#I hope to be completely emotionally wiped out by whatever you plan to do with them <3

[artblock-tm]

DP I have a bad idea and I'm making it your problem

Do you have existing art of Jaide's family before the divorce and Vanessa? Sorry if it's somewhere in Masked I don't feel like looking for it wjfnbwbxb

I have some! Let me grab what I have.

This one is older art of me practicing the storybook style- it's older since I have a much better art program now.

This one is from when I was working on the storybook. Maybe I'll try again, now that my motivation is better, and I know how much better I can do now.

This again! Ignore Shapeshifter. They're not part of the family.

That's it on the digital art front! Here's some traditional art. Well, the stuff you can actually see. I don't have a phone to take pictures with </3

This again. lemvi,,,

Yeah no okay that's all I have. That's not much but I'll try and tell you about their designs!

-Jaide has the best of the refs, but I'll briefly go over what remains constant in her designs: vest, blue undershirt with cuffs on the sleeves, long skirt, and the gray cloak with the frills if she travels out.

-Even for a nobles' son, Levi's clothes are kinda basic. Just a basic shirt/tunic and pants, with some variations of collars or cuffs. He has blond hair (blond is a stretch. it's really yellow) and his bear mask is only for traveling out.

There's a forever lost page of the old storybook I used to work on that showed a better picture of Jaide's husband. If you look close in the background of the storybook page I did share- there's a painting with the happy family there.

-Jaide's husband has red, curly hair. He has a red shirt with some yellow stripes on the fluffy parts of the sleeves. He has purple puffed pants and brown boots that come to the knees.

I'm not great at describing clothes, sorry </3 And I can't give away too much about Jaide's husband! He's going to star in a oneshot that's going to come sooner rather than later.

[shadowdaddies]

Hi

Read two emotionally damaging and frustrating fics abt my fave bat boys and need a pick me up

Just like reader x rhys x azriel and some fluff and smut and whatever else you wanna do

Thanks 🫶

hey love💜 I needed a pick me up today too, this was therapeutic for me so I hope you enjoy too

Love Intertwined

poly! Azriel x Rhys x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, self-indulgent praise kink, oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, p in sex, minors dni

Stumbling through the front door, you chucked your shoes to the corner with a thud. Tears threatened to fall, a shaky breath leaving your lips as you closed the door behind you, forehead leaning against the wood while you struggled to calm yourself.

It had been one of those days where it seemed that everything that could go wrong, did. All you wanted in this moment was a break, some time with your mates. With a deep sigh, you wiped the corners of your eyes and moved into your home in search of Rhys and Azriel.

The house was completely quiet, faelights dim as you peered around corner after corner. “Az? Rhys?” you called out, unease creeping through your bones as your calls went unanswered. Just as you were about to give up and tromp up to your bed, a shadow whipped out from under the kitchen door. 

The wisp of darkness oscillated enthusiastically in front of you before twirling in your hair, the feeling tickling the back of your neck causing you to giggle. You watched the shadow pause in front of you once more before flying back under the door, a silent request for you to follow.

Cracking open the door to the kitchen, a pleasantly familiar aroma flooded your senses. Your heart tumbled in your chest as you looked up to see Rhys pulling plates and cutlery as Azriel pulled a dish from the oven. The shadow from a moment ago curled around Azriel’s ear, the shadowsinger’s head whipping in your direction in surprise. 

Sensing the change in the energy of the room, Rhys lifted his own head, briefly glancing at Azriel before following his gaze to you. Violet eyes drank in your appearance, a playful smile pulling at Rhys’s lips as he set down the plates and moved towards you.

Warm hands found your waist, Rhys leaning down to kiss you in greeting. “We were hoping to surprise you,” he murmured, nosing at your neck as he breathed in your scent. 

Already distracted from your previous thoughts, you managed to refocus your vision to see Rhys and Azriel both smirking at you in amusement. “I... I am surprised,” you breathed, eyes flicking to your favorite meal displayed out on the counter. With a hum and a kiss to your neck, Rhys moved away from you to take over plating the dishes. 

Azriel let him, taking the opportunity to greet you himself as scarred hands slid up your waist, massaging the skin below your breasts. Shadows twined in your hair, tilting your head how Azriel liked as he leaned in to kiss you with fervor, tongue sliding between your lips as you gasped into his mouth.

Heady with desire, you barely heard Rhys clearing his throat before Azriel pulled away, tongue flicking the roof of your mouth as he did so. “Let’s eat dinner, my love,” Az murmured, taking your hand as he led you towards the table. 

Rhys pulled out your chair, seating you between himself and Azriel as Az set your plate and wine in front of you. “Thank you both. You don’t know how much I needed this today,” you whispered, emotions flooding you as you took each of their hands in yours. 

Azriel rubbed a thumb along the back of the hand he held as Rhys lifted the other to his lips. “We know, darling. We felt through the bond what a difficult day it was for you, so we have dinner... and more planned for afterwards,” he purred, playfully nipping at your knuckles before setting your hand down. 

You enjoyed the rest of your dinner, savoring the quiet chit-chat and gentle touches with your loves. As dinner ended, you moved to clear the dishes when a wisp of black wrapped around your hand. Azriel slipped his hand under yours, taking the plates and standing up. Rhys pulled your chair out, his broad arms wrapping around your waist and legs as he picked you up bridal style.

With a giggle, you attempted a weak protest that your mate quelled with one look, violet eyes already dark with desire. You swallowed, your own arousal building as Rhys carried you away from Azriel, who was still scrubbing away at the dishes.

“He’ll join us shortly,” Rhys promised, pressing a kiss to your hair as he carried you upstairs to your bedroom. With a flourish of his hand, the door opened to reveal candles and flower petals scattered throughout the space, your favorite music playing softly from a symphonia in the corner. 

Rhys set you down gently on the bed, keeping a hand on your chest in silent request to stay still before he moved to the nightstand. Noticing a bottle of your lavender oil on the table, you arched a questioning brow at Rhys, who - with a dark chuckle and another flourish of his hand - vanished the clothes from your body. 

You gasped at the cold air as you were exposed to the room. The sound of the door clicking open pulled you from the moment as you watched Azriel prowl into the room, a predatory gaze raking over your naked form as he shut the door behind him. 

Azriel’s gaze flicked to Rhys, displeasure shining in his eyes as the shadowsinger took in the High Lord’s fully clothed form. “Strip,” he ordered, already unbuttoning his own shirt. The scent of arousal grew heavy in the room, both Rhys’s and your eyes darkening as you took in Azriel’s bare chest. 

Rhys hurriedly pulled off the rest of his clothes, awaiting further instruction from Azriel as the spymaster finished undressing. You were struggling to stay still on the mattress, subtly rubbing your legs together as Az gave you a knowing smirk. 

With a jerk of his chin, Azriel ordered Rhysand to the bed. “Sit behind her, her head on your stomach.” The both of you eagerly obeyed, getting into position as Azriel took the oil from the nightstand. “Hand,” he murmured to Rhys, the High Lord, quickly holding out an open palm for Azriel to pour the scented oil onto it. 

Azriel poured more oil on his own hands, rubbing them together to warm the liquid as Rhysand did the same. They must have had a plan, because at Azriel’s subtle nod, they moved their hands to begin massaging you. Azriel started at your feet, working his way up your calves and thighs, while Rhys started with your neck and shoulders, working the tension from your arms and upper body.

Your breathing grew heavy as Rhys’s hands moved to your breasts, Azriel’s simultaneously working up your inner thighs. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, a soft moan escaping as Rhys toyed with your sensitive nipples, rubbing circles and tugging. 

Azriel pushed your legs apart, groaning at the sight of your soaked pussy as he pinned your hips to the mattress. Your back arched as he licked a stripe up your core, Rhys pinching your nipples in warning. You settled back into the mattress with a huff, both males chuckling at your impatience.

Without warning, Azriel dove in, his tongue thrusting into your core, nose bumping your clit as he worked you expertly. Rhys’s hands roved your body, fingertips gently grazing sensitive areas as Azriel moved to suck your clit. As Azriel flicked his tongue one last time, your high crashed into you, stars flecking your eyesight as you panted, head lolling back against Rhys. 

You moved to sit up, but Rhys’s hands pushed you down against his lap as he and Azriel leaned towards each other. Azriel gripped Rhys’s hair, fingers threading through onyx locks as he kissed him with the same demand he had with you earlier. Rhys whimpered into the kiss, the sound making you feel weak.

The males pulled apart slightly, Rhys’s tongue flicking out to lick the remainder of your juices from Azriel’s chin. “Fuck, darling. You always taste incredible,” Rhys praised, looking down at you with a feline grin.

Azriel’s hands gripped your hips, hazel eyes alight as he watched your expression. “Would you like to taste Rhys now?” he cooed at you, a low groan escaping both of them as you nodded eagerly.

With no effort, Azriel flipped you over by your hips so that you were hovering over Rhys now, your ass in the air with Azriel kneeling behind you. Rhys shifted up onto his knees, Azriel’s hand at your back pushing you down towards your mate’s hard cock. 

Scarred hands kneaded your ass, a light smack landing on the skin wringing a desperate mewl from you. “Can you be a good girl and take both of us?” Azriel murmured, a teasing finger sliding through your slit. 

A pathetic moan left your lips as you nodded, struggling for words as your mouth watered at the sight of Rhys’s cock in front of you. “Yes, yes I can. I’ll be good,” you promised, looking to Rhys with doe eyes. 

With a growl, one of Rhys’s hands gripped your chin, the other pumping his length as he brought it to your lips. You licked his slit, savoring the salty flavor of him before wrapping your mouth around the tip and sucking softly. 

