlier hug as I sip on my warm cup of caffeine.

“I’ll pick you up after class for lunch, N/N.” Craig’s monotonous tone reaches me, leaving no room for a no as the others pick up conversation around us.

“You don’t have to! Isn’t your class at the other end of the school? I don’t want you to have to go through all that trouble for me.”

“Yeah, dude.” Stan side eyes him, having heard our exchange.

“You’re so short, I don’t want you to get lost in a sea of people and miss lunch.”

“Pffft, Craig! Even if I did get lost, I wouldn’t miss the whole lunch period.” I smile fondly at him, letting go of Tweek to adjust my backpack’s strap.

“Yeah, if anything, I can pick up Y/N.” Kenny pipes up as Craig furrows his brows at his interruption. Stan rolls his eyes at the both of them, deciding to leave the conversation and go talk to Kyle instead.

“We have the same class, you idiot.”

“And? Everyone knows I’m faster than you.”

“Says who? My legs are literally longer than yours and I’m the tallest of the group. One step from me is equal to, like, four struggling steps from you. Three if I’m being generous.”

“Ugh, you guys are annoying. I have the class before lunch with Clyde so we’ll just meet you guys there, okay? Sheeeeesh,” I make the decision for them.

“You rang, beautiful?” Clyde drops his prior conversation with Jimmy and Tolkien midway to nosely join ours at the mention of his name, leaning his arm on me like I’m an armrest.

“Shut up, Clyde.” The three of us say as I shove his elbow off of me.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When it’s finally lunch time, Clyde and I enter the cafeteria to see that a few of the guys managed to snatch a table for us so we head straight to the lunch line to grab some food. On our way there, we stop by a table and say hi to Jimmy, Scott, Timmy, and Dovahkiin.

“You go here now, baby Marsh?” Dovahkiin types out to me on his phone, an eyebrow raised.

“Yep! My folks finally decided to let me go to school with everyone!”

“Oh boy.”

“Hmmm? And what do you mean by that? I don’t like your tone, Dov.” I playfully shoot back.

“More trouble this year :p”

I laugh, “We’re not that bad! Actually… that’s valid. Whatever! You’re just jealous that you don’t get the attention of being the new kid now that I’m here!” I stick out my tongue at him and push down the bill of the hat he’s wearing to cover his eyes.

His melodic laugh can be heard and I smile, feeling proud that I was able to get a sound out of the notoriously mute Douchebag. I notice that a few other students look our way in surprise from the corner of my eyes.

I settle myself in between Craig and Kenny while Clyde takes a seat at the other side of the table between Tolkien and Tweek. The rest of the school day goes fine and the day after goes similarly. The third day, however, is different. It’s during one of our passing periods when I’m at my locker to switch out my books that it happens.

I share all of my classes with at least one of the guys so I usually have a buddy with me throughout the whole day. While Butters normally walks with me during this passing period, he had to use the bathroom and told me that he’d just meet me at class. When I close my locker door shut, a group of girls come up to greet me.

“Hi! My friends and I were wondering what your name is, new kid.” The black haired girl smiles at me. She’s really pretty and I can tell from that, her silky hair, and cute sense of fashion that she’s probably popular with others.

“Oh! Hi! My name is Y/N!”

“Cute name! I just wanted to formally introduce myself. My name is Wendy Testaburger. I’m the student body council president and co-captain of the cheer team,” I nod at her words, impressed. Holy shit, she’s only a sophomore and she was able to get people to vote for her for president?

“My name is Heidi Turner! It’s nice to meet you!” A girl with light brown hair introduces herself next. Her headband is so cute and unique with a flower sitting to the side of it, I’m in awe of her personal style and confidence.

“I’m Bebe Stevens! Stick with us and you’ll be fine, okay new kid? We’ll let you know which boys are a waste of your time!” The blonde giggles, twirling curly hair around her perfectly manicured finger.

I can’t help but to think that the aura she exudes is more mature. Maybe it’s because of the higher end attire she's sporting? Or maybe… it’s her rack..? Ah fuck, don’t look there, stupid! Eyes up, idiot! God dammit, this is all Kenny and Clyde’s fault!

“The name’s Rebecca McArthur but you can just call me Red! If you want to try out for cheer, let us know so we can tell you when our coach has a date set for tryouts!” Wait, are they all cheerleaders? The boys will be jealous of me once they find out about my new pretty friends hehe.

“We actually wanted to ask if you’d like to have lunch with us, too. Find us in the lunchroom if you ever decide to and feel free to sit with us! It doesn’t have to be today, but anytime you feel like it! We’ll see you around, okay?” Wendy invites me as the rest of the girl say their byes.

While being the new kid means that a good amount of people have been greeting me in the hallways or going up to me in class to introduce themselves, this was the first time that I’ve been invited to sit with someone for lunch. I’m so excited that I inform my lab partner of the news.

“no one new has invited me to sit w/ them at lunch since i came! :D” I write out in my notebook before sliding it across the two-person lab counter to my seatmate in science class.

“duh, it’s cause ur bro + his friends are super overprotective of you. no one can approach you even if they wanted to since you’re with them all the time :P” Dovahkiin writes back and I frown at this revelation.

“huh… that makes sense, i guess? oh god ew, i hope no one thinks that im dating any of them :x my brother?? CARTMAN?? vomit!!”

“its ok, you can tell anyone that im ur bf if they do :D” I softly hit his arm with the back of my hand even though I’m rewarded with his melodic snickering.

By the time lunch comes around, I’m giddy when I grab my food with Clyde. I tell him to go on ahead of me and he doesn’t question it, probably thinking that I want to stop by Timmy and the other’s table again. I don’t, however, and scan the room until I find the table that the girls are sitting at.

I sit next to Wendy and Bebe after I skip to their table, the ravenette patting the seat between them with a smile on her face. It feels nice talking to the girls as we get to know each other, with them asking me about how I’m adjusting to the school and what classes I have.

“We have another friend, her name’s Nichole, but she said she has to do something in the library today.” Red informs me and I soak up the information, enthusiastically nodding my head at her words.

“Speaking of Nichole, we actually noticed that you hang out with her boyfriend and his friends.” Bebe nonchalantly brings up as the girls all glance at one another.

“Oh, what! Wait, so that means your guy’s Nichole is the same one that's dating my friend Tolkien, then? No one else has a girlfriend that I know of,” I smile up at them.

“Mhmm, we actually noticed that you're really close to the guys,” She continues. The other girls seem interested too as they give me their undivided attention.

“Haha, yeah. They’re like my brothers!”

“Really? You just started going to school in South Park though?” They’re all surprised.

“Yeaaah, but I’ve known them all my life! I’ve actually lived in South Park all my life too. I just went to school in North Park until this year,” I say as I munch on my fries.

“How? Are you neighbors with one of them or something?”

“That, but I also went to preschool with them. If you guys have always been in South Park like me, we probably even went to the same preschool! I can’t remember shit from that long ago though so you guys probably don’t remember me too,” I shrug.

“Huh. I’m surprised that you guys kept in contact throughout the years then.” Wendy says to me in thought this time, the other girls nodding.

“Hmm, I can see why you'd say that. But my brother’s one of those dumbasses, so…”

“What?!” All the girls exclaim. Their unexpectedly loud response causes a casualty in my fries. I look at the fallen piece of food under the lunch table and mourn the tiny loss.

“So that makes you twins then..? Unless one of them flunked, resulting in you getting stuck in the same grade with him. It’s honestly believable with how dumb those guys are but we’ve gone to school with them all of our lives and we know that none of them have been held back a grade…” Wendy mumbles out and I laugh, agreeing with her statement.

“Yup, twins! I’m a Marsh!” I proudly boast, smiling wide with my teeth showing. Wendy chokes on her water and all the girls share a meaningful glance with her.

“Pfffft, oh man! We wanted to warn you about those dumbasses because we always saw you with them, but we just thought they got to you first and you were oblivious to who they were. I didn’t think you grew up that close with the guys, much less being related to one of them!” Bebe laughs at the unexpected turn of events.

I blush, flattered that they cared enough about a new girl like me to want to warn me about who they thought the ‘wrong crowd’ was.

“Not like you can say anything though, Bebe. You dated one of them,” Red scoffs, entertained at Bebe’s slowly reddening cheeks.

“That doesn’t count! Who even counts relationships from when they were in elementary school?!”

“Wait… Does this mean you’re the same Bebe that dated Clyde?” My entire expression does a complete 180 as I cross my arms and lift an eyebrow at the blonde.

“Dude. You used him for shoes.” I continue, furrowing my brows at the mortified girl.

“I was just a selfish little kid! I didn’t know any better! At least I didn’t date Eric Cartman!” She throws Heidi under the bus in an attempt to divert the attention away from herself. I continue to stare at her, unamused.

“Well, Wendy and your brother dated on and off when we were younger!” My eyes widen as I turn my head to the person sitting on the other side of me.

“Aw, dude.” I say to her in a mixture of pity and disgust, the expression reminding the girls of when Stan would say it. If there were any doubts about my bloodline, this further confirmed it for them.

“I-I-It’s not like that anymore! I haven’t thought of him in that way since elementary school!” It’s Wendy’s turn to get red in the face and embarrassed.

“Yeah, it’s the other Marsh. Homegirl has a type~” Bebe snickers at the other girls but I don’t hear it, still in disbelief that my brother managed to date someone as pretty as Wendy, regardless if their relationship wasn’t legit due to their age.

Before anyone can say anything else, the bell signals the end of the lunch period and the disbelief remains throughout the day. I catch up to the guys outside of the lunchroom and they waste no time questioning me.

“What the hell, Y/N! Why’d you eat with those bitches?! I know it might be hard for you but I thought I warned you to stop being so stupid!” Cartman seems irritated as the other guys echo their sentiments at having seen me eating with the girls. No, their exes. I squint my eyes at my dumb brother and at the fatty.

“Hello? Y/N! Don’t tell me your weak ass got brainwashed in an hour?! Jesus fucking Christ, woman!” Fatass continues while shaking my shoulders. I roll my eyes and push his grubby paws off me.

“You’re an ass. Heidi’s such a sweet girl. I don’t know why I’m so surprised that you managed to fuck that up,” I tell him as we continue to walk in the hallways.

“Nuh-uh! She was the crazy bitch in the relationship! She manipulated me! She took advantage of all this,” He waves his hands over his body, “For her own selfish gain!”

“What is there to even gain from you? A few pounds?” The guys laugh and I fistbump Craig.

“And you! Bro. Brooo. Wendy? When will you surprise me for once and not embarrass me for being related to you?” I cross my arms while Kenny hugs me from behind, throwing his arms over my shoulders and smiling at Stan from over my head.

“Nah, she's nicknamed Testabitch for a reason, babe.” Kenny takes out the lollipop in his mouth to reply and I push his hand away from my face when he offers the sweet to me.

“She’s not your babe,” We hear from Craig’s deep voice as he eyes the blonde in disgust at his offering.

“Did Bebe say anything embarrassing about me?” Poor Clyde tugs on my jacket to get my attention. I offer a sympathetic smile and hug the jock, breaking out of Kenny’s hold.

“Don’t worry Clydey, she seemed embarrassed that I knew about her using you for shoes.”

“Don’t hug him for being a fucking simp, Y/N. It’s his fault for being a dumbass. The only thing that bitch is good for is her fat rack.”

“Shut up, fatass.” Of course, Kyle is the one who replies.

“Shit, right? I couldn’t stop staring at them!” I turn my head towards Eric to say.

“Y/NNN!” Clyde whines in betrayal and I pet his head in apology.

#south park #south park x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #kenny mccormick x reader #lalawrites

[justhere4kpop]

How Hongjoong Celebrates You

Pair: Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Headcanons. Idol Joong

Summary: Just one aspect of how I think Joong would handle an important day.

W/C: 880

a/n: @pocketjoong Happy Birthday to you my love, my sky, my everything. I love you so much and I am forever grateful that our lives have intersected the way they did. May our lives continue to dance with each other throughout the year and many more. I hope you have an amazing day and lots of good things to come.

He either sets up something elaborate or flies by the seat of his pants. There’s no in between

Either way, he’s probably cheesy AF because he’s so head over heels for you.

He’d probably been planning this for months. I.e. he wouldn’t stop talking about it and planning it with the guys, they’re tired of hearing Joong’s perfect plan for your birthday.

He knows how much you love the pirate theme the group has, you even saved him as Captain in your phone.

You wake up and there’s an unread text on your phone. “Hongjoong is probably at the studio” you think

“Good Morning My Love, you make every day shine brighter than the last. When you see this your first gift is in the drawer.”

Mysterious

After your own morning coffee and some food, you finally decide to indulge in his games and look in the bedside drawer. 

A sticky note…of course, he planned a treasure hunt… “Go to the place I see your smile light up my morning.”

He always catches you brushing your teeth in the morning.

A note on the mirror that says “Your smile is brighter than the sun.” another note next to your toothbrush. 

“After you get ready head to the place we had our first date.”

This man is really about to make you drive over the whole city.

Your first date was at a cafe that quickly became your favorite place because it always reminded you of him.

“Hey!” your favorite barista saw you enter.

“I’m looking for Hongjoong actually,” you say

“Oh I saw him earlier…he asked me to give you this actually.” he handed you your usual order and on it a heart and a note. Also a Rose…

“I bought your favorites so you can start your day right. How about you come to see me where I finally asked you to be mine?”

The park for your 6th date wasn’t the most magical, in fact, it felt like the place where everyone became a couple. It was still special to you.

There was a photo on the tree by the spot where he asked you…yeah this was definitely Joong

The photo was of the two of you, he brought a Polaroid around. 

The back had a message “How about that time I made you a song? Where’d we first listen to it?” and the drawing of a rose.

I’M TIRED OF YOUR GAMES HONGJOONG

Heading back the way to KQ with your headphones on, of course, you’re heading to the studio…he couldn’t just stay home and enjoy the day with you.

You’re standing in front of the building and realizing this man has made you go all over the city on your own birthday…infuriating.

Now you’re hungry so you stop for food in the 7-11 located on the bottom floor.

“Hey, y/n. Joong said you’d probably be by so he bought these for you.” the clerk said handing you the snacks.

Another Rose….

KIM HONGJOONG

You make your way into KQ running into some of the workers who knew about you and Hongjoong, they wished you Happy Birthday and handed you a Rose each saying it was from Joong…

You reach the studio and pause

He better be in there.

Nope…

Your song is playing though.

Now you’re tired and want to go home.

His computer is open and it says “I know you’re tired my love, I’m sorry for all the games, head home I promise I’ll be there.”

He’s about to be even more sorry

He’s definitely on the couch for a week, maybe a month. The pocas?? Sleep with him.

You hear a faint melody as you get to your floor.

He planned this.

You open the door and it’s like the day melted away. No longer mad he made you run all over the city looking for him…well maybe a little still

There are petals on the floor and candles. You know the standard romantic things.

There’s a song playing in the background, you haven’t heard it before but you know it’s your Joong’s voice.

“Welcome home Darling.” he smiled turning around to face you holding out a rose.

“Yahhh Kim Hongjoong.”

“I know but I had to get you out of the house to set this up.” he smiled a small twinkle in his eye.

“Sometimes you’re too romantic.” you chuckle at him.

“Hey at least I remembered this year.” he winced.

Last year was a mess with touring and everything, you couldn’t blame him for not having his head on straight. 

Didn’t make it any less special he tried his best. He even flew you out to see him.

“I love you.” he smiled and took all the flowers from you.

“And just what do you have planned?” you raised your eyebrow.

“Oh just the only gift I think is suitable for you.” he dropped to one knee, box in hand.

ARE YOU GOING TO SAY YES??? HMMMM??

“You are truly a pain in my ass Kim Hongjoong.”

“But only yours.” he smiled and slipped the ring on.

“I think the members would say otherwise.

“Nah…those are our pains in the ass now.” he kissed your hand and hummed along to the song playing.

He wrote another love song for you.

This is a long forever.

Network: @cromernet

#cromernet #happy birthday my love #my sky #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong headcanon #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez fic

[f10werfae]

Henry caville married to american! reader, who works as a 9-1-1 dispatcher and he surprisingly visits her from the set that he was acting in.

What’s Your Emergency?

Pairing:Fiancé!Henry Cavill x 911 Dispatcher!Reader

Word count: 1,347

Summary: Y/n has one of the most challenging days at work and it all comes to blow, thankfully she has her own superman to come rescue her

Warnings: Mentions of Head injury, abduction and murder

————

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

➼ Henry Cavill Masterlist 💫

➼ masterlist ✨

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“911, Where is your emergency?” I said, my tone monotone

“PLEASE HURRY, WE HAVE SOMEONE UNCONSCIOUS” I heard a panicked woman say on the phone, swallowing thickly I cleared my throat before replying

“What is the address of the emergency” Typing into the call information her address and postcode,

“Tell me what’s happened, the ambulance is on its way” I spoke gently, keeping in mind that this woman was already in a vulnerable headspace

“M-my husband he fell off a ladder while fixing our roof, he h-hit his head pretty badly and is unconscious”

“How old is the patient ma'am”

“45, please hurry, I don’t know what to do my children are with me and they’re scared”

In the background I could hear the faint shouting and whimpers from the kids, shouting for their father as they sobbed.

“Is that patient breathing?”

“Y-yes he is, I listened to him breathing and I can see his chest rising and falling”

“Okay ma'am now-“

“WHERE IS THE DAMN AMBULANCE? IM NOT HERE TO HAVE A CONVERSATION”

“I’m sorry ma’am but this information is crucial for my team so they know how to treat your husband. They should be arriving now”

“Okay thank you, YES I SEE THEM”

(End of Call)

“Jeez how do you take calls like that without crying?” My friend Stacy asked from beside me, her headset hanging off her head as she just finished her call.

“It’s all part of the job, plus I can’t exactly blame her for getting angry when her husband’s hurt” I shrugged standing up from my seat and doing a stretch, my back cracking in the process causing me to wince.

“You’ve got balls L/n, i’ll give you that. What’s the worst call you got?”

“I uh, I had this girl call because she’d been abducted and long story short, we didn’t reach her in time” I said bluntly, going to face the computer again to see another call was going in.

