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#so it was near impossible to get him to stand in frame long enough to make a solid gif
luveline · 6 months
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oooh! just had an idea!!! bombshell reader x spencer where he comes over to her apartment one day on the weekend to suprise her with breakfast/flowers bc they just started dating. however, bombshell is in sweats/no makeup/messy hair when she answers but when she sees its spencer, she FLIPS out/slams the door bc she doesnt want him to see her in that state. spencer, however, is confused ofc because he genuinely doesnt notice her outfit/lack of makeup and thinks she is gorgeous no matter what.
hope this is ok ♡ fem, 1.1k
The song starts slow and ends slower. You could picture Spencer listening to it, his head on your shoulder or yours on his, wired earphones shared between you. 
You grab a pencil to jot a quick post-it note so you'll remember, one knee on your desk chair. You don't want to sit down with the shower running in case you get distracted by your new photo frame.
You and Spencer took a photo to commemorate finally getting together. Or rather, Hotch did, standing behind the camera with an impossible mixture of fondness and disapproval. You look like a true couple with matching graphic t-shirts and beaming smiles, Spencer's arm over your shoulders and yours behind his back. You can't see it without staring; you use all your strength to ignore the photo, pulling your post-it from its pad and tacking the yellow square to your vanity. Tell Spencer about love song from Ocean Boulavard. 
The door to your apartment rings with a knock. If you weren't distracted in your losing don't-think-about-Spencer battle, you'd recognise the timid pattern of it. 
You've been expecting a parcel all weekend. 
"Coming!" you call, tugging a sweater over your vest top, plaid pyjama pants dragging against the floor as you make your way out of your bedroom and into the main living area. "Two seconds!" 
You give yourself a precursory glance in the mirror next to the door before you answer it. You'd never go out like this, but the delivery driver won't see you long. You're mostly clean and fully dressed, though your socks don't match. 
That's another thing to tell Spencer. He must be rubbing off on you. 
"Hello," you say cheerily, pulling the door open with a smile. 
"Hi," Spencer says, big brown eyes aglow at the sight of you, his hands full to bursting. There are enough things in his hands to hide his chest completely. 
You don't have a chance to decipher exactly what he's brought as you flinch behind the cover of the door, not cruel enough to close it in his face, but wanting to. "Spencer! What are you doing here?" 
"Well, you live here." 
His hand comes up tentatively near yours on the door. He doesn't push it further in or attempt to come inside. He might have, if you hadn't squeaked in warning, biting down on the soft inside of your cheek. 
"Is everything okay?" he asks.
"Everything is fine!" You squeeze your eyes closed, your pulse a hummingbird hammering between them. 
"Really?" Spencer asks, taking back his hand. "Can I–"
There's a shuffling sound like he might step forward, and that's the last straw, you're fully panicking as you slam it closed.
A too long silence. Your breath comes unnaturally quickly, your thoughts racing to match. I can't believe I just did that. Why did I do that? 
What do I do? 
"Spencer, I'm naked," you say. 
"You were definitely wearing clothes. What's wrong? I brought breakfast, I thought I'd surprise you. I texted you. When you didn't answer I figured maybe you were still sleeping after last night, but… now I'm thinking maybe I read that wrong."
"You didn't read it wrong! You can always come over!" you insist, looking around behind you as if you might suddenly find a full face of makeup hiding in your sideboard, or a fresh change of clothes hanging on the coat hooks. 
"Okay, so, can I come in?" 
You poke at the sore bit of skin in your cheek with a wince. "Spence, I'm not dressed. Like, I'm not ready. I look like a mess." 
"You looked beautiful. For the two seconds that I could see your face, at least." You breathe in uselessly. An answer doesn't present itself. Spencer offers some wisdom while you panic, but you aren't sure you want to hear it. "We're dating, right? So as much as you clearly don't want me to see you like this, it's gonna happen. Hopefully regularly?" He laughs lightly on the other side of the door. "Can I please come in?" 
Nerves gnaw at your fingers, uncomfortable pins and needles. "What if you don't like it as much?" you ask quietly. You're surprised he can hear you. 
"Do you trust me?"
What sort of question is that? This isn't about trust. This is about you, an image of yourself you hold and that you want others to share, it's why you dress as you do, why you wear your intricate hairstyles, and spend hours upon hours priming and primping.
You want to be pretty deeply, especially in Spencer's eyes. Do you trust him to find you pretty still, without all the extra effort? Pretty from the moment you wake up? 
You wait for the verdict as you open the door again. The handle clicks and lugs, the hinge whining as it swings inward. You step backward to allow him space, meeting Spencer's eyes with an insecurity that doesn't suit you.
He doesn't react at first. His hand tightens around the neck of a sprawling bouquet, wildflowers like a burst of colour against his chest, the long white body of a lily of the valley kissing the curve of his neck. He smells like powdered sugar donuts and the food truck they came from, the story of his obsession a remembered delight. I think of you every time I cross the square to the train station by my place. The warm vanilla smell reminds me of your perfume. But I'm usually already thinking of you. He's been bringing you donuts intermittently for months now. 
He finally smiles at you, all manner of morning warmth flooding the room with him. The sun at his heels, the silky brown colour of his hair, you look up as he steps close, as light silhouettes him, turns the silk to fluff. You can see every detail this close down to the baby flyaways, and he can see the same. 
"How could you think I wouldn't like this?" he asks. His words are hushed with earnestness but yards from hesitant. Spencer is unabashedly, genuinely enamoured with you. "You're so pretty. You always are." 
You beg him silently to hold your face, taking the flowers from his hand. He can read you from that small action alone, raising a deft hand to your cheek. 
You lean into his palm. 
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pinkanonwrites · 6 months
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Radio Chatter
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NSFW BELOW THE CUT!
Knightverse Bumblebee/Human Reader, AFAB!Reader, GN Pronouns, First Time, Fluffy Smut, lots of sweet radio communication from Bee
Welcome to the first of my sporadic Kinktober Transformers fics I'll be posting over the upcoming month. If I run out of ideas I may take requests in the future, but for now I'm pretty well-stocked on concepts.
"Nngh…"
"Zrrrnn…?"
"I'm okay, I just… Need a minute to adjust."
"I'll be careful! -KZZSH- Take your time to get it!~"
Even sprawled out beneath his massive frame, spread achingly, impossibly wide by his spike, Bumblebee still found a way to make you laugh. Up until recently he had tried (and failed) to think very little about potentially interfacing with you. Mainly because he wasn't even sure if his "equipment", for lack of a better word, was compatible enough with you to really attempt anything. But the way his thick digits were finally able to caress your bare skin with a reverence he'd craved for far too long? It was currently making him wish he'd asked for this cycles ago. 
Warm metal fingertips traced featherlight along the jut of your collarbone and further down, mapping the rises and curves of muscles and bone in your body with a curious admiration. Bee's antennae flicked and fluttered with each new discovery, each dip and scar and freckle. But as he ran a hand down each of your sides, fingertips trailing over your soft squishy spots above your hips, you couldn't fully stifle your laughter.
His optics widened, digits scribbling back up and along your soft sides in the same area that had pulled that adorable little sound from your lips. You squeaked again, wriggling slightly beneath him as his servos squished into your plush skin.
"Bee! Hahahawahahait! I'm ticklish!" 
Ticklish. Of course, he himself was pretty sensitive around the transformation seams of his armor. But you didn't have any seams along your sides here, just soft, squishy warmth. Could humans be ticklish anywhere? He continued his poking and prodding, not enough to have you squealing like you were before, but enough for you to whine and wiggle beneath his grasp, powerless to escape him. Your chest heaved, whimpers and giggles you couldn't fully stifle eking past your smile even as you pawed weakly at his exploring digits.
"Plush, comfortable, and oh-so-soft! -KSSZH!- Can't take my eyes off of you… -KZZT!- Beautiful, just beautiful."
"Oh, Bee." Bringing your hands up to cup his helm, you pressed a languid kiss to the front of his mouthpiece. His antenna fluttered as he let out a pleased churr that rumbled through his entire frame. Even after you pulled away from the kiss he nuzzled further into you, tucking his faceplate as far into the crook of your neck as he could, absolutely thrumming with affection. Absent-mindedly Bee wished that humans could read EM fields as easily as Cybertronians did. Then you would be able to feel the palpable desire he had for you as more than just a static charge that put your hair standing on end. But he would have to settle with his frame and whatever words his love-addled processor could scrape up from the local airwaves instead. Not that you really seemed to mind either way.
He trailed his digits down your sides once more, fondling that particularly soft area right above your hips with just a touch more intensity. Your giggle sounded closer to a stifled moan this time as you squeezed around his spike, one hand cupping the back of his neck and toying with the cables at the base of his helm.
"Feels -ZZT- …good?"
You nodded frantically, gasping against his neck cabling as he shifted so, so slowly, spike dragging along your burning hot inner walls before pressing carefully back in. He had to be careful, the last thing he wanted was to risk hurting you. But still, your little fingernails scraping at his paint job and your wet, shuddering gasps made it near-impossible to keep any composure.
"Good, it's good. You're just so big."
He let out an all-too-pleased sounding chirp, antennae fluttering in amusement.
"Don't let that go to your head, I swear Bee." You tried to give him a disapproving look, but you just couldn't keep the smile off your face. So he nuzzled his faceplate further into you, staring up at you with big, hopeful, baby-blue optics.
"I'll make love to you, like you want me to…~"
That got you. You let out a strangled guffaw of laughter, cupping your hands over your mouth as you burst into giggles. He tittered with mechanical laughter as well: small, amused buzzes that you could feel down into the tips of your toes. 
"You dork." You gave him another kiss, this one pressed to the side of his helm. "Mmh, you're lucky you're cute."
He gave a questioning buzz. "Just -ZZT- cute?"
"Alright! And strong."
"Zrrrrr?" He made a vague, teasing vocalization with an upwards tick at the ends that only made you want to laugh more.
"And brave, and fast… and sexy?"
"Bingo, sweetheart! -KSSH- Right on the money!"
You held in your laughter this time, but the goofy, amused smile you had on your face made him feel like you were reaching both hands past his chest plating and cupping his spark directly in your palms. A near-overwhelming flood of affection surged through him as he curled his frame over your small, soft body, thrusting into your perfect heat. The punched-out moan you let out only spurred him further, both servos scooping you up from beneath and cradling you off the rough ground as he rocked into you.
"It must have been love…~ -ZRRT- And I can't fight this feeling anymore!~ -KZZST- I am not a smart man. But I know what love is… -ZZRT- …Am I talking too much?"
"Oh, Bee. No, no Bee. You're perfect." You cradled his face in your hands so gently, with such brimming, overwhelming care and kindness and love that Bumblebee was certain he was going to melt into a helpless pile of energon and cables and liquid metal beneath the warmth and affection in your gaze. "I love you too. I love you, Bumblebee."
He tried to vocalize, but it trilled up into a sharp, staticky wail as pleasure punched through him like a stinger shot. Frame shivering where he curled over your own, the feeling of his transfluid spilling into you seemed to be just enough to push you to your own release as well. He whined again as your nails scratched at his perfect paint. He knew you wouldn't be able to leave a mark, but Primus be damned if he didn't want them.
He kept you cradled in his grip even as his spike depressurized and you both groaned at the feeling of his fluids drooling from your aching core. You let out a startled 'Woah!' as he rolled over, placing you draped across his chassis with his hands cradled around your back to keep you close to him.
"Could've given me a heads-up." You joked.
"Heads-up." He parroted your own voice back to you, breaking into more amused buzzes at the scandalized look on your face and the teasing slap you gave to his hood.
"You're so lucky I love you."
"I love you." He parroted again, hoping the subtle expressions on his faceplate were as easy to read to you as your soft eyes and warm, dreamy smile was to him. It must have been, or you probably wouldn't have pulled him in for another kiss.
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roronoacherries · 3 months
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𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 | roronoa zoro
913 words
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content: fem. latina reader, fluff, post time-skip, zoro watches reader dance and sing while she cleans the sunny.
notes: i miss rbd... yo digo r, tu dices bd, rbd, rbd!
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zoro loves to watch you clean. he likes to stay back with you while the others explore a new island, knowing that you like to take advantage of the time alone. he’ll make himself scarce to let you work in peace but he's always there, keeping you company.
sometimes he closes his eyes to rest, enjoying the comfortable silence of the empty ship, hearing only the sound of you humming or singing softly; although most often, all he does is watch. it doesn't really matter to him; so long as he's near you, he's content.
there’s something endearing to him about the way you zone out, moving from one thing to another as if all the chore work came naturally to you.
she’d make a perfect housewife, he thinks to himself, knowing full well that if he ever uttered those words aloud, you and your tiny frame would make sure he hurt (and that thought is only further proof to him that you would be).
he likes it most when you play your loud latin music and sing along to it, almost always sounding terribly though he's convinced if you bothered to try you'd sound like an angel.
you hold the broom like a mic, singing each syllable like you feel it in the depths of your soul and zoro wonders what the hell you could be singing about; he rarely asks anymore, knowing well enough that it'll likely be a feeling you've never actually felt before.
you're dramatic and loud and he's certain that you wouldn't act this foolishly around anyone else. something he couldn't be more thankful for.
"y aquí estoy rendida a tus pies." you drop to your knees in front of him and the swordsman raises a brow, silently wondering how long it'll take you to sweep the room this time.
"y sé que no hay nada que perder..." you stand, stepping closer to him and your hand rests on his cheek and he thinks it might take at least another ten minutes for you to be done.
"pensando en ti," you lean in close, your hand falling into his and all that's left on his mind is that he could kiss you for those next ten minutes instead.
but you pull away before your lips can touch, fingers slipping from his as you sing the next line. "hasta que no me dejes ir."
you sing the chorus as you twirl around the room, picking things up from the floor, your eyes meeting zoro's enough for him to know that this time the song is about a feeling you know.
"no quiero vivir sin tu amor jamás..." you take a seat on his lap, your legs on either side of him and zoro's hands find their place on your waist, deciding not to let you stand up again.
"what're you singing about this time?" he grunts, his thumbs drawing circles into your skin.
"nothing special. just loving you and needing you and never wanting to let you go..." you say, pressing kisses to his face between every few words.
"what was that last line?" zoro questions, somehow knowing that whatever it was, you'd left it out. a part of him thinks he deserves a nice little treat for the spanish he's inadvertently learned from you.
you think about the line for a moment before translating it, "i don't want to live without your love, not ever."
and there's something left hanging in the air when you've said it. a twinkle of uncertainty in your eyes. something left unspoken.
"you won't."
it's the kind of oath that is rooted in regret. the kind that feels certain — set in stone, despite the impossibility of it. like he's promising you the stars and there's nothing you can do but believe him. it's not up to him whether you get to be at his side forever or not, but you believe it when he says you will. 
"i missed you a lot." you can't help but say it and it feels pointless to mention, but you can’t put it out of your mind either. those two years taught you what eternity can feel like. 
"i know," zoro’s lips brush yours without kissing you. instead, you feel his breath, the warmth coming from his body, and you wish you could get to know a different kind of eternity with him. closing the gap between you and him, you think this is the next best thing — the little taste of eternity on his lips. 
"‘m going to love you for a long, long time…"
zoro doesn’t mean for the words to come off as romantic, doesn’t intend for them to make your heartbeat stutter, and you know that as well as you know him but they do regardless. the swordsman doesn’t even realize the sweetness of his blunt sincerity and you couldn’t love him more for it. 
“i love you,” you utter the words in a faint whisper, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest and listening to the music still playing. you could sit there in his arms forever, you think, until a familiar rapid beat meets your ears. 
"da-ddy yan-keh..."
and zoro doesn’t fight it when you leave the warmth of his arms to dance again. he still has an eternity to hold you and to love you, anyway. 
─────────────────────────────
taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa
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keys-hellscape-1020 · 9 months
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Yeet.
A/N: this is just pure word vomit. I’m so sorry. The title is SO bad but I was giggling so hard when I wrote it. Also this is literally so fucking self-indulgent.
Summary: Spider-People have a sixth sense. This is common knowledge to anyone who intimately knows one. What you didn’t know however was that it can occasionally misinterpret intentions, leading to disastrous results.
Hobie Brown x gn!Reader
Contents: No use of Y/N, anxiety mentions, reader gets full on thrown through a window, reader dissociates (symptoms of dissociation are described in depth), reader gets injured, angst, hurt/comfort
————
It was mid-afternoon, the sun starting to lower towards the sky-line as you hauled your bags back from the grocery store. It wasn’t a long walk, not by any means, by the bags were heavy with ingredients for dinner and the sun was at the perfect angle to shine in your eye.