“Don’t tease,” Rhys ground out, his hands moving to thread through your hair. Without warning, you took him completely, bobbing rapidly up and down his length. “Fuck,” Rhys moaned loudly. “Good girl, just like that,” he praised through his own breathy moans.

You felt the head of Azriel’s cock sliding through your folds, his fingers gathering the wetness to spread over his length. Voice muffled by Rhys’s cock, you whined and wiggled your hips in an attempt to beg Azriel for more.

“Aw, there is our sweet girl,” Azriel cooed, landing another smack to your ass as he thrust fully inside of you. You screamed around Rhys’s length, the vibration causing him to buck his hips against you.

Eyes watering as you gagged around his cock, you allowed Azriel’s relentless pace against your pussy to drive your own around Rhys. 

“Fuck, I’m close, Az,” Rhys murmured, his hands fumbling in attempt to slow your pace on his length. Azriel refused to let up, hitting you deep as you clawed at Rhys’s thighs. Familiar talons scraped against your mental walls, asking permission for you to let Rhys into your mind.

Numbly, you lowered them, and your orgasm hit you instantly at the sight Rhys showed you - scratch marks from your nails as you drooled around his cock, Azriel’s sweat-slicked hair, abdominals flexing as he pounded into you. 

With a scream, your pussy clenched around Azriel as the three of you came simultaneously, Rhys’s release filling your mouth as Azriel’s filled your pussy. Swallowing, you licked up the bit of Rhys’s cum that had spilled from your lips as you collapsed against his chest.

Azriel gently pulled out of you, climbing off the bed for a moment before he returned with a damp cloth, cleaning you up and pressing a kiss to your temple. You heard the sound of running water from the bathroom, knowing Azriel must be starting a bath for you. 

Rhys’s arms wrapped gently around you, your mate picking you up gently as he carried you to the bathroom. “Relax, darling. We’ll take care of you,” he murmured, joining Azriel in the bath as the two of them helped wash your hair. 

By the time you finished in the bath, you were half-asleep, vaguely aware of Azriel wrapping you in a soft towel as he carried you to bed, where you slept peacefully in between your two mates.

[prose-for-hire]

Face your demon

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Could you do A Spike x reader where the reader is in love with him, but doesn't show her emotions (except for getting easily flustered around him), but Spike overhears hears her talking to willow about it and he confronts her, ending in them being together?

Requested by: @wiccanindigo​

Requested tags: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @artsymaddie​ @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard​ @cameo-greaves​

​You were pretty neutral in public. Your face rarely shifted other than to a polite smile or perhaps a confused frown should the moment take you by surprise. Other than this human reaction, you would usually maintain a resting face. One that appeared to most as if you didn’t wish to be in their company. Or anywhere at all really.

You felt a lot. You really cared about your friends, the people you loved. It was just near-impossible to express this. At least, in a way that you were comfortable. It was much easier to hold people at a distance. That way, you didn’t risk rejection. Or painful, bitter emotions that you didn’t enjoy.

So, you tended to hide your emotional side completely. Rather than wrestle with articulating the way you felt. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision, just one that you lived with. You struggled expressing your emotions – not only on your face but also verbally. Any way, really. It could be so hard.

Luckily for you though, you had some very caring and empathetic friends. The Scoobies. They understood and gave you the time you needed – between fighting apocalypses of course.

You were sat in the Magic box with all of your friends around you. Buffy, Willow, Xander, Anya, Tara and Giles. You were characteristically just staring into the centre of the room as the usual antics played out around you.

You contributed now and again although not as passionately as the others, it must be said. You tended to bounce off of someone else’s point and repeat it if you agreed with it with a shrug. As if you would rather be anywhere but there.

You weren’t shy. In fact you came across as the complete opposite. Cool, collected. Near apathetic should your friends not understand how deeply you truly did care – you just didn’t express it as much as most. There was no need to gush in your book. You weren’t one to keep your heart on your sleeve and make the entire room look at it.

Well, that was until him.

Spike ran in, slamming the door shut behind him. It slammed so hard the entire store shook and he sauntered in as if it was nothing. It made the corners of your mouth tug into an almost-smile but you looked down to avoid anyone seeing.

There he was, your weakness. The one that could render you speechless. A flustered mess. A heat would rise in your cheeks and your voice would appear weak and just wholly unlike yourself.

You had it bad. He always did this, walking in with that swagger. Those cheekbones. That look…

His eyes were straight on you. As they always were. You were a mystery to him, one he was so desperate to figure out. You had noticed the way he always made his way to you. The way he dropped his voice and made comments about the others in the room in the hopes of you cracking a smile.

You spoke to him as much as you could, but often your words failed you. You didn’t want to give anything away. Couldn’t. You didn’t want him to tease you, reject you in such a painful way.

He was Spike, after all. He could have anyone he wanted you were sure of it.

The point was, though, that he wanted you. And you were too wrapped up in focusing on how to breath properly when he was around that you didn’t notice.

Spike found your resting face beautifully morbid. He found you to be strong-willed and the very little he sensed or heard from you he found himself clinging to. You would be stamped onto his brain for the rest of his un-life, he was sure of it.

He was in so deep. Thought about you constantly. Wanted to know what you were doing, what you were thinking. Imagined himself by your side. Taking you into his bed… oh, and I won’t even start on the dreams. They left him aching. Such deep, unending desire. For you. God, it could only ever be you.

“Alright, pet? Don’t rush to say you missed me, written on your face already” He smouldered in that way he did. Hoping for any kind of reaction.

You looked up at him before immediately looking away. A ghost of a smile on your face as you shifted in your seat. He took this as an invitation to sit beside you and so he did.

“Hi Spike” You just about managed before your voice wavered. You didn’t like the way he rendered you this flustered mess. But, at the same time you couldn’t help but completely love it.

Your usual cool demeanour gone. Lost in those beautiful eyes of his. You could happily live in his eyes for the rest of your life.

You managed to position yourself in your seat in such a way that meant he made up most of you vision, without it looking glaringly obvious to anyone else. He lived in your peripheral vision. At least this way a little part of him was yours.

You became a little brave and moved your eyes to look at him properly, no longer just from the side. He was beautiful. The way that t-shirt clung perfectly to his torso. The way his leather duster managed to land in such a relaxed way on his shoulders. Effortless cool. Or, that’s what you assumed.

You loved him. His looks. His personality. Just everything. You couldn’t escape it.

Something snapped you out of staring. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on you. Staring.

“Huh?” You asked, feeling a heat rise in your cheeks as he turned to face you properly too. You had apparently managed to miss the entire meeting. Not one scrap of the plan had entered your head. You were consumed by him instead.

“Y/n? You sure that’s okay?”

“We’ll be fine on patrol, right love?” Spike smirked at the rest of the room and raised an eyebrow which made everyone reconsider.

“We can switch if evil dead makes you uncomfortable” Xander offered kindly which made spike glare. He wanted you to himself.

“No that’s good- uh, fine. It’s fine. I’ll patrol with Spike” you rushed out at a completely different pace than anyone was used to hearing you speak.

What you were supposed to be looking for, you didn’t know. You hadn’t been listening just focusing on regulating your breathing. Wiping the sweat from your palms at the proximity. He was sat so close to you. You wanted to just lean against him. Whisper how you felt.

You and Spike walked out into the cool night air. Mostly in silence, although you could almost hear the cogs in his mind whirring to come up with something to say. You didn’t realise but he was trying to impress you. Trying to get you to smile. He loved it when you smiled. Near melted.

He then finally asked something he had so wanted to say to you. For such a long time.

“We could, uh, blow this off, go for a drink?” He let the proposition hang in the air.

You didn’t even begin to consider this had been something more than a teasing joke because he didn’t want to be stuck patrolling anymore. Just wanted to rebel against Buffy’s sudden authority in his life.

“Yeah, because I’ve always thought you’d look great with a redwood through your chest” You spoke, referring to what Buffy would do to him should he leave you or the demon to run through the streets.

“Pet-”

“It’d make a pretty accessory. Bring out your eyes” You deadpanned and he just stared. Why were you like this? Why did your flirting so quickly descend into just being rude?

It was like a disease. You were riddled with it. Any sense that your mouth would spill the contents of your mind and something took over. Possessed you, began to say the very opposite of what you wished to say.

You wanted him to ask you out for a drink. Tell you that you looked nice, that he felt lucky to have someone like you to take out. Have on his arm. Show off. You wanted to loop your arms around him and embrace him. Kiss his lips. Have him in your bed. His body yours and only yours.

But, instead, you had just told him he would look better dead. Or, well, more dead. He had taken this as a firm no, you didn’t want to go out with him. He looked upwards, trying to stop the stinging at the back of his eyes before he nodded firmly and just shrugged.

“Whatever, let’s find this vamp”

Oh, right. It was a vampire. You were supposed to be looking for a vampire. That at least narrowed it down… kind of.

Both of you took turns in glancing at the person beside them. So desperately wishing to touch them. Have some kind of intimacy. It was hard having the one that you loved so close and yet emotionally so far away.

There was a distance. A canyon between you that you both wished to cross. But it was so hard. There would be no turning back.

You never caught up with the vampire you were meant to find and Spike walked you home instead when it got too late. You tried to thank him for the gesture but he had turned and walked away. Licking his wound at the rejection you had inflicted upon him without realising.

Despite the fact you had hurt him though, he had needed to make sure you got in safe. Protecting you from harm meant everything even if you wouldn’t give him the time of day.

It had been a couple of days since this unwitting rejection and you and Willow had arrived early waiting to meet with the others at the Magic Box. Giles had gone to pick up some order sat the back. Which left just you and your friend. Well, that’s what you thought anyway.

She was the only one that knew how you felt for Spike. She had seen you watching him, a new expression unlocked on your face. As if she had won a quest or something in a video game and been allowed to see it.