“When was this Y/n? You didn’t tell me about it?”

“This morning”

“I GOT THE CALL ITS COOL” Daniel from another booth said, taking the call that was coming in.

Stacey spun round to me immediately

“Hold on this morning? Why the hell are you still at work, you should be at home. Are you okay?”

“What would I do at home? Mope some more? I’ll be fine stacey, I just need to get on with it”

“You are one stone cold bitch L/n”

“Hey would you mind taking some calls for me? I gotta use the bathroom a second?”

“Sure of course”

(In the Bathroom)

Looking into the bathroom mirror, my professional office attire, my slicked back hair in a ponytail, all of a sudden felt so uncomfortable.

Before I knew it, I had broken down into sobs, never in my life had I failed so badly to a point a life was lost.

The poor woman was screaming at me to save her while she was murdered on call, if only I had somehow gotten the team to get to her faster, despite the crew telling me there was nothing I could have done at that point. Their location was basically off the grid.

Sitting on the waiting bench in the bathroom, I grabbed my inhaler from my bag and took in a puff to calm myself down.

Thinking of that girl’s parents, the victim herself and what she went through destroys me.

Looking at the time on my phone I noticed I had a few messages from my fiancé Henry, my screensaver of us and Kal smiling back at me.

Deciding to not answer for now, I stood back up and looked in the mirror to fix my appearance. The same strong woman from earlier staring back at me, although this time her legs felt like jelly.

Stepping into the only cubicle I grabbed some tissue and dabbed away the tears.

*knock knock*

"Its in use" I called out to whoever was knocking, my voice clearly sounding nasally and hoarse.

With the knocking continuing I decided to

open the door, "Henry?"

Without another word being spoken he just engulfed me into his arms, him shushing my stifled sobs.

Looking down at his hands I saw he had collected my stuff from my desk ready to be brought home,

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to bring you home babe, Stacey called”

Looking behind him I saw Stacey giving me a heartwarming smile as I nodded at her, Henry put his large hand around my waist as he guided me towards the parking lot.

“I couldn’t save her Hen. I-I”

“It’s okay sweet girl, you did all you could and that’s all anyone could ask of you. This isn’t your fault” Henry said taking me back into his chest, his hands pressing onto my back gently as he pressed kisses onto the crown of my head.

“Let’s get you home yeah?” I nodded and got into the passenger seat, Henry’s hands never leaving mine all the way home.

(At Home)

Walking through the front door, I was immediately greeted by Kal jumping onto me making me fall to the ground.

“Go easy on mummy Kal” Henry said from behind me locking the door, putting my stuff by the front door.

“Its okay, you’re jus givin' me cuddles arent ya?” I said ruffing up his hair between his ears, his tail wagging wildly behind him.

“Come on pup, lemme take care of you” Helping me up from the floor, he gently lead me towards our grand bathroom, a bathtub big enough to fit three people.

“D-don’t you have work bub?” I questioned concerned, watching him turn on the hot water and pout in my favourite lavender bubbles.

“Not today love, you’re more important than any of that” He breathed out plugging up the tub, standing upright to then take off his shirt.

“You joinin' me?” I asked shyly, my legs swaying as I sat on top of the bathroom counter.

“Only if ya want me to” He said softly, his lips brushing against mine softly, “Good cus i want you to” I said kissing him softly, my hands going around his neck.

“MM” I squealed, his lips still attached to mine while he carried me over to the bathtub, sitting me on the wide ledge as he undressed me carefully, making sure to put kisses on all the spots he knew made me weak.

Once both of us had gotten naked, he sat me against him in the tub, his hands clasped around my stomach as, his whispers of affection close to my ear.

Turning me around, I now straddled him, his hands cupping my face gently before going to play with the loose strands from my loose bun framing my face.

“You’re so kind hearted, you know that?” He whispered, my head laying on his chest so that I could hear his heartbeat.

“I mean its kinna the bare minimum bub” I chuckled slightly, his hands stroking the back of my head softly.

“Nah you’re different, I find myself needing you by me alla time your scent, your touch and just you. You complete me Y/n”

“Well i’d like to think so hun” I joked showing him our engagement ring, causing him to chuckle before spanking my ass, the crisp sound filling the room.

“You are unbelievable” Looking up at him I peppered kisses along his jaw, stroking his beard with my hand as I took in his scent. His hands going all over my body, bringing me euphoria.

“I can’t help it, you’re all up on me Mrs Cavill” He joked with me now sitting upright, the hickies on his neck now standing out more than ever.

“Now but seriously are you okay babe?” He asked gently, his thumbs massaging circles into my love handles.

“Well I know it’ll take time to get back to normal, but with you with me i’ll be okay bubba, there’s no need to worry” I said reassuring him, his presence now helping me to think straight.

#romance #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction

[duskpeak]

hellooo🫶

i love the way you detail each character it’s so realistic! would it be possible to request a zoro headcannon and how they would be in a relationship??

thank you🥰

-🌼🌼

Sorry for the long ass time it took to do this, my computer screen stopped working and I sure as hell am not using my school computer to write fanfic😭😭😭 anyway hope you enjoy!!

(SFW) Zoro Relationship Headcannons

- So Zoro is not a cold man, he loves his nakama and his partner is no exception.

- He can be a little oblivious at times especially outside of battle but honestly if his partner is part of the crew he’d probably just ask them to spar when trying to figure out what’s wrong (the man is terrible at words but give him the slightest taste of a physical fight he’ll have unlocked the secrets of the world).

- Could never say a bad thing about his partner ever, this man is absolutely whipped

- there are only three things that could keep him from his partner 1. His captain, Luffy’s orders come first no matter what and everyone on the crew knows and trusts him with that 2. His dream, Zoro will fight god for the people important to him ESPECIALLY his partner but if something were to interfere with him achieving his dream then he won’t be able to stay 3. Kuina’s sword, this is Zoro’s most valuable possession. Sure he loves and takes very good care of all of his swords but that one is special, this one is honestly a tossup depending on how long he’s been with the straw hats or with his partner. If it’s early on he’d forsake everything to save/find that sword but if it’s post time skip I think he’d go to save his crew first then find her sword later, it’s non-negotiable though he WILL find it and won’t stop until he does.

- on the topic of number 2 though he is adamant on the fact that he won’t die for his partner but he routinely throws himself in the way to protect both them and his nakama (he takes the hit because he doesn’t want them getting hurt and he “won’t die until he becomes the strongest so nothing can kill me” if push came to shove though he’d chance a fatal wound for his partner any day but this goes for his nakama too

- honestly there’s not a whole lot different with how he treats his partner from his nakama, you’re all important to him so he doesn’t really see a reason to do anything different

- however, his partner does get special privileges, free reign to touch him whenever they want, naps with him, hold his swords, kisses

- unfortunately for Zoro his partner probably takes advantage of those privileges, especially the first one and when I tell you this man gets SO red it looks like he got sunburn

- embarrassing him is so easy it’s unreal especially in the beginning, one little kiss on the cheek and his blush is as red as Shanks’s hair but he mellows out as the relationship goes on

- casual kisses and intimacy are frequent once he’s comfortable, he’s just so soft for his partner and how could he deny them the affection he so freely wishes to give.

- not a huge fan of pda but what are you gonna do out at sea on a ship full of people (the sunny is big but is there really anywhere that’s actually private for any long period of time?) he stops minding it around the crew but he hopes and prays his partner doesn’t pull anything on an island or when they’re hanging out with another crew.

This is probably part one of this, zoro is popular and this isn’t nearly the amount of ideas I have about this man I’m just hella tired and nearly about to pass out writing this. Anyway enjoy!! And thank you for the request feel free to do so again. I’m gonna work on getting a masterlist and a list of characters I’ll write for together if I can figure it out on my phone

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x you #op zoro #zoro headcanons #one piece #one piece x reader

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you are used to people hating what you can do. sometimes even you hate what you can do - and how isolated it makes you. steve rogers is one of the people that you expected to understand the weight that you carry on your shoulders, but he doesn’t. not until he has to see it firsthand.

word count: 18.6k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, telepathic!reader, insecure!reader, lonely!reader

warnings: mean!steve (in the beginning), brief descriptions and allusions to violence against women, brief descriptions and allusions to sexual violence, brief allusions to sex trafficking, brief mentions of nazi violence and terroristic threats

note: this literally took me months to write and idk why. i’m not even sure it’s GOOD. i like it and that’s all that matters (except i, like other artist’s thrive upon reblogs)

title credit: against me!

fic aes: here

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

When Clint Barton appears in your office wearing his official A-Team uniform, you know what’s coming next. Wanda and Tony had both texted you that morning and let you know that they might need you for an interrogation, but you hadn’t held your breath. Sometimes they sent you those texts once a week and not once had they made good on your promise to help if they needed it. The coworkers that pay attention to the comings and goings of people in the office are staring as Clint Barton stalks over to your desk, tapping one knuckle against the hardwood you inherited from a retiree - possibly the nicest desk in your row of cubicles. You watch his mouth move more than you hear him speak. “Need you on three.”

Three? One of your nosier coworkers, Lisa thinks rather loudly during a pause in the song you’re listening to, That’s the interview level. Wonder what’s going on there that they need someone from Data. There is, of course, a deeper thought below that one where she believes that you’re either sleeping with someone in the Big Team or doing something underhanded and about to get reamed within an inch of your life. Neither of those things are true, but you don’t care enough to correct her as you click off your computer and stand to follow Clint. There really isn’t a way to correct her, either, without painting a big, red target on your back for what you can do. You’re sure that if they’ve sent one of the Avengers to collect you that the situation is dire - and you don’t think that because you’ve wormed around in his head, either.

That’s just the nature of people needing you.

Besides, when you’re working you have the most mind-numbing metal playing through your headphones at all times. It makes it easier to focus on your work instead of the thoughts around you. You wouldn’t be able to hear Clint if he was holding onto your shoulders and screaming into your mouth. That’s the way you like it - the way you need to keep it so you can actually make a living as a data entry grunt for the Stark Association. (Although most of the work that you do is for the new Avengers - handling all of the absolute bullshit paperwork that comes from the times that they’re out and saving the world.) He seems to understand you the most out of anyone you’ve met besides Wanda and Tony - not that you see the A-Team much, but you’ve caught him several different times rolling his eyes and stepping away from the group or just reaching up and turning off his hearing aids. If anyone is going to not feel weird about not saying anything to you as you walk through the hallways, it’s Clint.

He leaves you at the elevator, not bothering to take you to floor three. Clint cuts you a look as the doors close that essentially says you know where to go, right? If you hadn’t been putting your entire body and mind into keeping yourself out of his head, you might have even heard it. As it is, you can’t keep your music playing and do your job, so as the elevator descends you unplug yourself from the music and tuck your phone back into your back pocket. As you pass floors, voices come in and out of focus. It makes you slightly dizzy at the rate at which you gain access to strangers’ heads and are then yanked out of them. Even after your entire life like this, you’ve never gotten used to it.

-I think my brother is cheating on his-

-And then Rhonda from HR said-

-Did you see the guy they hauled in-

-So much fucking paperwork-

You practically throw yourself off of the elevator when it stops on the third floor. It’s much quieter there but that’s only because you’re too far away from the interrogation room that everyone is gathered in. Clint didn’t tell you what room to go to, but you know when you’re close. You can feel Wanda prodding at the air, waiting for you and reaching out to you - plus, there seems to be a rather large crowd waiting for your arrival.

Before you even open the door you know that Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Wanda are waiting behind it. You stop short when you also see James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff. You hadn’t heard them. “Crowded room.” You deadpan before stepping into the hug Wanda is offering you. It’s hard, then, to keep your cool façade on because physical touch amplifies your connections and she doesn’t have a lot of the limits that you do - just like she has limits that you don’t have. You’re hit with a wave of everything before you kiss the side of her forehead and take three large side steps away from her. Everyone but Tony and Wanda cut you suspicious looks but you’re used to it. It’s been like that since before Tony flipped open your file and saw what you can do.

“Can’t crack this one?” You gesture to the man behind the one-way glass - his body language shows that he’s proud and open, not all worried about what’s happening or where he is. There’s an easy grin on his face, teeth all white and straightened by money, and his blond hair is tied back in a high bun.

“Not even Cap can get it out of him,” Tony leans against the glass casually, like he isn’t resorting to activating the last clause in your employment contract. Steve Rogers bristles at the nickname. His thoughts wash over you briefly, despite the fact that you were trying to keep out of everyone’s head.

-Pointless to bring in some stranger from data entry. Probably doesn’t even know the first thing about running an interrogation-

You shake your head, blinking long and slow to try and push him out. Wanda watches with furrowed brows as your hands subtly begin to shake at your sides. Coolly, you shift your weight and tuck them into the pockets of your slacks so nobody else picks up on it. So that she can’t call you out on it. “What’s he in for?” You say as you open your eyes. Barely two seconds have passed. The frown has fallen from your face.

-Can’t even look at anyone in the room besides Tony or Wanda. I’ll give this two minutes before it crumbles and we have to pick up the damn mess-

You sigh and press your lips together in a tight, tense smile. Sam and Bucky share a look at your sudden change in facial expression but you’re more focused on the information that Natasha begins reading off of a folder in front of her.

Well, reading is a strong word.

She’s staring straight at you while reciting everything, like she’s trying to gauge your reaction. You’re pretty talented at not having any reaction, despite being self-trained. The man behind the glass is Tanner Smith, a known Nazi sympathizer, and extremist. When his coworkers reported strange behavior to his boss - being late, excessive sweating, talking about a big event and the change that would soon be coming - his boss reported his suspicions to the higher-ups. Strange, considering how calm and collected he is now. How had he been so careless about the plans only to stare the barrel of an Avengers colored gun down like a pro?

Still, after a brief investigation and dive into his electronics by the boys in blue, he ended up in the Avengers compound. There’d been chatter online between Tanner and a group of extremists. Natasha only briefed you on that a little bit, telling you that one bomb had already been planted somewhere and another was in the works. Nobody knows where the first one had been put, except maybe Tanner and he isn’t talking. But he will talk, you know this. Maybe that’s why when you catch a stray man, I really hope Tony knows what he’s doing bringing in an analyst to interrogate from Sam, and then we shouldn’t be bringing in insignificant rookies to do our jobs from Steve that you grind your teeth a little bit.

“Don’t worry,” You take a deliberate breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, just like you taught yourself, “We’ll have the location before the end of the hour. I may just be an insignificant little analyst but I know what I’m doing.”

Sam doesn’t seem to catch what you’ve said but Steve, who had been standing with his arms crossed while he looked away and toward the floor, snaps to attention with his mouth slightly open, eyebrows furrowed. The only reaction you give is a twitch of your upper lip, the urge to peel it back and expose your teeth angrily sitting heavy in the hollow of your throat. You know he’s Captain America, but come on, man! You keep the compound running just as much as he does! (If not more. Who else would reply to the invoices sent your way for the damage he does when he throws a desk out the window or something?)

Natasha moves to hand you Tanner’s file but you wave her off before she can get too close. You’re getting nothing from her right now and you want to keep it that way. There aren’t many people that are hard for you to read, and you think that if she’s still blank after being this close to you for a little bit - well, you might just have to become friends with her. That goes for Bucky, too. He’s standing even closer than Natasha is, a little over six feet away from you, and you’ve got nothing. He watches you refuse the file and his eyebrows hike to his hairline, mimicking Steve and Sam who stand on either side of him.

How arrogant.

Huh, really confident.

The latter thought from Sam helps keep you from bristling at Steve’s assessment of you. You wonder what his issue is with you not needing the file when Natasha didn’t need it either, but you understand he’s probably strung tight about finding that bomb and bringing a stranger in to do his job. (And you’d taken a thought he’d had in the privacy of his own head and thrown it back in his face to be petty.)

As you shed your jacket you think about how he was only in his late twenties when he went into the ice. Perhaps he’s over one hundred years old in the eyes of the law, but mentally he’s not even halfway through his life or the development of his self-identity.

As you breeze into the interrogation room, you wonder how much of his self-identity revolves around what they did to him in that lab so many decades ago.

That doesn’t really matter though, because now you have to focus everything you have on getting into Tanner’s head and peeling away whatever weird protections he has that make his thoughts so… Mundane. He’s currently watching you amble about the room, hands clasped behind your back, and all he’s thinking about is his fucking grocery list. You know that he’s doing something to mask his thoughts because there’s not even an undertone to those thoughts - something everyone has. They have the thoughts they think to themselves and then the reason behind them.

Conscious and subconscious.

Tanner Smith is only having conscious thoughts and that is suspicious. You purse your lips and drop down into the chair across from him, putting the mirror the Avengers are standing behind to your left. You watch Tanner, still scanning his thoughts, for several minutes of poignant silence until he finally cracks.

“So, who are you? Their secret, special weapon?”

You tilt your head slightly, a ghost of a smirk passing over your face. His thoughts flicker and you hone in the strange reaction. “Something like that, Tanner.” You catch a glimpse, a flash of color and dirty blonde curls on a little girl who’s running away, sun flares lighting up the world around her. Warmth fills your chest as laughter echoes somewhere behind your mind, like the call-and-response of a cave, and then it’s gone, sucked away by whatever Tanner was taught to disperse his thoughts.

Surely the A-Team had Wanda try to break past his defenses, but she can’t do what you can do. Nobody can.

“What? I’m too strong so the Avengers had to run to their boss?” He sneers, clearly shaken up by your non-reaction to everything he’s done - clearly, everybody else who’s tried to get the information out of him had some sort of reaction. You’re not mirroring him, sitting purposefully neutral to oppose his faux-openness. Nothing about your interrogation technique is by the book, and it’s upsetting him. You catch another glimpse of the little girl in his thoughts, this time snagging a name from the ether. Like bad TV reception, another voice worms into your head.

We’re getting nowhere. I told Tony this was a waste of time. I should go in there and put an end to this right now.

“Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself.” You sigh, slapping your palms against your thighs half-heartedly. “Also, Captain Rogers?” You let his name hang in the air for a second, but never break eye contact with Tanner, “I would appreciate it if you took three large steps back. Or, perhaps, if you could stand at the very back of the room.” It’s only when you wait three seconds and clear your throat that his thoughts recede and your mind clears.