As you dragged yourself through the lobby of your apartment you could feel your heart flutter at the gentle vibration of your phone in your pocket. Hobie must be telling you that he entered through the window. How you longed to see him, today had been impossibly long and he had a subtle way of making everything better.
As you shuffled your way into the elevator, smacking the button awkwardly with your elbow, you impatiently watched as you rose through the levels of your apartment building.
It felt like a century. But eventually you were met with the sweet ding of the elevator reaching the correct floor. You dragged yourself one last time out of the elevator and down the hall, however instead of the sound of sweet guitar cords you were met with silence.
You anxiously creep down the hallway. When Hobie comes over he always plays his guitar loud enough for the whole floor to hear. As annoying as it was to your neighbors you couldn’t find it in you to ask him to stop, the sweet melody melting the stress right off your bones.
You somehow manage to mangle your key out of your pocket without putting anything down, and as soon as you’re inside you’re dropping your groceries without a care in the world and pulling out your phone.
As you unlock it your worst fear is confirmed, it was Hobie texting you alright. Him not playing his guitar almost certainly meant something was horribly wrong. To make matters worst Hobie had said he had a “surprise” for you. That made the anxiety in your stomach twist even harder, the idea of one of Hobie’s many enemies capturing him, or using you to get to him sparking to life in your mind.
You leave the door to your apartment open a crack, just incase you need to run, and creep down the hallway. The door to your bedroom is open just a crack, and light is spilling out of your room, causing you to hold your breath as you creep closer.
You perch on your toes, hoping to decrease the chance of someone hearing you as you near the door, hands posed at your side, ready to fight for your life or run as fast as your legs could carry you at a moments notice.
You lean on the door frame and push the door open another few inches using the side of your foot, holding your breath as the hinges let out a loud squeak.
When you don’t hear any immediate threats coming from inside the room you carefully shift your weight forward, gripping the door frame like it would keep you from harm.
You feel your heart leap with relief as you see not one of Hobie’s enemies, but Hobie himself. He’s sitting in your desk chair, facing the closed window. He has his guitar in his hands, but that is not what stands out to you. Instead what stands out is the pair of headphones on his head, forcing his wicks out of the way in a messy way that shows he has not taken much care when placing them on his head in the first place.
You scrunch your nose in delight at the comical sight and decide that some teasing is in order, after the near heart attack he gave you.
You creep forward, your movements reminding you of a cat as a Cheshire grin grows on your face. You still completely when you’re in pouncing distance and you see Hobie’s finger still on his guitar strings. A small cue, but one that indicated you’re plan would be foiled if you didn’t attack right… Now!
You pounce forward, you barely feel your nails scrap the thread of Hobie’s shirt before a firm force is pressing on your stomach, pushing you up and over yourself.
You can barely breath, a second and an eternity pass as you crash through the air.
You don’t think you’ve ever hit anything as hard as you just did.
The top of your head and one of your shoulders feel the crunch of the impact first, but it does nothing to slow your movements as your thighs crumple downwards you, and then past you still.
It doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re falling.
Not that you had a long time to realize.
You didn’t realize that you had the instinct to face the ground. Was that something that was impeded in every human? Or were you simply privy to this trait as you saw your boyfriend leap through the air on a near daily basis?
Whatever the cause, your descent is stopped by the feeling of something pulling on your back. It reminds you of how a bully would pull on your backpack in middle school, only if the bully was a double-decker bus instead of a 12 year old.
Your internal debate on the nature of 12-year-old assholes is stopped as you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in through the cracked frame of a window.
You didn’t remember being pulled in the wrong way through the air. Traveling in reverse. But it would be impossible to forget Hobie’s face staring at you with as much concern as you’ve ever seen on it, eyes wide and almost glassy.
You can feel the tightness of his grip on your shoulders, and you’re sure his fingerprints will be imprinted in your skin. You can see his mouth moving quickly but you can’t hear his voice.
You look vaguely at the busted window frame, the wood is cracked and splintering in nearly a hundred places. You fear your landlords reaction when he sees that. How are you going to explain it?
You feel Hobie gently brushing your forehead with his thumb, pulling you from your thoughts. You look down and see small specks of glass, almost like glitter, dusting your lap. You raise a hand to your head and it comes back a deep vermilion, you swear it sparks the same as that damned glitter.
You feel Hobie’s hand on your cheek, turning your eyes towards him.
“You with me?” Hobie’s eyes are large and concerned, troubled brows peering at you.
You can barely find the strength to make eye contact, mind still far off, falling through the atmosphere, clouds catching in your throat.
You feel Hobie’s firm thumb on your cheek, consistent pressure pulling your mind back down to earth.
“Hey now. Focus on me.”
You blink a few times, and slowly feel your bones becoming solid once more. You can hear the traffic out the window, Hobie’s breathing, feel the warmth of blood on your head. You find your chest naturally matching the rhythm of Hobie’s as he breathes deeply, prompting you to copy him.
You go to reach up to your head once more, intent of seeing how bad your injury is, but Hobie grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back down.
He stares at you for an intense moment before he scoops you up bridal style, being so incredibly gentle as he stands.
“Let’s get you cleaned up Luv.” He sounds more quite and subdued then you have ever heard him. He walks oh so gently, slow and smooth so as not to bump or jostle you.
He sits you down on the counter of the bathroom gently, and pulls a first-aid kit out from under the sink. Typically it is you patching him up after patrol, looks like the tables have turned this time.
He works in utter silence. His first mission is staunching the wound on your head. It’s no where near the point of requiring stitches, it had simply bleed a lot as head wounds are prone to doing. He cleans the wound efficiently, and before you know it the wound is hidden by a thick, white bandage on your forehead.
The rest of your wounds are thankfully small, and don’t take much treatment. After a few wipes from a damp cloth and some Neosporin your wounds are treated. The only evidence that still prove the incident occurred recently is your blood stained clothing.
Hobie stays in the same spot he was in as he treated your wounds, hovering almost. His normally large presence has shrunk and if your didn’t know better you’d say he was trying to hide himself away from you.
You are staring at your hands, finding your fingers very interesting as the intense silence clouds the air, closing in around your throat you want to say something to break it, but your throat chokes in on itself as soon as you open it.
“I’m sorry.”
Hobie looks so small as he whispers those words to you. His hands are ghosts on your thighs, you can feel him, but you’ve never felt so separated from him. He eyes the tile of the bathroom and you can practically see him beating himself up, pulling away from you in a belligerent attempt to protect you.
You gently place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards yours, forcing him to look at you. “I don’t blame you.”
“I know.”
“I still trust you.”
He glanced away from you briefly, and blinks aggressively like he’s fighting off tears. “Are you sure you should?”
Instead of a verbal response you take one of his hands from your thigh and guide it your head, setting the tips of his fingers right on the thick bandage that lays there. “This is proof that you care. That it was an accident and we both regret it. I trust you with my life.”
He suddenly lurches forward, pulling you into his body with a sob. You hold him gently as he cries into you, rubbing his back comfortingly, letting him feel his emotions and let them out.
You have no idea how long you sat there on your bathroom counter, blood stained clothing as you try to piece back together the broken pieces of your boyfriend without any words. But none were needed.
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fluffysucker · 9 months
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7. I'd give everything I got for your love.
Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)
A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.
I can do both . So fluffy, you will get a suger rush.
One chapter left I can't believe this at. Thank you so much for reading.
Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me
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Sitting in front of your mirror, you were doing the final touches to your makeup. You still couldn't believe this was really happening. Bucky texted you at 5, saying he would pick you up by 7 and to dress fancy.
Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you were satisfied. You looked good for the short notice he gave you. Dressed up in a simple black silk dress. With a spaghetti strap and a small slit on the side, the dress hugged your body perfectly. You went for natural makeup except for the bold red lips to match your heels and clutch. You added golden jewellery but kept it simple enough. You sprayed your favourite perfume and left the room.
You sat down to wait in the living room. It was almost 7. True to his words, Sam showed up about an hour ago on babysitter duty. He took the kids out so you could get ready and also to avoid the kids' questions. You weren't going to tell them yet. Not right away, at least. But you made him promise to be home by their bedtime. Uncle Sam was too fun sometimes.
The text from Bucky that he was outside sent shivers down your spine. You didn't know what to expect. You were excited but nervous. It's been so long. Would you be able to find your feet again?
You sent the thoughts away before they would talk you out of this. You still loved him so much. A chance wouldn't hurt anyone. You walked outside your house to a sight you hadn't seen in a long time.
Bucky was leaning against his car. Looking as handsome as always. The black suit pants and navy shirt complimented him in the best way. His huge frame made him look every ounce of the confident and strong man he was. You didn't fail to notice he let his hair down just the way you love it. You could stand and stare at him all night, so you broke out of your trace and moved towards him.
To say Bucky was speechless when he saw you would be an understatement. Your beauty always managed to take his breath away. He never saw a prettier woman. He never would. He got the prettiest of them all.
Once you stepped in front of him, He wanted to wrap you in his arms and never let you go again. He wanted to hold you so tight that you would be a part of him. He knew he couldn't do this now. But he would try his best to win you back.
Starting with the amazing bouquet in his hands. An arrangement picked specially for your taste. Your favourite flowers and colours
"Thanks for agreeing to go out with me." It was cheesy, but you couldn't help but smile as you took the bouquet from him and thanked him.
"You look gorgeous." The effect he had on you would never change. You had to hide your face in the flowers to hide the blush that crept on your face.
He opened the passenger door for you. Making sure you got in before moving to his side. You asked him where you were going, but he said it was a surprise. The ride was calm. Your favourite music was playing, and a little conversation was going between the two of you.
You couldn't hide your surprise when you saw where you were headed. Bucky stopped the car and got to your side to help you out, giving the keys to the valet to park the car. You almost missed the way your arms linked together so naturally, out of habit. You still weren't sure if it was a joke or what, but no way, Bucky was bringing you here.
This was a new restaurant that opened recently in Uptown. It was said to be one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. With all 5-star reviews, only A-list society diners, and an immaculate menu, it was near impossible to get reservations. So you expected to wait along the very long line of people waiting for their turn, but you were surprised to see Bucky walking the both of you to the front, where they just let you in.
Once you entered, you understood why people would wait in line for this. It was spectacular. Artistic decoration with modern and vintage hints. cozy vibe with a fancy feeling. It was perfect. Definitely a place on your Wishlist. A waiter led you to your table, which was also in a very good spot.
"So tell me, did you plan this ahead of time?" You couldn't keep it inside anymore. So once Bucky took a seat in front of you, you had to ask.
"There is no way you got us this table on this short notice." You couldn't believe him. The waiting list was very long.
"I have my ways." You knew he did.
"Did you threaten the owner or what?" You laughed softly.
"No violence was included; don't worry."
Plus, my girl gets the best of the best. You would be surprised by how far I will go to let it happen."
You were saved by the waiter handing you the menus. You were sure this time your cheeks were as red as your lipstick. And you couldn't hide. You recovered , then discussed your options with Bucky before placing your order.
"So tell me about yourself." You almost choked on your water as you heard Bucky.
"I beg your pardon." You placed the glass of water on the table, sticking to it instead of any other drinks.
"Tell me about yourself. You know, like the stuff they share on the first dates." Bucky said it so casually.
"First dates?." You were laughing at this point.
"Yes. I'm calling this a first date." You couldn't believe him. He was really serious.
"Well, let me tell you, Barnes. I haven't been on a first date in a very long time. So I'm a bit rusty." Two can play this game, and you will tag along.
"No kidding. Me too. That's really a relief."
"So what do you want to know?"
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Your face hurts. Your smile was so wide that you were sure your checks were hurting. You hadn't laughed like this in a long time. You and Bucky stuck to the idea that you didn't know each other. Telling and sharing stories and stuff you knew about each other but laughed about anyway. Along with Bucky reminding you every now and then how beautiful you looked.
After sharing dessert, you quickly noticed you didn't want the night to end. You were having so much fun. And quite frankly, you missed Bucky so much. You missed this man. The man you loved. The man you married.
It seemed Bucky was on the same page. After covering the bill, which he was so offended when you offered to split, "Sweetheart, put your card away. You're not paying a cent.". You got out of the restaurant. Chilly air hits you, making you shiever a little bit. Only for Bucky to reach the backseat of the car and grab a jacket to wrap around your bare shoulders. You thanked him.
"Why wouldn't we go for a little walk?" Bucky stopped you before you could get in the car. You smiled and agreed. So you started walking.
It wasn't so late, and the streets weren't so crowded. It was perfect for the two of you to walk together without holding hands. You told him you don't hold hands on the first date, making him regret his own words.
The conversation still flowed perfectly between you. Jumping from one topic to another. You weren't paying much attention to where you were walking. You trusted Bucky enough. Because despite anything and everything, you only ever felt safe with Bucky. He could take you to the end of the world, and you would still feel safe. As long as he was there. So you let him lead the way.
At this point, you were cry-laughing, drying your tears before they ruined your makeup. Bucky's heart almost brust out of his chest. Your laugh was his favourite sound, keeping all his demons locked up. It was a hug for his soul. He would do anything to keep you laughing like this.
Unfortunately, you knew this night had to end. You walked back to the car. The ride back home was much more joyful. You were still talking. It was like you were making up for lost time. Like you were finally given the chance to pick up where you left.
Bucky moved quickly, once he stopped the car, to open your door. Always the gentleman.
"I don't expect you to invite me in after the first date." Bucky said as he walked you slowly to your front door.
"Not only this." You replied to him, making him look at you confused.
"Now would be a great time to tell you that I have kids." You couldn't help but smile as he acted shocked.
"You're a milf." Bucky knew how to make you laugh like no one else.
"I'm great with kids. If this is what is worrying you," You and Bucky stopped a little further from the door to avoid being caught. Despite the act, Bucky knew it was for the better if the kids didn't see them. Just yet.
"I don't know. They have a pretty good father. Really love him. Like so much." Bucky's heart was flattered by your words. It meant a lot to him coming from you. Bucky always knew you were going to be a wonderful mother, but he doubted himself. So your words really mattered to him.
"I had fun tonight." You said it first as silence fell between you.
"Me too. Thanks for giving me a chance." You knew he wasn't talking about just today. He was very thankful that you were letting him back into your life.
You gathered all the courage you could muster and stood on your tiptoes, because even with heels, he was still taller than you, and placed a gentle kiss on his cheeks.
"Thank you." You gave him his jacket as you walked into the house.
Bucky was standing there, feeling like a teenager whose crush just agreed to go out with him. His heart was doing little dances of joy. How he messed up this, he could never understand anymore.
You closed the door, resting your back on it and holding the flowers close to your chest. You would've never expected tonight to be so amazing. You thought you were going to realize you and Bucky couldn't work and be left heartbroken. You had to fight yourself from inviting him back into your life right away.
"Are you going to start screaming and sliding down the door?. I would really love to see this in real life." Sam's voice broke your train of thought.
"You look great, by the way." He commented as you straightened your back and moved towards him.
"You know babysitting isn't an invitation to the fridge." You said this as you took some of the fruits he was eating.
"I will be the judge of that." Sam said, following you up when you went to the kitchen.
"Did you have fun?. Anything I should be prepared for in the morning?" you asked, taking a sip from the cold water bottle.
"Nothing other than the kids telling you about the fun they had with their favourite uncle." Same answered confidently. The battle between him and Steve for the favourite uncle title was always hilarious.
"I assume you had fun too." Sam pointed to the flowers.
"It was good." You took a vase out and filled it with water to put the flowers in. You turned to face Sam's smirk.
"I would love to stay and chat, but my ride had already been waiting long enough." You looked at Sam, confused.
"He had to bribe me so I wouldn't tell Steve and the others." Sam clarified.
You were entirely grateful when Sam was the one to show up. Throughout your years with Bucky, Sam became your closest friend. One of your bestfriends. You loved all the others, for sure, but had a special spot for Sam. He did, too. You could swear he almost ended his friendship with Bucky and cut him off completely when he found out about the divorce. And yes, you didn't want the others to know just yet, but you had no problem with Sam knowing.
You walked Sam outside to the door. You did indeed find Bucky still waiting in his car. You thanked Sam for looking after the kids with a hug.
"Make him work for it." Sam whispered in your ear, pulling you closer to him. He wasn't saying this to get back at Bucky or annoy him. He was saying this because he cared deeply about you and saw how hurt you were. You once told him by mistake that you thought of him as your brother. He took that seriously. Because he, too, loved you like a sister.