Conversation had quickly turned to this man that you were so in love with it managed to fluster even you. You near hid your face from your friend at even the implication you liked him. But you were comfortable that Willow was being supportive.

You discussed that you liked him. Truly admitted it out loud for the first time. Not realising that the man himself was stood around the corner listening. He loved to hear your voice and so had stayed back because you seemed to speak less in his company.

Spike’s jaw tensed as he heard you talking about this mystery man though. He had never heard you gush this way before. Stumbling over your words to describe such longing. You usually appeared so calm, collected. He wished to be the one that sent you weak at the knees in the way that this nameless idiot did. He guessed it was probably Xander.

Stupid bloody Xander. Gormless nit.

“Maybe, uh, you should tell him? You can’t know his feelings unless you try” Willow offered.

Spike guiltily hoped that you would have to face rejection so that he could comfort you instead. Spend more time with you, prove to you that you could trust him with your emotions. He so longed to have your attention. Your trust.

“I can’t… I-it’s too hard” You sighed and his spirits lifted, maybe this would be his chance instead. While you tried to build up your courage, he could show you how much you meant to him. How much he wanted you.

Nothing could have prepared him for what came out of your mouth next. There had been only a slight pause while you sifted through your emotions.

“He’s so- he’s… he’s Spike” You had no other description other than this spike-ness was all that you wanted. You near craved it. But also these words explained how hard it was. How trying to speak to him was near impossible. Willow nodded in understanding and patted your shoulder sympathetically.

“It could be good for you, y’know? Facing your, uh, demon…” Willow’s voice dried up. Turned into a little squeak. You looked up, confused.

There he was, as if your longing had been a magnet to the man himself. Your eyes bulged and your mouth opened in shock. The most your face had ever given away.

Willow stumbled over some excuse that neither Spike nor you heard before she left for the exit. Allowing you to both speak.

“I’m the bloke you’ve been harpin’ on about?” He said slowly. He did this only because he wanted to hear it from your mouth again. As if he wasn’t entirely sure if he had dreamed it or not.

“We don’t have to make it into a big deal… I’m sure I’ll, uh, get over it” You tried, avoiding the rejection you could feel coming.

“Don’t” He said quickly, “God, please bloody don’t get over it. You’d break a poor dead man’s heart if you did”

“What?” You asked, frowning in confusion. He couldn’t possibly feel the same way… could he?

“Don’t be daft, love. Asked you for a drink didn’t I? Trailed after you despite you not even pretending to take an interest. Been there just in the nick of time before somethin’ nasty ate you?” He reeled off things he had pretty much done in the last fourty-eight hours. It made you gasp with surprise. How had you missed this? “Tell me I haven’t bent over bloody backwards for even a shred of your affection,”

“Spike…” You looked away, it was so hard. You didn’t even know how to begin to say what you needed to.

“Please, don’t shy away. Can’t stand it when your eyes wander…”

“Spike, I…” He took your hand, nodding subtly to show that he was there. That he liked you, that he needed to hear it. Whatever it may be, “I love you”

Spike pulled you into him immediately, knowing this must have bee hard for you. He was beginning to understand. You were like him, petrified of the rejection. The idea that the one that held such promise and stirred such feeling could ruin everything. You restored his faith in love. Rekindled his affections for the notion as well as confirming that he loved you too.

He crashed his lips to yours, his reply to your words communicated in this way. And you understood completely. Lips moving against yours, a display of affection only for you. he was firm in his love but so very tender. He embraced you close, a hand along the small of your back that made you shiver and lean further into him. Deepening this perfect kiss.

You parted, somewhat reluctantly and just gazed at the other for a moment before he spoke.

“I’m just glad you don’t have eyes for the whelp” Spike grinned and it made your face brighten. A smile. One that he savoured as you rolled your eyes at him being so pleased you liked him more than Xander.

He took your hand in his and sauntered beside you. Chest puffed out and proud to have you by his side. As if you had just gifted him the entire world.

Now you just had to break it to your friends. There was no way you would be hiding this.

[darthkruge]

Hello! Could you do an Anakin x reader where the reader is jealous of Padmé so goes on a walk through the night, and leaves a little trinket of hers so Ani doesn’t worry. She runs into a bounty hunter and Ani senses her danger through the force and saves her? Thanks 🥰

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Jealousy and Rescues

Summary: Jedi!Reader gets themself in some trouble after going on a walk during the night and Anakin comes to their aid

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, torture (knives), blood, kidnapping, ends w/ fluff I promise

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Yess!! I loved writing this so much and I’m sorry it took me longer than I expected to get out. I think I went a bit angstier than your request implied but that’s where my brain was at today slfksjd! I am also rushing to post this so if there are some grammatical errors whoops

gif credit

After a few threats to the Senate, your boyfriend was assigned as Padme’s bodyguard. You knew, rationally, their relationship was strictly professional. He’d never be disloyal towards you and you did trust him. There was nothing for you to worry about. Or, at least, that’s what you repeatedly told yourself as you saw them walking and laughing together. 

Being in a secret relationship is difficult, you wouldn’t deny. Especially when your boyfriend was one of the most attractive and charming men in the entire galaxy. You would see people flirt with him constantly and there was nothing you could do without jeopardizing both of your careers as Jedi. 

You played with the necklace he had given you when you spent your first Life Day together all those years ago. Your home planet on one side, Coruscant on the other, symbolizing your past and your future -- your future with Anakin. It always calmed you; it was something you could hold and feel in public, a reminder of the realness of your hidden romance. 

You let out a sigh, dropping the pendant as you tried to shake off the unease you felt as you watched them interact. It mostly worked, too. When you remembered all Anakin had done for you, the intense moments of happiness and love you’d shared, you never felt more secure. But for some reason, as you saw Anakin lean down so Padme could whisper something in his ear, that anxious and guilty warmth ran through your veins.

You hated feeling jealous. It didn’t matter that you logically knew you had nothing to fear, the emotion remained. It embarrassed you, making you feel childish and small. It made you want to crawl out of your skin and hide away, yet simultaneously run up to Anakin and beg him for reassurance. It made you hate Padme, a woman so kind you cursed yourself for feeling that way. It made your mind run wild, conconting torturous scenarios that made your insecurities flair. 

Even though it brought you pain to watch, you had to expend great energy to tear your eyes away from them. You returned to your apartment, waiting for Anakin’s shift to be over. All you wanted was some time alone with him, to hear him tell you how much he loved you, to feel his arms around you and lips against yours. To hear him gently laugh as he picks up on your jealousy and mumble reassurances into your ear. You awaited his beautiful words that would evidently overtake your thoughts and leave you feeling secure and peaceful. 

Letting your brain run for a while, you felt yourself unconsciously picking at your fingernails and playing with your hair, doing anything to keep yourself busy. You jumped as C3PO entered your room, too lost in thought to register anyone’s presence. 

“I apologize Master L/N, but Master Skywalker instructed me to inform you that he will be working late this evening.”

You felt your heart start to pound as your eyes grew heavy with tears. “Threepio, what do you mean? Did he tell you why?”

“Senator Padme has to go to a special dinner this evening to meet with the leaders of some other planets and he must accompany her.”

“Oh.”

C3PO walked closer to you. “Are you alright, Master L/N? Should I call for Master Anakin?”

You shook your head, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m fine, thank you.” You said, trying to keep your voice as even and happy as you possibly could. 

The droid exited your apartment as you walked onto the balcony, the cold air hitting your cheeks and quelling the hot embarrassment that flowed through you. There is nothing to worry about, you rationalized. These dinners are formalities, Padme goes to them all the time! And Anakin is just her bodyguard, he would never cheat on you! 

Even as you thought the words, you felt frustratingly unconvinced. You decided to go for a walk, the silence in the apartment that your boyfriend was supposed to be back at driving you mad. Even so, you didn’t want him to worry on the off chance he returned home before you. Sighing, you slid the necklace off and placed it on the nightstand, quickly scribbling a note that read “on a walk, be home soon.”

You pulled your Jedi robes closer around you as you walked the Coruscant streets. You had no particular destination in mind, nor did you know how long you intended to be gone for. You let your body drive you, walking around as if in a haze while using all your energy to expel the thoughts from your mind. You made random turns, walking in various directions until you felt yourself calm. 

You looked up and to your left and smiled as you saw your apartment. Anakin. You smiled to yourself and shook your head at your foolishness. You didn’t know why you’d gotten so worked up over his and Padme’s relationship; at the end of the day, he would always return home. 

 Perhaps this was why you weren’t paying attention. Or maybe it was the way you were focussed on  Anakin’s force signature, honing in on him and letting the rest of the world fade away. It could have been your exhaustion, emotionally drained for the day. Whatever the reason, you were unprepared when a dark figure jumped out of the shadows and stunned you. All you knew was that one minute you were on your way home to him and the next you were surrounded by darkness as the ground quickly caught up to you.

Anakin rushed out of dinner, feeling quite guilty for leaving you alone all day. He hated working late, especially during the few times you and him were both on Coruscant. Frequently, your missions kept you apart and, thus, the days where you were home together were sacred. He reached out to you, surprised to not feel your force signature in the apartment. 

He opened the door and was met with a darkness and stillness that immediately set him off. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it just yet. He looked around and came upon your note and necklace and relief flowed through him. However, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. The words in your note felt clipped and cold and he knew you must not have been happy to hear he was running late. 

He walked to the balcony, trying to see you but quickly realizing the futility of the plan. He paced in the apartment, reaching out farther with the Force. Although he hadn’t completely found you, Anakin’s blood ran cold as he sensed with overwhelming clarity that you were in danger. You wouldn’t have lied to him about your whereabouts so he knew you were on foot and, thus, couldn’t have gone too far. All he hoped was that he found you quickly and wasn't too late. 