“Oh, so you’re crazy.” Tanner grins, leaning forward, “They thought locking me in here with a freak would make me talk and, when it didn’t, they moved on to the nut.”

You outright laugh before standing from your chair. “I hope you’re not referring to my good friend, Wanda. Compared to me, she’s normal.” You round the table once but then stop in front of the mirror, watching Tanner’s reflection over your own reflection’s shoulder. There’s something to be said about your psychological training - that is, you have none. But you do have an open funnel into the human psyche that allows you certain knowledge about how to manipulate it. This - standing at the mirror and making indirect eye contact with Tanner? It’s all about distance and showing him how insignificant he is to you.

That and you want to show Steve Hasn’t Had A Good Thought About You Rogers what he’s really fucking with.

“How’s your little sister?” You finally ask, clasping your hands behind your back again. You watch the color drain from Tanner’s face, his mind opening up as his sympathetic nervous system goes into overdrive to activate his acute stress response. He has four options now that you’ve put him in panic mode: fight, flight, fawn, freeze. “What’s her name again? Tanya? Trish? No, Tilly. Tilly and Tanner - that’s cute. Your Mom’s name is Tricia, right? She likes a theme, I suppose.”

He doesn’t respond. It seems he’s chosen to freeze.

“None of that was in your file, of course, because Smith isn’t your real last name. The social security number you’re living under isn’t your original social security number.” You blink once, pulling on that loose thread until Tanner’s mind completely opens to yours. From the corner of your eye, you watch as a milky sheen begins to cover your iris and obscure the color. Tanner whimpers as his iris begins to dissolve, falling away until he matches your white, colorless eyes. You feel more than hear the thoughts on the other side of the glass turn to panic, but it’s easy to shut them out when you’re so focused on the link you now have with your suspect.

When you speak again, your voice is overlaid with his despite his mouth not moving. “Oh, you care about your family.” He flinches but can’t say anything. Won’t say anything. “I see it, right there.” Your head tilts as you begin to dig through his head, prying at seals and locks he’s put on memories - both painful and happy. “Oh, she’s only nine. So precious, so young. So naïve to the ways of the world. To what her older brother does for a living. To what he believes, and what he’s willing to do to support those beliefs.”

“Stop it,” Tanner says, your voice underneath his. You hum more than laugh, but the energy is the same and it makes him shiver.

“And lucky, too,” You continue. He’s not even fighting anymore, not that he could if he wanted to. Now that you’re inside of his head, there’s nothing anyone can do short of knocking you out. “Tricia is smart. Went to Harvard. Has Tilly living all cozy in the Hills and going to a nice, private school. Far away from you and your friends. How are the holidays? Do you go visit them? Or does your Mom ask you to stay away?”

Milk white tears break your waterline and run down your cheeks, eyes unblinking as you keep Tanner in your hold. “Please,” His dual-tone voice whimpers, “Leave them out of this.”

You click your tongue, a hint of a smile ghosting over your lips and the crinkles next to your eyes. “I don’t think I will. See, I know where they live. I know where they sleep. I know how you get in contact with them. I know everything about them now. You’ve given that to me.” He physically jerks but can’t get away from you - you’re everywhere in his mind. He’s falling further and further into you just like you’re falling into his mind. Soon, the two of you will fall into one person. You’ll have to get the information quickly so that doesn’t happen. “You’ll give me where you planted that bomb, too.”

“No,” Tanner resists. You feel the tug on your own mind, his psyche - whether consciously or subconsciously - trying to sew up the hollow you carved out for yourself. Your eyebrows furrow, but barely. “No, I won’t. It needs to happen. They need to see that we’re serious.” He slams one fist down on the table in front of him and fights against you even harder.

You sigh, shoulders barely moving with the breath. The world begins to fall away piece by piece as the white in your eyes slowly begins to shift; swirling darker and darker until your once white eyes are filled to the brim with gray and then, a second later, black. It leaks down your cheeks as you speak directly into his brain, mouth never moving. “If you do not tell me, I will take it from you.”

The room around you crumbles until you’re standing in a black abyss, still looking at Tanner in the reflection of a mirror that’s not there. He reels back in a chair that’s not there either, clutching at the sides of his head as you dig around in his memories.

Childhood, his first kiss, the indoctrination into his extremist beliefs. Somewhere around last week, you slow down, peeling layer from layer until you find what you’re looking for. With the exact location and the time it’s set to explode, you sever the connection and you’re back in the interrogation room. The inky proof of what you’ve done is tacky on your face and Tanner is facedown on the table, shoulders heaving as he sobs and claws at the side of his head, incoherently mumbling about the things you showed him in his head that he doesn’t even remember. Memories that are his, but aren’t, because they’re yours. But, no, that’s not right - right? They’re his, taken from some place in his brain that only your mind can access.

The door is heavier than you remember when you leave the interrogation room and it echoes when it slams shut behind you. Everyone, bar Wanda and Tony who have both seen you do this once before, is staring at you as if you’re going to snap on them too. Blissfully, your mind has shut everything out in order to try and recoup from what you’ve done. It won’t last long. Wanda hands you a wet wipe and smiles sadly, knowing, or maybe feeling, how much you hated doing that to someone.

To climb inside their skull and take the precious privacy of memories is the loss of your humanity. To take that sacred space from someone is the unholiest sacrament you’ve ever taken. Despite the gnawing hole in your chest, you’d do it over again if it means saving lives - even if it ruins one or two in the process. You’ve had many years to come to terms with what you can do if you put your mind to it.

Though, you suppose, that doesn’t make it any easier.

Nobody speaks as you clean your face and neck. Sam does, however, gesture to the chest of your shirt where your shirt is stained. You ignore the look on his face and turn to Tony. “It’s in Central Park,” You’re almost surprised when your voice is just yours, not overtone or undertone to pollute it, “No specific target, not really. Just to create fear. The group will take credit. They probably set Tanner up to take the fall because, for all intents and purposes, he’s a single man with no living family. It’s buried four paces from the tree with an x carved into it, set to go off in three days at exactly noon. I can write down the coordinates for you.” Tony grins and makes to clap you on the back, but you step away and rub at the bridge of your nose. “Don’t touch me.”

He holds his hands up, still smiling even though everyone else in the room recoiled when you snapped. “Sorry, Cullen. Good job in there. Although, will the special effects cost me more?” Underneath all of his jokes, you catch the worry in his mind as yours begins to open back up. It always works like this - the emotions are always the first to come back because they’re the building blocks of thought. Before mankind had speech, they had feelings.

And before they had feelings, they had instincts.

Several people in the room are fighting down their instincts to tear into you because you’re a threat. Blanketing that instinct is agitation and some terror at your unknown. Sam can barely contain his instinct to learn, mind humming with bright curiosity and a healthy dose of fear. Wanda and Tony are both fighting the urge to bundle you up, followed by the love and affection that they normally have when they think of you.

Your jaw snaps together with an audible click as Tanner comes back into focus, the shadow of his mind nearly drowning you. It arches over the room, the celestial body that is the human mind reaching out for the connection that you severed when you pulled away from him. It nearly takes you, too. It’s only when you’re nearly unconscious, body swaying and knees slowly buckling and eyes rolling to the back of your head, that Wanda realizes what’s happening and catches you with strong arms around your waist. Her bare arms slide against yours and you latch onto her mind; it’s bright and strong and wraps around yours to protect it. It takes only a second to get your bearings, but a second is enough for the sharks in the water to catch the scent of blood and strike. It’s Steve’s fists shaking that let you know he’s about to speak, but his thoughts that let you know he’s about to say something horrible. They’re muddled, running about three hundred miles a minute, but you get the gist of what he’s thinking past the fog of Wanda’s skin against yours.

“So nobody thought to inform the team that there’s a bio-weapon on the compound’s campus?”

“Steve!” Sam exclaims, looking more shocked than he actually feels. The term had floated through his prefrontal cortex once or twice since your eyes had flooded white. “Chill out, man.”

“No, I will not chill out,” Steve sneers, “Didn’t anyone think that was important?”

“I’m sorry,” Tony interrupts, moving to stand between you and the Captain, “Weren’t you the one who yelled at me for calling someone a weapon of mass destruction?” You groan deep in the back of your throat when Wanda’s emotions flash through you like lightning and she immediately lets you go, moving to sit next to Natasha on the metal table that lines the wall opposite of you. The distance helps, but there are a lot of strong personalities in one room and you’re a little more open and sensitive than usual.

Your stomach churns and you think about pulling your phone out to put on some music, but that might make Steve actually snap. Bucky knocks him on the shoulder with the back of one hand, “Cool off, pal. You hardly get to take the high ground here when you essentially started another world war for me.”

“That’s different.” Steve grits out.

“What’s your name, kid?” Bucky ignores him, leaning around Tony to talk directly to you. He repeats your name after you give it, grinning, “Does this mean you’re pokin’ around in all our heads now?”

“Probably,” Natasha supplies before you can answer, swinging her legs. “You saw what happened in there. I’m surprised we’re not leaking CSF out of our ears.”

“It’s not like that, I can’t do stuff like that,” You protest weakly, leaning against the wall, “Besides, you and Barnes are like steel freakin’ traps. I don’t have shit on you ever.”

“What about me?” Sam tries to take a step forward, eager and bright in the darkness that surrounds the outskirts of your vision with the tension in the room, but Steve stops him with a heavy hand. “I bet you don’t have anythin’ on me either.” He boasts from behind his friend’s grip.

“You’re an open book,” You shake your head, trying to bite back your small smile, “Always have been. I can catch your thoughts practically before you have them.” Tony finally relaxes as you push off of the wall, putting a hand on your shoulder and carefully avoiding touching his skin to yours. “Tony and Wanda, too, but that’s only because I know them so well.”

“If you can’t fry us from the inside out, what can you do?” Steve narrows his eyes at you and it’s almost like he’s aiming his thoughts at you, trying to test how you’ll react. Your name, wondering about your file, wondering about your life from birth until now, some scenarios that involve grievous bodily harm to you should anything happen.

You don’t need to be a telepath to get the memo: Steve Rogers does not like you.

“Mind stuff,” Tony supplies when you’ve been silent for too long, focused on how much one man can possibly hate a person he’s just met. “Y’know, the Edward and Jasper Cullen combo. Without the confederacy and racism, of course.”

“Mind reading,” Wanda fills in when only Sam and Natasha get the reference, “And, with intense focus and strain, peeling away the layers of the human brain that protect from people like us. I’m not as good, of course, because mine’s not exactly natural, but what you saw was the extreme end of the spectrum.”

You nod, leaning further and further into Tony’s grasp. She’s right when she says it’s the extreme side of the spectrum - you’ve only reached that far into someone once before and then, when you were nearly a decade younger than now and not as half as confident that you really were hearing thoughts and not just voices, it left you bed-bound and comatose for eight months. Even now, with another ten years and endless experience under your belt, the only thing keeping you from woozily toppling over is Tony’s hand on your shoulder. “Mostly it’s just thoughts and their constructs. Instincts. Emotions. Every mind is different and every person thinks differently. I just have tools to put the puzzle together and figure out what it means.”

“What about Steve?” Natasha cocks her head, taking a sharp left in the conversation. “He’s going to have a stick up his ass about this until you tell us if he has a steel trap of a mind, too.” And, shit, they’re all looking at you. You hate being looked at, being watched, being feared. If you were normal, if you couldn’t read someone’s thoughts or pry them open like an overripe fruit, nobody would pay any mind to you.

Tony shakes you to bring you back to earth and his hand barely glimpses over your bare bicep. You get coffee and good morning kisses and burning around the metal in your chest before you step away from him too. You curl in on yourself, tucking your shoulders up and crossing your arms over your chest so nobody will be tempted to fucking touch you anymore. Your stomach is rolling as the dark edges around your vision threaten to take you again. You just want to leave, run away, make your way into the forest like you used to dream about as a child.

Sucking your teeth, you look away from everyone and try to figure out how to explain what Steve’s mind is like. “He’s like a fucking beacon,” Is what you finally settle on, “It’s like he’s projecting every thought he’s ever had, or standing next to my ear and shouting down a megaphone.” When you glance back everyone has bristled, which is to be expected. They deal with a lot of confidential information - Steve reads every mission report from the agents. He reads the team’s, too. “I don’t try to listen, but man you’re loud. But go stand in an elevator with someone while they read their grocery list for three hours and see how much you actually pay attention to what they’re saying, though. I don’t retain anything if we’re ever close enough for me to latch on.”

“Stop reading my thoughts.” He says, hands balled into fists at his sides, “Get out of my head.”

“I would get out of everyone’s head if I could,” You spit back, looking at him just as angrily as he’s looking at you, “I get that even being alive with these abilities is nothing but a huge invasion of privacy to you, but have some empathy. Do you think I like havin’ everyone in my head twenty-four-seven? The shit I deal with that I can't explain to anyone? If I could stop doing this, I would - even if it fucking killed me.” The silence that falls is nearly suffocating and it does nothing to help you pull away from the black hole suction of Tanner’s mind. You rub the bridge of your nose again, fingers moving to smooth over your forehead, and squeeze your temples. The pressure in the room is driving you to the edge, and if you don’t get away soon you’ll either crack everyone in the room open like walnuts or fully mind-meld with Tanner and lose the essence of who you are.

“Oh,” Steve volleys back, head rolling back dramatically, “Right, have empathy for you.”

“You don’t even know me,” It doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room as you begin to shuffle back toward the door. Your head feels like it’s going to explode if you don’t get away from so many open and prying minds. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Steve says coldly. His chin tilts up, a small but sharp smile on his face. It doesn’t startle you because you can practically taste his thoughts at the back of your throat. He’s throwing them at you now, wanting you to see what’s coming before he says it. That doesn’t mean everyone else in the room isn’t surprised at how strangely he’s acting - and you know the next thing he says isn’t only going to hurt you but hurt Wanda as well. “I know enough to know that anyone who can do what you do is a monster.”

The paper taped to the front of your door is bright yellow and horrifying. You know what it says the second you lay eyes on it because Tony and Wanda have been floating the idea of making you a member of the A-Team for days after they peeled you off of Steve Rogers in the interrogation room. And, well… So, yeah, maybe you got a good punch in and, yeah, maybe you were suspended for a week without pay but who wouldn’t have done that? Who wouldn’t have felt the wash of excruciating pain from one of their best friends and sought retribution for a shitty thing said? You’d do it again if you were being honest. Since you threw that punch Steve Rogers hasn’t said one bad thing about you or what you can do - at least, not when Wanda can hear.

It’s something, you guess.

The paper on your door is exactly what you think it is: a fucking eviction notice signed by Tony Stark himself. He cites nonpayment and noise complaints despite the fact that he is not your landlord nor have you had any complaints or missed payments. The smiley face after his signature is enough for you to know that he already has an apartment for you ready and waiting in the Avengers wing. You unlock the door with your key and find all of your things gone.

Sighing you toss the key into what used to be your hallway and turn around. You just want to go to bed, really, because work sucked today and has been sucking since word got out that you’re a mind reader who attacked Captain America. (Gee, wonder how that got around.) By the time you make it across the compound to where Wanda and Tony are lounging unnaturally in the common room grinning at each other when they catch sight of you… Your back aches and your nerves are fried.

“So, I will be killing you, Stark. It will be a cruel and unusual death. I’ll probably violate the Geneva Convention for fun.” You drop your bag near the couch, kick his feet off the coffee table, and then land another kick to his shin. He yelps. “You can’t just move my shit out of my apartment without asking and put me in the same wing as Ye Olde National Hero That Wishes I Was Dead.” Wanda pulls you into the seat next to her, draping her arm around your shoulders. Thankfully, you’re both wearing long shirts but you still pull your sleeves down over your hands just in case.

“But we’ll be so much closer to each other. We can have movie nights.” She pouts at you because she knows it’ll work, and it does. “You’re not even in the same hallway as Steve.” You feel the weight of his name on her mind because their relationship still hasn’t healed despite how ardently he’d apologized after Tony enlisted Sam to push you from the interrogation room. You’d heard his voice echo down the hallway, paired with Natasha and Tony lighting into him over his attempt to make it right.

“Hey now,” Someone says from behind you, “You shouldn’t lie about that.” Sam comes into view, grinning at the way you tilt your head over the edge of the couch to see him. “Hey, what’s up, Vulcan? Get your little love note from Tony?” Sam had warmed up to you rather quickly after he saw how easily you extracted information from that little Hydra-wannabe-freak and how easily you would throw yourself at people who could crush you to protect the honor of your friends. He moves around the couch to perch in one of the large, cushy chairs. You wrinkle your nose and shake your head as he laughs.

“You can call it a love note when he finds a bucket of pig’s blood above his Iron Man suit before your next mission,” You reply coolly, “But yes, I did. I assume all of my furniture is already set up? Clothes unpacked? Privacy rifled through because you have no boundaries?” You cut a dark look toward your friend - and now, technically, boss.

“Of course it is, and of course I do.” Tony says, reclining like he hadn’t been massaging his sore shin for the last few minutes, “And Wanda isn’t lying, per se, Feathers. She just doesn’t know I had to make changes to the housing arrangement.”

Wanda makes an affronted noise. “You said that the room between Natasha and I was free and that would be the best place. Because of the mind-stuff.” You look between them, and hone in on Tony - but he catches on to what you’re doing and snaps his mind shut. Christ, you wish that Wanda hadn’t taught him how to do that so effectively. He used to be so easy to read.

“What did you do, Tony?” You sit up, moving away from Wanda as something like fear swells in your stomach. It’s probably the look on your face, but he looks almost ashamed and shifts uncomfortably. “Sam?” It becomes clear that Tony isn’t going to answer, so you look to another ally for any sort of answer. The smile slips from his face and he shakes his head.

“You’re between Buck’n Steve. I’m across the way, though.” He shrugs and you scoff, looking back at Tony.

“That’s what we’re doin’ now?” You snarl, pushing off of the couch just to pull away from Tony as he does the same. He says your name, ready to explain why he’s done what he’s done, “No, no! You know what he said to me - what he thinks of me. This may be a joke to you, but that man has single-handedly ruined every friendship I have outside of this team, Tony. Do you get that?” You swear you’re not going to cry, but your throat is burning in the sort of hollow way that indicates that you’re absolutely going to cry. “This is such bullshit.”