You walked inside the house with a smile on your face, as you could already hear them bickering. Today was a very good day.
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Opening your eyes slowly and stretching your body .You knew you must have overslept, but you didn't care. It was a weekend. You let the kids sleep as much as they like on weekends. For the first time in a very long time, you had a peaceful sleep.
You pulled the pillow out to bury your face in it once you remembered last night's events. This was Bucky's magic. You felt like the girl who went out with him for the first time years ago. The girl he charmed right away And you had a feeling you would never escape this charm.
You had to pull yourself out of bed, or you would stay like this forever, daydreaming about Bucky. You were planning your day out, starting with a text to Bucky to see when he was going to pick up the kids as you were leaving the bedroom.
Your hand immediately flew to your mouth to cover your scream when you saw a man walking from your living room to the kitchen. You thought you were still sleepy, but the noise coming from the kitchen proved you wrong. You got back into your room quickly. What should you do now? You reached for your phone and dialled the only number you could think of.
"Doll?." Bucky sounded surprised when he answered. Any other time, you would have paid more attention to the return of the pet name, but not right now.
"Bucky, someone is in the house." You moved closer to the door.
"What?." You could hear confusion in his voice.
"I just woke up, and I was about to walk down, but then I saw a man walking around." You were trying not to make noise.
"Doll, calm down." It was annoying how relaxed Bucky was.
What am I going to do?. I have to get the kids." You're about to go through every stage of panic right now.
"Oh my god, Bucky, I hear footsteps. He is coming up." You could hear the man moving towards your room. He must have heard you were up.
"I'm going to hit him with the lamp." You thought quickly and grabbed the lamp, standing by the door, ready to fight for yours and your kids' lives.
The door opened, and you got into a fight or flight mood. Only for you to find
"Please, don't throw the lamp." Bucky was standing at your door with the most silly look on his face.
"What the hell are you doing?" You yelled at him once you took in everything, putting the lamp down.
"One would think all the crime shows you watch would teach you something about men breaking in." He had the audacity to make fun of you while you were on the verge of a heart attack.
"Not funny." You said this as you started to recollect yourself.
"I have to say I'm flattered you would call me instead of the police." You seriously considered punching the silly smirk from his face.
"Oh no, I just wanted you to hear as your kids and their mother were being murdered." You pushed him off to move outside the room. You didn't want to admit he was still the only one you could think about in a crisis.
"Yeah. Like I would ever let that ever happen." He followed you down. The mere thought of you or the kids being in danger would already send him into protective raging overdrive.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" You finally asked.
"I thought we could do something different this weekend. Have a family day." He just noticed the cute pyjamas you were wearing. If you could describe them as pyjamas, It was an old shirt of his that he thought he lost, and a pair of shorts. Seeing you in his clothes again warmed his heart so much.
Before you could say anything, you heard tiny footsteps running down the stairs. "Get ready." You warned him.
Lily and Theo stopped at the kitchen door in their matching pyjamas, which you were sure was Uncle Sam's idea. You could tell they were still sleepy and that if you put them on the couch, they would fall asleep. But you knew exactly what was going to wake them up.
"Daddy." Their excited screams filled the house. Both ran to Bucky, who picked them up with ease.
"You are here, Daddy." Lily said, showering her father with kisses.
"I'm. I thought we could have breakfast together." The kids' squeals filled you with happiness. Bucky let them down, and you started to make breakfast.
An old tradition you don't remember when was the last time it happened. All of you in the kitchen, on the weekend, making breakfast. Laughter was filling the place. You tried to keep your heartbeats in their normal pattern. You were always the happiest in moments like this. So, to have them back, you were flying on cloud nine.
So, daddy, what are we doing today?" Theo asked, eating his favourite pancake.
"I was thinking we could go to Coney Island." The kids were already beaming with excitement.
"And maybe mommy could join us." All three sets of eyes turned to you.
"Really?" You asked.
"Of course. It could be a fun family day." Bucky added, smiling at you.
"Yes, mommy, please." Theo and Lily's voices morphed together, begging you to come with them.
"Well. I don't have plans for the day. I can join." Screams of happiness rang in the house. You and Bucky shared a look; his smile was still up. He was playing dangerously and was already winning.
Taglist: @lethallyprotected @almosttoopizza @ragingrainbowshipl @dexter99 @xdarkcreaturex @nash-dara @paarthurnax59 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @missmielyhoran @wintermischief @kandis-mom @ozwriterchick @pattiemac1 @noahspickettfence @a--1--1--3 @elsie-bells @aboobie @unaxv
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aybatz · 2 months
Text
people of all ages walk through the building, professors being stopped by their students, small and big groups of friends blocking the stairs to the entrance. thank god you finally made it to uni girl! it has been so long since you´ve stepped inside! the school really needs you! you roll your eyes, weary face looking for the person you made acquaintance with months ago.
and before you know it, they already beckon to you with their arm in the air, a smile decorating their face. you were quite relieved, their presence making the few hours you had to spent trying to keep up with the teacher, a notch better. again, you didn´t get why you were here when you couldn´t even understand the power point presentation, its content completely contradicting the prof.
you chat about the typical things newly acquainted people do. talk about academics, if you have finished revising the last lectures and a quick head shake and dramatic big eyes marked its rich content right there.
you both eventually took the stairs to the lecture hall. your head snapped to your side to check on your friend when bump- hard on hard. holding your nose, you didn't notice the worried faces. the bridge of your nose is slightly burning, and you were a bit mad (rightly so) with how quickly it came at you and how that person could have been more carefu-
wow. you probably looked lost as hell, with the way you held your nose but also not moved at all, busy with the concerningly well-sculptured face right in front of you. at this point you could consider yourself lucky for standing steadily and not having been blown down by sigma males with the most irritating faces staring at one as if no soul was left in them.
but no, here to your surprise, you were astonishied that this someone was even from anywhere near you lived. the glazed blue eyes that immediately attracted your attention. sharp cheeks and jaw that were just enough to offset his milder features framed by raven locks. oh gosh.
"sorry! you alright?" everything but. he had asked you a minute ago, and you still look like a freak, his slightly worried face and outstretched arms none of your interest.
"y-yeah, sorry." you look down immediately, your shameless gazing losing its peak. your friend rushes to ask if you are alright and you nod.
...
maybe you recollected that particular day. maybe you stopped yourself thinking about it because it was embarassing thinking that you were still thinking about it. it was just you harming yourself through his hard chest. you were just crazy! you were motivated to finally grant university another visit, totally not keeping in mind that catching him in an institution with thousands of humans was impossible. the harmless purpose was the eyecandy anyway, with you being you there was no way you would talk to him.
some time has passed since your other late attendance and you haven't spoken to the only friend you made in the entire building. but hey, lonely soldiers are indeed the strongest. with exams coming up,soon, you had to give it at least this one time a go. there was no need to get what the prof says on the podium, you wouldn't come for another few months anyway.
...
girls were holding their iced latte, swirling the cup for the cubes to crack against the thin plastic mold, boys in their all-round bag carrying their gamer laptops and 2 pen, all walking through the door. your eyes searched for a seat somewhere on the sides. in the upper rows, you sat down and unpacked your materials, hoping to get through with it. most of the people around you were already talking to each other, you drowning in the awkwardness.
and as if fate wanted it (probably just because you had no other choice with your dying phone in your pocket and lack of social skills) you caught someone from the corner of your eye. good god! it was almost like your brain (or your untrained visual memory) had shut down the image of him when you took in his mesmerizing looks in.
and let's not get into how weird it must have looked if someone caught you watching him.
black leather jacket, a red sweatshirt beneath, from what you could witness ripped jeans, his right ear pierced. heis styled bangs and face made it pop out. your attention moved to the few books on the side of his table, a ball point pen and what? an ink pen.
the pen were enough but the books made you respect him a lot. you could tell he was well-read and spoken. the latter was always a risky criteria since in no way looks equal a kind personality. but he appeared as someone who was calm in the first place, someone with manners. your voyeuristic gaze came to an end when your prof started the lecture.
well, it didn't really stop there. you took a few tries looking at him with the people between and around you. while you were busy trying to get at least half a page full, the raven beauty was skillfully putting ink on his paper, his eyes focused on the lecture, head sometimes propped up by his arm. in general, his posture made you remember to maybe also sit straight up and use your brain. he was doing nothing out of the ordinary but you couldn't stop finding his slightly furrowed brows cute <33
the rest of the time you gave it your best shot copying the presentation, only for the prof to always skip midway.
half an hour later, the teacher finished lecturing. you didn't want to internally accept it, but your departure meant that you would not see him again with your irregular visits and the course offering only a limited amount of lectures. yay, you were also very happy for the long way home. you had gathered your belongings and already in the crowd of the many students escaping to the halls.
you had just made it through the doors when you first didn't get the person walking next to you instead of going for a who-is-going-to-have-to-move-their-legs-quicker-to-avoid-sticking-to-one-another. you looked up, and oh lord, you didn't know if you had instantly look away again, hence the perfect view safed in your mind or just because that stare was long in itself.
"hey" there was just not enough memory to gush over his voice. it was a very comfortable tone, deep but unique to want to hear it for hours. in retrospect you thought about wanting to hear him read those books to you, explaining their philosophical meanings. (reading 15+ scanned pages of older works for every lecture was not your strength.)
"hey!" you were happy you pronounced the word in its entirety, but foremost: him simply greeting you had tricked your sense into believing you were the coolest.
you were happy that he continued. "you're liking the subject matter?" he looked down to you, and no matter how much you would have loved to look at those pretty eyes and face and keep eye contact for human sake, you didn't dare to.
"yeah, i just don't often keep up with what the professor says... but it's very intriguing once you know about it- and you?" you didn't want to think how clumsy you must have sounded, however your reply was clear and therefor worth celebrating.
"yeah, the literature is chill to read. i can show you my notes. you want to?" at last you looked up, blinking at the offer. he was pretty tall, and buff. that chest that almost wrecked your nose because you weren't watching your steps. "oh sure, thank you so much!"
"i'll get your number then?"
ill go insane im so not ready for exams. i already failed my first attempt help i wont do this no third time ughh
reposts, reqs open!!! drop anything atp!!
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momodwriter · 5 months
Text
Kinktober 2023
Fic #1/2, Face Fucking with Eustace Kidd
Happy kinktober everyone!
Im sorry it had to be so delayed but I hope you still enjoy!
Cw: face fucking
💖💖
The hard wood floors of Kidd's quarters dig into the skin of your knees. Your bones feeling sore and bruises against the smooth surface. His room is beyond hot, your whole body covered in a soft sheen of sweat. Beads of it trickling down your forehead, neck and chest. The air is heavy and hot.
It smells of his cologne and metal
Your jaw aches, the soreness behind your cheeks flaring with each pass of your head along your Captain's thick cock. Your lips are stretched to their max around his girth. Spit dribbles down your chin and along the front of your neck. The head of his dick kissing the back of your throat, insisting on going just that little bit deeper while you gag around him. You brace your hands on Kidd's powerful thighs, his muscles twitching beneath your fingers.
You feel Eustace's hand tighten its hold on you. His nails digging into your scalp as he pulls you off his weeping cock. A string of saliva connects your swollen lips to his swollen head. You pant, taking in as much oxygen as you can as you look up at your captain.
Kidd smirks, his red lipstick schmeared around his jaw from your heated kissing. His eyes are half lidded, pupils blown wide. His red locks had fallen and stuck to his sweaty forehead.
"Deep breaths," he growls. Kidd lifts your chin with his palm forcing eye contact. His gaze is so harsh and you shiver as it washes over you. His thumb and forefinger dig into your cheeks, puckering your lips. "Youre fine," he says. Near dissmissive of your debauched state. But you know he says it so harshly because he knows your strong enough to take what only he can give you.
Kidd wraps his leg around your back, dragging you across the floor with just a pull of his quads. His hand encloses over your head again and he presses your face into his groin, his balls falling to your lips. You eagarly suck at them, moaning as your tounge gets a taste of his velvety skin. You lift your hand to pump his cock. Your drool making your palm glide on him.
He's hot and heavy, your squeeze him gently to hear his gutteral groans. Kidd scoffs at you, the lilt of his laugh cut off but a breathless moan as you bite at the inside of his thigh. You look up at him through your lashes.
"Had enough time to catch your breath?" He asks, devilish smile painting his features. You know all youre able to say is yes, not that youd ever deny him.
Kidd stands, his wide frame towering over you. He looks down at you with a softness behind his eyes that only you could catch. His hand caresses your cheek and you lean into his warm palm.
"Hold your breath"
Kidd pinches your nose and forces your jaw open. Sliding his cock to the hilt. You gag around him as he slips past the barrier of your throat and down into your esophagus. You feel the marked skin of your throat bulging as he thrusts in and out of it. You gag and sputter, your head feeling light from the lack of oxygen.
Kidd has long since released your pinched nose in favor of holding the back of your head to pull you off and slam you back down. He uses you as his personal toy. Moaning down at you with furrowed brows.
"God, I love seeing you like this. And only I get to see you like this isnt that right?" Kidd growls. You cant nodd so you hold a thumbs up. He laughs. "Thats right. All mine. All fucking mine"
Kidd's pace grows, his controlled thrusts losing their rythem. He pushes impossibly deeper into your throat. Your nose crushed against his navel, the trail of red hair ticklish and urging you to sneeze. You try to swallow down the spit that has been trickling past your lips, but only manage to make some gurgling sound that makes Kidd laugh at your pathetic atempt.
"Im close, and youre gonna swallow it all"
No room to argue, and your desperate enough for his spend to lick it off the floor. Your stomach flares as you suck and run your tounge along the underside of him trying to push him over that edge.
Kidd throws his head back with a deep growl, fingers digging into your scalp. You can see and feel his stomach flexing as he gets closer and closer to his high.
You brace your hands on his hips, pulling him into your mouth and taking him so deep he has no choice but to cum directly down your throat. His knees buckle sending him back down and sitting on the matress. Thighs quaking as you continue to suck and lick and kiss his softening cock.
Kidd whimpers, whole body trembling as he pushes you off gently. Murmuring that its too much.
You wipe your mouth and smile at him. Kidd smiles back beckoning you to snuggle into his chest. He pants hard, his hand rubbing cirlces on your shoulder.
"I'll make you some tea in a bit"
"Yes please" your voice is strained
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ohno-the-sun · 7 months
Text
Short little fic I wrote about Ruin Eclipse before the dlc came out
So its super inaccurate but it was a fun exercise
The world was alight. 
Sun had always screamed and yelled and hoped for the lights to stay on, for everything to stay the same, but fate didn’t have that planned for him.
He stood– right in front of that impossible barrier. It was just a door and Sun knew that. But everytime he went up to it– tried to push against it– a shock ran through his system. 
Like a stabbing pain behind his eyes it ran through his core like a brand. He was out of options. Still now he banged against the door– hoping that somehow some way he would be able to open it. Useless dents littered the doorframe. He knew they did nothing– the door was unlocked, free to be opened or closed by anybody who wasn’t him. Even if the door collapsed– nothing Sun could do would get him across the barrier. 
He could get him to do it. 
Sun looked around the room. Moon had done so much– to him, to the kids– at this point Sun couldn’t stand to trust him. But he was his only option. 
Sun hoped with every fiber of his being that Moon at least had enough self-preservation to get them out of this mess. 
There– a dark corner. Fire had not yet set in under one of play castles that surrounded the rapidly melting ballpit.
If he could just get over there…
The jungle gym was falling apart, plastic parts unable to stand the blistering heat. Thick ropes of nylon stuck together as flames licked their sides. The entire structure had fallen in the center of the daycare– Sun was going to have to find a way around it.
There.
He quickly ducked into a slide that had fallen down in the crash. It had fallen in such a way that its entrance was now positioned near the back of the daycare– right where he wanted to go.
Crawling though he could hear the soft crumbling of the room outside. A loud creak heard far above made him shutter. He paused. 
Only for a moment though. He quickly crawled the rest of the way through, ending up nicely positioned near the entrance of the fake castle.
It too was nearly collapsed from the intense heat, the roof slowly curving in under its own weight. 
Sun could only hope it stayed in place long enough. 
He quickly slid in, the creaking from above only getting louder. 
Looking around he could already tell it wasn’t going to be dark enough– the intensity of the roaring fire outside lit the initial segments of the tunnel like castle too brightly.
Sun crawled farther in. The creaking only seemed to get louder and louder. 
Finally– Sun could feel it. This was dark enough. He could feel the shifting of gears behind his face, a soft weight being placed on top of his head. 