You groaned, already knowing what had happened. The Council already briefed the Jedi that there was an uptick in bounty hunters throughout the galaxy, specifically those targeting the Jedi order. You couldn’t believe you were stupid enough to walk around, unnattentive, through alleyways, at night. The bounty hunter came into your cell and pulled off her mask. Her features were sharp, her face hardened. You looked into her eyes and were met with a predatory gaze. 

“What are you going to do with me?” You almost didn’t want her to answer. 

The woman simply laughed. “Kill you, of course. But why not have a little fun first? I bet you’d look so nice begging for mercy.”

“I’ll die before I beg for anything from you.” You spat.

“I’m sure I can accommodate both of those things, sweetheart.” With that, she grabbed a knife and plunged it into your foot, anchoring it to the floor. 

You bit your lip, tasting blood as you tried not to scream. You clenched your fists, your hands shackled above your head. Your foot felt hot, the crimson blood running down its sides. Just as the pain began to numb, the woman pulled out another blade and slowly cut the bottom of your other foot. 

You screwed your eyes shut, desperately trying not to give in. She laughed at your feeble attempts before bringing the knife down. The force she used pierced through both muscle and bone and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out an involuntary cry.

Your brain was a muddled mess, tears leaking down your face as you willed your pained whimpers to die in your throat. She cut through your pants and into your thighs. With each line she carved, you felt more and more helpless. She made her incisions deep and languidly, as if pulling every ounce of blood from your body. You tried to squirm away from the blade but the twisting movements made the knives dig even deeper into your feet. 

You tried to reach for Anakin, for some reminder that there was peace waiting for you if you could only hold out through this. You faintly felt his force signature. He’s still out there. He’ll come for me, I know he will.

“Ready to beg yet, Jedi?” She cooed, the tip of her knife under your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. 

Your gaze hardened as you thought of him. She would never take you from him, nothing could tear you and Anakin apart. Your determination remained. She’s not going to break me.

“Never.” Even as the tears ran down your cheeks, even as you felt your grip on the world weakening, you’d never meant a word more than that. 

“We’ll see about that.”

You cried out as her knife cut across your cheek. The sharp sting from the newer and shallower cuts  combined with the throbbing ache in your legs and feet. The sensation and blood loss made you dizzy. Even so, you forced yourself to remain conscious. You’d get through this, you had to. 

Anakin drove his speeder through Coruscant, following a combination of his instincts and the Force to track you down. Every minute, he felt your fear and pain intensify through your Force bond and he grew more and more desperate. By now, he knew you must have been taken by a bounty hunter, there was no other explanation. However, he was occasionally met with a spark of determination and defiance.

He smiled. Whoever had you might be causing you pain, but you definitely weren’t an easy capture. Pride filled him as he thought of your strength. You’d get through this, you had to. Hang on, Y/N, just a little while longer.

The bounty hunter had left the room a few minutes ago, probably frustrated of waiting for you to give in. She’d moved onto cutting through your shirt, your stomach and chest now littered with deep, red, lines. It hurt to breathe, every movement tugging at one of the gashes and causing more blood to ooze out. You were honestly surprised there was still blood left in you to give, as your head felt light and body heavy.

You were so weak, so dizzy that you couldn’t support your own weight anymore, even sitting down. Your head hung down, lolling unimpressively as your neck refused to cooperate. Your mind was swimming and you were delirious, half-convinced you were already dead. 

“Y/N!” 

You used all your energy to lift your head, meeting a pair of beautiful blue eyes that you would recognize anywhere. 

“Anakin,” You breathed out. “Anakin please, help me.” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He knelt down beside you and you looked at him, immeasurable relief coursing through you. 

He put his hand gently to your cheek, careful to avoid your cuts. “Hold on, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused. “Why aren’t you helping me?”

“Hold on.” The whisper of Anakin’s voice remained in the air as his figure melted away. You screamed in agony, despair clutching at your soul. You desperately looked around, willing the hallucination back to you. Even if it was a cruel trick your fatigued, weak, blood-loss ridden mind created, you wanted him back. 

“Please, Anakin, please come back to me!” You cried. You sobbed, the pain of losing him in any form impossible for you to bear. 

You begged and begged and begged, trying to will him back to you. You screamed and thrashed until your hands wore raw against your restraints, until your cuts had reopened, until your throat was sore and your eyes burned from crying. 

You whimpered out one final plea before your eyes fluttered shut, the fight completely drained from your soul.

Anakin’s heart pounded. He could feel you slipping away, your determination slowly fizzing out. He couldn’t blame you; these bounty hunters were notorious for their torture, for leaving their victims as broken shells before they were killed. He forced the image out of his mind, refusing to think of you in that position. 

Finally, he made it to an abandoned building on the edge of Coruscant. The Force had guided him here and he felt you strongly, or as strongly as he could given your broken state. He jumped out of the speeder and saw a woman twirling a knife, leaning against a wall. 

Igniting the lightsaber, he walked up to her.

“Anakin, I presume?” 

He froze but quickly regained his composure, eyeing her and trying to figure out what her motives were. 

“Don’t fret, young Jedi. They were just calling for you. Quite pathetic if you ask me.”

“If you hurt them I swear-”

The bounty hunter’s lips curled into a bone chilling smile, giving Anakin all the answers he needed. He swung his lightsaber, deflecting her blaster shots with ease. She pulled out two knives and threw one at his middle, making Anakin jump to the side to escape the blade. 

Anakin twirled the saber, once again trying to get traction. She was quick, swinging herself up onto the room of the building by flipping backwards from the balcony. He, however, was quicker. Anakin jumped up gracefully, continuing to spin his weapon and stalk her in this intense, choreographed dance they were engaged in. 

The woman sent her other knife flying at Anakin’s neck and he used his trained reflexes to catch the hilt right before it cut through his skin. Now, it was his turn to smile. He watched as her expression faltered, paying attention to her footing to sense her next move. He followed her, catching up quickly before running the blade through her, barely waiting for her body to drop before bounding off the roof and into the building to find you.

His breath caught as he took you in. Your unconscious body was limp and blood was seeping out of you. He grimaced, seeing the blades running through your feet. As much as he didn’t want you to lose more blood, he needed to remove the knives in order to carry you out of here. Your flesh squelched as he pulled the blade out as evenly as he could and a low whimper escaped your throat. 

“Y/N, Y/N can you hear me?”

“No, no, no, no, no, please, not again!”

“Angel it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Anakin said, moving to meet your eyes.

“You’re not- this isn’t- no!” You tried to pull yourself away from him, unable to watch this hallucination falter. 

“Y/N, please, let me help you. I need to get you out of here before you lose any more blood.”

“This isn’t real!” You screamed. “Please, stop, this isn’t real! You’re not here, you’re not here, you’re gone, I’m gone, it’s not-” You continued to spew unintelligible words, tears already bubbling up in your throat. 

Anakin caught on to what was happening. “Angel, look at me. I promise I’m here. I’m real, okay? Please believe me.”

“I can’t!” You sobbed. “I can’t let myself hope again!”

“Y/N, okay, okay. Remember that necklace I gave you? It had your home on one side and ours on the other. You left it for me, a token to prove that you were safe when you went for a walk. I think you were angry with me; I was working late because I was guarding Padme, remember? It’s me, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Despite yourself, you believed him. “Ani.” You said softly, tears coming to your eyes as you allowed yourself to have faith that you would be alright. 

“Yes, my love, it’s Anakin. I need you to be still for me, okay? It’s going to hurt but I need to get us home.”

You nodded, cries escaping you as he pulled the second knife from your foot. Your vision went white, the pain profound. Anakin gently hushed you, hand smoothing down your thigh to comfort you as he worked. He went to your restraints next, releasing your hands and watching as they fell heavily. He caught your body as it wrenched forward, making you gasp as the cuts on your chest came in contact with him.

Anakin apologized quickly, pulling off his robe and wrapping it around your body, your cut clothing offering almost no protection from the cold, nighttime air. He also wanted to help you as your body was clearly going into shock from the trauma.

Anakin placed you in his lap, holding you to him with one hand and driving with the other. For anyone less talented at riding a speeder it would have been precarious. You weakly wrapped your arms around him, too, as best as you could. 

You were in and out of consciousness the whole way back, barely registering how Anakin pulled you up and into his arms, the sway of his walking faster and more desperate than usual. He went into medbay, placing you gingerly on a bed and calling over a medical droid to determine the extent of your injuries.

Noting how empty it was, Anakin took the risk and held your hand. He knew it was dangerous, the fear of getting caught weighing constantly on both your minds. But after he almost lost you, nothing else mattered. 

The droids informed him that you had lost a severe amount of blood, but the cuts themself should heal with time. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized you would be fine. Anakin begged them to let him take you back to your room, saying that the trauma from the torture would only grow worse if you woke up in an unknown environment. 

They allowed, so long as he made sure you were supervised and rested for at least the next week. He agreed hurriedly before scooping you back up. You groaned at the movement and he whispered a quick apology, trying to get you into your bed as soon as possible. 

He set you down, resting your back against the pillows just as you liked. You were all bandaged up and looked so fragile in your current state, a far cry from what he was used to. He hated it. You were such a skilled Jedi, he sometimes forgot that you were vulnerable, too, and this reality check was immensely painful. 

He watched over you as you slept, refusing to move for hours. Finally, your eyes opened and  you  looked at him blearily. 

“Hi.” You croaked out. 

Anakin’s eyes snapped up to yours, gently laughing from the relief of hearing your voice and its gravelly tone. He floated the cup of water by your nightstand to your mouth while using his other hand to brace your neck, coaxing you into a sitting position so you could easily swallow the liquid.

You hummed your thanks as he slowly set you against the pillows. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, I should have told the Council I couldn’t do the extra meeting and just come home.”