Instead of crying, you turn and run. Everyone watches the familiar mask slip over you, the way that you turn on your heel and head for the back garden of the compound. There aren’t a lot of people who know of or go to the back garden and that’s why you like it there. It’s small, overgrown, and when you sit or lay in the middle you can’t be seen unless someone is nearly standing on top of you. Once upon a time you’d tasked yourself to take care of it until that left you feeling vulnerable and just a little too seen without the tendrils of vine that tend to get out of control and hide your body. You crawl under one of the bushes and find the hollow you’d made for yourself, settling in on your side so you’re fully hidden.

This is the quiet that you like. There’s nobody around, so no need to put your headphones in. Just you, your breathing, and the rustling of leaves and flowers. It’s the only real quiet that you get - that you’ll get for the foreseeable future. The Avengers are notorious around your office for almost being like a pack. When there’s one, there’s always another lurking around somewhere. You suppose that comes from whatever trauma bonds they’ve formed living and almost dying together for so many years, but you’ve lived most of your life in a self-imposed solitary confinement of sorts. (Until Tony found you, that is.) The quiet helps you sort through your thoughts, and as you let the sunshine filter through the foliage above you and warm your skin you try to think of what you’re going to do. You can’t spend the rest of your life with headphones in your ears, volume turned up to eleven just so you can keep some semblance of dignity and self esteem.

But you can’t quit, either.

It’s a conundrum, because leaving means that you won’t help people. What’s the point of being able to read minds if you can’t help people with it? You can keep yourself safe, keep the team safe, keep civilians safe. You can pull information without ever making contact with a target, you’re perfect for undercover ops, perfect as a plant to support undercover ops. Your powers make you useful, and you’ve always known that.

The clear air and warm sun presents you with a solution: if Steve Rogers is the only one that hates you for what you can do, you have to make yourself integral to the team. You have to prove that you belong, that you’re simultaneously not a threat but also one of the biggest threats. it shouldn’t matter what he thinks of you, but it does. Of course it does. You’re not immune to hearing the stories of the nation's number one hero throughout your childhood. You’d found a fucked up little comradery in his story: someone who thought he was useless but wanted more, someone who had done everything in his power to make himself important and strong, someone who’d faced more than anyone could ever imagine but still kept going, someone who did good despite everything they saw.

And, just perhaps, you harbor a crush on the man after seeing him in real life your first week at the data analyst job. So what? Who didn’t have a crush on the six foot four American hero? You’re pretty sure even Tony has a little bit of a soft spot for the Good Captain’s strong jawline and broad shoulders.

You sigh, a little sleepy as the sun warms you. The thoughts of what you’re going to do fade away as you drift to sleep, relaxing into the grass and other leaves that surround you. It’s nice to be able to relax fully, not worried about what you’re going to overhear as you let your mind wander. As sleep begins to take you further and further into their grasp your mind opens up - like hiking through the mountains and then coming to a split: the humdrum of your everyday life and struggles are the mountains, careening into the open air and sleep is opening up your eyes to the sky between them. You relish in that, the moments between sleep and wake when you’re most relaxed.

You’re always half-conscious of where you’re at when you’re asleep, never fully resting, so when someone enters the garden on the other side you catch onto their mind right away. It’s always harder to figure out who’s mind you’re invading when you’re like this - light and half gone - so it doesn’t dawn on you that you’re hearing Steve until it’s too late to get up and leave. Slowly you wake up, trying to pull yourself out of his head, but it’s hard to do that when he’s thinking about you. Your name crops up again and again - he’s worrying about what to do with you, but in an abstract way that’s hard to decipher what he means. Clearly Steve has thought about this before so he’s not exactly spelling things out for himself, so it’s hard for you to understand what he means when he thinks things like I wonder how Tony would take it and I’m getting ahead of myself, here. He’s frustrated, that much is clear, and he’s sitting on the other side of the decrepit, overgrown, unused fountain. Too close for you to pull out your phone and start some music in your headphones, definitely too close for you to get up and escape. You’re stuck.

It feels like more of an invasion of privacy than normal, which makes your stomach churn. A lot of your life is spent trying to be the least invasive you can be for the comfort of others and, while the rest of the team doesn’t care that you do what you do, he’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t like you or your telepathy. So now, curled up in your safe place with Steve twelve or thirteen feet away, you can’t even enjoy the day before you have to spend the night on the other side of his wall. Your thoughts are so loud, so upsetting, that Steve’s fall to the wayside.

At least there’s that.

By the time he gets up and leaves you’ve made the decision that the garden can’t be your spot any longer. If there’s a chance that Steve will show up in the back garden while you’re there you’ll just have to find another place to go for quiet. It’s just another sacrifice you’ll have to make because of the way you were born. It’s another sacrifice that nobody knows you’re making.

When you finally extract yourself from your hiding spot the sun is dipping toward the horizon and your joints are stiff. You’ve calmed down from the initial shock of being stuck on the other side of Steve’s wall and come to terms with it. Plus, Bucky will be on the other side of you and he’s blissfully silent. You’ll struggle with having Sam across the hall, but if you spent eight hours a day with headphones in when you were just a data entry grunt, you can probably handle eight hours a night with headphones strapped to your skull like you're going through medical tests.

The common room is empty when you walk through, but it’s not like you need help finding your room. All you have to do is follow the sound of Sam and Bucky’s laughter, followed by a groan from Steve. Once you’re in the right hallway it’s easy to find your room - Tony has left another little note on your door and you rip it off without even reading it and try to make as little noise as possible. Sam’s thoughts don’t change, but Steve’s takes such a sharp turn toward you that you freeze in place. You know it’s a moot point because he can hear your heartbeat and he’s thinking about how he can hear your heartbeat. True to Tony’s word, your furniture is in the same spots that it was in your old room - down to the socks you left behind your couch three days ago. This helps you throw yourself blindly toward your bed, snagging your headphones on the way so that you can drown Steve and Sam out - and hopefully get some sleep.

As the music kicks up and you have something more than thoughts to focus on, the tears well in your eyes and crest down your cheeks. There’s no telling how long you’ll have to stay on the Avengers before you can fade into the background - there’s no telling how long you’ll be able to stay on the Avengers, really. How long can you sacrifice yourself just to save other people? How many months before you lose who you are in an interrogation room to try and bring justice about? How long before you can’t stand to be around Steve and his thoughts that still stray to you?

The first time Steve thinks a complimentary thought toward you is during a group training exercise in preparation for a mission that’s coming up. You’re off to the side with Peter - who thinks way too fast for you to pick up anything more than a word here or there, thankfully - when you catch a thought from another observing agent. It’s a big deal to be offered an observational spot when the Avengers are training, so the fact that your subconscious filter for nefarious thoughts picks up on anything from the other agents is surprising. The thought makes your stomach twist and you squint your eyes toward the man that they're coming from.

They’re lewd - that’s not really surprising because people have the right to think lewd thoughts and if you weren’t you nobody would know they were having them - but this man’s thoughts are leaning more toward dangerous than horny. Natasha’s face swims in his head, his inner voice thick with lust. His thoughts come in waves as he watches Natasha spar with Bucky, but none of them are on how lethal the fight would be if it were anyone besides Nat and Bucky on the mat together.

I bet she’d taste good.

I wonder if she’d scream.

I bet if I found her alone I could -

Your head begins to spin and you clamp a hand over your mouth and partially collapse into Peter’s side. The man’s thoughts turn darker and darker and you’re stuck, forced to listen to them. He doesn’t even know and that might be the worst part. Peter calls your name slowly, shaking your shoulders when you don’t respond.

“I’m fine,” You finally say, despite the way that you’re shaking and the fact that you didn’t even hear what he said - not really. The man’s thoughts take up most of your bandwidth because he’s so eager, and so loud, that you can’t even reach for the team’s minds to cover them up. “It’s fine.” Blood swims behind your eyes, but it’s not real. The man wishes it were real.

“Do you need me to go get Tony? Or - or Wanda, maybe?”

“I’m fine, Peter.” You shake your head and push yourself back up to support yourself. It might be because you’re focusing on the man in your quest to not focus on him, but you’ve missed the fact that Bucky and Nat are done sparring. You also realize that his thoughts are the only ones you’re catching, even with Peter sitting on the mat next to you. You’re not peeling back at his mind’s defenses like you’d done to Tanner but his mind is in such clear focus because of the danger his thoughts present that you might as well have been opening him up layer by disgusting layer.

When he gets up and makes toward Natasha on the edge of the mat, you move without thinking. Peter calls your name again, drawing more attention than you’d care for, but the man doesn’t look away from his target. When you reach him it’s like your vision tunnels. The only thing you can think about are the disgusting images in his head, the way he’s planning on asking Natasha out so that he can get her alone, the things he wants to do to her. Without thinking about the consequences to what you’re about to do you shove at the man as soon as you’re able to. He stumbles sideways but catches himself before he eats shit.

“Hey, what the fuck?” The man, Rick someone thinks, is almost two feet taller than you. He’s built like a super-soldier without the serum but that doesn’t deter you. “What was that for?”

“I know what you’re planning,” You stare him down, snarling, “I know what you want, and it’s not goin’ to happen.”

To Rick’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch. He does, however, think: What is this freak going on about? “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He glances over his shoulder at his friends, gesturing at you and snickering. You laugh darkly, lips peeling back over your teeth, and shove at his shoulders again.

“Fine, you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? Spar me and you can go on and ask the Black Widow out.” He pales and your grin widens. “Oh, do you know what I’m talkin’ about now, Rick?” It's easy to slip into a person that you're not, just like you had in the interrogation room.

He scoffs and crosses his arms, mind sizing you up in all of the ways he thinks he could hurt you. “I’m not going to fight you. I’d break you like a twig.” Rick squints his eyes like he’s said something important but his thoughts are still half on Natasha - who’s watching you with curious eyes. Most of the team is, actually, and Peter is whispering harshly to Tony.

“So do it,” You challenge, jerking your chin up with a feral grin on your face, “If you break me like a twig you can ask her whatever you fucking want,” You keep your voice low so that your threat can’t be heard, “But you won’t win. I’ll stomp your ass into the ground and make you wish that you'd never been born.” That must be the straw that breaks the camel’s back because Rick heaves one of his meaty fists back and goes for a sucker punch. You’re one step ahead of him, because you’re you, and you take one step back to avoid it. He tries again, but you duck out of the way and slide around him to sweep his leg out from underneath his body. Rick stumbles but you don’t give him any time to recover before you’re on him, wrapping your arm around his neck from behind and using his own weight to drop him on his chest to the mat. It takes all of twenty seconds.

He struggles to unlatch you from his neck, but can’t get a good grip because as soon as he manages to get his fingers around your arm, you pull tighter around his neck. His thoughts are scrambled as he tries to figure out how to get you off of him and turn the tides of the pitiful fight he’s put up, but you’ve already decided that Rick will either tap or you’ll keep pressure on his throat until he passes out. Part of you - the dark and vengeful part that gets stuck in other people's heads and sees the most disgusting, evil parts of humanity - wants to keep his throat pressed against the crook of your elbow until he goes limp and cold. That part of you wants to neutralize the threat he presents, but there's a rational part of you that knows a thought is not a crime. There would be no justification to kill him - that doesn't mean you can't teach him a lesson, though.

Rick begins frantically tapping when his vision begins to tunnel, and you can practically taste his fear. His skin pressed to yours heightens everything about his thoughts, blurring your own until they're nonexistent and you can't hear anything but the floundering, heart-stopping fear that blooms in his chest when you don't let up. You want to kill him, want to erase his fucked up thoughts from the earth forever but you can't. When Rick goes limp in your arms you drop him, taking several small steps away from where his body is splayed face down on the training mat. You’re heaving in breath like you’re drowning, feeling phantom blood dropping down your arms, off of your fingers. It’s not real but it’s real, it’s Natasha’s, it’s swimming in your brain and pooling in your mouth and making your body shiver as it cools on your skin.

The blood is not real, but it feels like it is.

Tony is the first to reach you, but Wanda isn't far behind him. Your chest is heaving and your head is spinning but they help ground you as you collapse in on yourself, whispering the things you'd heard to just get them out of your head. Tony, to his credit, holds you tightly against his chest as you sag and confess to sins that aren't yours but you've had to take on because of the things you can do. His skin pressed to yours is a balm, but he's shaking, too. His thoughts are turning dark in the same ways that yours had and, well, so are Wanda's. It's overwhelming.

The bright side of having two people who know you so well is that they know when they have to pass you off to someone else or risk sending you hurtling over the edge. Tony's chest rumbles with his voice as he does his best to remove your arms from around his waist, "Cap, need you to take over here. I've got something to deal with." Somewhere in your haze, you realize that Steve has taken you into his arms, but stiffly. He’s practiced and sure in avoiding your skin and it almost makes you weep. Coming off of your adrenaline is rough - and you want nothing more than to feel someone’s skin on yours. You need the balm of someone who’s not afraid to touch you, someone to tell you that you are not a weapon, you are not dangerous, you deserve to be held.

Steve doesn’t say any of those things. He takes you back to the common room just to get you out of sight of the observing agents, but the walk there is a blur of aching muscles and the beginnings of a headache. When he drops you on the couch you begin to spiral, panic welling in your chest at the thought of what’s about to happen to you. You’d attacked someone unprovoked for what they were thinking. Thoughts are not crimes - but he was going to act on them, you rationalize. He was on the move. Still. Still. Still.

Steve has dumped you on the couch and left the room, there’s no doubt in your mind that your tenure as an Avenger is coming to an end once Tony gets a hold of you. You curl around yourself as the throbbing in your head begins to recede and other thoughts begin to filter in from people in the area. Steve must be close because his are the loudest. He must be in the kitchen and, as much as he hates the fact that you can read his mind, you focus on what he’s thinking. His thoughts are a bright spot in the dark cloud that’s grown over you in the moments since Rick’s thoughts started coming in clearer.

Maybe some water. Looks like a panic attack - what did Buck say helped?

He doesn’t sound like he’s angry and that makes you calm down a little bit. At least he’s trying to take care of you, although it sounds like he’s fumbling around the shared kitchen like he’s fumbling over whatever Bucky’s told him about how to calm down panic attacks. You haven’t moved except to curl into the fetal position so when Steve comes back with a wet and cool washcloth for your face he practically has to peel your arms away from your head. The moment his fingers wrap around your wrist his thoughts are injected into your head like he’s speaking them out loud.

-Good form. Surprisingly quick. Must be the mind reading thing, can see the attacks coming before the opponent moves.-

He presses the washcloth to your forehead and you shudder, leaning into the gentle touch. It’s strange and you’re surprised that he didn’t just leave you on the couch to suffer until someone else found you - but you won’t mention anything about that. Steve Rogers is being nice to you and, better yet, he’s thinking positive things about you. It’s like Rick actually did snap you like a twig and this is a fever dream. Or a death rattle.

-Quick fight. That agent didn’t even stand a chance. Bet I wouldn’t either if we sparred. Glad we didn’t get to that. I’m not sure that I could do that thing that Wanda’s been trying to teach me-

His thoughts screech to a halt even though he doesn’t move his hands from your head. Clearly Steve has realized that he’s been feeding you his thoughts like an IV; you can feel the embarrassment welling up in the back of his head as he tries, and fails, to occupy his mind with anything but the replay of your short but impressive takedown of Rick. Finally, you pull away from his hands and sigh. “Sorry,” You move the washcloth over your eyes so that you don’t have to look at him as he kneels in front of you, “Know you don’t like me pokin’ ‘round in your head.”

To his credit, he only hesitates for a few seconds. “Do you always react like this? Almost pass out when you’re in someone’s head like that?”

“Didn’t go searchin’,” You practically groan, “Didn’t have to. Always tried to find the bad thoughts to keep an eye on people havin’ ‘em. Rick was loud.” You jump when Steve’s hand curves back over your shoulder and that’s when you realize that you’re shaking like a leaf and starting to cry. “His were bad. Had to do somethin’ before he acted on ‘em. He was goin’ to, otherwise, I would have just dealt with it like I have before.” It doesn’t make sense as to why Steve’s thoughts haven’t turned sour, but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“See a lot of this stuff?”

“People don’t believe in mind-readers,” You shake your head and immediately regret it when your stomach rolls and you groan lowly, “And, and thoughts aren’t always intentional. Some are intrusive. Hard to tell the difference when you’re not the one havin’ em.” You have to be imagining the turn his thoughts take - clearly, Rick actually got one good hit in because Steve’s being nice, sweet even, to you. It’s strange, but you’re not going to complain. The skin-to-skin contact is so nice you’re almost afraid that you’ll start sobbing when Steve pulls away again, the sound of him standing making your lip wobble and your body shudder.

“Hold on a second,” He says like he’s the one reading your mind, “I’ll go get a bowl of ice water and another washcloth so that you always have a cool one.”

Steve goes back to normal after that day. Tony had come and informed you that several cadets had reported Rick for inappropriate behavior but nobody had any proof until you beat his ass. He was proud of you, but worried about how you reacted. He’d never seen that before, and neither had Wanda. Scared Peter half to death, too, but you assured them it was normal. Told them to imagine someone describing what you’d heard out loud and then imagine not getting sick to their stomach or losing their cool. Then everything goes back to semi-normal.

Natasha finally lets you in, and that’s about the only thing that really changes. The both of you become fast friends and you know it’s real because you can’t read her thoughts. She doesn’t have to be afraid to be around you when she’s in a bad mood or just having a bad day, making the bond that you form much stronger. It seems with her acceptance of you, the rest of the team follows suit. Sure, Tony and Wanda had already been your friends - family, really - and Sam had been interested in being your friend but after they saw Natasha suggesting books for you to read it was like they all decided you’re one of them. A real, bona fide Avenger.

If only your parents could see you now.

Even Steve stops giving you the stink-eye when you join them for movie night, typically squashed between Nat and Bucky or curled into Wanda’s side with a blanket barrier between the both of you. It’s like the day he’d nursed you through the migraine until Tony and Wanda came to the common room had flown a white flag between the both of you.