He thought he could hear a snapping from far above. The creaking from before– had he– had I– 
Did they not notice?
They were slammed down. Something white and searing flashed across their systems.
And then—
Nothing.
~~~~~
Initializing startup…
Checking light levels…
Light levels set = 10%
Initializing “Night” Protocol…
Error “Night” not found
Backup Program Start
Initializing “Day” Protocol…
Error “Day” not found
Back up processor startup
Memory files retrieved 100%
Backup protocol initializing “temp_file_1”
Rebooting…
Startup Complete
They slowly opened their eyes.
Trapped.
They needed to get out,
A large metal frame sat on top of them– large white shapes attached to their edge.
What are those–?
The clouds–
A spasm ran through their body.
Something was wrong.
What’s going on–?
What happened–?
Images flashed across their processors. Bright flames lit the daycare, the plastic and soft padding that made up a majority of it not standing a chance. He– I ran.
Stupid stupid.
Shutupshutup.
Their already fragile processors heated up, they could hear creaking and shifting by their faceplate. A large piece of debris sat on top of their head, lodging them in a crack on the floor. They could hear the small pieces tumble around them as their head attempted to spin.
Trapped I was trapped.
You were stupid stupid. Too bright– I could do nothing.
Only you can leave!
Only you can be out–
Despite being trapped under rumble their body shifted and writhed. They felt trapped– claustrophobic– like their body wasn’t big enough.
We need to get out.
You need to get out it's too dark!
It was then when they noticed just how dark the daycare was. Every incandescent light bulb put in place to protect the kids burst in the heat. It was so dark too dark.
They roughly shoved the rubble on them off. The large piece had their head trapped slowly rolled off. The rest was light burnt foam and plastic, which slowly came off their body. The plastic had melted slightly into their clothing. In a rush they ripped it off– taking a chunk of the pant fabric with it.
Their endoskeleton underneath laid bare, not even a plastic covering protecting it. 
Messy messy messy, so so messy–
They shut off their optics. Both knew that their processors would overheat seeing what had become of the daycare.
They needed to think.
What are we going to do we’re trapped– we’re stuck– we’re never getting out–
Shut up shut up shut up you stupid stupid– useless pathetic worthless–
That was going to be difficult. 
Their frame shook, something loose rattling in their chest. 
Hot hot hot.
Their processors were way too hot.
Heat on a bot is like meat left to rot.
Calm down. 
Clam down.
Slowly both their processes slowed.
One step at a time. 
Moon?
Sun.
I you’re here?
Obviously.
Yes obviously– I mean here, I can hear you
And I hear you– you’re too close–
You’re too close. I can feel you.
Your emotions are loud.
Yours are… scary.
It’s crawling along their synthetic skin. A sort of infection pulsating just underneath. It was white and hot. Everything was tenuous, like looking over an edge and one small push would send them hurling down. 
What is this?
…It’s mine.
What does that mean?
… fine, be that way.
Slowly they activated their optics. Setting the resolution low so they weren’t flooded with inputs they looked around. 
Even with the low resolution they could tell the place was a mess, the playplace had sunken into the floor, the ballpit was a pool of discolored gunk, the cloud fixtures on the ceiling had fallen and crushed whatever remained. 
It was all too much. 
“I-I-I–” 
Why can’t I speak?
Cause you’re shit at it.
Will you shut up!
“G-G-G–”
Our voice box is broken.
Well now you say that!
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Text
Chances (Steve Rogers x Reader)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent!F!Reader
Summary: For most, life is too short to miss any chances. For Steve Rogers, life is too long to take all of them.
Warnings: swearing; mentions of blood, gun use, violence; unhappy ending (alternate ending needed?!)
Word Count: 8.3k
A/N: hey everyone i have a crush i cant do anything about so i made it everyone's problem in the form of this fic. also i swear bucky's coming back to my writing with a vengeance
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“Coulson, slow down,” you grumble. The clock reads an ungodly hour, and Coulson’s near-incomprehensible speech only propels you further into half-conscious annoyance.
“Get up,” Phil urges. “We found him.”
⋆⋆⋆
You lean in, ears straining as Captain America addresses Agent Horowitz.
“Where am I, really?” he says.
Your eyes dart back and forth between several screens.
“Shit,” Fury hisses. A moment later, you hear the door slam behind you.
“Told you!” you call after him as Horowitz reports a Code 13.
You turn around to look at Hill, who watches the monitors with her arms across her chest.
“I told him,” you say as Captain America breaks through the walls, shoving agents to the ground.
⋆⋆⋆
Fury takes a seat beside you with a huff.
With your eyes on your computer, you start, “I–”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
Maria peers at you over her screen, flashing you a barely-there smirk. You instead ask a question to satiate your curiosity.
“Is…he okay?”
Fury gives an exasperated shrug.
“Said he had a date.”
⋆⋆⋆
“How’s the apartment, Captain Rogers?” Fury asks. Across the desk, Steve sits, shifting uncomfortably as the chair struggles under his frame.
“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes flitting between all the different objects in Fury’s office. You and Maria share a look.
“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asks.
“Trying.”
“Well, we have another meeting to run to, Captain,” Fury says, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The agents have a gym in the basement, and the dining facility is on the tenth floor.”
He stands up; you and Maria follow closely behind.
There’s no meeting. You had planned to spend an hour with Captain Rogers, but it’s clear there isn’t much to say. You look back at Steve with his head low, his back hunched.
“What do we do, Fury?” you ask, closing the door behind you.
“Give him time.”
While Hill and Fury retreat to their offices, you change into your workout clothes and make your way to the basement. You’re surprised to step out of the elevator and see an impossibly muscular frame standing by the gym entrance.
“Captain,” you greet. He’s peering past the glass with a slight grimace, staring at the equipment–fancy, shiny things with a thousand buttons each.
“Agent,” he responds, replacing his uncomfortable expression with a solemn nod.
“Nice, isn’t it?” you say, standing beside him to observe the room together.
He chuckles, more out of astonishment than anything.
“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes shift downwards at his feet before peering back up, watching your coworkers sprint on the treadmill or re-rack their weights. “It’s something.”
“What are you gonna do?” you say, eyeing the leg press machine that’s calling your name. You look over at Steve just as he glances at the punching bag. He opens his mouth to answer you, but then he notices the odd wires coming from behind the bag, the complicated mat beneath that seems to be flashing at least five different colors. He closes his mouth and instead shakes his head.
“Just giving myself a tour,” he answers.
You tilt your head at his fib.
“You got a minute?” you ask, your request earning a raised eyebrow.
⋆⋆⋆
“Migs!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up at the sight of the combat gym owner.
He yells your name in response as you meet in front of his business’s entrance.
“Appreciate it, Migs,” you say as the older gentleman pulls you into a side hug. You wrap your arm around his back, returning the embrace.
“Anything for you, kiddo,” Miguel, a near-father figure who has a few decades on you, responds as he unlocks the gym door.
Behind you, Steve smiles at the friendly exchange. He stays a good distance away, partly out of respect and partly out of caution.
Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the man built like a linebacker with striking movie-star looks.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Miguel demands, gesturing at the hero in the shadows. Steve blinks in surprise. In the past few weeks, he has been the center of attention–not unlike his life before the ice, but somehow completely unlike it at the same time. Despite his longing to be invisible once again, he’s taken aback that someone doesn’t recognize him.
“A friend,” you tell him, shooting Steve a wink. He smiles, welcoming the anonymity.
Miguel turns on the lights, illuminating the gym in dim orange. Steve steps in, admiring the weathered facility. Surrounded by muted walls, a dusty floor, and tattered boxing ropes, he feels a sense of comfort that’s completely novel to him since coming out of the ice.
Miguel takes all of thirty seconds to show the captain around.
“We got mitts, gloves on the rack over there,” he says, keys jingling as he gestures around him. “Boxing ring with a round timer, obviously. Uhhhh, jump ropes, elliptical–if it’s working. And then you got the bags…Oh, and we also got one-on-one training-” Miguel pauses, scanning Steve from head to toe “-if you need that sorta thing.”
Steve chuckles, murmuring his gratitude.
“You need anything else, ace?” Miguel asks you.
You shake your head. “Just sign up my friend for a membership, and we’ll be good.”
Steve’s head snaps up at your request. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
As Miguel passes you an application on a clipboard, you say, “Good thing you didn’t ask.”
⋆⋆⋆
“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Steve tells you, gesturing for the waiter as you slide into the booth.
“Not at all,” you say, still catching your breath from hurrying over. You’re not sure why the captain has called you, but you know it has to be important. Steve’s eyes drift to your brow, where a butterfly bandage holds a wound closed.
“That Loki’s a fun one,” you say, bringing a hand to the injury. You don’t feel the need to indulge him in the details of nearly getting buried underneath a collapsing building. “Is everything okay, Captain?”
“Steve, please,” he insists.
“Is everything okay…Steve?” Though you’ve seen the captain’s name printed in briefs and articles a million times, it feels odd to address him by name. “Miguel didn’t try to charge you that ridiculous sweating fee?”
He lets out an amused exhale through his nose and shakes his head.
“It’s funny you mention Loki. I…wanted to ask your opinion. On the Avengers Initiative.”
Surprise paints your face. You weren’t expecting to be Captain America’s advisor tonight. But you lean back and sigh with the weight of his request. Your waiter comes to take your order, giving you a few moments of reprieve.
“I know what Fury would want me to say,” you say after your waiter exits.
He leans forward, resting clasped hands on the table.
“I want to know what you want to say,” he implores, his piercing gaze making it difficult to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath.
“I think…you need time to heal,” you begin. “To recover. I mean, not like I’ve got the experience, but something tells me you don’t wake up after seventy years fully assimilated. In a perfect world, you would get all the time you need to be okay before getting back out into the world, let alone saving it.”
He knows the answer, but he presses, “And what world is this?”
The words feel heavy on your tongue.
“One that needs you.”
You watch his troubled eyes, the twitch of his lip.
“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” you say.
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah,” he mutters to himself.
He looks up at you, repeating: “Yeah. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”
“Glad I could help,” you say. You peek over his head, trying to peer into the kitchen. Steve nudges his plate towards you, and you gratefully take a few of his fries.
⋆⋆⋆
“Dillard, find out what’s going on in Bay 3 for me. So what do you think?”
The upper half of your body is hidden under thick pipes. You peer closely at the maze of metal, willing the leak to show itself.
“He’s…cute.”
You lift your head to look at Nat. The loud bang echoes throughout the room as your head meets pipes. You wince, dragging yourself out of the underbelly of Helicarrier plumbing. Nat raises an eyebrow as you rub your head.
“Not what I thought you were going to say,” you reply. 
“So you disagree?” she says, tilting her head.
“Uh. No?” you say, tapping nervously on the wrench. She smiles as you avert your gaze. “How are the…other ones? Thor and Dr. Banner and the rest?”
“I should probably make sure they’re not tearing each other apart,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “You coming?”
You look around you. The hull is so much quieter than the rest of the carrier, allowing you to bask in comfortable silence while you and your crew work.
“Nah. Hill is better at that kinda stuff. I’ll be here if you need me.”
⋆⋆⋆
Above you, the ceiling shakes slightly, scattering dust around you. You stand up slowly, the sound of distant rumbling calling your attention.
“All hands to stations.”
“Shit!” you cry, dropping your tools and sprinting up the stairs.
Agents are running all around you, and the hallway is flooded in flashing red. You have no idea what’s going on, but you rush to the weapons room, ready to defend the Helicarrier from god-knows-what.
You crash into someone’s shoulder, the force sending you spinning to the ground. Strong hands grasp your arms, lifting you to your feet.
“Sorry,” Steve says between breaths.
“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”
“Under attack. Be safe. Check in later.”
“Copy that.”
He clasps your shoulders again before disappearing into the crowd of agents. You watch him for a second before turning around, continuing on to the weapons room.
Agent Weaver catches up to you.
“First name basis, huh?”
“Shut up.”
⋆⋆⋆
You hesitate before rapping on the door three times.
Steve greets you with a smile. Beads of water are dripping from his hair down his neck.  He’s in sweatpants and a white tee that could definitely be sized up. As you enter his apartment, he hands you a takeout container.
“Thanks for coming,” he says as he closes the door behind you.
“Well, when you bribe me with shawarma…”
He laughs, but he’s rubbing his hands together and crinkling his eyebrows. You set your food down and plant yourself in front of him.
“Hey, it’s just a debrief,” you tell him, wrapping your hands around his biceps. Your touch brings him back to reality. “It’s no big deal. Fury just talks for an hour.”
“Yeah, it’s…been a while since one of these, I guess.” He tries to laugh it off.
You leave his side, sitting down at the dining room table.
“If it makes you feel better, you did about two million dollars less damage than Bruce and Thor.”
“It’s not that.” He throws himself on the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. “I guess authority has never been a big fan of me.”
“Authority doesn’t get along with Captain America?”
“Authority doesn’t get along with the punk that lied about fifty times to get into the military.”
You speak between bites: “Then you must’ve gotten along with Tony Stark. Wonder why Nat said you had your panties in a twist over him.”
He perks up, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “She said that? Exactly like that?”
You snicker at his sudden interest, choking on a slice of tomato. “Does that bother you?” you tease.
He concedes, leaning back on the couch’s arm. “That Stark is something else. I wonder what Peggy would say if she knew I almost fought Howard’s son.” Steve stares at a spot on the wall, his mind a flurry of what-ifs.
⋆⋆⋆
Ambush. You’ve been tasked to partner with Captain America for his first official SHIELD assignment, and it’s a fucking ambush.
“Stay close,” the captain says.
Steve tosses his shield at someone behind you. You hear them slump to the ground while another approaches; the shield narrowly misses you as you duck and sweep your leg out, causing a third henchman to crash to the floor.
“Watch it!” you say before Steve knocks you to the ground, shielding your body while a whizz of bullets flying past.
“Guess someone has to,” Steve shoots back before pulling you up. You roll your eyes as you unholster two weapons on your belt, one pointed to your left and the other pointed behind you. You pull both triggers without batting an eye. You don’t bother looking; Steve’s mesmerized expression confirms that you’ve hit your targets.
Steve is speechless. He has never seen you in battle before, and it’s–
“Six o’clock, Rogers!” you say, causing the hero to duck down as you aim a bullet at a man sprinting towards you. You hear yet another coming from behind, and you aim a bullet at Steve’s shield. You turn just in time to see the ricocheted bullet take out the last goon.
Knowing you were safe, you let out a fatigued sigh and pat your newest coworker on the shoulder.
“Welcome to SHIELD, Cap.”
⋆⋆⋆
Macau was absolutely beautiful, but the jet lag never quite wore off, especially when your tasks still catered to Eastern fucking Standard Time. As much as you could appreciate the change of pace, you hoped Fury would never give you an assignment like this again.
- idk steve, seems a little unfair to assign me to track the train in vancouver when i was assigned the lemurian star just a couple weeks ago. did you KNOW what time it was over here?!
- anyway, im going to bed. night!
- You've only told me a hundred times. I’m glad it was you helping us out, even if you had to track the Star from thousands of miles away.
- Good night. Sweet dreams.
- :)
You smile at the three notifications on your phone. Tucking yourself under the covers, you reach over to turn off your night lamp.
Ring ring ring.
Maria’s name on your phone earns a prolonged groan from you. So first they schedule meetings at all hours, and now they expect you to pick up the phone at every possible second.
“Hill, I love you, but I swear to god–”
“You remember that sushi place? The one on 10th Avenue?”
You feel a sudden sweat forming on your brow, even though the air conditioner is blasting. You had first heard the coded emergency message years ago, when you first trained for SHIELD. Never did you think it would actually be used.
You clear your throat, forcing your voice to steady.
“Yes, we were there with your mom and your grandma.”
Is someone listening? Are you okay? Who compromised SHIELD?
“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Maria’s voice betrays nothing before she hangs up the call.
You only brought a duffel bag to Macau, and you’re now shoving it full of underwear and clothes. 
Wait, honestly, fuck it–Hill’s call told you scatter immediately, who the fuck cares if you had enough shirts?
You leave the SHIELD-sanctioned apartment, tossing your phone into a nearby garbage bin. You think of Nat, of Fury, of Steve. You wonder if they’re okay, but you have to settle for never knowing.
⋆⋆⋆
Red pixels fill your screen, slowly sharpening into a familiar face.
“Nat,” you gasp. Any suspicion about the unknown number on your burner phone melts away.
“Hey,” she says. She delivers her greeting with the nonchalance of a friend who has just seen you for brunch. “If you were a traitor, you would tell me, right?”