“No, Anakin, it was your job, I shouldn’t have been upset. I was just jealous, I guess. I saw you and Padme together and,” You trailed off. It felt so unbelievably stupid now. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have left, I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

Anakin’s eyes were understanding. “It’s okay, my love. But you have absolutely nothing to worry about. The only reason I was with Padme for dinner was because the Council assigned me to. No one could make me willingly skip dinner or anything else with you.”

“I know” You said sheepishly.

“I love you, angel. No one even comes close. I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“I love you too, Ani.” 

He carefully connected his lips with yours, hyper aware of your injuries and not wanting to cause you  any more pain than you’ve already been through. 

“Lie with me?”

Anakin nods as you scoot over. He climbs into bed and allows you to situate yourself. You eventually find a position that doesn’t put strain on your cuts and bruises and you smile, leaning your head against his chest. He gingerly puts his flesh hand around your back, looking at you to see if it’s okay. You nod reassuringly and Anakin lets his arm rest there, fingers gently running through your hair.

“I was so scared, Anakin. I thought I’d never see you again.” You say, breaking the silence.

He looks at you, silently encouraging you to go on, if you so wanted.

“I hallucinated you, you know? I thought you’d come for me. But you told me to hold on and then you disappeared.” Your voice was barely a whisper at the end, tears leaking onto his chest. 

“I’m so sorry.” Those words were all he could give. He spoke them with such meaning and love that you melted. None of this was his fault.

“I love you.” You replied, your words carrying the same intensity as his. 

Anakin brought his metal arm around, too, to further hold you to him. 

“You’re never going to lose me, okay? I will always come for you, I will always protect you. With everything I am, I will always love you.” 

“I know.” Your voice was loving and soft, exhaustion once again pulling at you.

He kissed the top of your head. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll need a lot of it.”

“Hmm?” You questioned tiredly

“They assigned you to at least a week of complete rest.”

“What?!”

“Shhhh, go to sleep, angel.” Anakin chuckled. 

You huffed but nuzzled closer to him. You were too drained to fight it and too happy to finally be back in his arms. Nothing could ruin the moment.

----

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[quietmyfearswith]

setting off ; stucky x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 2,463 words

summary — in which steve and bucky get the happy ending they deserve with their best doll.

warnings — implied smut, fluff, talks of starting a family, no curse word i think?

pairing — stucky x fem!reader

a/n — pretty self-indulgent lol,, feedback is appreciated and asks/messages are open!

tagging — @la-cey​ @pedropcl​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @isysen​

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

“Can someone at least give me a hint of where we’re going?” Y/N whined for what would be the fifth time in the last hour. She had been asleep for the first three hours of their travel, but now that she woke up she struggled to return to slumber so instead she ate some snacks as she begged her two boyfriends to give her a faint clue of where they were going.

Steve was currently driving to their destination; he was exceeding about five kilometers the stated speed limit, which was enough evidence that he was excited to reach the end of their trip. Thankfully, the pick-up truck they bought allowed two more passengers beside the driver in the front so she was sandwiched in between the two super soldiers.

“It’s not a surprise if we tell you where we’re headed, doll,” Bucky swatted her thigh playfully, before gulping down the rest of his water bottle. “It still would be,” She argued as she swatted his thigh too, “You can tell me the location of where we’re and I still would be surprised with the actual place we’re gonna be staying at.”

Pissed with her logic, his metal fingers tickled her sides, causing her to attempt pushing his hand away, giggling as she squirmed further into Steve’s side. “Stevie! He’s being mean to me again!”

“Knock it off, you two!” Steve scolded them, chuckling to himself when they settled down immediately and both pouted at him. “Are you sure you’re our boyfriends and not our babysitter?” Bucky giggled at her comment, even pecked her cheek to show how proud he was of her remark.

The former Captain America playfully rolled his eyes as he sighed, “And here I was pulling up to our destination when I should have gone here alone and not show you the present we got you.” Upon registering his words, she sat up straight and twisted left and right as she excitedly asked, “Your present? What did you get me? Please give me a clue! Please, please, please!”

Bucky laughed at her pumped up state, bopping her nose he assured her, “Well the only clue we’ll give is that we looked and searched hard for this gift of yours — we knew you had to have the best one.” Pouting and nose scrunching up in confusion, she turned to Steve and before she could even speak, he was already saying, “What Buck said is true, we hope you like our present.”

Pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek — she wanted to kiss his lips but didn’t want to distract him from driving — then a short, teasing kiss on Bucky’s lips she reassured them, “You both know I will always appreciate whatever it is you give me.”

Covering her eyes with his flesh hand, the former Winter Soldier smirked, “Well the only way to find out is when you see it. Keep your eyes closed for a while okay?” She whined but was quickly being shushed, “We’re pulling in now and you’re about to see your present!”

Once she felt the car come to a stop, she clawed at the hand that was shielding her from seeing her present as she thought she was permitted to look at it. But as she was being guided out of the truck with the hand still covering her eyes, she felt that maybe it still wasn’t the cue for her to see it.

“Okay stand there, are you alright?” Steve asked after guiding her to stand at a certain angle. “I’m fine, Steve! Now show me already! I’m getting impatient,” She was about to beg their ears off until Bucky slid his hand out of her eyes and she gasped out upon seeing the house. “Here you go, doll. Our brand new home.”

Her eyes became glossy as tears were peeking out, as she turned over to them and choked out, “A lake house?” Steve nodded, wiping the tears off her eyes before they got the chance to spill and kissed her lips, “Yes, doll. Your dream lake house.”

“We chose a secluded one so that way no one can complain when we’re too loud at night,” Bucky’s cocky reply was short-lived since Steve hit his arm which only made their girl laugh and hug them both. The two took her tight hug as a sign that she loved it. Removing himself early from the hug, Steve called, “Come on now! We still need to show you around the house!”

With every step she took, she clung onto each of her boyfriends’ hands tightly. The white coat of the house made her feel even more serene. Having multiple levels, she wondered about how many rooms there were, “How many floors and rooms are there? There seems to be way too many.”

“Five rooms, excluding the game and theater room that is. And there are two stories plus the basement.” Steve recalled as he opened the front door, the sight of the living room immediately greeted her. Soft couches, neat fireplace, and bookshelves beside a vinyl player greeted her. Sitting down on one of the seats, she giggled when the mattress was soft enough that it almost engulfed her completely, “I love this so much!”

Bucky picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder, “Wait ‘til you see the kitchen!” Placing her back to stand on her toes, he showed her how they fulfilled her dream kitchen of having two refrigerators, two ovens topped with an incredible gas stove, as well as a spacious countertop for when she baked and cooked for them. Smiling, she hugged Bucky and kissed his bearded cheek, “I love it so much! ‘M gonna stay here all the time now.”

Perking up at her statement, Steve smirked as he offered his arm for her to hold on to, “May I show you my favorite part of the house?” Finding it silly with how fancy he was being, she tangled an arm around his, while her other arm stretched out for Bucky to hold on to and his bionic hand laced with hers, “I’d love to see it, Mr. Rogers.”

Opening the black, wooden door, she was shown the master bedroom with a bed large enough to accommodate the three of them. “You cheeky bubba! The bedroom?!” She laughed as she plopped herself down on the soft mattress.

You’d think despite them being centenarians they would be stiff and boring, but the way they jumped in the bed and tickled her sides or rubbed their beards on her neck to elicit even more giggles from her suggested that they were more lively than you would suspect.

“Stop! I concede,” The last word was prolonged into a squeal with the way they were attacking her gently. Taking mercy on her, they stopped as they laid beside her, an arm draped over her figure as they traced her skin with their fingertips.

“I love it,” She spoke, filling the tranquil silence, “Thank you so much for this. I love you both so much.” Bucky cleared his throat and kissed her tricep, “Well this was something we hoped you’d love. And something we wanted to give you, as a thank you.”

Both super soldiers agreed not to mention the little part he slipped up; Steve smacked his flesh hand and groaned a bit. “As a thank you?” She sat up as her eyes shifted over between the two men. They followed her as they sat down too and explained to her, “Buck and I have come to realize how much you have sacrifice for us.”

“The way you stood up for me when the whole Accords happened,” Bucky continued and recalled how she stopped their airport battle when she stopped them upon uncovering the truth and seizing Zemo for discovering his plans. “You fought and stood up for me when everyone else was convinced I was the bad guy.”

Her hand caressed his cheek — her touch had cured him of his terrible association with physical contact. Images of when HYDRA treated him horribly in Bucky’s own time vanished from his mind every time he physically came in contact with someone thanks to her gentle handling of him and her incredible patience. He nuzzled his cheek into her palm, she was about to speak until Steve spoke up, “When we said that we wanted to step down from being Avengers, it was because of you.”

“Me?” This shook her to her core. She knew about their exhaustion with all the fighting that they had to do in order to save the world — everytime they needed to be patched up and taken care of, she’d done all that for them without complaints. But never did she imagine they would quit being part of the team for her, “I’m so sorry if I made it feel like you have to do all this for me.”

Sensing her panicked state, they both calmed her down as Steve rubbed her thighs while Bucky massaged her shoulders to settle her squirming body, “It’s not like that, doll. I should have been clearer with what I meant.”

Managing to relax, she looked up at Steve with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, encouraging him to speak his mind, “Buck and I talked about how tired we are. All this fighting — even though they all were for a good cause, of course — has started to take a toll on us. Not just physically, but emotionally as well,” He cleared his throat as he felt himself beginning to tear up, “It was evident that we badly needed an exit from this lifestyle that was forced upon us.”

“But we somehow got a hint that maybe there would be no way out for us,” Bucky continued when Steve stared at him to go on, Y/N too followed his gaze and looked at him, “That maybe it was set in stone that our fate would be to fight in battle forever.” Her heart clenched and fell into pieces at that thought. “What a cruel fate that would be, love,” She sympathized.