You still don’t go back to your garden, though. And you miss it, especially on days like today when you’re stressed out about your first real undercover mission. If you fuck it up, and you won’t - can’t, you’re sure that the progress you’ve made in making yourself integral to the team will be gone. (And so will the first real friends you’ve made in a long, long time but that thought makes you crank your music and hide out in your room so you don’t even bother with that.)

The mission isn’t even really a mission - you’re going into a country club to figure out who the mark is; the intel that Tony was given only says that there’s someone there funneling girls from middle-eastern countries to America illegally for… Well, for nothing good.

So you’re going to go in, hang out at the country club and hopefully pick through the target’s mind and figure out who they were. After that, they’d send in Wanda, or maybe Nat if they thought she wouldn’t be recognized, and take down whatever smuggling ring was set up inside of the club. You sigh and try to get over the nerves of going in alone. Nobody there if you get overwhelmed, no way to muffle the thoughts from all sides, the weight of the world on your shoulders and nobody there to help you carry it. Although, hasn’t that been your life before the Avengers?

At least, you thought you were going in alone. The day of the mission finds you dressed to the nines, location transmitter tucked into a fake crown on one of your molars and comm disguised as a hearing aid tucked over your ear. Clint had warned you that they programmed the comm to squall if your head got too close to someone else’s - something that the older models of hearing aid it was made to look like did. When you finally made your appearance at the car that Tony rented out for you, complete with Peter undercover as a young driver, Steve was there. He was dressed to the nines in a black suit - it made his already large frame loom larger and his broad shoulders seem never-ending. Sweet Lord Jesus Christ Above.

“I can do this on my own,” You say as you approach, frowning at Tony. You know he’s the one that put Steve up to accompany you and the man confirms it in his thoughts. “I know I spent years being an insignificant analyst, but I’m good at what I do.”

“I know that,” Tony cuts a look toward Steve at your jab, and Steve has the decency to look and feel a little guilty, “But if we send you with an Avenger, you’re more likely to have to see and talk to a lot of people. It makes everything easier.”

“So why not go with you?” You cross your arms and try to pry Tony’s defenses from his mind so that you can find any ulterior motives that you know he has, “It makes more sense for Tony Stark to be at a country club.”

“I told you,” Steve leans against the car like he doesn’t have a care in the world, “Doesn’t make sense to have me there.”

“Come on,” Tony claps you on the shoulder and shakes you a little bit, “Live a little. Cap gets all embarrassed when people swoon over him. It’ll be fun.”

-It’ll be real fun when I put the shield through your suit during training. Could’a gotten anyone else for this mission, but had to pick me because he knows-

Steve’s mind doesn’t snap shut like Tony’s, but he does push you out of it rather quickly before he can finish the thought. You ignore him, for his sake and your own, and scowl at Tony, “Fine. You’re technically right that I’ll get to come in contact with more people, but it makes my job damn hard when they’re focused on an Avenger and not their next pickup.”

With you on board, the mission starts quickly. Peter is nervous driving you to the club, but that much is to be expected from someone so young and won’t cause any concern at the valet. He’s to stay in the car, headphones in, and pretending to study while you and Steve are inside.

Steve hasn’t had a thought since he pushed you out of his head. He hasn’t locked his mind down like any of the others are slowly learning to do - he’s just not thinking. There are waves of feelings, and instincts, but no concrete thoughts. It makes you feel shitty, but then you wonder if he’s doing it for his own peace of mind or for your benefit. Either way, you should probably tell him to knock it off because one of the perks of being able to read your partner’s mind on a mission is having a one-way link to set up plans without having to say them out loud. You won’t bring it up, though, because your relationship with Steve has finally stopped being enemies forced to share a wall and has become people who can stand to be in a room together sometimes. It’s not much in the scheme of things and still hurts your feelings - because you still have that ridiculous crush on the man, but it’s nice.

The country club is huge. The ceilings are easily thirteen feet high and dotted with grand, hanging chandeliers. The walls have arches, expensive paintings, and large stained-glass windows. It’s more lush and expensive than anything you’ve seen in your life and the spark of jealousy has you gritting your teeth. You hate rich people, have a distinct disdain for the way they hoard money while there are so many people who could use just a fraction of what they have - but yet, you find yourself wishing you lived in the lap of luxury.

With your arm taken in Steve’s, you suppose you do live in the lap of luxury. Being an Avenger doesn’t pay the best, and you’re acutely aware of just how many people on the team are exactly the thing that you find yourself hating. Tony has more generational money than he knows what to do with - even without counting how much money he’s made on his own. Steve has enough backpay to pay off the college debts of the state of Ohio. Bucky was given a settlement when it was revealed that, despite Steve and the other Commandos rallying for the Army to retrieve his body, there was no search made for him which allowed Hydra to do what they did.

You blink, take a deep breath, and push those thoughts from your focus. Steve looks down at you. People are starting to notice him, now, but that’s not a hard thing to do. Out of seventy people in the room, about one-third have their thoughts turned to Captain America and the person on his arm. “Are you okay?” It takes you a second to realize he’s spoken out loud and shifted to block your view of the room. He’s frowning.

You smile as politely as you can, trying to calm him. “Peachy. It’s just a lot. Where would you like to start?”

“The bar?” Steve leads you further into the room and more thoughts turn his way, “We could start with a drink, and then mingle?” You hum and slip your hand down to press just the tips of your fingers against his bare wrist. He stiffens but manages to keep his cool, despite cutting you an unreadable look.

“Easier to communicate,” You have a wisp of a smile as you meet curious eyes, trying to focus on the thoughts that swim between your ears.

-Why’s he here?-

-Who’s with him? Why would an Avenger bring a date to-

-Holy fuck, it’s Captain America-

Can you hear me over everyone else? Steve isn’t looking at you, but his voice cuts through the noise. It’s high and clear, a distinct dichotomy to his speaking voice. Before you answer, your mind wanders to whether or not that’s how he sounded pre-serum. You lean against the bar with him, pretending to be perusing the menu while you tap your finger once against his wrist, sliding a line, and then tapping three more times. He orders matching glasses of wine for both of you and doesn’t respond.

The bartender is looking closer at you than at Steve, and you wonder if you’re as nervous as you seem. His thoughts aren’t untoward, not really, just wondering if you’ll like the dry white that Steve’s ordered. (You don’t, and won’t. Not like you’ll be drinking any - unlike the super-soldier on your arm you’ll get tipsy, your mind will get fogged, and the mission will be compromised.)

It’s not until Steve passes you the glass, smiling at you like he has a secret or wants to tell one, that you focus back on the mission. Good, he thinks, I suppose it will be easier this way.

You take a micro-sip of the wine and try not to scrunch your nose at the taste. “The wine is really good. Thank you for ordering, Captain.” He huffs under his breath, a twinge of annoyance tickling the back of your senses. So he doesn’t like being called Captain, which is interesting. You resolve to keep that in mind as you survey the room, looking for anyone who’s more nervous than anyone else. Thoughts come and go as you shift your focus.

-Yes!-

The thought is so sharp and out of place among the throng of people trying to get up the courage to speak to Steve that you physically flinch, hiding it by pressing your face into the bicep of the man who, in theory, hates you. You take a deep breath and shake your head when Steve opens his mouth to speak. It takes a lot of focus to be able to hone in on someone with just their thoughts, but you manage to do it by taking your skin off of Steve’s and putting his suit sleeve between your hands and his wrist again. The thoughts come loud and clear then, and your eyes trace the room for the head they could be coming from.

Everyone’s distracted by Star-Spangled Asshole over there with his stupid little date, nobody will notice if I sneak off… Fuck, the God damn door’s locked.

You take Steve’s wine and set it down on an unoccupied table next to your own glass, and lead him to the small dance floor that’s shown up as the afternoon progresses. He takes position without a peep. Clearly, he knows you’re on to something or listening to someone. He’s good enough of a dancer to lead you in a way that makes it seem like you’re the clumsy one - his dancing gives you just enough time to catch sight of the only person frowning at the emergency exit.

“You’re a lovely dancer, Captain,” You finally glance up at him, and then let your eyes slide back to the doors, “Where’d you learn?” His answer goes over your head as you use the small talk as an excuse to keep your mind on your newest, and only, lead. You hope that Steve won’t be offended that you’re making small talk but not listening to his answers, but really, what’s another thing about you for him to hate?

If I’m not at that meeting in fifteen, Frank is going to kill me. If I don’t get the pictures of the girls from Frank, Chris will kill me and then I’ll be double dead. How am I supposed to get paid if I’m double dead?

In your surprise that the man is thinking away his whole plan, you accidentally stamp on Steve’s toes. Of course, you’d mentioned it to Steve before - nobody believes in mind readers. But still, not a lot of people think as frantically about what they’re doing as That Guy is. Two names are better than one name, but one name with the last name attached would have been the best. Still, they have to be connected in some way to the country club, and maybe Tony can figure it out.

“Oh!” You smile up at Steve a second after he jerks back from your clumsy feet, “Sorry, I was just thinking about the party last week.” You reach up under the pretense of fiddling with your hearing aid, and click the connect button on the comm. Steve’s eyes catch the motion and he begins the dance again, as if you hadn’t nearly stumbled over yourself and toppled over. Several thoughts turn your way and they’re… Less than flattering. You sigh and soften your smile, until it could almost be called fond. “Did you see how antsy Frank was to get to that meeting? And all Chris wanted to do was look at pictures.”

To anyone else, it was idle small talk, but to Peter, in the car, it was clear that you were giving information. You had all the confidence in the world that he’d be on the phone to Tony faster than you could blink. Hell, he was probably already on the phone with Tony and relaying the information as Steve’s eyebrows rose as the clicking of laptop keys began to softly play from your comm.

Get it together Derek. Oh, shit it’s raining now. Oh, that sucks.

“And Derek,” You continued, laughing a bit under your breath as if he was an old friend, “Such a klutz. Can’t tell a push from a pull door.” Steve spins you and catches sight of the man panicking at the emergency exit. A frown pulls on his lips for a moment, before he’s back to acting the night away with you, looking down at you in a way that anyone else would see as sentimental. But you understand how Steve feels about you, what you can do, and know that he is an incredibly good actor. An unreasonably good actor, since nobody else at the club is looking into his eyes.

There’s a pulse where your hands are connected, skin slipping against skin, and it startles you. Steve’s thoughts come through louder and clearer than ever before - he’s thinking with purpose. He’s thinking so you’ll hear him. He’s thinking at you. Good work. Three names is even better than we were hoping for.

You read a little too much into that, a frown tugging briefly on your face before you remember that you’re being watched. It melts into a smile easily and Steve watches the way it changes with an unreadable expression. It’s nice, dancing with him. Just a little too nice, and it makes the saliva in your mouth sour. It would be one thing if you only had a crush on the man, but he despises you. Or, he did. Maybe now, holding on to you and dancing like he might like you, he only… Dislikes you. Tolerates you. Realizes that you’re just a person saddled with an impossible ability and you’re drowning under the weight of it.

You wonder if he ever looks at you and sees himself.

The thought dies as he tracks Derek over your shoulder, putting a little fond smile on his face - although you know its fake - and ducking down to breathe the man’s movements into your comm. It’s closer, intimate, and you press your lips into a thin line to repress your shudder at the way Steve presses close to you. “I should get back home,” You finally say, “My babysitter said that she has an exam tomorrow. It’s no fair to her for me to overstay my welcome.” It won’t make sense and will definitely look untoward, because the two of you have only been in the club for forty-five minutes. If that. But you can’t handle being so close to Steve, even if he’s done whatever he’s learned he can do with his thoughts and shut you out of them despite your hands in his.

Steve catches both of your hands in his, smiling down at you. “Allow me to walk you out.” And your brain half short circuits because for a brief moment he lets you in. Your mind lights up with his thoughts and they’re scrambled, frantic, anxious. Your name is there, your face, your lips, your favorite color, the scent you put on specifically to blend in with the rich and famous. Steve’s mind is awash with you and it’s so much, too much, that it makes you dizzy. He seems to catch on the moment you turn to look at him, swaying on your feet with question in your eyes. His hands leave yours and find a home deep in the pockets of his slacks. You watch ruefully as his face hardens, imperceptible to anyone around the two of you.

“Of course,” You finally say, voice slow and quiet. You hate watching people close off from you once they realize their private thoughts aren’t private. It sits heavy in the back of your mind, though, that he was thinking of you. Not the mission, not your powers, not how awfully close he had to be to someone he seemed to hate. Just thinking of you in a way that nobody else had, not in a long time. Not if they knew what you can do. Nobody has ever loved you before - nobody can love you - and you’re not about to start convincing yourself that Steve will be the first.

Abruptly, as if the two of you hadn’t spent the better part of three minutes staring at each other and saying nothing, you turn toward the door. He follows you outside where it’s raining while you ask Peter to bring the car around.

“I’ll be right there,” The teenager confirms, “Also, that Derek guy is getting into a Jeep Wrangler and leaving. Should we tail him?” You jump when a heavy hand curls around your elbow, but you tell yourself it’s because Tony’s voice is crackling to life on the comm and not because Steve is pressing close again.

“I have agents already prepped for that. Just get Thing One and Thing Two out of there before someone realizes we’re onto them.” Peter hums and you hear the car kick to life in the background.

Steve, you realize, doesn’t have a comm in. You turn to relay what Tony said to you just to find Steve already nodding along as if he’d heard. He might have, you think. He can hear your heartbeat through the plaster and drywall back at the compound. Still, he’s looking at you as if he’s waiting for you to relay it, and when you don’t speak - he frowns.

“About what you heard,” He clears his throat and looks away. You’re used to that, really. Tony used to do it after he realized you picked up everything and Sam still does it sometimes. When people figure out that you’re a walking privacy violation they get embarrassed and when that happens they can’t even look at you.

Another thing that your powers have taken away from you.

With a wry smile, one that Steve doesn’t see because his eyes are closed and he’s flushing, you console him. “It’s fine. I understand this is the last thing you want to be doing.” You hesitate on his name and choke his title back, trying to keep the peace between the both of you. His eyes flash to yours, but only for a second, “I told you the first day that we met that if I could change this part of myself, I would. Good work I’ve done be damned.” The smile on your face then is as sad as it is sweet, and Steve looks lost. “It’s not fun to be alienated in a way that nobody else can understand.”

God, and if you were to look back on it, you never would have said that. But you do, and it’s out in the world and in Steve’s head - which is still blessedly silent. Maybe that’s why you miss Derek’s thoughts growing louder and louder, getting closer to where you’re standing faster than Peter’s are; you’re too focused on Steve and his thoughts and how the moment today stands in dichotomy to the moment on the interrogation floor.

Maybe you’re just too focused on him in general.

Derek’s thoughts hit you like a freight train just a second before you hear the squall of struggling tires on the pavement. Knew they were following me, knew it, knew it! You watch from Derek’s eyes as he guns it straight for where you’re standing with Steve - and then you’re back in your own body and finally reacting. You turn to Steve and grab his lapels, shoving him out from underneath the fancy awning. He stumbles out into the rain before his feet get tangled against each other and he tumbles to the ground, shouting your name.

Going for the date, take the Captain down by hurting the person he’s with. He’ll be so guilty, won’t be able to think, won’t be able to get me.

You surge backward into the brick wall at the last moment, Derek’s thoughts filling with rage once he realizes that he’s missed you. Fuck! Fuck, no! Frank is going to kill me. Well, maybe not if I kill both of them. The car takes a dangerous u-turn and revs as Derek stares you down, sweating behind the wheel. “Peter!” You call into your comm, “What’s the holdup?” Steve springs to his feet, brow furrowed and battle ready.

“I’m almost there!” Peter’s voice cracks and you hear the humming of the engine in the background as he presses his pedal to the metal.

“You should hurry!” You dart into the rain when Derek aims the Jeep Wrangler toward you again. Crashing into Steve’s side you urge him away, the both of you already soaked to the bone. “You have to get out of here. He’s aiming for me because he knows you’ll get off of his tail to help if I’m hurt.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Steve’s thoughts are loud, angry, and you wonder what it will be like to be on a combat mission with him. “Move!” His arms wrap around your body and he swings the both of you into the bushes on the other side of the driveway, stumbling to his feet and tugging you out of the other side of the foliage.

If he thinks I won’t run over those bushes, he’s wrong. I’m going to make that meeting, and I’ll make it without an Avenger on my fucking tail!

“You’re playing into his hand!” You have to yell over the rain and the screaming of Derek’s tires, “Get back to the car with Peter, I can handle myself.” Steve’s jaw sets and he takes a glance behind you, body tensed to move again but you’re also watching the world from Derek’s eyes and the way that he’s definitely going to hit the tree that stands among the bushes of the road verge. You stand your ground when Steve surges toward you to take you off of your feet once more, holding him in place as you shrink into him and close your eyes.

“We have to move - !” His voice raises to a shout and breaks on the last word but you grit your teeth and hold him still. If Steve really wants to move, he will. You know he can overpower you and you hope that he doesn’t. Derek is half-blind with fear and rage and he’s aiming directly for you, not paying attention to anything in the way. Your hands clench in the back of Steve’s jacket as you hold him to you, trying to convey that he’s safe as long as he stays where he’s at.

The crash from the front corner of the Wrangler hitting the large and sturdy tree makes your ears ring. You feel more than hear Steve gasping, his arms tightening around you as he takes a step back in shock. The world spins around you when you close your eyes and look through Derek’s eyes again, and his thoughts are as scrambled as the Jeep Wrangler is. It crashes in an arc around where you stand with Steve in the rain, not even coming close to hitting you. Your knees buckle when parts of the bumper come off, striking the back of your calves and Steve keeps you upright even as the pain streaks through you and your knees give out.

Peter is there half a second later, and then a second after that Tony is in your comm, telling you to scram because the agents are only a minute out. Steve shoves you back toward the road verge and you take the path that was cleared out by the Jeep. Peter is there in the sleek car, face pale and shocked behind the wheel. Steve darts around you to throw open the passenger door, thoughts intent on throwing your body in and hoping he can make it into the back seat before Derek gets his wits about him. You grit your teeth and throw your body against his, snagging the pistol you’d felt in his waistband out as he stumbles again.