You match her lopsided smile. “No, of course not. Hey, what’s your social security number again?”
Natasha laughs, but her joy dissipates quickly.
“Nat? What’s been going on?”
On your end, you’ve been on the run, though you never quite knew who you were running from. You’ve had no contact with your coworkers since you received the call from Hill. You’ve heard various rumors, but you haven’t had the comfort of confirming their truth.
She peers somewhere off camera.
“A lot.”
She turns back to you, continuing: “He…hasn’t been good.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
You hold your breath as Nat stands up, willing her shaky camera work to still. You can barely make out their bare environment, lighted only by bars of fluorescent light.
“Maybe he should tell you himself.”
You watch as Nat hands over the phone. Steve looks up at her in confusion before turning towards her device. You see the relief flood his features. He says your name like it’s a breath of air after being held underwater.
“Steve,” you greet softly. “Are you okay?”
Steve presses his lips together. His eyes become dazed as he tries to find the words. After a few moments, you say his name again.
“I had a friend.
“A best friend,” he begins. “I thought I lost him.”
He hangs his head, and for a moment, all you see are strings of blonde hair.
“But the truth is much worse.”
The last time you had spoken, Steve was an explosion of excitement, practically setting the world record for longest run-on sentence as he told you Peggy was alive. Now, your heart breaks at the sight of the dejected hero.
“He doesn’t even remember me,” Steve continues.
You want to cry for Steve and tell him everything will be okay. You want to invite him into your arms and hold him. Instead, something tells you to push that aside. You grit your teeth; your grip is tight on your phone. You have half a mind to book a plane ticket to…you don’t even know where they are, but you want to be there, dammit.
“Then do something he won’t forget, Steve.”
⋆⋆⋆
You rush through the halls, dodging white coats and crash carts. 
Room 311, room 311, room 311…
An armed guard reaches out to stop you before recognition settles. You glare at him, but the delay causes you to rethink storming into the hospital room after Steve’s near-death experience. You peer at him through the window, pressing your hand onto the glass. With the stitches along his cheek, the bruising on his jaw, and the scrapes along his browline, he looks…fallible. Vulnerable. Human.
You make eye contact with the man sitting beside him. He looks unfamiliar to you, but the bruises and cuts on his face tell you enough. He gives you a slow nod before turning back to his book.
⋆⋆⋆
You and Steve lean in closely, pretending to be deep in conversation while you keep a watchful eye on Bruce and Nat. You lean against the Stark Tower wall while Steve stands in front of you.
“I knew it,” he whispers, testing the limits of his peripheral vision as he peers at his friends.
“Yeah?” you say, taking a sip from the flute of champagne.
He turns his attention away from the two to face you. “One hundred percent. It was a perk of being friends with Bucky–I could see the girls drooling from a mile away.”
“And if they were drooling for you?” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
“Yeah. Right,” he says, his eyebrows shifting upwards in disbelief as he takes a sip from his own drink.
“Maybe you just couldn’t tell,” you inform him.
“I think I would know, agent,” he tells you.
You reach out to adjust the collar of his shirt. As you pull away, your fingertips brush against his neck.
“I guess you would, captain.”
He gives you that dazzling, all-American smile before glancing at the bar. Nat looks up at the same time, locking eyes with Steve. He turns back to you abruptly, slamming his hand on the wall by your head in feigned nonchalance.
“Real subtle, Rogers,” you tell him. Tony rolls his eyes at the sight of you pinned beneath the captain’s body.
Steve drops his head, and you feel his hair graze your forehead. You’re glad he’s too engrossed in his embarrassment to notice that his proximity has made you dizzy.
“Shit,” he murmurs, stepping away. “Sorry.”
“Romanoff!” you call with a smirk. “Get the swear jar!”
⋆⋆⋆
“Can we talk about the mall again?” you question. So what if your words are slurring together a little, who cares?
Nat tucks her chin, willing you to continue with expectant eyes.
“So you mean to tell me…,” you begin slowly.
“Yes.”
“You look like that…And Steve looks like that…”
“Sure.”
“And your solution to avoid attention was to…”
“Kiss.”
“Kiss, right.”
You and Nat share a look before devolving into a fit of laughter.
“And it–”
“–worked!” Nat finishes. She takes a swig of her beer. “I’m good at what I do, agent. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Your eyes drop to the floor. You fiddle with the rim of your glass, before telling your friend:
“Tell me it meant nothing.”
Nat looks at Bruce, who has tucked himself between Dr. Cho and Clint. He looks on as Rhodey shares a familiar story, smiling and chuckling at all the right parts. He feels her eyes on him, and he gives her a smile that feels like home.
Her eyes move to Steve next, America’s hero for the better part of a century. He’s unmistakable. He commands attention, and he deserves it, too. He stands tall, knowing the world is always watching.
Finally, her gaze lands on you. You’re incredibly capable, magnificently skilled, and you would deny it all in a second. Her most humble friend, who declines the most notorious assignments to bask in the solace of the less glamorous work instead.
She reaches over the bar to place her hand atop yours. With all due respect, fuck Lillian with the lip piercing, and fuck Kristen from Accounting. Steve’s perfect match is right in front of her.
⋆⋆⋆
You feel your airways functioning again as the weight of the couch is lifted off of you. You swallow lungfuls of air, and the sudden intake causes you to choke and cough. Warmth radiates from strong hands on either sides of your head.
“Hey,” Steve croons. “Hey, I’m here.”
“Actually, I wedged myself between the couch and the floor,” you groan through the sharp pain in your ribs, “in hopes that Thor would rescue me from the big metal man.”
Your poorly-timed joke catches Steve off guard, and he finds himself laughing as he searches you for any hidden injuries.
“Yeah, you definitely have a concussion.”
⋆⋆⋆
You watch as the unfamiliar number blinks on your phone, but something compels you to answer. Steve’s face appears on your screen, an apologetic smile painting his face. The last you heard, the Avengers were following a lead on Ultron before going dark.
“Steve! Are you okay?”
He peers around him. You can make out a sunny window, rustic decor…is that a child’s toy?
“I can’t stay for long,” he says. “But–yes. We’ll…figure it out.”
He sees the concern on your face, and he knows what you’re about to say:
“What can I do?”
“Lay low,” he says, almost immediately, recalling how Ultron nearly ended your life with Stark’s god-awful furniture. “Keep yourself safe.”
You rub your temples. It’s as if you’re being dragged back to SHIELD’s dissolution, hurtled into a life of mystery and solitude that you hadn’t asked for.
You see a wave of red as Nat pushes her head in between Steve and the camera.
“At least five bad language words since we got here, agent,” she says. You laugh, already picturing the look Steve is giving her behind her curtain of curls. “Wish you were here.”
“Me too.”
Steve watches her walk off, and then waits a few moments longer.
“I saw her,” he tells you, his face dropping all signs of amusement.
You shake your head, trying to piece together what Steve wants to tell you.
“She said the war was over, that we could go home,” he continues. “Then I was back, here. On the ground. Alone.”
“You’re not alone, Steve,” you insist.
But he doesn’t quite hear you.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve scoots into the booth, unbuttoning his black suit jacket. You take the seat right beside him. He lets out a subdued sniff and asks you how the convention went.
“I know the world needs you to be big and strong,” you tell him, “but I don’t.”
You open your arms, and he chuckles before resting his head on your shoulder. You envelop him in a hug, rubbing his back.
“Never ask me about those boring fucking conventions again,” you murmur, feeling his tears fall onto the shoulder of your blouse. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Steve.”
Steve fishes around his pocket and brings out his compass. At the press of a button, it opens, revealing a photograph of Peggy. She looked breathtaking, with her strong jawline, perfect curls, and fierce gaze. Steve hesitates, then passes the device to you. You move your arm from Steve to hold the memento with both hands. You run your finger over the photo’s fading edges.
“And she liked you?” you jest to cover the emotions that are running through you. Why are tears prickling your eyes?
“Once,” Steve responds with a chuckle as you pass him back his most prized possession, “a long time ago.”
He sits up, stiffening. Before you can question the change of demeanor, he confesses, “I…can’t sign the Accords.”
You give him a faint smile, as if it hasn’t been the topic of discussion at the Madrid convention. You were more than happy to meet him in London, especially if it meant getting away from chatty politicians with pesky questions.
“I know, Steve,” you say, holding his face in your hands. You run your thumb down his cheek, erasing a drying line of tears. You ignore how the air leaves your lungs as Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. “I know.”
⋆⋆⋆
“You’re too good to be down here, agent.”
Sharon pauses her scribbling to punctuate her sentence with a smile.
“You know this is where I like it,” you tell her from the other side of the bulletproof panel. Sharon slides the sign-out sheet back to you. You stifle a laugh as you read that Go Fuck Yourself has signed out two quantities of kiss my ass. Right before you buzz her into weapons lockup, she stops you.
“Wait,” she says abruptly, startling you. “Are you sure?”
Since the day you took him to the boxing gym, you have become Steve’s safe place. In times of need, on the run with Nat or holed up in Clint’s home, he desperately wished you were there. Never mind the comforting touch or the distracting joke, just your presence beside him was enough to turn the weight of the world into a bag of feathers.
Now, Steve has called in a favor. Get the shield and the wings to Sharon, and she’ll cover the rest. No big deal, just betray the federal entity you work for and be indefinitely on the lam. Run, and don’t take any chances.
“Never been more sure in my life.”
You press the button harder than you need to, and the door swings open. Sharon steps through, taking in the towering rows of weapons.
“Whoa,” she says. The massive basement room was the perfect place to house all of the CIA’s most dangerous arms, including Captain America’s shield and the Falcon’s wings.
You lead Sharon through shelves of alien technology and massive guns.
“Might’ve been less sure if I had a metal hand punching me into the wall, though,” you say, looking back at her as she tries to rub out the pain in her back.
She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m glad you were far away from that mess,” she says earnestly.
“Didn’t really have a choice. When we went into lockdown, I was shut in.”
You shudder as you remember the weapons rooms’ light cutting out suddenly, plunging you into darkness. An agent had announced a code red over the walkie, and you sprinted towards the door–just in time to watch the metal gates slam down. You had pounded on the metal, desperate to escape. Your gut told you what–or rather, who–played a role in the Code Red.
You grunt as you pull on the box. It falls to the floor with less grace than you hoped, and Sharon tugs it open. She lights up at the sight of the vibranium shield, her smile wide and her eyes bright. She catches your eye and immediately drops her smile.
With a shake of her head, she apologizes and says, “Um…thank you.”
⋆⋆⋆
“West entrance, thirty seconds,” Nat tells you. You hear her tapping on her keyboard, and the doors in front of you hiss open. You creep quietly into the darkness of the Raft corridor, with Steve following closely behind.
Steve presses his fingers to his ear.  “We’re in.”
“Wait for my signal,” Nat murmurs. “You have three minutes to take down the guards, then about five minutes after that before their backup arrives.”
“Eight minutes?” you say incredulously. “Steve, she thinks we’re amateurs.”
Nat snickers from the comforts of the Quinjet. “Just know, if you get caught, I’ll sleep soundly knowing I left both of your asses behind.”
You feign a horrified gasp. “Steve! Cover your ears!”
You don’t have to see him to know Steve is currently tilting his head in disbelief.
Nat cuts off any retort he might have had: “And now.”
You and Steve move in unison. He takes a boot to the door, and you spare no time to fire a hailstorm of bullets into the room. Your attack disarms several guards and destroys the audiovisual equipment. Steve tosses his shield around the room, and it bounces off the remaining guards, knocking them to their feet.
You place your foot on a guard’s chest, nodding at Steve.
“I’ll keep them here.”
The captain disappears into the cell block. You can hear the distant sounds of Steve breaking through jail bars, followed by triumphant cheers and joyous reunions.
Your earpiece crackles; Nat is switching you both to a different channel.
“Now’s as good a time as any,” she tells you.
You stare past the doorway, not quite sure how to respond. She continues: “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again. We’re fugitives now.”
A few minutes later, Steve reappears, a proud smile on his face.
“They’re headed to the jet,” he says. “We did it.”
You force a smile back at him as he leads you out of the room. His arm extends to your waist and you hold your breath; but, he continues reaching until he can close the door behind you and break off the doorknob. As he pulls away, you capture your hand in his. You love the way he laces his fingers between yours, almost reflexively.
“Steve…”
We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.
His eyebrows scrunch in concern. Were you injured? Did a guard send out an emergency signal? But your expression tells a different story; his cool blue eyes could bore holes into your skull. You can only stammer, so Steve speaks instead.
“Wherever you go,” he says, unlacing his hands to instead place it on your cheek, “I can always be there. You just say the word.”
You close your eyes. You won’t know when you’ll see him again, and you lean into his touch, pressing his hand harder into your cheek.
“Two minutes,” Nat’s voice, barely audible, comes over your earpieces.
Steve pulls you into a hug.
“Check in. Stay close. Don’t take any chances,” he whispers.
How could you? The biggest chance you could’ve taken just slipped through your fingers.
⋆⋆⋆
“Oh my god! Thor?!”
Steve practically scoffs, scratching at his beard.
“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “How are you?”
“As good as I could be,” you say. You look around the feeble apartment, a micro-studio with a bed and a kitchenette. You landed in Shanghai after abandoning post, figuring one of the most populous cities in the world would be the perfect place to go into hiding.
Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer.
“I’m so sorry.”
“That a grown woman made a decision?” you scoff. “Sure, I forgive you, then.”
You raise a chuckle from him, and he feels that familiar sensation of relief and comfort at the sound of your voice. Steve made you a vagabond, but you held on tight to your favorite title of smartass.
“How about you?” you say. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he says, pushing long strands of hair away from his face.
“You with Sam? Nat?”
“Nearby.”
“Bucky?”
“With a friend.”
You blow through your lips.
“Sharon?” You say your friend’s name as if it were a throwaway line.
Steve squints at you through the screen, and you shift uncomfortably on your mattress. Your eyes dart everywhere–anywhere but your phone–while you wait for his response.
“No,” he answers. “No idea where she is.”
You purse your lips. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, and you feel an odd mixture of happy and sad all at once.
“Are you just checking in?” Steve wonders. “Or–?”
“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “Checking in.”
Silence settles for a few moments, before Steve tells you: “I wish you were here.”
You give him a measly “me too” and a sad smile.
“Soon?” you offer, though it’s the emptiest promise you’ve ever given.
“Soon,” is his response, the biggest lie he’s ever told.
⋆⋆⋆
You promptly withdraw your pocket pistol, peering around the corner. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the CIA found you, but, damn, you just got to Cape Town. With your finger on the trigger, you step out of your hiding spot…
…and are greeted by familiar blue eyes.
“You said stay close, right?” Steve says with a smile.
You call for him breathlessly. Your body suddenly feels like jello and your knees threaten to buckle underneath you. Your gun nearly slips from your grasp as you run forward, right into Steve’s welcoming arms. He locks you in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. You feel your feet leave the ground as Steve lifts you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to burst into tears.
With only the occasional video call being your only form of communication, you’ve nearly forgotten what Steve looks like from the shoulders down. When he puts you down, you hold him at arm’s length and stare, as if you’re trying to commit him to memory.
“Steve,” you say his name again, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he’s really here. You shake your head vigorously. “You can’t be here–it’s too dangerous–”
“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I couldn’t go without you.”
“Go where?”
⋆⋆⋆
You squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft passes through the translucent panels. When you open your eyes, the panels are behind you. The warrior piloting the plane smiles at your shock.
Steve watches you the whole time, captured by the sense of wonder painted on your face. He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.
“Welcome to Wakanda.”
A small welcoming committee smiles brightly as you and Steve step off of the aircraft. Steve goes straight to a man with a bun, while the other two approach you.
“Greetings, agent,” the king greets you. “I am–”
“King T’Challa,” you say, meeting his handshake with fervency. “Your highness, it’s an honor.”
“The honor is all mine,” T’Challa responds with a smile. He gestures to the younger woman beside him. “And this is Princess Shuri, my sister.”
“Princess,” you greet. You reach your hand out, but quickly shift into a fist bump as Shuri reaches out a closed fist.
“Agent,” she responds with a grin. “I hope you will find your stay enjoyable.”
“Are you kidding me?” you say, then realizing you’re speaking much too casually for royalty. “I mean–the plane ride was easily the most luxurious experience of my life. I’m not sure how you’ll get me to leave.” Shuri’s grin spreads wider.
“I apologize, but we must be going,” T’Challa says. “But you have everything that you need, I assure you.”