“Then you came along,” Steve resumed with a smile on his lips, “We now found a reason to keep going and fighting. Because we wanted you to live safely and feely.” She thought that what he said would be impossible to top off with the way her heart was beating wildly against her chest, lips pursing as she pouted in adoration. But Bucky wasn’t going to let anyone — not even Steve — outdo him so he pressed a kiss on the top of her head as he spoke sincerely, “We wanted to give you the life you deserve. A life far from danger and uncertainty. So we bought this secluded lake house — giving us the chance to be ourselves and do whatever we want.”

What Bucky said was a close runner up to Steve’s words and she couldn't help but coo at their word as she tried her best to wrap her smaller arms around their hulking figures, “I love you both! So so so so much! I’m incredibly blessed to have the two of you in my life!” Wanting to snap out of their dreamy state, Steve clapped his hands, “Well how about we prepare our lunch.”

Excited at the thought of preparing a meal in her new kitchen, Y/N jumped off the bed with a smile as she scurried off to the kitchen, “I’m gonna make us some sandwiches!” As the two two super soldiers looked at each other after both taking note of how excited their girl was they both thought of the same thing — they made the right and best decision.

After munching down the delicious turkey avocado sandwich with chipotle mayonnaise, they all retired to the deck; both Steve and Bucky were lounging around on one of their chaise lounge chairs as they were clad in their swim shorts while Y/N swam around for a bit on the clear, warm water.

“I can get used to always swimming,” She stated once she reached the top of the pool’s ladder and walked towards them, sitting down on Steve’s lap as she drank some of the iced tea they had prepared. “I, on the other hand, know that I can get used to seeing you in your swimsuit,” Bucky wolf whistled as he openly gawked at her bikini-clad figure.

Despite being with them for quite a few years now and getting used to Bucky’s playful behavior, she still gets bashful when she’s on the receiving end of Bucky’s silver tongue. She clicked her tongue at him as an attempt to weakly silence him, “Bucky Barnes! You and your silver tongue; someday I will catch you off guard the way you do to me.”

Steve decided to join in but unfortunately it didn’t help her cause, “Oh doll, I love you but we all know you get flustered even at the mere thought of flirting at us.” His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he placed a kiss on her shoulder, as if he was comforting her; which Bucky found amusing as he chuckled. She hit Steve's shoulder as she scowled at Bucky, the two then decided to end their playful banter against their girl.

Upon being signalled to pull his chair closer to where Steve was sat, Y/N played with Bucky's metal fingers as she laid her head on her other boyfriend’s chest, “I love you both. Really, I do,” She lifted her head to kiss Steve’s slightly chapped lips deeply before muttering, “I love you, Steve.” To which he said the same without missing a beat.

“I love you, Bucky,” She declared before leaning over to kiss his lips with the same passion and vigour. “Can’t wait for this new chapter that’s waiting for us,” She sighed out, blissed and content.

Steve’s warm palm caressed her stomach as he spoke with hope, “Who knows? Maybe we can start our family now.” She knew it was something he wanted — even way back in the 40’s he was already hopeful for a family of his own. Bucky, however, always wanting to spite and retort Steve just for the sake of it quickly countered, “Or maybe just adopt a bunch of dogs so the house isn’t too quiet.”

Y/N laughed when both her boyfriends stuck their tongue out and made silly faces to tease each other even more; breaking up their fight, she turned to them and reassured them, “No matter what lies ahead, I know we all can agree that we will venture it together.” And the silence laced with the content smiles they had on their faces gave her the confirmation that indeed, they will go through it all together.

[alisonsfics]

A Better Man💗

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets dumped on Valentines Day and Spencer comforts her.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: cheating

You quickly glanced down at your watch. You huffed and leaned back into your chair. You were currently at a restaurant waiting for your boyfriend to show up. It was Valentines Day and you had plans to meet up for dinner after work.

Mark, your boyfriend, was supposed to be here half an hour ago. The waiter kept coming by and asking if you were ready to order yet. They were feeling just as impatient as you were.

You checked your phone, wondering if he texted you to say he was going to be late. Then, you looked up and saw him rushing over to your table.

He got to your table and kissed you on the cheek before sitting down. “I am so sorry, there was a horrible accident and traffic was a nightmare. I tried to text you, but I wasn’t getting any service” he apologized.

All of a sudden, it made sense to you. You felt guilty for being mad at him. “That’s okay, you’re here now” you said, smiling. You were determined to make this evening a night to remember.

“So is there any chance you’re ready to order? I think the waiter is getting a little impatient, I’ve been here for thirty minutes. I kept telling him I was waiting for someone, but I don’t know how much longer we can hold him off” you said, giggling. Mark’s mood completely shifted. He looked solemn and serious.

“Actually...we need to talk” he said, sternly. You were shocked by his quick change in attitude. “Ummm okay? It can’t wait til after we order?” You asked, confused. You didn’t know what he wanted to talk about or why it was so urgent.

He just sighed and took a deep breath. “I think we should break up” he said, looking you in the eyes.

You felt your blood begin to boil.

“Excuse me?” You said, refusing to let the tears well up in your eyes. He self-consciously glanced around the restaurant like he didn’t want to make a scene. “I don’t think we’ve been in love with each other for a while. It’s no ones fault, we just fizzled out. I think it would be better if we saw other people” He whispered.

It felt like your skin was on fire. You were resisting the urge to scream at him.

“Who is she?” You replied, simply. He looked confused.

A few weeks ago, Mark came home smelling like someone else’s perfume. You had been a little skeptical, but you didn’t say anything. Then, he had started to grow distant. You had hoped this dinner could fix things, but clearly he just wanted to leave you for her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he said, lying through his teeth. “Who is she?” You repeated, more stern this time.

“Piper” he admitted, quietly. You didn’t think you could any more shocked.

Piper was one of your best friends from high school. You cursed under your breath. “You cheated on me with one of my friends. And now you’re dumping me on Valentines Day? You are disgusting” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like that. Come on, you know we aren’t made for each other” He said, trying to come up with an excuse.

“I can not believe you, you know what? I hope you’re happy” you said, standing up. You grabbed your jacket and your phone. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s talk about this” he said, trying to stop you. You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe that he expected you to not be mad at him.

“You lost the right to talk to me, as soon as you touched her” you said, throwing your drink in his face. You stormed out of the restaurant and got into your car.

You burst into tears. You were devastated. You weren’t upset because you had gotten dumped. You were glad you never had to talk to that asshole again.

You were upset because you had fallen for him. You fell for him and gave him everything. You trusted him and he couldn’t even be faithful.

You knew that you couldn’t go to your shared apartment. He’d eventually come home and you would have to see him. That was the last thing you wanted.

So, you drove to one of your best friends’ houses. You parked your car and wiped the tears away from your eyes. You got out of the car and walked up to the front door. You knocked on the door with your shaky hand. You waited for a few seconds and then the door opened.

“Hey are you busy?” You asked, trying not to burst into tears again. Spencer just looked at you, confused. “No, not at all. What’s wrong?” He asked, noticing your tear-stained face. The tears erupted and began to stream down your face. You couldn’t stop them, they just kept flowing.

Spencer pulled you right into his arms. “Shh shhh, it’s okay. I got you, I promise” he whispered, holding you tight. You felt him rub your back, comfortingly.

Eventually, the tears began to slow down and you took a few deep breaths. Spencer guided you over to the couch and then wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. “I thought you and Mark had plans tonight. Is everything okay?” He asked you, concerned. You just nodded your head and tried to put the words together. Spencer took your hands into his and rubbed his thumbs into the back of your hands. He gave you a small smile, encouraging you to keep going.

“We had dinner plans. He broke up with me and told me he had been seeing someone else” you admitted quietly. Spencer was shocked by what you said. He expected that obviously something that had happened, but he didn’t think it was that bad.

Spencer had to resist every urge to drive to your apartment and teach Mark a lesson. He wanted to kill him, he was furious.

“I am so sorry, you know that you don’t deserve that, right?” He asked you. You just weakly nodded your head. “Valentines Day is supposed to be happy, not sad. I think we’ll just have to turn today around. We can eat icecream and watch your favorite movies. We can do whatever you want, how does that sound?” He asked you.

Spencer was a goal-driven person. And right now his goal was trying to cheer you up. He wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stop him from doing just that.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards you. You held on to his shirt and buried your head in his chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. “That sounds amazing, Spence. Thank you for being here for me” you said, sincerely.

Spencer started to smile, knowing that you appreciated his efforts. You pulled away and you were transfixed by Spencer’s eyes. There was nowhere else you could look, you were mesmerized by the little golden specks you saw in his eyes.

Then, Spencer leaned in and connected your lips. You were shocked by the sudden movement, but kissed him back instantly. Spencer’s hands moved to cup your face. Then, you felt his lips leave yours. He pulled away with a mortified expression.

You wondered what you did wrong. “I am so sorry” he said, standing up from the couch and backing away. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to decipher what he meant.

“You are emotionally distraught and I took advantage of that, I’m sorry” he said, running his hands through his hair. Your eyes softened. You stood up and walked over to him.

“Tell that big brain of yours to stop thinking for five minutes” you whispered, cupping his face and kissing him again. He felt tense, but eventually let himself actually enjoy the kiss. He kissed you back and it felt magical.

You pulled away and smiled up at him. “At least you’re smiling now. That’s all that matters” he said, putting his arm around your shoulders as he guided you to the kitchen to pick out some snacks for your movie night.

You had a magical night and you knew that you could always rely on Spencer, especially when you were feeling down. It was truly a night to remember. Things felt natural with him. He was caring and kind. You knew that you would be happier with him than you ever were with Mark.