“What the fuck?” He shouts.

Derek is getting out of the ruined car, hysterical and terrified. His thoughts spin around you as you put your body in front of Steve’s - between his body and the gun that Derek is wielding. It’s like that motherfucker is my head, have to stop that. Have to get to the meeting, have to get the photos, have to get the girls It’ll be my head! Mine! If I don’t get this done, can’t do that. Can’t have that. You aim Steve’s gun for Derek’s center mass, but you don’t shoot. Not yet. His thoughts haven’t turned and you haven’t felt that jolt that comes when someone prepares to shoot in the back of his mind. Steve is in your head, too, wondering why you’re not shooting and why you’re in front of him, and how to regain control of the situation so that he can suffocate the fear building in the front of his consciousness. He thinks about bodily picking you up but Peter’s frantic voice is distracting him.

You hold your ground, gritting your teeth so that you don’t peel Derek like an overripe pear. His eyes are focused on the gun you’re wielding and the distinct lack of trigger discipline. He’s wondering if you’re the better shot and you wink at him.

Rogers isn’t the one in my head.

The realization puts him on the backfoot. “You can’t beat me!” You call into the storm, hoping he’ll hear, “I’ll know you’re going to shoot before you will!” Derek’s gun begins to shake and Steve’s breath halts in his chest. “Do you want to take that chance, Derek? Want to see who has the faster trigger finger?” An unmarked car pulls fast into the parking lot and sirens begin to wail in the distance. The commotion finally caught the attention of the club and someone inside must have called an emergency number. The hesitation is written all over Derek’s face, especially when he glances over his shoulders to see agents in Kevlar rapidly approaching. “Surrender yourself.”

Steve’s hands tighten on your shoulders, but after a moment Derek puts the gun down.

The moment you’re out of medical, you’ve shed your dress clothes and changed into something comfortable. There’s no need for a debrief because it was supposed to be just a recon mission and Derek had cracked like an egg the second he was put into the backseat of Peter’s car with you - so you’re free for the night.

It takes you just a second to make sure Steve is in the gym before you escape with your phone and headphones - both upgraded as an apology from Tony - to the Garden. True to your personal promise, you hadn’t been back since the day you’d been trapped in the bushes by Steve being there. But you need to go back - you need silence. You need just a few moments of fucking freedom from thoughts in your head that aren’t yours, and you need to be able to get it without explaining to someone why you need them to leave the weird, abandoned garden so that you can get it.

You leave your music loud enough to numb your mind through the compound, smiling at people who wave at you or say something you’re in no mood to figure out. When you clear the back doors you’re free, cutting your music and taking in the soft sounds of nature. The garden isn’t empty when you arrive, and it makes you stop short when you find Natasha perched casually on the fountain. There’s stress in your back seeing her there, but you can’t read her mind so it’s fine. It has to be fine.

She hears you coming and turns to you with a small smile on her face. She sighs your name, head tilting to the side. “So you’ve finally decided to come back.” It makes your steps falter, but you still wade through the overgrowth to sit next to her, leaning your back against the grand statue in the middle of the fountain that nobody takes care of.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you knew about the Garden, and yet I am.”

“Who do you think told Steve about it?” You sigh, unsurprised that out of everyone Natasha would have picked up on the fact that you don’t come here for his sake. “It’s nice that you’ve decided to come back.”

“Steve is in the gym.”

Natasha leans into your side, one hand gripping yours tenderly - in a way that only a few lucky people are allowed to see her. “How is he doing, by the way? Keeping you out of his head?”

“What do you mean?”

She cuts you a look that has you flushing, “Please. Either he’s really struggling or you’re playing coy. He’s been practicing with Wanda since you moved into his wing.” That makes you frown because, God, that just makes you feel worse. Your entire life is lived around making people comfortable with what you can do and you’re searching for a solution to the problem when Natasha shakes you lightly. “He’s doing it for you, not for himself.”

“Sure,” You snort, “It’s for my comfort.”

“Seeing you after Rick did a number on him.” She hums, leaning her head on your shoulder. You sag into the human contact and the blessed blankness of Natasha’s mind. “He was worried. It finally got his head out of his ass about how embarrassed he was.” There’s a lilt to her voice that you don’t really understand.

“Nothing new for someone who spends an extended period of time around me,” You mumble, feeling yourself get sleepy against her body heat, “People who can do what I do don’t get friends, or days off, or relationships. Doesn’t matter what I think of what he thinks of me because those are personal thoughts.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Natasha’s hand comes up to pet the side of your face, making you sigh. It’s so nice to be touched by another human without getting their thoughts injected into your mind, “What I mean is that, for a while, Steve was taking our reports to Data instead of emailing them. He was coming back flushed, and talking about how there was someone there who kept their head down and worked hard, never looked his way, and didn’t react to the fact that Captain America was handing them a report. Sometimes he’d come out of the elevator like that, too.”

“Hm?” You’re not following her. At least, you don’t want to be.

“I’ve known him for a long time. When you walked into Interrogation he was caught off guard to see you there. Tony had told us he was bringing in his Special Weapon. Never expected you to show up.”

“I wish he’d stop calling me that.” You grumble. Natasha pinches you and you squirm away.

“Let me finish,” She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s mirth behind her eyes. You sigh and curl back into her, wondering if this is better than the hour you were planning on spending alone or not. “When Steve realized you could read minds, I’m sure every thought he’d had around you came to the front. Poor guy looked like he was going to shit himself.”

“They didn’t, at least not how you’re insinuating.” You sighed, remembering what he’d actually thought and then biting the bullet to tell Natasha even though they were his private thoughts, “He thought I was dangerous. Came up with some really creative ways to kill me, though.” She laughs, jostling you. “Seriously, he should teach some of those as self defense.”

“The thoughts came later, then. Call his reaction an instinct, but he’s been beating himself up for it since. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, so keep your mouth shut. He came to me, terrified that you’d heard every single thought he’d had about that person.”

“I would never tell them,” You frown, shrugging your shoulders, “I may be a confidentiality risk on wheels, but I’m not a jerk.” She sighs like you’ve mortally offended her and you feel her head shake against yours. “The things in their heads stay in mine - most of the time. I thought I’d managed to convince you all of that already.”

“I have to spell it out for the both of you, huh? The emotional labor of a best friend never ceases.” Her hand drops from yours and she pats your thigh before extracting herself and stretching in front of you. “He wasn’t worried about you hearing those thoughts because he thought you’d tell - Steve is worried about you hearing those thoughts because it would be him telling.”

“I don’t understand.” You say, hoping to backpedal the conversation to something other than the convoluted idea that Steve Rogers could feel the same warmth in his chest looking at you that you feel when you look at him.

Natasha cuts you a look that says you definitely understand me you stubborn little motherfucker; then, she smiles over her shoulder at you and then she’s gone, disappearing around the corner before you can process what she’s said without saying. That’s one thing that you’re still not used to about her: the fact that you can’t read her mind means that you have to try and parse her meaning from her words and body language like you’re… Not you. It makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable but also incredibly normal. A true, blue catch-22. Your stomach swirls with unease until you curl up on your side in the fountain, the concrete hiding you from view and making you focus on the unobstructed sky overhead.

Absentmindedly you hum a Mazzy Star song, something that you like to listen to when you’re not using music to numb your extra sense so that you can live like a regular person. You wonder if anyone has shown Steve and Bucky things like Mazzy Star, or if people are still trying to shill them what they think the two men out of time will like instead of expanding their world view. Maybe they don’t want to remember the before.

You don’t want to remember the before.

Before Tony, before the Avengers, before you figured out that you can’t be peeling people apart at the seams just for shits and giggles. Before you found yourself tipping face first into a personality and memories that weren’t yours - things you still see in your nightmares.

Before you almost died.

You were a different person back in the before. More open, easier to talk to, trying to make and keep friends. You tried to have things for yourself but in the moment you opened up the man who was trying to kill you, say the things that he’d seen and done and said and thought, the moment your brain started whirring like an overheating laptop and then went dark to protect itself… You knew when you woke up eight months later your life would be nothing but lonely, watching from the outside like the only sentient person in a movie. You sacrifice, you push people together if their thoughts match and there’s a mutual interest, you have four different degrees just for fun because you don’t need to study.

When you hear someone approaching the garden you get up and dust yourself off, ready to give them the space that they need.

It’s almost surprising to see Steve wading through the unkempt foliage, but it’s not. The surprising part is that he doesn’t seem angry to see you. He almost seems relieved that you’re there.

You step out of the fountain, white-knuckling your phone. “Sorry,” You smile wryly, “Didn’t know you were comin’ out here today. I’ll, uh, head out.” The only way out is past him and you try to hustle before he says something that you’re not expecting - he’s doing whatever Wanda taught him to keep you out of his head and you’re happy. Really, you are. It just puts you on the backfoot and sends anxiety twisting around your spine like a ribbon.

Steve reaches out and grabs your elbow, still careful not to touch your skin with his. “Do you do this a lot?”

While you’re trying to process what he’s asking, you blink slowly at him and his painfully earnest, blue eyes. Steve almost looks like he’s in pain, and his voice sounded like he was struggling not to let it break over his words. “Uh,” You finally manage, voice nearly lost to the light wind and the shake that’s permeating your whole body, “Not lately, no. Just had some rough stuff, y’know, floating around in my head. Figured some fresh air would do me good.”

“No,” He shakes his head and then takes another step toward you. Instinctually you match his step forward with a step backward, his voice somewhere in the back of your head calling you a monster. Nat’s voice is there, too, telling you something you’re unwilling to believe but her voice is so much quester than Steve’s. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I’m following, then,” You clear your throat and have to look away from his face because it’s almost unbearable. You’re used to people looking at you a certain way - even Tony and Wanda look at you in That Way sometimes - but the way that Steve is looking at you… He’s bearing his soul more than any moment in time when you’ve been in his head. It’s unsettling in a new way, making heat and goose flesh crawl up your back and crest over your neck. “Look, I’ll head back to my room so you can enjoy the Garden.”

Steve takes another step toward you but you’re so shocked that he’s so close, looming over you. It reminds you of the way that he danced with you, the way that he looked at you even though he was acting.

You blink slowly, meeting his eyes, and remember the way that he thought about you in that moment before you both left the country club. Your throat tightens when you start to piece everything together and something inside of you, a big something that’s been there since you woke up from your eight month coma, tells you that it’s not right. Can’t be true. Steve sighs and his eyes flutter shut. “Do you…” He chokes on his words, like he’s not sure what he wants to ask you, “Do you sacrifice a lot for other people?”

“Don’t we all?” Your answer is knee-jerk because you do not want to go there. Not with anyone, but most certainly not with Steve.

He doesn’t open his eyes but his fingers tighten on your arm, his other hand moving to ghost over your shoulder. It’s almost unnerving to see Steve so unsure of himself. “That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out small and strangled. Instinctually you reach up and clasp his bicep, dipping your head to try and see his face as his head turns toward the ground. It doesn’t take more than a second to convince yourself that you’re imagining the flush that’s crawling up his cheeks, making the soft freckles stand out against the ruddiness of whatever he’s feeling.

“Steve…” You’re lost for words and he sighs through his nose. It’s startling when his eyes snap open and he pulls you toward him. Your arms are stuck out at awkward angles in the hug, but you let him hold you close because… Well, again, you have a crush on the Good Captain - but also because you can feel him shaking.

“How much do you sacrifice for other people? How much do you give up for them that they don’t even know - that they don’t understand?” You struggle to hear him over your own blood rushing in your ears because you can feel his voice rumbling from his chest to yours. He’s clutching you like you’re his lifeline, like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing that can keep him above water. Maybe it’s what he’s asking or maybe it’s how he’s so warm in the dying light of the day, but you finally secure your arms around his waist.

“It’s not a sacrifice,” You finally whisper into the front of his shoulder, where you’ve planted your face so that he can’t pull his head back and see how you’re on the edge of breaking, “It’s just what I do.”

Steve shudders. “I didn’t know - I’m so sorry.” If you didn’t know better - and you don’t, because he’s doing a beautiful job of keeping you out of his head despite how clearly emotional he is and how the two of you are pressed together from head to toe. “The things I’ve said, I’ve thought…” His voice breaks.

“You’re not your thoughts, Steve,” You try to reassure, “I understand that.”

“I called you a monster,” His head shakes once and then it drops against your shoulder, “I called you a monster because I’m a coward and I was afraid. Afraid that you’d heard, that you knew about how I felt. How I feel.”

“Steve, it’s fine.” It’s really not, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s not fine.” It seems he knows that.

Eyes fluttering shut against your own will, you inhale his cologne. He must have showered after the gym and the familiar scene of At The Barber’s makes you relax against him. “People have said worse. What,” You stutter, unsure you want to know the answer to what you’re going to ask, “What brought this on? You don’t have to feel guilty for my sake.”

Steve pulls back and you can feel his eyes on the side of your face - he doesn’t stop holding you though. You’ll take it. You’ll take it with you into lonely nights and being alone and your cold bed. In those moments you’ll remember how he feels against you and how his eyes feel on you and what it feels like to dance with him. “Nat told me that you stopped coming out here because of me.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“Did you?” He tries to catch your eyes but you won’t meet them. Can’t see the pity that’s in them - or the guilt that’s there. He says your name, mangled by the emotion in his throat, “Please, please look at me.”

“Yes,” You admit when he manages to catch your eyes, “I did. I can go anywhere to think without being spied on. You can’t.”

Steve says your name again and presses his face even closer to yours. “I’m so sorry. For everything - for calling you a monster and thinking those horrible things and taking this away from you. I’m sorry you’ve sacrificed anything for me.” The honesty in his voice takes your breath away.

“I’d sacrifice everything for you, Steve.”

He blinks, shocked, but you’ve never been more sure of anything. Even though the beginning of your relationship with him was rocky, the months spent living and working alongside of him has solidified that not only do you look up to him and what he’s sacrificed, but your crush has a foundation that’s unshakable. Steve flounders for a second, searching your eyes but then he surges forward.

The kiss is something that you’ve imagined in the place between wake and sleep - but the real thing is so much better. Steve kisses like he’s apologizing and sacrificing and begging at the same time. His hands cup your face when you sigh, hands clutching in the back of his t-shirt to draw his body closer to yours. You can feel your body heating up underneath the thrumming of shock, feel yourself reacting to the way Steve whimpers against your mouth and follows your lips when you gasp for air. God, he kisses like he’s making up for lost time and like he’s desperate to tell you something that he can’t express with his words.

Steve, in short, kisses like a God.

You’re still struggling to catch your breath when he presses another chaste kiss against your lips - and then against your cheekbone and next to your eyes and then another on your forehead. “Steve…”

“I’m yours,” He confesses in a soft voice with his mouth pressed against your temple, “I realized that while we were dancing today. Holding you like that, seeing how incredible you are and how much I must have hurt you… I’m yours, if you’ll forgive me. Always have been, I think.” You shake against him, unsure and unstable.

“Steve…”

“You can say no,” He whispers into your skin, “You can say no and nothing will happen. I’ll keep my distance, I’ll be respectful.”

“I’ve never…” This time you pull back to look at him and the way his eyes are swimming makes you dizzy - in a good way. “Nobody ever wants me after they have me. It’s - it’s okay, but you can’t… It’s not going to be like you think. It never… I never work out. You have to know that. I can’t be friends with anyone who can’t block me out… How can you want…” How can you want me?

Steve’s eyebrows pull together and he shakes his head slightly. “We’ve been practicing, me and Wanda. I can keep you out and, and… I don’t care.” He says firmly. “I don’t care if you can see into my thoughts. I… I did, I cared a lot. I have to admit that, but that’s because - I’ve thought a lot about you before. I used to go to Data just to be able to see you,” His cheeks flush with color again but his eyes never leave yours, “I was tryin’ to get the courage to ask you out properly when you walked into that interrogation room and…” Steve sighs, eyes falling shut only briefly before they open to find yours again. His eyebrows are still pulled tight, wrinkling his forehead and making him look contrite. “I don’t know what I was thinkin’, saying those things. Thinking them.”

“You shouldn’t have to hide your thoughts from your partners,” You’re not sure why you’re pushing him away while you’re still wrapped in his arms, but he’s not budging.

“I know,” He breathes, “But I don’t care. I don’t care because it’s you. You’re good and you’re self-sacrificing and you’re… God, I don’t even know how to describe you.” Steve kisses you again, stealing your breath, “If you’ll have me, I’m yours. I swear it.”

You take a few shallow breaths, trying to digest your thoughts while he gazes at you like he did while you were dancing. “Steve…” He closes his eyes like he’s expecting a fatal blow and trying to come to terms with it but you can’t do that to him - won’t do that to him. “If you’ll… If you’ll have me I’m yours,” You parrot his words back to him, “If you can stand to be with me when I can do what I can do, you have me. You’ve had me, Steve. You have.”

He kisses you again and you don’t even flinch when the first of his tears drop against your cheeks.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers imagine #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

[superdanverstrio]

Kidnapped PT.1

Masterlist

PT.2  PT.3  PT.4  PT.5  PT.6  PT.7

Summary: Baby Danvers Get kidnapped and it’s up to Kara and Alex to do everything in their power to save them.

Warnings: Torture, kidnapping, graphic description of injuries.

A/N: this is probably gonna become a supergirl x marvel crossover.

At first when you opened your eyes you thought you want blind, because the room you were in was pitch black. You blinked some more, and you think you can see something not too far from you, you think it's a table with a computer on it, but you're not sure. You tried to get up, but quickly noticed that your wrist and ankles were tied to the chair you were sitting in. Not only that, but you tried to wiggle out of the restraint, but it only manages to dig into your skin. Instead of trying again, you tried to remember how you got here in the first place.

 The last thing you remember was walking to Kara's apartment, you were supposed to meat both your sisters there to hang out. All of a sudden someone grabbed you from behind, you tried you fight back but the person grabbing you seemed to be 10x bigger and stronger than you. You screamed, hoping that maybe Kara or someone walking by would hear you. You screamed and trashed around until something pricked your neck, you tensed up, and then you felt your body relaxing on its own, your eyes felt too heavy to keep them open, and you could no longer scream for help. The last thing you remember was the voice of and men, then nothing.