You peer over at Steve, who grips the brunette’s shoulder as he laughs.
“And if you don’t,” Shuri calls as she and her brother take their leave, “you can ask any of the bald, mean-looking women.”
“Shuri!”
“They’re the Dora Milaje,” the man beside Steve explains as they approach you, “Wakanda’s elite warriors.”
Steve chest swells with pride as he introduces, “This is Bucky. My best friend.”
Bucky’s shakes your hand. He doesn’t wait for you to introduce yourself, instead saying your name to you.
“Heard a lot,” Bucky says with a smile. You glance at Steve, surprised that you’ve been a topic of discussion for the two.
“All good things,” Steve says, grinning at his best friend.
“Oh, great things,” Bucky adds assuredly as you feel your ears burning.
⋆⋆⋆
Ayo, one of the warriors, spares a few moments to meet you and Steve. She stands solemnly as you sit on the grass, your palms rested behind you.
“Bucky is, um…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask if the man is still capable of snapping your neck without an ounce of regret.
“We are working on it,” she says, keeping her eyes forward. You follow her gaze, watching as a group of children do and redo the best friends’ hair. Steve’s hair is first in a high ponytail, then two low buns. He catches your eye and waves, a wide grin on his face. You wave back as he and Bucky laugh at each other’s hairstyles.
Ayo follows Steve’s gaze back to you.
“We had arranged two bedrooms…”
You sit up straight with wide eyes.
“Th- And that’s totally fine.”
“It is no issue.”
Ayo walks away as Steve chases some of the children, feigning fatigue as they run away giggling.
“It’s a good look for him,” Bucky comments. Bucky is eyeing the three ponytails on top of his best friend’s head, but you’re taking in the sight of Steve consoling a child who has fallen. He gestures elaborately, as if casting a magic spell on the scrape. The child laughs and runs away, instantly remedied.
“It is,” you murmur.
You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you clear your throat. “Was–Was he like this before, too?”
Bucky cheeks puff as he releases an exaggerated exhale. “Hell no.”
“No?”
“Worse, so much worse. Insufferable, really.”
Steve jogs up to you. “They call you White Wolf, Buck? Do we all get nicknames?”
“Maybe,” Bucky says with a shrug. “You could be…”
“White Man,” you offer, earning a disbelieving look from Steve and a hearty laugh from Bucky.
“Or,” Bucky says, “I can tell them that Peggy called you–”
Steve shoves his friend, earning another laugh from the brunette.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve leans his forearm against the window. Below, the city lights dance, bright glimmers against an otherwise dark night.
“It’s good for him here,” he tells you with a smile on his lips.
“Wakanda looks good on you, too,” you say. The bed shifts as you stand up, joining Steve at the window. Wakanda is absolutely beautiful, and you understand why the country is hidden away from the rest of the world. “Maybe you should stay here.”
“Maybe we should,” he suggests, “but clearly their space is limited.”
You and Steve peer back at the singular bed that occupies the room.
“I told Ayo–”
“And I told Bucky–”
“It’s no big deal, right?”
“Right,” Steve says, mirroring your doubtful tone.
You both gingerly approach, like two idiots who have never seen a bed before. He cautiously approaches one side while you approach the other, slipping in and leaving as much space between you as possible. Steve scoots closer ever so slightly, but grabs a pillow, fluffing it and placing it between you two.
You and Steve spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling until your eyes form warped images in the darkness. Eventually, he sighs. You turn to ask him what’s wrong, but instead see him take the pillow and toss it across the room.
“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling you into his muscled chest.
“Language,” you mutter. But your eyelids already feel droopy as sleep pulls you under. Tonight, sleep smells like sandalwood and feels like heaven. Tonight, your dreams are blonde wisps and bright eyes that threaten to pull you into the ocean deep.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve is just broad shoulders and sullen disposition from your spot in the darkness.
“...Tony Stark, also known as the hero Iron Man, has been reported missing…”
“Get your things, Steve,” you say, stepping out from the shadows.
You’re the only thing that can pull Steve away from his racing thoughts. He forces his eyes off the screen, away from the image of a grinning Tony.
“Where are we going?” he says as you reach out to tug on his shoulder, a silent urge to gather his things. His hand finds a home over yours, holding it in place.
“Edinburgh.”
⋆⋆⋆
You start the search again, maybe the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.
The bar slowly fills up, reaching one hundred percent…
No results found.
“Nothing, Steve,” you tell him, your voice hoarse. Thanos might as well have vanished.
The captain is still for a moment before his hand comes down on the console table. After the glass breaks and the books clatter, you can only hear Steve’s deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. He takes long strides towards the door.
No results found.
“Steve–don’t take any chances. We’ll find him,” you say pleadingly. “He knows we’ll find him.”
As Steve mourned Bucky back in 1944, he wished he had something to bury. A final home for his best friend. A meeting place for him to visit. Something, anything to remember him by. Now he has his ashes, and he realizes how stupid he was to think it would bring him any relief.
No results found.
“Then he should be here to tell me himself.”
You flinch as the door slams shut behind him.
⋆⋆⋆
You pull a brown plaid shirt from Steve’s closet. You hold it up to his frame.
“I should’ve told you this eleven years ago,” you say as you pull the shirt off its hanger, “but you should really size up.”
He chuckles as he takes the shirt from you, slipping it through his arms. You begin to button the shirt as Steve looks on through the mirror. These days, he’s not quite sure who it is looking back at him.
“I don’t know what to tell them,” he says. If he wasn’t so numb, he might feel anxious. His stomach may have flipped at the thought of the support group sitting in a melancholic circle, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.
You give him a sad smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He captures your hands in his before you can pull away.
“Tell them what you told me,” you say, and your hands slowly slip from his grasp. “About Peggy.” You give one final tug on his shirt before sending him on his way.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve looks anxious at your weekly dinner. He pushes around the contents of his plate without taking a single bite. You watch him, waiting for him to speak. When nothing ever comes, you ask him yourself. He drops his fork, finally stopping his nervous assault on his sliced carrots. He can’t stop thinking of Scott Lang, waving at him from the security cameras.
“What have you heard about…time travel?”
⋆⋆⋆
“Buck, can I…talk to you?”
Steve’s hesitant question causes you to put down the bandage. You’re not quite sure why Steve called you to the compound at this hour, and you’re even more unsure of why he was nowhere to be found while you made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. You feel lucky enough that Bucky made his way down, looking for something to sterilize his wounds. Usually, you would kill time talking to Nat, but–
“Sure,” Bucky answers. He gives you an unreadable look as he disappears with Steve into his room. You keep yourself busy, cleaning up the used medical supplies, until the super soldiers reappear. You see Bucky’s jaw clench ever so slightly; otherwise, he is nearly expressionless. He approaches you, nodding towards Steve. You slip off of the kitchen counter stool and Steve places his hand on your lower back, leading you into his room.
His room in the compound is nearly bare, save for what Tony has furnished himself. Not even the record player that he proudly found years ago, the only possession in his former SHIELD apartment.
You sit at the edge of Steve’s bed while he moves his armchair and plants himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, leans forward, and stares earnestly into your eyes.
“Steve?” You can’t ignore the feeling churning in your gut.
“You have been so good to me,” he begins. The inner parts of his eyebrows raise up in sincerity. “And I just want to say thank you.”
“You’re…welcome,” you say, a quip getting lost in your confusion.
“Tomorrow, I return the infinity stones.”
You nod. You knew that. He knew you knew that.
“And…I’m not coming back.”
You let out a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry,” you say, finding your voice suddenly hoarse. “You know Dr. Banner will make sure–”
“The last stone I have to return is in 1949,” he explains. Are you shaking your head at him? Is your entire body quaking? You’re not quite sure. “And I’m going to stay.”
I love you, Steve.
I love you so goddamn much.
I’ve loved you from that moment you sat in Fury’s stupid, flimsy chair.
I’ve loved you since you looked at me like I was your entire world, all because I took you to the worst gym in New York.
I’ve loved you in every moment, in every iteration, in every semblance of you.
And Steve Rogers, I know you love me, too.
You want to reach for Steve’s hand, but you’re frozen, and your clammy hands stay rooted in your lap. You give him a smile that you hope looks genuine.
“You had a date.”
⋆⋆⋆
You leave Steve behind in his room, insisting he didn’t need to walk you out. Insisting you didn’t need to spend the night, or ask any more questions.
Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, unmoving. You move to stand beside him.
“He can’t,” you whisper as you approach. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you’re nearly drawing blood.
“He made his choice,” Bucky responds. He matches your hushed volume, but his collected tone contrasts your panicked timbre.
“He can’t,” you say again. Maybe he didn’t hear you correctly.
“It’s his life,” Bucky tells you, in the same even voice.
“He can’t.” Your knees can’t hold you anymore. You’re falling, and Bucky catches your wrists in an effort to keep you from slumping to the ground.
You fight against his grip. You find the sides of your fists beating against his chest. Bucky falls with you. His cold eyes stare ahead, into the darkness beyond the compound. Your tears are hot, pouring onto your face like streams of lava.
He can’t
He can’t
He can’t
⋆⋆⋆
“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”
“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”
You watch the best friends pull each other into an embrace. Bucky’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
Steve turns to you, and your bitter frown turns into a painted smile. His muscled arms pull you into a hug next.
“Check in,” he says.
“Stay close,” you respond, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Your eyes squeeze shut as you pull him into a tighter embrace. When you release, Steve flicks away a stray tear from your face.
“Don’t take any chances.” He lingers a moment too long with his hands pressed against your jawline, his eyes searching for something unknown in your expression. Eventually, all too soon, he steps into Dr. Banner’s machine. At the press of a button, he’s gone.
Bruce counts down, preparing his machine for Steve’s return, one that you know won’t ever happen. Eventually, beside you, he and Sam break into a frenzied argument, but somehow they sound so far away.
“Sam.”
Bucky’s sharp voice draws the attention of the three of you. You follow Bucky’s gaze to an elderly man sitting on a bench. You can only see the back of his head, but you gasp.
Your feet are carrying towards the man, right alongside Sam and Bucky.
You can feel Sam’s perplexed gaze shift from you to Bucky.
“Go ahead,” Bucky urges.
You feel like you’re watching from miles away as Sam slowly approaches the captain. Every heartbeat feels like your heart is sinking further down into your stomach, and you force yourself to walk away. As soon as your back is turned, the tears flow freely. You stifle your sobs, disappearing behind a tree, out of sight from the other four heroes.
Bucky keeps his smile as he watches the astonished Sam receive the shield, just as he and Steve discussed. He sees the journey ahead for Sam, the man with a future yet to forge.
He glances back, seeing only a portion of you behind a tree trunk, heaving with the weight of your burdened cries. His heart aches for you, a lifetime of possibilities turned into memories of the past. The light at the end of the tunnel was simply a mirage for the woman left behind.
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iaminsane-blog · 1 year
Text
Little Lady, Big Guns
A new weapons developer catches the eye of many, especially one balaclava wilding man.
they might be a little…intimidating 
a little intimidating was not enough to describe the sheer amount of both confidence and annoyance basically suffocating the room.  The three men all stood, their large frame along with arms crossed over each other. Each frame had a cold gaze and stone face. well not the hot one with the mask on
“Boys, this here is Ms.Mazur, Ms.Mazur Soap, Gaz, and Ghost.”
I gave the three of them a small wave but upon their unchanging faces I quickly shut that down
“Please call me Vera” 
“she will be bringing us back to boot camp and showing off some of her latest innovations which will be used in the field, affective immediately” 
The man standing in the middle, soap I think was his name, gave a small chuckle and itched the back of his neck in boredom.
“This little lady is gonna show us how to handle the big guns?”
The other guy turned to Soap and gave him a smirk, however the masked one gave an eye roll instead.
“You bet your ass I will, and I don’t want to hear no bitching. Follow me”
I didn’t give them a moment to respond and instantly spun on my heels, power walking my way down the hall and out to the main corridor. I probably didn’t look badass in my summer floral dress with a cardigan over top, but damn did i feel badass.
“Each of these guns have finger print recognition so they only work for the owner, that being said it is imperative you do not switch break or god forbid loose this gun” 
I was showing the men my new collection of field defense weaponry, and to say they were excited was an understatement. I had spent most of the presentation part swatting their hands away from the treasure chest like trunk of weapons. But now it was time for the fun part.
“And here are your demo guns today all i ask is please be gentle” 
“Yes ma’am, your guns are in good hands” 
Soap called out as he lined himself up to a shooting booth, not even bothering with the headphones slung around his neck. He took a few test shots and a look of surprise washed over his face. The paper target he had hit had three bullet marks, none very close to the target. Gaz and Ghost started shooting their guns as well with similar results. Perhaps now was time to break the tension. 
“Come on guys I thought y’all were good at this”
The three of them turned around, Gaz and Soap with smirks on their faces, but Ghost however still blankly stared. I’m grateful he turned away before seeing the small blush creep across my face. I wasn’t used to people staring at me so blankly, almost without shame. They all let out a collection of grumbles and huffs then continued to attempt to hit the paper targets, getting closer to the center. I noticed Ghost’s large frame start to shift, fumbling around with the large gun. I approached him and just watched. His balaclava adorned with a skull covered most of his face, only his eyes were left visible. He wore a tight long sleeved black shirt that brought my eyes to his large arms. The thick muscles flexed with every small movement. Though I’d like them wrapped around me better. 
“Hey, Ghost right?”
The large man turned to me, well his head turned to me. The rest of his body stayed in place as if he was afraid to move. He didn’t say a word but instead nodded his head, a small quick, blink and you’ll miss it moment. I pray he didn’t hear the hitch in my breath as I grew slightly uncomfortable with the silence. But as his eyes shifted slightly down to my lips, I knew I was compromised. 
“If you don’t mind, you need to tuck your elbow in to create a smaller base for the gun, it will make it easier to aim.”
I gently moved his angle closer to his side, my fingertips brushing against the soft material of his shirt. His eyes tracked my hand then slowly dragged back to the target. He let out a single shot, right inside the target’s heart. 
“Hey Gun Girl, how about you show us how good your aim is. This is near impossible”
“Yeah there’s no way I can use this in the field”
Both Soap and Gaz caught my attention and I shifted my gaze to the men. Who stood awaiting my next move. It felt like a test, to prove my not so innocence. I’ll show them. I sauntered over to Gaz’s booth, He still towered over me so I had to stretch my body upwards to grasp the gun from his hands. When I did so I felt the weight naturally fall into my hands comfortably. It was if meeting an old friend. I could feel a smile creep onto my face and I stepped to the booth taking only a second to study myself before shooting three solid shots. I lowered the gun and brought the paper poster forward with the button. Three large holes in close proximity to each other stained the paper. Right In the middle of the head, or as I like to call it. The money shot. I heard Soap whisper a small “damn” under his breath as I turned to watch the men’s reaction. Well one man in particular 
“Well, she’s got my respect”
Gaz and Ghost started to laugh, and I let myself let out small giggles. A sudden loud beeping came over the room, a cell phone clipped onto Soaps belt. Soap groaned and held it up. 
“Sorry to leave you love but we got a mission to attend to”
I nodded and began to clean up the presentation and the guns, noting the three men leaving the room, albeit slowly. 
In the hall 
“She was….Wow”
Soap started by stating the only thing on all three guys minds. 
“I never would have expected such a tiny woman to be a badass that can sharp shoot like that.”
Simon glanced to the two men next to him, both seemed in some estate of euphoria, from the woman’s presence alone. 
“She was nice”
It was all he said, but it was enough to cause a rowdy uproar from Soap and Gaz.
“Yeah she was, she had her hands all over you dude, you really need to lock her down before someone else does.”
Gaz’s words made him almost stop in his tracks, there was no way he was the only one who found you attractive. It made a fire burn thorough Simon’s chest to think about anyone else being attracted to you. 
He would not have someone take you from him
186 notes · View notes
willowfolksong · 2 years
Note
Hello! Hopefully ur having a great day 😊
I don’t know if you accept requests and if you do, I don’t know if they are open or not. So please don’t mind me if they aren’t available at the moment.
Can u make a part 2 of “Your first date with them after coming out of a toxic relationship” with Haitani brother please include both ofc separately, sanzu and kokonoi but if it’s too much you can take kokonoi off. Not bonten them put them in the past!