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[pascalpanic]

Winnie the Pooh Pajamas (Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)

Summary: You don’t see your body the way Maxwell does: you see it as undesirable, Maxwell sees it as the epitome of attractiveness. After a tough body image day, you ask Maxwell if he thinks you’re sexy. W/C: 4k Warnings: SMUT (18+), language, body dysmorphia, food, mentions of anxiety, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, brief joking mention of a daddy kink, rare soft Maxwell -> sarcastic asshole Maxwell again. reader is afab. A/N: Well! This is inspired by feeling like shit after a long day, and wanting to get some much needed love and attention. Lots of love and thanks to @mandoalorian​ and @ilikechocolatemilkh​ for helping me with the ideas (and specifically, shout out to Rach for having Winnie the Pooh pajamas just like I do 🥰) Additionally, it’s only briefly mentioned but this is an AU where Maxwell’s company actually did find oil, and he’s successful and happy. I just think he deserves it.

Today was shit. Plain and simple. It all started when you picked out a shirt that didn’t cut like the normal things you wore to work. It was tight and you felt like it exposed your rolls, and the tight jeans you wore felt painfully confining. The coffee shop you work in was busy, leaving you frantically scrambling around. You were bent over a steaming espresso machine for half of the day, and running drinks around when you had a moment. Rude customers had abounded, enough that you ended up crying in the walk-in fridge for a while, sobbing amongst the rising dough. The coolness had only accentuated the heat of the coffee shop when you returned to the floor to finish your seemingly endless shift. Needless to say, you were hot and tired. When you got home, you immediately changed into a pair of comfortable pajamas and slid into your sheets, enjoying the coolness of the satin your boyfriend had gifted you.   Maxwell was a wonderful boyfriend, always showering you with gifts. He even told you that it was unnecessary for you to keep working at the coffee shop, that he’d take care of your bills and do anything you needed. He was the CEO of a newly successful oil company, after all. Money was not an object to him, and he wanted to do anything he could for you. As tempting as it was, you felt like it would be taking advantage. Hell, the two of you haven’t even slept together yet. Plus, something in you was determined not to be a housewife, to break the mold of the 1984 woman. More and more women were going to work, yes, but you were determined to be one of them. Your messy hair is in a ponytail, and you feel bloated and disgusting as you look down at your body. Your pajamas hold nothing in, accentuate nothing, simply loosely sheathe your body. Your breasts feel ridiculously saggy, your stomach feels too thick, and everything else simply feels terrible too. The pajamas, patterned with Winnie the Pooh, make you feel childish and upset. That’s probably why Maxwell hasn’t slept with you yet, you tell yourself. You’re not attractive to him. He’s stringing you along for some emotionally manipulative fun and will probably dump you sooner rather than later. You’re a child to him, being a bit younger. He’s only doing this to be nice, to indulge your childish crush. Normally, you are far from easily distraught. You’re sarcastic and witty, always teasing your millionaire boyfriend. Rare is the moment you feel the man’s power over you, always treating him like an equal, despite his wealth. That’s why he was drawn to you, your sass and spunk and spitfire attitude. You can face anything with a deadpan joke and power through, but the day you’ve had makes everything worse. Your eyes well with tears and you roll on your side, clinging to the sheets like you’re hugging them as you allow yourself to cry it out. A few moments into your little pity-party, you hear something moving in the apartment. The jingle of keys. “Fuck,” you whimper as it hits you. Maxwell had planned on coming over tonight, bringing takeout for the two of you to eat while watching movies. Eating something was the last thing on your mind right now, wanting to stay far away from anything that could make your body feel as miserable as it does.