The sound of a door opening and closing brought you back to the present, you watch as a tall scary creature step in the room, it was at least 6 foot 5 with yellow pupil and super long claws. 

“Y/N Danvers?” the alien said. You don't answer him, instead you ask him a question," Who are you and what I'm I doing here.” The light suddenly turns on, blinding you for a short moment. “ I will be asking the questions, but since I'm feeling nice, ill answer those 2.” He slowly walked toward you, stopping a few feet in front of you, he crouched down to be at eye level. “ My name is Vexok, and you are here because of your sister.” Immediately you thought it was another alien seeking revenge for what Kara's mother did, so it was a shock when you did say Kara's name. “ Your sister… Alex, I think it is-.” “How do you know my sister!” You said, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “You never forget the name of the person that kill your brother.” You stayed silent, there was no way Alex would do something like that unless she absolutely needs to. 

 “So it's only fare if I kill you for revenge.” He said smirking, he got up and walk to the other side of the room and turn the camera on. “ Now smile for the camera.” Vexok said, walking back toward you.

An hour earlier at Kara's Apartment.

 Alex and Kara were seated on the couch waiting for you. When after 30 minutes you didn't show up Alex decided to Call you, when you didn't answer after a few ring Alex hanged up. “Where could they be?” Kara wondered.” Maybe they're just late.” Alex answered. “Super hearing?” Alex asked her sister. Kara focused on her hearing for a few seconds, Alex say frown on her sister's face. “ What's wrong?” “I can't… Hear their heartbeat.” Kara said worried. “ We should go to the D.E.O.”

 When they arrived at the D.E.O they approach brainy's work desk. “Brainy.” Alex demanded. “Yes director Danvers?” Brainy said, turning in his chair. “Supergirl.” He greats with a nod of his head. “Brainy, would you be able to track someone's phone for us?” Alex asks. “Of course who's phone would you like me to track.” “ Our sibling's phone, we haven't seen them in a while and their heartbeat as gone silent.” Kara explained.

In less than a minute, brainy found it. “Got it.” “Really where?” Alex demanded. “In an allay way near your apartment.” Brainy said, pointing at Kara. “OK let's go.” Alex said, in a hurry to find you. “The thing is, Miss Danvers that it was an hour ago and the phone as been disconnected since.” Brainy said before they left. Just then Alex got a message on her phone, she check to see who it was, but she didn't recognize the number, so she decided to check it later your safety was more important right now.

#kara danvers #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supergirl reader insert #bb danvers #y/n danvers #alex danvers #alex danvers x reader #bd #reader insert #brainy #kidnap tw #torture tw #marvel x supergirl #marvel

[musings-of-a-rose]

That Shirt

That shirt

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Benny Miller x f!reader (no established relationships)

Word Count: 3500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This is for the writing challenge from @mermaidxatxheart​. You can find the challenge HERE. Also, this was not betad. Thanks to @astoryisaloveaffair​ for helping me decide if positions made sense for all parties involved!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I don’t know why my cousin decided to settle on a Hawaiian theme for his wedding, but I have to admit I’m ok with it now. Watching Benny try on several of Frankie’s ridiculous shirts before settling on some blue thing with…birds? Plants? I’m not even sure, but I am sure that watching my best friends try on shirts is hot. They ask me my opinion but all the shirts are horrid, except that they pull them off. How on Earth can they pull off those prints? Because they’re the hottest men ever.

They also happen to be my best friends.

My crush on each of them started immediately, when they pulled over to help me with my car that was overheating in the middle of nowhere. Again. No hesitance, they hopped out and inspected the car, Frankie knowing more about engines than Benny, but even he couldn’t save it. They gave me a ride, we got something to eat, and the rest is history. That was several years ago. 

And now, because they’re also the best humans on the planet, they’re both accompanying me to my cousin’s wedding, dressed in horridly printed shirts, while I decided on a dress with a print that somehow compliments them. The only problem is, about an hour into our drive, it started to rain. Well not rain. Downpour. Monsoon. Buckets of rain coming down. I look over at Frankie, who was driving, and I see him squinting towards the road. Pulling out my phone, I find a motel that’s less than a mile up the road.

“Frankie?”

“Mmm?” His eyes remain on the road but he addresses me.

“There’s a motel up ahead on the right. Motel Paradise. I think we should stop.”

He pauses for a moment. “Yeah I agree. I can barely see. I thought we’d have to sleep in the truck.”

We pull up to the motel, thankful for the “vacancy” sign that’s lit up. Frankie pulls up under the awning and we all get out, taking a moment to stretch our legs before walking inside. It’s small, just enough space for the front desk and a small reception area where I assume some sort of breakfast would be available. 

“Welcome to the Motel Paradise,” the man behind the counter says sarcastically, glancing out the glass doors behind us. 

“Thanks, man. You have any rooms available?” Benny asks.

The receptionist glances down at his ancient computer monitor. “I have one left.”

“Just one?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s getting off the roads so…”

Benny glances at me and then Frankie, who nods. “We’ll take it.”

Money exchanged, the man lazily hands us an actual key with a thick, large keychain with the hotel logo on it. It’s all the way at the end of the row of rooms, the very last one in the one story building. Frankie drives us over there and Benny hops out, holding the door open for me as I follow. He walks up to the room door, puts the key in and fiddles with it a moment before pushing the door open. He flicks the lights on and pauses.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” I ask, thinking it’s got left over escapade underwear or something a hotel would have that charges by the hour. But as I push past him, I see exactly what he’s talking about.

“There’s only one bed,” Benny says a little nervously.

“Looks like a queen too,” I offer. 

Frankie walks in then and sees us staring. His eyes follow our gaze and lands on the one, smaller bed. He thinks for several moments before speaking.

“I…I can sleep in the truck.”

Turning to him, I shake my head. “Not with your back you aren’t.”

Benny speaks up. “I’ll take the chair.”

Looking at him, I sigh. “Ben, you’re like a thousand feet tall. Even I couldn’t curl up on that thing. No way. I will go sleep in the truck and you guys can-”

They’re both shaking their heads at me. “No way.”

“Frankie, I know you’re protective over your truck but I promise I won’t drive it.”

“It’s not that, querida. It’s not safe out there. I’m trained for that shit. Plus, you’ll hurt your neck or something.

He’s right. 

“Maybe we can sleep on the floor?” Benny asks, looking at Frankie who starts to nod.

“On this floor? No way. This is a hotel, boys. Who knows when this thing was deep cleaned last.”

Benny chuckles. “There’s always the bathtub.” 

Frankie chuckles with him. “I’d love to see you try and cram yourself into a bathtub.”

They bicker back and forth, in a friendly way before they become quiet, scanning the room for another place to sleep.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, we’ll all share the bed.” I wish I felt as confident inside as I sounded then, because the idea of being sandwiched between the 2 men that I have a massive crush on is…intimidating to say the least. I just know my face is heating up so I walk past Frankie and grab my purse that I had tossed on the dresser. 

“We…we can’t all fit?” Frankie asks, looking between me and Benny.

“Sure we can,” I say, pointing to the bed. “Benny, me, you. We’ll fit and no one will have bad backs or necks in the morning.”

Wait…are they blushing? I watch them both shift nervously where they stand.

“Are…are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Of course. We’ve all stayed at each other’s places before-”

“This is a little different, querida.” Frankie cuts me off.

Sighing, I walk over to the bed and sit on it, bouncing slightly with my movement. I swear I caught them both looking at my chest as it bounced. I have to be seeing things, right?

“Look, it’s fine with me. I’ll sleep great knowing I’m with you both.”

A quick glance at each other and they nod, coming to some sort of an agreement. Frankie gets a cooler out of his truck that he had thankfully packed some sandwiches and road snacks in, which now becomes our dinner. We ate and chatted, a movie playing in the background as the mood relaxed. Soon it was time for bed, so we each grabbed our bags and took turns in the small bathroom getting ready for bed. And that’s when I remembered.

I only have a shirt for pajamas. 

I don’t typically sleep in much of anything but I knew I had to have something so I grabbed an oversized shirt and tossed it in my bag, thinking I’d have a room all to myself. Well that was a terrible idea. Oh well - nothing to be done about it now. 

When I walk out of the bathroom, both Frankie and Benny’s eyes are glued to me, scanning me up and down before looking away quickly, each of them turning a brilliant blush color. What was actually happening? Could they…could they feel the same as me? No. I’m not that lucky.

Making my way over to the bed, I crawl up it, scooting towards the middle as I hear the bathroom door close behind Benny. Some movie is still on the tv and Frankie is trying so hard to keep his eyes on the tv and not me. This is…I’m not sure how to process this. Soon, Benny takes Frankie’s place and sure enough, same thing, as if he’s forcing himself to not look at me. 

Frankie comes out, wet curls sticking to his forehead and now it’s my turn to try and not look at him. Because when his hair sticks to him…

Frankie hovers at the edge of the bed, lightly sitting on the smallest area possible. We watch a bit more of the movie, rain still hammering against the roof, but it’s getting late. We all need to sleep.

“Alright. I think it’s time for bed,” I finish with a yawn. “Come on. I know neither one of you are comfortable. That chair looks like a bed of nails.”

Benny chuckles nervously. “You’re not wrong about that.”

They both get up and face the bed, glancing at each other before back at the bed. Rolling my eyes, I make grabby hands at both of them, patting the bed on either side of me. Nervously, they both shuffle to either side of the bed and slide in, trying hard not to touch me as they do.

“Oh my God you won’t hurt me you know.”

“Yeah but…” Frankie starts, grunting as he tries to cover himself with the blanket.

“We’re tryin’ to be respectful, sweetheart.”

I scoff, air coming out of my nose. “Since when?”

“Since we have to share a bed.” Frankie nearly whispers, but we’re so close I hear him anyway. 

I say nothing. What is there to say? They face away from me as they try to fall asleep. They’re so close I can smell them both and there’s no way I’m getting sleep tonight…

—----

A few hours later, assuming by the darkness in the room, my eyes flutter open, lashes dancing across my cheeks as I feel something hard slightly grinding against my ass. Not something. Someone. Benny. I would be the world’s biggest liar if I said this didn’t immediately turn me on, but he’s got to be dreaming. Right? A little moan escapes me before I can stop it and a few moments later, the grinding stops. 

“Shit. I…’m sorry.” Benny’s voice is raspy with sleep and I can tell he woke when I stirred. But he hadn’t moved away from me, just stopped moving, his erection still firmly pressed against my ass.

Fuck it. I can’t take this anymore - if this makes our friendship awkward, I’ll deal with it later. Pushing my hips back, I slightly grind my ass over his hard cock, tucked away in his pajama pants. A rumble in the back of his throat goes straight between my legs as his fingers tentatively grip my hip, his lips ghosting across my ear as he raspily whispers to me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I whisper back, my nerves lighting up my whole body and making me feel giddy, and I close my eyes to focus on the sensations.

Benny’s lips, so soft and warm ghost across my skin, finding some spot on my neck that has me biting my lip. Fuck how does he know about that spot? I didn’t know about that spot. I feel his hand slowly slide up my shirt, his rough fingertips lightly touching my skin and I let out a huff of breath. I’m trying to be quiet, but I don’t know if I can…

Benny pushes up my bralette, my boobs spilling from it as he grabs one, lightly brushing his thumb across my nipple. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. He squeezes and tugs lightly, and I’m already putty underneath his hands. Benny winds his top arm under my neck and around my front, shoving his hand down my top and grabbing a boob, while his other hand starts to roams south, lightly tugging at my underwear. I know he’s waiting for confirmation. I can feel it in his slight hesitance. 

Pushing my hips back, I feel a puff of air on my neck as he gets the hint, his fingers gripping my panties and pulling them down my legs. His fingers make circles around my entrance and I feel him groan quietly into my neck when he feels how wet I am for him. He pushes 2 fingers in and I bite my lip harder - I swear I’m going to draw blood before he’s done. He pumps into me a few times before he’s gone, no longer touching me. 

Opening my mouth to protest, words die on my lips as I hear and sort of feel him shifting his pants down. His hard cock pops free and slaps against my ass as he adjusts his hips, lining up with me. I’ve wanted this for so long, so desperate for this that I nearly cry out in frustration at his slowness. But then he’s pushing in and -

“Mmmnnuuhh!” A moan escapes me before I can stop it. Benny keeps pushing and fuck he’s long. He feels incredible, lighting me up and electrifying my skin.

Soft lips touch mine, a tongue pushing lightly at them, gently demanding I part mine. I do and the tongue glides in and rubs across my bottom teeth, finding my tongue to dance with it. A few more moments of kisses as Benny finally bottoms out inside me and stills, the kiss breaking. My eyes remain closed for a moment before I slowly open them, looking into the dark, lustful eyes of Frankie.

“Is this ok, querida?”

I don’t think I’ve ever nodded faster in my life. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

He smiles and fuck- Frankie’s smile has always destroyed me. He glances behind me, I’m assuming towards Benny, and gives a small nod. His eyes find mine as Benny starts to slowly pull out, pushing back into me, his hand playing with my nipple. My mouth hangs open and Frankie is there, kissing me, shifting his body to find the boob Benny wasn’t touching. He starts to gently rub circles around my nipple, swallowing my cries as Benny starts to pick up the pace, grunting in my ear and breathing heavy on my neck. 

Frankie shifts down, his hand feeling for the underwear that Benny only managed to push to my knees. He breaks the kiss and moves to pull my underwear down and off, tossing them on top of my bag. He lays back down and resumes kissing me, lightly touching my nipple, which is in a major contrast with the way Benny is gripping and twisting. Frankie’s other hand shifts lower, pushing my leg up and over Benny’s. An extra adjustment thrust from Benny at this angle has me crying out as he hits some spot at the back of me. What is that spot? I can’t dwell on it because Frankie licks his fingers and touches my cunt, sliding his fingers through my folds before gliding back up to touch my clit.

“FUCK!” The word spills from my lips, erupting from somewhere inside me as both of their touch sends me towards the edge. “Fuck you…you both feel…’m gonna…UGH!” 

I explode, my entire body explodes with my orgasm, eyes flying back into my head, my mouth open, my legs shaking as Benny continues to hit that spot at the back of me and Frankie keeps touching my clit. I come down but I’m twitching with every touch. Frankie chuckles darkly and removes his hand.

“I wanna taste you, querida.”

I nod. I think I nod. I hope I nodded because I’d very much like that. I must have nodded because I feel Benny’s grip tighten on my hip as he pulls out, chuckling as I make a noise of protest. They both move my body to sit up and strip me of my clothes along with the rest of the both of theirs. The room is too dark to really see more than an outline of bodies, but that doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bother them either as I feel the bed shift, Frankie grunting as he lays on his back, his head towards the bottom of the bed, his feet against the headboard.

“Sit on my face, querida.”

The slightly commanding way he says it has me wet all over again and I don’t have time to think about how he can suffocate before I’m scrambling up the bed, knees on either side of his head. Frankie grips my ass and pushes me close to his face, wasting no time in licking up the center of me.

“F-f-Frankie!” His name spills from my lips as he eats me like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for years for this chance. He uses his nose too, that nose that I love and adore, rubbing it up my pussy and tapping my clit. He continues for a couple minutes, pulling me apart on top of him before I feel a warm, strong hand at my upper back, Frankie humming approval into my cunt and I jerk at the stimulation. 

Benny pushes my upper back down, bending me over Frankie’s body and my nose brushes against Frankie’s hard cock. Fuck he’s thick. Definitely thicker than Benny. I always thought he was packing but damn. Lost in my vision of Frankie’s dick, Benny pushes into me quickly and without warning, but it’s like my pussy had been waiting for him. 

“Benny,” I let out a satisfied moan as he bottoms out and he chuckles deeply.

He starts to set a pace and the 2 men work their magic on me, pulling me apart from the inside out in the most glorious way. My face taps into Frankie’s dick and I moan, moving my head to give it a lick. Frankie’s suction on my clit drops and I feel a huff of air on my wet pussy that ends in a groan from Frankie. Before he has a chance to answer, I lick him again, getting his dick ready before I slowly take him into my mouth. 

“Fuck querida. You-you’re gonna kill me.”

“Doesn’t she feel fantastic, Fish?” Benny echoes his sentiment from somewhere behind me as he continues to pound into me, hitting some spot at the very back of me. 

Frankie licks at me before I can respond, and I dig my fingers into his thighs. I’m just trying to stay afloat, pleasure coursing through me as I run full out towards my next ograsm. Judging by the way Benny’s hips are starting to thrust more and more erratically, he feels very similar. I yank my head off Frankie as I feel myself falling into bliss.

“Boys ‘m gonna…fuck!” That’s all the warning I can give each of them and I wonder if I’ll feel guilty later for absolutely soaking Frankie’s face as Benny rails into me a few more times before he cries out, pulling out quickly. I feel warmth spurting across my back as Benny comes, continuing to whimper as he winds down. My legs start to twitch as Frankie continues to lap at me for a few more moments. 

As Frankie slows, Benny pulls out of me and I feel his loss, a small whine of protest escaping me as I hear him move to the bathroom and wet a rag. He comes back and wipes my back down before leaning over and turning my head, placing a light kiss to my lips before he pulls back, a large grin on his face. 

“ ‘m gonna take a shower.”

Benny heads to the bathroom and the water turns on and I finally move to slide off of Frankie. He helps guide me off of him as my legs had completely given out, helping me to lay on my back. He slides up next to me and props himself up on his arm, his finger tracing lines across my chest, around my nipples, and dipping lower and lower towards my cunt with each pass.

“Are you ok, querida?”

“Mmm? Me? I’m fucking fantastic.” He chuckles, continuing to trace his lines so gently, my skin pimpling at his touch. But wait….Frankie didn’t…

“Frankie?”

“Yes?”

My eyes find his and he cocks his head slightly at my concerned expression. “You…you didn’t…I don’t think you…”

He shakes his head, but still has a small smile. “No, querida. But you did and that’s what I wanted.”

I move my hand to his cheek, lightly scratching his patchy beard hair as a sound rumbles in his chest.  

“Well, we can’t have that,” I say, trying to pull him on top of me as I bring him in for a kiss. Dammit, why is he strong?