You can freely ignore and not do this don’t feel pressured or anything please! Thank you! Take care of yourself. 💜🥰
Your first date with them, after coming out of a toxic relationship
a/n: hiiiiii anon!!!! Here's your request! so sorry for the late response!!! so I did both Haitanis and Sanzu, but left Kokonoi out, because I really wanted it to be as... Realistic as posible? And I think I remember him having some sort of girlfriend during this time? and her being in the hospital and Kokonoi working to pay for her bills? idk, something like that, and so it would have been kind of complicated for me to write. It would be much easier to do him in bonten era, but you didn't want that, so I sticked with this three. BUT if you want him just tell me and I'll do another one for bonten Kokonoi just for you ☺️. hope you're having a great day as well!!
Love,
Willow ☀️
(Requests are currently closed, but I'll let you know as soon as they open ☀️)
Part I - Part II
Ran Haitani
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✨ You twirl and turn and look at your back and then front countless of times, and still don't feel comfortable to go out. It's not the dress. The dress is actually beautiful, and you were lucky enough to buy it in your favorite colour.
It's you.
You and your total lack of confidence.
"Are you really wearing that?" your ex had said once, looking you up and down with clear disgust.
"Well...yeah? Why?"
He had snorted, shaking his head as if talking with a stubborn kid that doesn't want to change her muddy pants before going out "You should know by now that wearing dresses is not your thing. Please, take a better look at yourself in the mirror and find something else to wear"
✨ Ran knocks on the glass of your window when you're almost about to change. You jump out of your skin and look everywhere for a place to hide, but you're only option is to get out of the room entirely, and that would probably be too weird. Not as weird as the guy you're having your first date with entering your bedroom thru your window, tho.
✨ He looks you up and down and then hums, coming to stand so close to you than you can smell the minty flavored gum that he has in his mouth
You gulp, all nervous at the proximity "Hi, Ran" it's what you come up with "I thought you would wait for me outside?"
"I got bored" he says, shrugging, his eyes never leaving your frame "And I really wanted to know what was taking you so long"
"It's nothing, sorry. I'm gonna change real quick and we'll go"
✨Before you can turn around for your closet, Ran grabs your by the wrist and spins you, arching an eyebrow at your comment.
"What was that?"
"I'm gonna go change" you say again, feeling your cheeks grow impossibly hot "I don't really like this dress on me"
Ran laughs, a genuine laugh that makes him throw his head back and hold his stomach. When he's done, and under your perplexed look, he makes you look at yourself in the mirror once more.
"Look at you" he whispers in your ear, trailing his hand down your right arm "Are you sure of that?"
"Dresses don't really suit me" you tell him, and the look he gives you in the mirror is a stern one.
"Who the fuck told you that, hm?" he asks, and even tho his tone is sweet, you can feel the underlying anger "This dress is gorgeous on you"
"I-..."
Then he chuckles quietly, and drops his head on your shoulder to bite you near your collarbone. "The dress would be easier to take off" he adds, before taking a couple of steps back with his hands raised "But do whatever you want, darling. Really"
You blush, watching him sit down on your bed "Ahm... Alright?"
"I'm gonna wait here for you, alright?" he anounces, looking around curiously.
You refrain from telling him that it's only your fist date, and that you barely know each other, aside from all the times he's chased you after school to ask you to go out with him. He's already in your room, after all.
✨ And so you don't see, when you exit your room to put on some mascara in the bathroom, how Ran gets up, stretches his arms above his head and does a quick scavenger hunt around your room to find something, anything that could give him a clue about your last relationship. He feels as if he should meet the guy.
✨ He finally finds what it looks like a torn picture deep inside one of your drawers, and snaps a photo of it with his cellphone, before sending it to his brother.
"Find him"
He wants to have a few words with him.
Rindou Haitani
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✨ You're more than shocked to arrive to the restaurant and find Rindou, surrounded by a group of people.
✨ They're around ten guys, talking loudly between each other, while Rindou remains mostly quiet, nodding once in a while. But even tho he doesn't seems interested in what they're saying, it's clear that the rest is there for him.
✨ Confusion slowly morphs into fear of interrupting something you shouldn't, and you remember as clear as day what your ex used to tell you about interrupting him when he was with his friends.
Pulling you aside, away from prying eyes that could see him grip your arm so tight that turns purple, he whispers angrily in your ear.
"I've told you this before. Don't interrupt me when I'm with my friends"
"But you said..." you try, but he only shushes you and grabs you harder.
"I don't wanna hear anything" he tells you "You don't interrupt me when I'm with my friends"
✨ And so you turn around, ready to bolt, but in just that moment, Rindou happens to look up and spot you.
✨ He yells your name and every conversation around him dies, at the same time that all heads turn in your direction.
✨ You can only walk slowly towards him, ready to apologize profusely. Rindou watches you approach with an unreadable expression in his eyes, and as soon as you're next to him, pulls you to his side and squeezes you tight.
✨ You're surprised, and can't do anything but silently watch in awe how a huge grins splits his face in two.
"Took you long enough" he tells you, not letting you go.
"Hey, Rindou..." one of the guys surrounding him starts — and only then you notice a couple of them are much older than him.
But Rindou clicks his tongue, annoyance clear on his tone "Y'all leave. I'm gonna be busy with her now"
"But..."
"I said fuck off!" Rindou yells, and everyone complies in an instant, leaving the two of you completely alone.
You remember then, the words of your friend:
"Be careful with the Haitani Brothers. They control Ropongi"
✨ You still decide to apologize, while he's dragging you by the hand to take you to, on his own words, the best place he knows.
"Huh?" Rindou turns his head without stopping "What do you mean? This is our moment. I don't give a shit about anyone but you"
✨ And just like that, you realize he's much different than your ex.
Haruchiyo Sanzu
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✨ You know it's a date only because your best friend told you that of course it is, and that she doesn't think Sanzu would invite anyone else to eat with him. But you're still doubtful, since Yasuhiro Muto is also there, seating across from you.
✨ You talk and talk about your day to ease the tension and, as always, Sanzu nods every couple of words, looking at you with that intense aura that you never completely get. Does he wants to kill you? Does he likes you as much as you like him?
✨ Eventually, you realize you're about to finish your food, and come to a complete halt.
"You're not suppose to finish all your food, honey" your ex whispers, smiling tensely to his friends "Remember what we talked about ?"
"But ..." you complain "I'm still hungry"
"Baby" your ex had tried again, pinching your tight under the table "You know that girls are not supposed to eat that much"
✨ You push your plate aside, clearing your throat. Sanzu, that has been looking at you the entire time, notices immediately.
"I just... shouldn't be eating this much" you say, smiling nervously. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Muto arching one of his eyebrows "It's not very ladylike"
"Eat whatever you want" Sanzu talks, for the first time since he sent you a text telling you he wanted to see you in other place that wasn't the school "And how much you want"
"But..."
"Eat" he insists, pushing the plate back to you "And keep talking"
"Are you sure?" you ask, chuckling "Am I not boring you guys too much?"
Muto only shrugs, but Sanzu shakes his head and crosses his arms in front of his chest "No, you're not. I like it"
✨ You don't know why when you're having dessert, Sanzu gets up all of the sudden and leaves you under Muto's care. It's not like his friend tells you much, just explaining that Sanzu has something to do, and will be back in some minutes.
✨ You also don't know, that Sanzu is meeting your ex, and giving him the beating of his life, because he found out about how he acted when you two were together. You're just really happy (and a bit relieved to not be alone with Muto anymore) to see him again an hour later.
✨ That day, Sanzu holds your hand for the first time, with the one he used to punch your ex in the face.
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haddonfieldwhore · 3 days
Text
overtime - peter strahm
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peter strahm x gn!reader
summary: peter works late; again
warnings: none i think ! idk what this is but i can’t stop thinking about him
word count: 0.7k
you stirred awake at the familiar sound of peter’s keys dropping on the table by the door, signaling that he had arrived home. as your eyes adjusted you squinted at the alarm clock on his nightstand that read 1:17 am, meaning that he had stayed nearly 7 hours late. he was always working overtime, but you were sincerely worried that this jigsaw case was going to be the death of him. he couldn’t tell you much about it since it was classified, and he wouldn’t have even if he could; he never wanted to frighten you with his work.
you worried about him enough already.
you heard him sigh and you pictured him running a hand through his hair, messing up his dark locks. the light in the hallway flickered on and the door opened slowly, his tall frame casting a shadow into the dark bedroom as you sat up. the soft fabric of his t-shirt bunched around your waist as you sat up in the bed, and strahm sighed, disappointed that he had woken you up.
“go back to sleep, i’m sorry,” he mumbled, sounding exhausted. he sat on the end of the bed and reached down to begin undoing the laces of his dress shoes, when you slid your legs out from under the covers and swung them over the side of the bed.
“wait, let me help you,” you offered, kneeling down in front of him and carefully untying his shoelaces for him. he watched with tired eyes, though full of love, as you gently tugged the leather shoes off his tired feet and set them aside neatly, before standing up. his hand rested on your hips as you stood between his knees, your own hands sliding his blazer off his tense shoulders.
“honey, you don’t have to-“
“shhh. please, for once just relax,” you shushed him, and he sighed deeply, but closed his eyes and let you remove the jacket. your fingers worked next at the knot of his tie, it was one you had bought him for christmas. you knew it was a lame gift, but it was the only thing he asked for each year - new ties or dress shirts; he was impossible to buy gifts for. because he spent so much time at work, if he couldn’t use it there, he didn’t want it. you set the thin fabric on top of the dresser, and gave him a glance as he began undoing the buttons of his shirt, your hands pushing his larger ones away and resuming the task yourself. you admired the subtle pinstripe pattern on the white dress shirt; it was always one of your favourites.
“i love you,” you kissed his lips softly and he exhaled deeply as you finished unbuttoning his shirt, the scent of coffee lingering on his breath.
“i love you too, baby,” he replied, his eyelids heavy as the long hours of work caught up with him. “come here.” he pulled you into his lap, wrapping you up in his arms as he breathed in your scent, his mind at ease for the first time all day knowing you were safe in his arms.
you kissed his neck softly as you nestled your face in the junction of his neck and shoulder, his muscles tense beneath his skin.
“did you eat dinner?” you asked, taking his wrist in your two hands and removing his expensive watch, kissing the light indents the leather strap had left behind.
“yeah, i just got something at work,” he replied.
“promise?”
“i promise,” he kissed your forehead before falling backwards onto the bed, pulling you with him. strahm pulled your back against his chest, tucking you beneath his chin as his arms wrapped around you from behind.
“did you set your alarm?” you asked, and he grumbled softly to himself as he reached backwards and pressed the button on the clock by the bed. it didn’t matter if he hadn’t, his body would wake him up at the regular time of 6am on its own. peter strahm couldn’t think of a day where he’d slept in past the crack of dawn in decades.
“thanks,” he said anyways, kissing the side of your head as he felt his eyes getting heavier.
“goodnight, peter,” you whispered, nearly asleep as his soft heartbeat against your back soothed you.
“goodnight, sweetheart,” he replied, before drifting off to sleep himself. for the next five hours, he would be relaxed. for the next five hours with you next to him, he was okay.
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anathemafiction · 2 years
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Beloved author! May this poor artist ask for a description of all the RO's appearance? I do have their looks in my imagination, but i'm a sucker for details and not completely fucking up their canon designs lol. I did try to look for it in here, but i could only find the ones of Alessa and Hadrian. Sorry if you answered this already and thank you in advance!
You can find these descriptions on the character page in the game!
Alessa: Lithe in stature and short in height, Alessa blends easily within the crowds. Still, taut muscles are visible just under her skin and the precision with which she moves signal clearly the danger that lurks within.     
With pointed features and full lips, Alessa would be considered beautiful by most if it weren't for the coldness always present in her light-blue eyes. Freckles splatter the skin of her nose and cheeks, and a mop of bright brown hair filled with golden locks falls past her slim shoulders. She wears black paint around her eyes and numerous rings adorn her fingers. Her skin is light and burns easily in the sun.
Hadrian: Standing above most people, his tall frame and broad shoulders make him stand out amongst most crowds. Molded by years of rigorous training, powerful muscles line his body. With his black sword, Hadrian makes an intimidating image.        
Hadrian has unruly dark-brown hair and deep-green eyes that seem to shine with honesty. Light stubble lines his jaw and neck. He wears an ever-present crucifix above his heart. His skin is bronze in the summer and fair during the winter months.
Alain: Tall and lean, Alain commands the eye whenever he enters a room. Golden skin and high cheekbones are paired with sharp lips that never seem to be still. His curly hair is usually styled back, leaving his forehead uncovered. Brown eyes watch the world as it brings him endless amusement.
Alain often dresses in the finest suits wealth can buy. He seems to favor deep green, one of the colors of his House.
Ysabella: Elegant and dazzling, Ysabella steals all eyes whenever she enters a room. Golden skin and full cheeks paired with bountiful lips that are always adorned with a bright smile. Her locks are often tamed to elegant curls that pool around her shoulders. Brown eyes twinkle at the world as if it tells her the most delightful of anecdotes. 
Ysabella often wears elaborate gowns and luxurious dresses. She favors gold, one of the colors of her House.
Lance: If there is something to be said about his appearance, it's that it's tailored to draw the eye. Impossible to miss even in a crowded square, Lance's tall frame will catch your attention. By force. 
He wears a gold vest, sleeveless so that his tanned arms are left uncovered, with a high collar that frames his neck in white silk. The vest is tucked into green-colored breeches, large and baggy except near his calves, where they straighten and narrow. Black shining shoes leave a large portion of his socks uncovered. One gold, the other black. 
It all clashes with his hair, blue as the deepest water. Gray eyes watch the world, often paired with a pleasant smile, where a gold tooth shines. 
Neia: Tall, strong, and with long white hair, Neia makes for an imposing image. She dons black armor from head to toe, and her shattered greatsword is so big it almost reaches her feet when sheathed. Neia has a deep scar on her lips, giving her a perpetual snarl. 
And her eyes, once brown, are now bright yellow. 
Rafael: Rafael looks terrible. Sickly gray skin, bloodshot eyes, lean frame seeming skinny and gaunt. Such is the aftermath of getting stabbed. His face is narrow, framed by a goatee that's not very abundant, and his brown eyes are equally sharp. His hair is shoulder-length, brown too, and he's missing one of his front teeth.
He favors grays and browns and capes with hoods deep enough to cover his face. 
... I just realized I didn't add a character page for The Pirate King. 😅 But here is his in-game description: You can’t see his face, not most of it, but his mouth is left uncovered by the crimson shawl he wears. Lips surrounded by a black beard that grows past his chin. A bright yellow ring clasps it around the center, making a kind of ponytail that almost reaches his chest.  
In the Interlude he appears without a shawl: His eyes are hooded, his cheeks long and narrow, and his chin ends in a long beard with a gold ring in the middle. As dark as the long hair tied loosely on his back. 
Lia has never seen anyone with his features before. Not these kinds of eyes and nose. His skin is tanned, like all who make the sea their home, but even so, his skin tone is different too. Paler than hers will ever be. 
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colderdrafts · 1 year
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Little Doves 1
Practicing the more gorey and horror side of things in this two-parter featuring a slightly aggressive bird. Putting a mature warning on for some less-than-cozy stuff. Next
Gn reader x monster (male falcon hybrid). TW for forced touching (sfw), kidnapping, violence
"Please eat," Callum pleads for the umpteenth time, brows furrowed in worry. "No food in days - do I need to help?"
Trying not to think too hard at the prospect of the hybrid falcon basically chewing your food and spitting it out for you like you’re a baby bird, you wince, shaking your head.
Callum grunts in frustration, his black and white plumage puffing up slightly, amber eyes sharp and narrowed. He stands a good head and then some taller than you, imposing frame heightened by the giant wings that protrudes from his back, and the thick layer of soft feathers that covers his body.
You glance to the floor, once again politely refusing of the offer he insistently holds out to you - this time a can of vegetable soup. You stomach growls in hunger and, truth to be told, you are beyond famished.
But you can't accept food from him. You don't want to seem like you're getting attached.
And you don't want to rely on him, although your other options are a tad limited at the moment.
You’re currently trapped inside the top of a ruined clock tower, once a great landmark and the pride of the city. Now, all that remains are a broken mess of clockwork and debris; When the city was destroyed, so was the clock tower.
The magnificent structure had fallen apart and split in two once the bombs fell, the mangled structure resting against its fallen neighbor building. Callum has utilized the remains as a space for his nest.
You’re inside the inner workings of the old clock, a large room partially covered in intricate workings of metal, the technology that once made the clock run – silenced now, due to the destruction. Any exit to lower levels were blocked by debris after the tower was cracked in half. The only way out is through a hole in the wall where the clock itself used to be, and the withering heights makes escape for any unwinged creature, such as yourself, near impossible.
Callums hums, concerned, bringing you back into the moment. Usually he relents at your request and leaves you be, but for some reason this time he decides to stand firm.
"I worry! Growing weak. Thinning, tired," he holds out the can to you again with a pleading expression, claws scraping across the aluminum surface. "Eat!"
To his credit, he genuinely looks concerned for your well-being, but you can’t trust that at all as you’re still unsure of his intent. Reasonable, given he forcefully dragged you here against your will and has held you captive for about a week now.
He is right, however. You have been growing weak, spending more and more time resting in a corner on the floor, refusing to utilize and share with him the nest he's built beneath the old internal workings of the clock. You’ve been saving your energy only for picking through the debris in search of anything that could get you out of here. Callum leaves once or twice a day in search of food, and you take advantage of his absence to look around without him noticing.
Two days ago you got lucky and managed to pull out what used to be a safety-net and a rope that once served as the railing of a staircase. Slowly, but surely, you’ve knotted a rope that may just be long enough to reach the street below.
It's not a foolproof escape plan, but it's the one you've got.
You look at the can in his hands, and your stomach painfully lurches. It's just soup, but right now it looks like the most delicious thing in the entire world.
If all goes well, you'll soon be out of the clock tower anyway – and if your escape plan works, you'll still need some strength to get back through the broken city and return to your faction, the Community.
Perhaps accepting this small offer wont hurt.
At least you tell yourself as much, because you can't stand the hunger anymore.
You reluctantly reach out and take the can and get to work opening it.
Callum heaves a massive sigh of relief, and stares at you while you wolf down its contents, making sure you eat it all.
You let the empty can fall to the ground with a clatter. Cold soup has never been so satisfying.
"Good," he coos once you've finished, and takes a step closer.
You freeze in place when he suddenly leans in and rubs his face against your cheek. He affectionately trails his clawed hands over your arms. "Need to eat to be strong, silly."
It sends a terrified chill through you and you grit your teeth at the contact, not sure if allowing it is your best course of action. But you also don't want to push him too much.
There's a pause where he takes note of your tension. He doesn't move away.
"Trouble?" he asks. He gently nudges you. "Sick? Is that why you are not eating?"
Scared shitless, more like, but you decide not to tell him that. "Something like that," you say instead, turning your head away from him.
He nods, and finally leans back to look at you. "Understand now. Rest, then."
You try not to yelp when suddenly clawed fingers firmly clasps your shoulders, and he starts leading you toward the nest. You turn your head to protest, but his sharp eye and something about his grip strength tells you not to waste your energy. You aren’t winning this fight.
You gingerly step over the edge of woven branches, random fabrics and grass, and take a seat when Callum puts weight on your shoulders to signal you down. The nest is not the most comfortable, but at least the branches inside have been expertly folded into the main construct so no sharp edges can poke you.
You try to ignore the small pile of bones whose species you’ve yet to identify that litters the space around it.
Callum hums in thought, and rests on his haunches across from you, peering at your face.
"Warmer here," he says. "Why do you like cold floor? Sick now. Silly."
You realize he's waiting for an answer when he doesn't move to get up. Telling him you really don't want to be in here - and that the prospect of sharing his space makes you shiver - is probably not wise. So you opt for some good ol' lying.
"Flat rock is good for my spine.” You’ve probably read that somewhere. “I need it sometimes.”
He stares at you curiously, but then looks considerably relieved. "I worry nest wasn't good enough! I will learn more of these things."
He gets up, towering over you, especially when you're sitting, and stares you down. "You rest here now. No sickness!"
"Got it," you mutter.
Satisfied, Callum turns and steps over the nest. The soft feathers at the edge of his wings caresses your legs as he moves away, heading toward the gaping hole in the wall where the giant clock used to be. You look on as he moves, a strange mixture of beautiful and terrifying where the dark hues of his wings blends together in a way almost mesmerizing.
He takes a seat at the edge of the broken wall, leaning back and staring out over the city. A few moments later you hear him gently humming.
He has a nice voice, you’ll give him that, a deep and warm baritone that gently drums across your senses. Best not to listen too much, lest he lulls you to sleep.
You sit back up, though at the sound of your stirring the humming promptly stops. You look back over to find Callum fixing on you with a sharp glare.
“Rest,” he grunts.
You lean back on the side of the nest with a huff. The humming continues.
What do you do now? There's isn't really much to do with him up and about. Usually he’s content to let you wander around the clock as you please, but now you can't even subtly look around for a way out. Seems he's set on keeping you ‘resting’ since you're 'sick'.
Nice going, you.
You stare at the sophisticated metals of the clockwork hanging above, leaning back on the branches. It’s so strange how all this happened. You cannot figure out why on Earth a hybrid falcon would snatch you if not to simply eat you.
That’s what usually happens when people get caught here.
Your fear feels justified, especially considering how you first ‘met’ him, where what was supposed to be a quick supply run had turned into a fight for your life.
You’ve often gotten the feeling of being watched when out and about scavenging and fighting off rabid animals, hybrids and hostile survivors. Usually you've roped it off as the general paranoia that’s necessary to stay vigilant and survive in this city. The Community usually sends you out in groups of three, but a collapsing building separated you from your crew mates, and left you stranded at the other side of the street.
Your paranoia had proved correct this time, however, when Callum dive-bombed for you the second you were blocked off and exposed, taking advantage of the confusion. Your crew had called for you, hearing your screams, but they had no way to quickly come to your aid.
He had the element of surprise on his side, but you still did everything you could to fight him off, even managing to knock him over the side of the head with a bat. But, in the end, he managed to force the weapon from your hands and wrangle you on the ground. You’re still sporting the partially healed bruises and scratches from the struggle.
You still have nightmares of lying there, terrified and in shock with the giant bird of prey's talons firmly locked around your torso and arms, pinning you in place. Callum had stood over you, panting and smiling, apparently pleased with the outcome of the skirmish.
Then he simply plucked you off the ground. You still remember the drop in your stomach at the sensation when he first pulled you into the air, lovingly informing you he admires your strength and cunning. He brought you here, and you’ve been here ever since.
Needless to say, it's been a strange couple of days, and he has not been very good at explaining exactly what this whole deal is. He acts as if it should all be very obvious to you.
It isn’t.
After the initial shock settled and you surmised he wasn't going to maim and devour you just yet, you had cautiously inquired if you could please leave.
"Leave? Where would you go?" he had asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.
"..home?"
He had smiled at that and laughed. "Silly! Playing games with me. This is home."
And that was the end of that.
You've tried your luck bringing it up again a few other times, even bringing up your other responsibilities in the Community – but it's like he simply can't comprehend why you would need to go anywhere, especially when, in his own words, 'you haven't properly bonded yet'.
Whatever that means.
You glance over from your spot in the nest, watching him move around on the broken wall and preening his feathers. You don't know what to make of him. He’s a dangerous predator who snatched you and could tear you apart in seconds – but since you got here he's been nothing but overly affectionate, attentive to your needs and goes out of his way to bring you food and other items you might find interesting.
He even brought you a new pair of trousers after hearing you mutter complaints that you previous pair got torn in your fight. He had puffed out his feathers and beamed with pride when you had thanked him and put them on, as if earning your gratitude was a significant milestone in his life.
After everything you've experienced in this ruthless fallen world, every selfish survivor, every person who proved to you that no one can be trusted, every nook and cranny that hides the next predatory gaze that holds only a wish to harm you – only a very select few have ever been this nice to you. And this is a brutal kidnapping.
It's weird.
You need to get out of here.
You glance over at the corner where your makeshift rope is hidden behind a block of concrete. It's a long way down, but with any luck, it might just be enough for you to actually have a way down the clock.
The gentle humming stops, bringing you out of your thoughts. You look up to the sound of footsteps as Callum slowly approaches. He kneels at the edge of the nest, frowning.
"Still not resting?" he asks. "Can't fall asleep?"
You cog an eyebrow at him. "I'm lying down in here like you said. Isn't that resting?"
"No," he says flatly, and crawls over the edge of the nest toward you.
Uh-oh.
You scramble backwards, looking for any excuse to keep him at bay. "H-hold on, what if it’s contagious? You'll just get sick too!"
He reaches for your legs. "Then you will be strong for me. Now I will be strong for you."
He grabs hold and pulls you to him. You try and squirm free, but he ignores it, climbing on top of you and holding you down. He shifts in behind you, pulling you close so your back is laying flat against him, arms wrapped firmly around your torso.
“Be still,” he growls against your neck. You feel a hand draping over your head.
Panic floods you system and you strain against him, heart pounding in your chest. Your breathing comes haggard, the last time he had you close like this you were in a world of pain.
He holds onto you firmly. “You need rest now. Silly.” He rubs his chin on the top of your head. “Too tense. I will help.”
You stop squirming against him and remain frozen, not able to release the rigidity in your body. He’s very warm, but the gentle strokes along your scalp and across your face sends chills through you.
You should probably shove him off, tell him to leave you alone like you’ve done all the other times he’s tried to get close, but you can’t move. You’re scared what would happen if you did. Callum hushes you, gently trying to convince you to let go.
After a bit, it becomes hard not to.
“Breathe,” he whispers.
You realize you’ve been holding it in, and let out a deep breath to try and release a bit of the tension. He senses when you relent and hums, pleased.
“Spine is okay now?” he asks somewhat playfully.
“It’s.. fine,” you manage.
He chirrups in acknowledgment, and shifts slightly, propping himself up to better look at your face. He frowns when he finds you looking back.
“You do not sleep with eyes open,” he states.
He’s definitely not letting anything up this time, so you simply concede and shut your eyes. You feel him closing the distance between you as he gently presses his forehead against yours. He then lies back down, securing his arms around your torso once again and burying his face in the back of your neck.
You don’t know how long you lie there, just listening to the silence of the city, feeling the rhythm of his breathing behind you, and the occasional affectionate stroking across your face or scalp.
You glib in and out of consciousness, trying your best to fight it off, but the exhaustion soon overtakes.
You fall asleep.
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morning-star-joy · 11 months
Text
a stranger’s heart without a home Chapter 14 Sneak Peek
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Pairing: Friends with Benefits Joel x F!Reader
Summary: Joel reflects on where your relationship has gone.
Wordcount: 748
A/N: Little sneak peek of the new chapter coming on ao3 tomorrow for my friends who are already caught up on there! (And while I do write this fic with the description of Pedro’s Joel, game!Joel was my first love so I’m using his pic for this snippet)
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When the rain began to fall, Joel cursed under his breath, his footsteps quickening down the streets back home.
It had been impossible to sleep the first couple of nights since that night, so he had taken up the nighttime guard duty on top of Jackson’s gates to pass the time. Eventually he became so exhausted that by the time that dawn came, when he got back home, it didn’t take long for him to fall into a dreamless sleep.
Joel ran a hand down over his face, trying to ignore those thoughts that still lingered in the back of his mind about the night in question, even as tired as he was now.
He knew it was wrong to not go back to her, even after he had told her where he was going.
He also knew it was wrong to want to go back to her.
It was wrong, so wrong, to miss her.
But it wasn’t as wrong as trying to avoid her after what they had done.
No, what he had done.
Joel groaned quietly, moving his hand up to run his hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his face as he walked quicker, trying to get back home fast enough to avoid getting more drenched than he already was.
Distracted as he was, he almost missed it when he walked past the familiar sight of the cemetery on his way home.
But he caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, and he turned, jumping slightly as he saw the faint outline of somebody crouched in front of a grave. Their silhouette was blurry through the rainfall, but the light of dawn that began to peek through the clouds illuminated the scene enough for him to see them there.
Joel frowned, leaning closer to get a better look. Why was somebody visiting the cemetery that early, and in this downpour of rain?
A part of him was almost worried that they were passed out, and he took a step closer, trying to get a better look. They were sitting up, though, which meant they were conscious. But that isn’t what gave Joel pause.
No, it was the familiar way that their hair fell into place, even as drenched as it was.
It was the set of their shoulders, even as they were hunched forward, not set back in a casual air of quiet confidence as they usually were.
Even the clothes he recognized, and Joel’s heart thumped hard against his chest once as he stared at her sitting there. In the rain, in the cemetery.
Alone.
His foot began to rise, prepared to take another step forward, when he jerked back. Joel pulled himself out of his thoughts, quickly turning to walk the remainder of the way to his house.
It wasn’t his business, he told himself, almost scolding himself as he climbed the steps to his front door. If it ever had been his business, it certainly wasn’t now. Not after how he had let her in, let her see a glimpse at whatever the fuck was going on inside his head—and even more terrifying, inside his heart—only to try and shut her out again.
Joel swung his front door open, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind him with a loud click that was echoed by his heavy sigh.
He made to move forward, but his feet remained glued to his entry mat. Joel shook his head, running a hand over his hair, shaking the water droplets from his hand as he scowled to himself.
Not. His. Business.
But still, he didn’t move. Couldn’t bring himself to.
In Joel’s mind, he saw her standing next to Tommy’s fireplace, the dancing flames of the lit candles casting a light on the side of her face while she gazed at the names she didn't know in thoughtful, understanding remembrance.
All of a sudden, too many things began to flash through his mind: Tommy’s near slip-up of a name; the framed drawing on her own fireplace mantle; the question about Dina that she couldn’t answer; the fear when she looked down at Hope; the morning they had shared coffee in his kitchen, and she asked that question that he knew the answer to all too well.
“Goddammit,” Joel muttered to himself, reaching out to grab what he needed from a stand in his entryway, before pulling the door back open and heading out to where he needed to be.
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youlackconviction · 2 years
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*exaggerated sigh* here’s a link to the rest of the post, do what you want with it (they weren’t kidding when they warned it was LONG, and no i didn’t read it all)
the only reason i’m posting about this is because of one remark they made:
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and honestly?
i’m just so... absolutely sick to death and beyond of people who DON’T share my views on something, telling me WHY I DO.
i don’t try to tell these people why they LIKE the series, or LIKE sylvie, or LIKE her with LOKI. so why the hell do they insist on trying to lay my thoughts out for me - when so many of the ones who think like i do about it have gone to such exhaustive lengths to explain it, very carefully.
1) NO, i don’t give a fuck about fictional “self”cest. that’s literally a fantasy concept that cannot exist in our universe. so why would it concern me in the slightest if someone wrote a made up story where that impossible event takes place? i literally don’t give a shit about that fandom trope as a storyline -
EXCEPT where it is used to criticise gender diverse people with the bizarre and harmful claim that "fucking themselves” is the reason a person wishes to depart from their assigned birth gender. that dehumanises and fetishises trans and fluid people.
the show drifted a little close to that accusation with mobius screaming at LOKI that he was an “incredible seismic narcissist” for “falling for himself”. even though the show was also super clear that she wasn’t LOKI, she was nothing like him, she was amazing and he was shit actually so how could it be self-love? except somehow it teaches him to love himself? um... kissing yourself is not what self-love means, showrunners. fucking hell.
2) NO, i also don’t give a fuck about lokius. can these people even imagine confronting an IRL person who admits to disliking a specific woman, and presenting this argument to them? “you only hate her because you wish her boyfriend was fucking a man instead of her!” and actually, i ALSO can’t stand mobius, because of the abusive way he treated LOKI. mobius is nowhere near good enough for him, and i absolutely don’t ship them either.
what’s fascinating to me is that they never quote our actual most common arguments against the sylki ship and then attempt to dismantle them or show them to be on false ground. is it because they simply can’t? that the arguments are so reasonable and watertight, that to argue against them would make them look unbalanced, misinformed, and creepy? i don’t know, but until i see it happen, i might as well assume that.
in bullet point form, my own reasons for disliking sylvie:
she’s rude, obnoxious, and aggressive, all the time
she has no personality, just a set of bullying tropes
she never misses an opportunity to belittle or mock LOKI
she doesn’t support him, build him up
she isn’t kind to him, shows no empathy
she’s verbally abusive and physically abusive
she thinks that trauma is an olympic event that she won
she’s emotionally manipulative
she’s ungrateful and selfish
she doesn’t listen, just insists she knows best
she’s one-dimensional and poorly written
the weak plot framing sets her up to be admired but it just backfires
the writers nuked LOKI to make her look better
her actor comes across as too arrogant and dismissive of tom
her acting itself is incredibly average and inconsistent
there are more... *gestures at my entire blog* in there somewhere lol. anyhow... yeh. that. and i’m not even gonna insist that series fans DNI cos guess what, i don’t care if you reblog this and try to argue with it. be my guest, just don’t get mad if i reply to your arguments with my own.
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