“Querida, you don’t have to -”

“I don’t have to do anything, Frankie. But fuck I’ve wanted you both for so long. I just…I need to feel you inside me. Now.”

He kisses me hard, tongue exploring my mouth as he moves on top of me. I can feel him, hot and heavy as he pushes my legs wider with his knee before he notches himself at my entrance. Slowly, he inches his way inside me, watching my face as my head flings back into the bed, my mouth hanging open like an idiot. Fuck he just…He’s not as long as Benny but he’s definitely thicker and I feel like he’s splitting me open but I would beg for this. 

“Rough or slow, querida? We can always change it up next time.”

“N…next time? You mean, you’ll want to d-do this again?”

“Fuck yeah we will,” Benny’s voice comes from the doorway to the bathroom and Frankie nods his agreement, keeping his eyes on me. “But for now, I’ll give you two a moment.” Benny chuckles and closes the bathroom door behind him.

Frankie looks at me, his eyes searching my face for an answer.

“Lover’s choice,” I say, giving him a wink. “Besides - we can always switch it up next time.”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales​ @chaoticgeminate @janebby @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin

#frankie morales #benny miller #frankie morales x reader #benny miller x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #benny miller x you #benny miller x female reader #benny miller fanfic #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal character #garrett hedlund character #hotwritersummerchallenge

[luna-lunera-morada]

Breathe

a/n: Hey everyone! This is my first fic so my writing definitely needs some work but I hope you enjoy it :) Also if there's anything I should add to my warnings pls let me know.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Finals are right around the corner making you hyper focused on your studies and nothing else, not even your health. A certain super soldier steps in to take care of you.

Warnings: stressed reader, angst, fluff, lack of food and sleep ~ (I think that's it)

Word count: 1.3k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Memorize.

Read.

Memorize.

Write.

Read.

Memorize.

It was a vicious cycle that you dared not to get out of. The computer screen at your desk has been on for days and feels hot to the touch from overuse. You could surely say that about yourself too.

Finals are coming up, quick, and not a minute can be wasted. Getting good grades have always been extremely important to you. Striving for the best and getting straight A’s every semester, you weren't going to change that pattern now.

Blinking hurts. You can already feel the damage your eyes are taking from endless hours of staring at a screen. If you looked in a mirror you’d probably mistake yourself for a raccoon with the dark shade of your eyebags. When was the last time you slept? What time is it? Having what you like to call study isolation makes the days blur together into one big blob. You look down to your phone.

4:55am.

Throwing your head back in your chair, you groan. “Oh god.”

But you always tell yourself, “Just study a bit more. Then you can take a break.”

That dream break never comes though. Like a tunnel that keeps growing, pushing the light farther and farther away. You can study for a little bit longer, right?

✧✧✧

Bucky walks into the shared kitchen at the compound for lunch. It’s Sunday, meaning it’s Wanda’s turn to cook. His stomach is grumbling at just the thought of it.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam had just gotten back from a week long mission in the knee deep snow mountains. All he needs is a good meal and his girl.

“Hey Wanda, where’s Y/N?”

She turns her attention from the stove. “I think she’s in her room. Haven’t seen her in a while so I’m not sure.”

Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. Y/N never goes a day without talking to Wanda, they’re inseparable.

Wanda sets Bucky’s plate on the table. The smell of Chicken Paprikash fills the kitchen. “Sit and eat first, we all know that mission was a pain.” She walks back to the stove. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. please call everyone into the kitchen.”

The A.I. takes a second to respond. “Mr. Stark has requested for the phrase ‘chow time’ to be used when calling for a meal.”

Wanda stops stirring the Parikash and puts a hand on her hip that is still holding the spoon. She sighs, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. would you call chow time, please.”

Bucky chuckles and sits down, draping his black jacket across the chair next to him to save you a seat. The A.I. responds, “Certainly Ms. Maximoff.”

The sudden sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice through the audio system lurches your head off of your desk. Your cheek lights up with pain and you can already feel the pattern of the keyboard on your face. Did you fall asleep? The dried drool from your mouth to ear confirms your suspicions.

“What did you say F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You rub your face trying to fully wake up.

“Ms. Maximoff has called chow time in the kitchen two hours ago. You did not respond and I am programmed to send you a reminder.” You turn to check the time. How long have you been asleep?

2:00pm

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. You had slept for so long, how could you let this happen?

A rumbling wave comes from your stomach. Wanda’s supposed to cook today and everyone in the compound knows for a fact that her food is the best. Your stomach says go to the kitchen. But you can study for a while more. I mean this is what you get for sleeping so long. The study hours need to be redeemed somehow.

You sit up straight in your chair and crack the stiff joints on your body.

✧✧✧

An empty seat next to Bucky during lunch and now dinner. It wasn’t unusual for you to miss a meal once in a while but Bucky returned from a mission today. On days like these you’re stuck to his hip, pecking him on the cheek, and squeezing the living life out of him. Something’s definitely up.

Bucky walks to your door with a plate of leftovers in his hand. He knocks. “Doll, are you in there? I brought you some food.”

You freeze. Was that?

What day is it? You know it’s Sunday but what’s the actual date?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. what’s todays date?”

“Today is Sunday January 29th, 2023.”

January 29th.

Bucky is supposed to be back today. Bucky’s back!

You jump off your chair and race to the door to open it. Bucky’s wearing his gray sweatpants and a black jacket. Yup, he definitely got back today.

“Hi doll, you weren’t at lunch or dinner so I brought you foo-”

You knock the words out of his mouth with the sudden hug you give him. Your head digs into his chest. God how you missed this smell.

He chuckles, “I missed you too.”

Bucky starts to feel a warm patch on his chest followed by small sniffles. He places the plate on the floor and leads you to sit on your bed. Your head burrows itself further into his chest.

“Darling what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Instead receiving a tight hug around his waist while the sniffles grow louder. He grabs your shoulders pushing you back to look at you.

“Talk to me, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

You stare into his eyes. How could you forget he was coming back today. Any mission could be his last and your heart glowed when he returned. It was like a habit, every time Bucky came back you would be waiting outside the quintet with the biggest hugs and kisses he could ever receive. That was until other priorities overtook your mind.

“I’m sorry.” The words mumble they're way out your mouth. Afraid if you spoke louder you’d break into sobs.

“What are you sorry for Y/N? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Of course he would say that. No matter what you do he always looks over your flaws as if they didn’t exist. His hand runs up and down your back helping you control the sudden breaths breaking through your body. Taking a couple seconds to control your breathing, you look up.

“I forgot you were coming today I was supposed to be on the landing bay waiting for you I was just-”

“Breathe Y/N.”

He looks around the dark room and finds that the only thing lighting it is the computer screen. Balled up pieces of paper circle around your chair and scribbled flashcards litter your desk.

“What’s going on doll? Tell me please, I don’t like seeing you in distress.”

Tears touch your lips and the salty taste fills your mouth. “I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“My finals are coming up and my studies have been taking up my mind. I was so focused that everything slipped my mind.”

Bucky sighed and pulled you onto his lap as you nuzzled into his chest. “Oh honey.”

Your sniffles die down and Bucky takes a comfortable breath in. “How about…” He tickles your stomach causing streams of laughter and giggles to make their way out. “...We put some food in here, snuggle in bed, and watch a movie, yeah?”

You sure could use a break, and how could you say no to what he has to offer. You close your eyes studying the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” Your arms wrap around his torso. “Thank you, Buck.”

“For what?”

You sit up in his lap, “For always being there for me even when I don’t do the same.”

He looks down and secures your head in the palm of his hands. “Don’t you dare say that. You’re there for me in more ways than you know. Just knowing that you’ll be here when I return is the only thing that keeps me on my game during missions. I gotta get back to my best girl.”

You smile, “I love you Bucky.”

“I love you more Y/N.”

A smirk splays across your face. “That's not possible.”

“Try me.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! This is my first fic and I’m so excited to make more. I’m really new to learning the navigation of what it takes to have an account like this, so any tips are greatly appreciated <3

#new editor #new post editor #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter solider imagine #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #female reader #bucky barnes fluff #stressed reader #fluff #angst #bucky barnes angst #i think that's it

[jazzythursday]

No because— no because nooooo

I’ve spent over six hours binging GO s2 (there were many parts where I had to pause to scream and rewind) and just—ngk

I have to watch it again to really form full thoughts but here are some completely out of order that I can remember from my current pterodactyl brain very much still freaking out abt it

Spoilers under the cut

I couldn’t get over Crowley when they first go to the bookshop taking his sunglasses off and just… leaving them by the door. It seems so habitual like he wouldn’t even think to leave them on in the bookshop or that he would possibly need them once inside. He didn’t hang them on his shirt or hold them— he left them by the door. The whole season Crowley really seems like he doesn’t wear his glasses with Aziraphale at all anymore when they’re alone, which is just— it makes him putting them on again in ep 6 SO MUCH MORE PAINFUL.

The way that this fandom has been so on the money about these characters and where the story was going. Obviously not everything, but so many things from fanfic carried over and it makes me insanely happy that our versions of Aziraphale and Crowley are really just Aziraphale and Crowley.

Crowley making stars— CROWLEY MAKING STARS. He’s so happy and enamored and he loves it as much as I always thought he would. Even as a demon he’s always loved too much and cared too much (about people, about earth, about Aziraphale) but Crowley in the first scene is Crowley untempered. No glasses, no armor, no self enforced cynicism—why would he need it? He’s joyful, and enthusiastic, and excited, and he hasn’t been given a single reason to hide it or play it down, and it broke my heart, because then we see present day Crowley so unsure and existential and the direct juxtaposition between ‘it doesn’t need to be for anything, it’s a nebula, it has value just for existing’ to ‘what’s it all for? It’s all so pointless’ we know Crowley is an optimist, but I feel like so much of this season is him adrift, standing still, wondering where it’s all meant to be going.

Did Shax like, expropriate his flat? Is that what happened? Does that technically make the flat property of Hell? Like having to give back the company car when you get fired? I just want to know if that’s the reason he didn’t just laugh and shut the door on her face. Also I can’t stop thinking about him grabbing as many plants that he could carry before leaving and nothing else. (Also also, why is he not living with Aziraphale since we have confirmation that until Gabriel—erm—Jim showed up there was an EMPTY BEDROOM NO ONE WAS USING. Yeah, I get it, their idiots who can’t stop talking in circles around each other to save their lives, but Aziraphale knows Crowley loves being in the bookshop, and goes as far as to say it’s basically theirs in a way, so it doesn’t seem like that much of a stretch. I’m not saying it’s not believable, I’d just like to know why.)

Speaking of which, Aziraphale driving the Bentley. AZIRAPHALE DRIVING THE BENTLY!! It’s fucking yellow, he’s giving it stern talks about appropriate music and eating sweats and listening to Glenn Millar Band and Crowley is threatening to sell his books! I can’t, it’s perfect.

Aziraphale trying to use a smart phone was everything to me. I imagine it’s exactly how he speaks to his computer in the bookshop. He’s so polite, and OF COURSE it listens. Just, that whole thing.

Shax using both their fears of the other getting hurt hurt me. She threatens Aziraphale to Crowley and Crowley to Aziraphale. Especially her talk with Aziraphale stuck out. Her saying he wasn’t Crowley’s type and the little raised eyebrows from Aziraphale made me laugh. Also her saying she didn’t believe they were a couple before. (I’m assuming Crowley’s threats about if she harmed Aziraphale were part of that?) And her not understanding what/why Crowley feels for Aziraphale. “He thought you were his ticket to the big time” but that was never what it was about for Crowley. He wants Aziraphale as he is, and for Aziraphale to want him as he is. And I wonder if Aziraphale understood that or what she meant at the time.

Crowley was SO fiercely protective of Aziraphale this season. Especially his talk with Gabriel about what he said during the execution. Also I think it implied that he never told Aziraphale exactly what was said (I could be wrong) but just. Crowley’s anger on behalf of Aziraphale, and his need to take it out on Gabriel (up to a point), his insistence in the first ep that Gabriel isn’t their friend, that Heaven tried to have him killed, it’s the same argument over and over again and they walk it all the way to the end of ep 6 and Aziraphale is still in so much denial about it. He doesn’t know, he hasn’t seen, and you can tell that before this season Crowley had thought they were already past that, on the same page, and that it hurts so much to find out they weren’t.

Um… I think this post is getting a bit too long, possibly. I still have more thoughts so I’ll make a pt 2, but for now I’ll leave you with that.

I shall return.

#good omens #good omens s2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #I wrote this pacing around the table in my backyard at 1 am right after finishing s2 so #take from that what you will #inneffable husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #jazzy’s thinking too much again

[angy-mouse]

A Day in The Life of A Live-In Whore Vol. 2

second verse, same as the first-

lowkey building 'screenshots' of readers twitter to post

&lt;Pev

Baby Reveal

Realistically, it was only a matter of time before one of the boys let something slip on camera. And, realistically, it was definitely going to be George.

He instinctively turned towards the movement in the corner of his eye, lighting up when he saw you peeking through the doorway. “Hey, luv,” he purred without a thought.

“You’re not streaming?”

Your words hit like a sack of bricks as he slowly turned back towards his monitor. A couple of hundred thousand people were typing at light speed. “... Fuck.”

With the cat out of the bag, you reached your arm into the frame to smack him upside the head. “Fucking dumbass.”

It’s a Muscle

You stared at him, jaw dropped. “What?”

Dream laughed at your expression. “It’s a muscle, just like all the others I work out to make bigger.”

“...What?”

Your eyes snapped instinctively to the movement in the corner of your vision, missing Dream’s cocky smirk as he made his dick jump in his sweats again.

“...WHAT?!"

Butts

"You got a cute butt, y'know that?"

You glanced back over your shoulder, seeing Sapnap watching you dig through the cupboard- correction, he was watching your ass- with a dreamy expression. 

"Thanks?"

He hummed appreciatively, giving an innocent smile that made you trust him enough to turn back to your search for the Tupperware.

Crrrrack!

"I knew it!" You shot up, clutching your ass as he ran away giggling. "You get back here so I can kill you right now!"

"I couldn't resist, sugar! You can't stay mad at me forever, 'cause I put the Tupperware on the top shelf!"

"Damn you tall bastards!"

Twitter Trouble

“They’ve seen her arm during my stream, you both have mentioned her- I don’t think it’d be a big deal to say, ‘by the way, same girlfriend.’”

“No way, dude, Dream’s fans are fucking psycho, I’m not putting our girl through that.”

“Hey, they’re not all psycho.”

“Great argument, you’re really selling me on this.”

You were getting tired of the debating extremely quickly. George was sick of having to walk on eggshells, Dream was used to hiding everything about himself from the internet, and Sapnap was stuck between ‘protect baby’ and ‘I wanna post my damn girlfriend.’ So, you raised your hand from where you were laying on the couch, waving it until you got their attention.

“Maybe this is a good time to mention half my twitter is vague-posting about our relationship and the dumb shit we do. I can just start using names. If it goes over well, you confirm it. If it doesn’t, you get to make a video reading hater messages and shitting on them- I know you love that, Dream.”

“... It’s true, I do love shitting on haters.”

The Horror

"Oh my god!"

"It's disgusting,"

"There oughta be a law."

You huffed, glaring at all three of your boys as they crowded around your laptop. "If I knew you were going to judge me this much, I would have just paid someone to fix it."

"How many fucking tabs-"

"What's with the 'ninety-nine plus' in your inbox?!"

"No wonder it's so slow, you haven't updated the system in years!"

You rolled your eyes with a groan just as George raised his hands. "Boys, let's not go crazy here. I think I have a solution." You'd hardly opened your mouth to thank him before he flipped the computer over and popped out the battery. "This can be saved. Sapnap, trash the rest. Dream, buy baby a new one."

"You guys are dicks."

Football Season

You looked between the TikTok open on your phone and Dream, who was standing to get a better view of the game (and they call you the weird one?). You waited until it seemed like nothing important was happening to lay the bait.

"I'm taking the chargers money line and under at fifty-four points, what do you think?"

"I think I'm taking my ass to jail after killing whoever the fuck taught you that."

Your poker face broke the second he whipped around, cackling as he marched past you to get his coat. "Dream, no- babe, it's a TikTok!"

"I know damn well you don't watch football, let alone football TikTok. Sapnap, let's go! We're killing baby's other man!"

"Oh my god, I don't have-" Sapnap cut you off as he came bounding down the stairs.

"About time! George has had it too good for too long!"

"How did things go so wrong so fast?!"

Towel Trouble

"Whatcha got there, baby?"

You remained oblivious to the poison in Dream's voice as you spun around, modeling the thick material obscuring your figure. "It's called a bath sheet! Isn't it great? Now my ass isn't hanging out after my shower. George got it for me!"

All three boys mumbled out compliments as you found what you'd come in the room for, but the second you were out of earshot, the massacre began.

"What the fuck did you do that for?"

"Nice going, jackass."

"I'm about to go 1776 on your ass."

"Next thing you know, he's going to get her full-length skirts, too."

"You enjoy covering her up, you sick pervert?"

George stared blankly as the two took turns throwing insults, taking a long sip of his drink. "You two done yet?"

"Suck me off."

"If it'll get you to listen for a second." He gave them a sick smile, exactly like a villain cornering the hero. "Baby now feels comfortable wearing nothing but a towel. Baby does not feel comfortable in a bra. Which means she has a reason to delay getting dressed. Which means I just made our girl happy and gave her an excuse to lounge around practically naked."

"... I never doubted you for a second, Gogy."

"You know, I think we should've never left England in the first place."

"You're both cocksuckers."

TwitchCon

“I’d like to introduce our special guest,” Dream announced as their eighteen-plus panel began. He stood from his chair, dramatically waving to the side of the stage that disappeared into the performer’s area. “You know her! You love her! Half of you wanna fuck her, don’t think we don’t see the comments! It’s Babyyyyy!”

The crowd roared as you came out, dodging all three boys’ attempts to steal a kiss as you found your seat, picking up your microphone.

“I left the food court for this, so make it good.”

#angymouse #minors dni #squeakin #mcyt smut #sapsqueaks #dresqueaks #gogysqueaks #liveinwhore