“Darling,” Maxwell calls as he opens the door to the apartment, his face falling a little as he doesn’t see you in the living room. You remain quiet, suddenly embarrassed by your state, and Maxwell closes the door behind him as he walks in. He spots your keys, knowing you’re home, and walks into the kitchen, not finding you there either. He sets the food on the counter and continues his little search. “Where are you?” He calls out, finally wandering towards your bedroom. “In here,” you say weakly and peek up from your duvet. Your eyes, reddened and damp, meet his and his heart sinks. “Oh, my dear, what is it?” He asks, coming to the side of your bed and sitting next to you on the edge. He pushes the covers back from your head and cups your face gently. You try to speak but your voice chokes on tears, simply crying more and leaning into his hand. He pouts softly and caresses your hair with his other hand. “Talk to me, my love,” he says gently, his heart breaking for you. Biting down on your lip, you swallow hard. “Just… shitty day,” you manage out before another sob comes out of your throat. Maxwell sits fully on your bed and pulls you up to sit next to him. You collapse into his chest, making his polo damp with your tears. He doesn’t seem to mind, just strokes your back and presses a kiss to your head. “Can you tell me about it?” He asks gently, his lips still pressed into your hair, breathing in the scent of your perfume and the espresso of the shop. You shake your head, and he simply nods, holding you close. “Let it out, and I’ll be here to talk when you’re ready,” he murmurs, making his breathing purposely slow in hopes to calm you. After a little bit, your sobbing does slow. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, lifting your head to look at him. You’re a complete mess, and you know it, tears and snot coating your face, but Maxwell simply wipes your cheeks with a tissue and smiles gently at you. “What for?” He asks, tossing the tissue aside and grabbing another, allowing you to blow your nose into it. “You brought food and it was supposed to be a date night and-“ “It still can, my dear,” he chuckles softly, pushing the stray hairs of your ponytail back down against your head. “Let’s get you to the couch and we’ll eat. We don’t even have to talk about whatever it is that’s upsetting you, okay?” He asks kindly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nod and that earns a small smile from him. “Good. You wipe your face down and meet me on the couch. I’ll grab the food,” he tells you and stands from your bed, squeezing your arm before retreating to the kitchen. You look down at yourself and your lip quivers again. These are your favorite cozy pajamas, the furthest thing from sexy. You had been hoping to finally consummate your relationship with Maxwell tonight, and here you are, in your tattered and cozy pajamas. You bite back tears and wipe your face, taking some deep breaths and a sip from the glass of water on your nightstand. You finally pad out to the living room, and Maxwell’s eyes light as he spots you. “There you are. Come here, my darling,” he offers, opening his arms. You gladly slide into them, sitting next to him, and he kisses your head. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. You shake your head. “No. I just want to eat and be with you,” you tell him, making yourself smile. He smiles back and nods, handing you your container of takeout and a fork. Even though it’s your favorite meal, it’s hard to eat tonight. You pick at your food, taking small bites, looking up at him every so often. It’s a comfortable silence for a while, before he interjects. “You’re not eating like normal,” he points out, noticing that your food is hardly touched. “It’s your favorite. What’s really wrong?” He asks, cupping your face and turning it to face his. He sets each of your meals aside on the coffee table, that signature little pout on his lips. “It’s nothing, Maxie, please,” you shake your head, not wanting to meet his eyes. You know yours will start watering again. “It isn’t. I know it’s not, so don’t tell me that. Talk to me,” he pleads, holding your face so that you have no option but to look at him. You swallow hard before nodding. “I just… had a bad day at work,” you shrug and look into his eyes, but you can both tell it’s not true. He raises a brow and you sigh. “Just… tough day in general. I don’t like my body, and my shirt felt disgusting on me, and everything is gross about me and now I’m in front of you in my ugliest pajamas,” you start, face contorting as you hold back tears. His heart is broken, truly. “What are you talking about, dearest?” He asks gently, his fingers toying with a loose strand of your hair. You bite your lip and look down, but he tilts your chin up to face him with one ring-clad finger. “You don’t ever need to doubt how beautiful I find you. You know that,” he tells you softly. He sighs gently. “I have those issues myself. I don’t like the way I look on camera. I highlight my hair so their eyes are drawn to that, and not my stomach. I wear big suits to hide my rolls, to hide my arms. I don’t like them,” he admits, swallowing hard. “But this isn’t about me. You don’t need to worry about how beautiful I find you, ever. I think you’re the most beautiful creature to ever grace the earth.” “Then why haven’t we done anything yet?” You finally blurt. He‘s taken aback. He didn’t expect that to come from you, most certainly not now. “Do you think I’m sexy, Maxwell?” You ask, your self-hatred evident in your eyes. “Because I don’t. I don’t see how any of this can be attractive, and I totally get it if that’s why we haven’t done it yet. Because I’m not anything special, I’m really not, I look like this in front of you, this powerful handsome man, and I’m just-,” you’re cut off by a hitch in your throat, hands covering your face as your rambling comes to a stop. The tears are close to spilling from Maxwell‘s eyes as he calls your name gently, removing your hands from his face. His sadness is clear in those beautiful brown eyes of his. “Of course it isn’t, and of course I do,” he shakes his head, his eyes scanning your body. “You’re probably just saying that because I’m crying in front of you, I put you on the spot with that, and that’s not fair, and I-,” you ramble again, rubbing your eyes and daring to look up at him. Maxwell grips your arms, pulling you close to him. “Listen to me, my dear,” he commands you, still gentle yet demanding. “Do you want me to tell you how sexy I think you are?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s serious now. You simply nod. You could use some reassurance right now, even if you probably aren’t going to believe it. “Then I will. I think about you every night when I lie in bed. I touch myself to the thought of you. Is that enough?” He asks, his voice tinged with lust. It sends a shiver down your spine. “I picture you in those sheets I bought you, spread open for me. Do you touch yourself to me too? I wonder that every single night, those perfect lips against mine in my mind.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your fingers, his lacing between yours. You gulp, but not from holding back tears this time. You nod softly, your eyes looking up at his and seeing how they’re almost hungry. “I don’t care what you’re wearing. I don’t care if you’re wearing pajamas with Winnie the Pooh on them. I think about your body and your body alone. How good you’d feel around me. How perfect those tits would feel to squeeze while I’m eating you out.” The thought of it makes you shudder. You flutter your lashes, his eyes never leaving yours as he tells you everything. “There’s never a moment where the image of you fingering yourself is not in my head. I get hard during business meetings wondering if you’d call me Max, Maxie, or Maxwell in bed. Do you understand now?” He asks, and you nod again. “Do you need me to prove it to you?” He asks in a low voice, leaning in until his lips are just next to your ear. You can’t help yourself: a small whimper slips from your lips. “Please,” you whine to him, removing your hands from his to cling at his shirt desperately. He smiles softly, his chest already heaving as he pulls his head back to look at your stunned face before kissing you deeply, unlike he ever has before. It’s passionate and needy and you can’t get enough of it, pulling yourself closer to him by the polo. “Maxie,” you mumble into his lips, sending a rush of blood directly to his straining cock. “You want me, my love? Because I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmurs for a moment between kisses, then kisses you again. Again and again, the harsh kisses grow even harsher until you’re practically smashing your faces together. He finally breaks away, panting. “Your room, my beautiful girl,” he nods, standing quickly and planting a kiss on your head. You follow quickly, pulling him along to your room, a grin finally on your face. “That’s what I like to see,” he chuckles at your grin, stopping in the doorway to kiss you contently, undoing the buttons to his polo with one hand. Breaking away, you look up again, into his eyes. “You meant everything you said?” You ask, the anxiety still lingering in the back of your mind. Maxwell pouts. “I’d never lie to you, my dear. How could you break my heart by insinuating such a thing?” He asks, hands tracing your waist and sliding under the pajama shirt. “I have never wanted someone more than I want you right now, those pajamas and all,” he tells you, voice deeper, kissing you hungrily. The passion and fervor of his lips are enough to convince you. You moan softly into his lips, the two of you finding your way to the bed. Maxwell pushes you down onto it, making you giggle, and gets on his knees at the foot of the bed. “I am going to make you feel so good that you’re going to forget anything negative you’ve ever felt about yourself,” he promises you, pulling down the elastic-waisted shorts and finding that you’re wearing no panties beneath them. “Power of positive thinking,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee. “Maxie,” you whimper as he spreads your legs, pressing the softest of kisses up the inside of your thigh. Before he reaches the top, he spreads your legs wider and sits back on his heels, simply enjoying the view. “You are magnificent,” he murmurs in a hushed voice before being drawn to your core like a starving man to a feast. He treats you just like that: a feast. Maxwell slowly traces his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan helplessly and let your head fall back into your sheets. You grab at your breasts through the shirt and Maxwell breaks away for a moment. “Take that off and keep playing with them for me,” he chuckles darkly before going back at it, his tongue circling your clit in a deliciously slow motion. You nod and peel off the shirt, tossing it aside. You grab at your breasts, toying with the nipples and sighing at how perfect Maxwell’s mouth feels against you. He slips in two fingers and you groan helplessly, one hand finding its way into his highlighted waves. The other grips your comforter even harder as he curls the fingers inside of you. “Oh fuck, Maxie,” you whimper helplessly, toes curling, one leg resting over his shoulder. He continues his motions, everything slow and dragged out but perfectly teasing. He moans against you and you bite down on your lip to stifle a helplessly loud cry. “Feels so fucking good,” you whine, earning a content hum from the man between your legs. Maxwell sucks on your clit gently, swirling it with his tongue again a moment later. It all feels so good, everything he does. Your eyes slip open in the lust and find his immediately. He looks so fulfilled and happy to be doing this, completely blissed out. “Oh fuck,” you shudder as he winks in time to a particularly hard curl of the fingers, hitting just the spot inside of you. “You cocky- ah,” you whine and your eyes slip shut again. “Gonna cum, baby,” you groan out. Maxwell makes a noise of approval into you and the sensation is just enough to push you over the edge, crying out his name. “Maxie, Max, so good,” you whine, fingers gripping his hair tight. “Ah, oh shit,” you coo, coming down from your high. When you’re finished, Maxwell pulls away with a shit-eating- well, pussy-eating- grin. “How was that?” He asks, pressing a gently kiss to the inside of your thigh. You laugh happily, your head spinning. He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “I could spend hours doing that, darling. You just make me want to destroy you.” The words are enough to immediately arouse you again. “Then come do it, please,” you giggle, looking down at him shyly and wiggling your eyebrows. He laughs and nods, standing. “Wait. Strip for me, give me a little show,” you tell him with a smile. “You told me everything you think about me. It’s my turn.” He almost looks shy, a rare look on the man. “Well, it’s nothing impressive,” he chuckles, looking down at the ground. “I’m sure I’ll love it,” you nod, smiling sweetly at him. “Come on, please, Maxie.” That nickname drives him wild, increases the tenting in his pants. “Well, alright,” he chuckles, shaking his head and pulling his polo over his head. He’s not incredibly well sculpted, but it’s easy to tell he’s strong. He does have a little tummy, but it’s endearing. He pushes down his pants and steps out of them, and you raise an eyebrow at the outline of his hardened cock in his briefs. It’s large, you can clearly see, a little damp spot where his precum has leaked. “You are so fucking hot, Max,” you tell him, adoration in your voice. He smiles softly at that, raising an eyebrow and chuckling. “It’s much appreciated, my dear,” he shakes his head and smiles. You grab a condom from your nightstand and toss it to him. He sheds his boxers and dear Lord, you are going to be destroyed in the morning. He’s slightly above average in length, but he’s thick as can be and you lick your lips in anticipation. He catches a glimpse of your look and smirks a little to himself. He rolls the condom on, tossing the wrapper on his discarded clothes. You scoot back to be slightly propped up against the headboard and Max climbs over you, kissing you slowly and deeply. He’s a wonderful kisser, you’ve known that, but he’s even better when he’s consumed by the lust deep inside of him. Your hands cup his face as you open your mouth, allowing his tongue in. He breaks away with a soft moan as you reach down to slowly stroke him. “My darling, are you ready?” He asks, your faces close together. “So ready,” you nod in agreement, smiling softly. He smiles back at that and lines himself at your entrance, his eyes slipping shut as he pushes into you. His mouth falls slightly open at the feeling, and you moan back at the sensation. “Oh god, you’re so thick,” you moan, picking your head up and kissing along his neck softly. Everything about you is soft, he notices: your skin, your lips, your lush body, your perfect pussy. He groans at the feeling as he slowly bottoms out, and you match his noises and cry out gently. “Please, Maxie,” you moan softly, your lips pressing gentle kisses behind his ear. He nods and pulls out just as slowly, almost all the way before he pushes back in. He isn’t gentle, but he takes his time, moving painfully slowly. “You feel so good, so so good,” you whimper, flicking your tongue across the shell of his ear. Maxwell lets out a genuine moan, his hips speeding up ever so slightly. One of his hands moves to trace circles into your clit with two fingers, in time with the thrusts he pushes into you. It feels perfect, the man’s strength evident in how he thrusts. “I love your body, my dear,” he mumbles as he pushes in and out of you. “You are so beautiful. Not a single flaw on the entire thing. So tight around me, so soft,” he shudders as you unintentionally clench around him. “So tight,” he nearly hisses, his fingers working harder into your clit. “You make me feel so good,” you nod frantically as his head drops to kiss along the curve of your neck. “You’re so strong, so good at this- fuck, so good,” you moan as he hits your g-spot perfectly in time with his fingers. “Ah, right there, hm?” He chuckles breathlessly, thrusting at just the same angle and earning a strangled cry from you. “Right- there-,” he grunts with harder and harder thrusts, pushing harder and harder against that perfect spot. “Maxie, please,” you cry now, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. “I’m gonna- fuck, I want you to come with me. Want you to feel what I feel,” you whine, frantically grabbing at his back. “I’m close too, my love,” he murmurs, thrusting harder. “Come on, cum with me,” he nods. His words are all you need, his tone triggering the release as your walls flutter around him. The sensation causes him to let go too, finally feeling the perfection of his orgasm. He keeps thrusting against the spot he knows makes you weak, shuddering as he feels you gushing around him. Once you’ve both finished, he slows down and sighs, pulling out of you and lying next to you in your bed. He’s flushed and sweating, and he looks absolutely perfect. “Maxie,” you coo, resting your head on his chest and pressing a kiss to his warm skin. “That was… fantastic,” you admit, already missing the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you out. Max smiles, eyes fluttering shut. “You, my dear, felt absolutely amazing,” he chuckles softly, wrapping an arm around you, the other going under his head. He presses a kiss to your hair, smiling softly. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet. I told you I was going to prove to you just how sexy I think you are, and we’re going through with it.” You laugh a little, noticing how tired he already seems. “Okay, old man,” you tease, and he swats your ass lightly. “Watch your words,” he laughs, kneading at the skin he just smacked. “I might have to get mean with you,” he half-teases, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you. “I wouldn’t mind being absolutely destroyed tonight,” you smile innocently, scrunching your nose and bringing your face close to his. “Daddy,” you say flirtatiously, wiggling your eyebrows. Max’s smirk grows even wider. “Oh no, now you’re asking for it,” he chuckles, giving your ass another little slap and smiling at your reaction. “Careful, my dear,” he murmurs before bringing your face to his to kiss him deeply. He’s already deeply aroused again, you can tell from the way he’s kissing you, and you giggle as you break away. “Mm, there’s your usual self,” he says with a grin and rubs your lower back. “I’m glad to see it. I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into you more often,” he winks, laughing at the fake gasp you give. “You asked me if you thought I was sexy, I gave you my answer,” he says defensively, smiling still. “Even in those Winnie the Pooh pajamas, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, darling,” he tells you earnestly before pressing one more kiss to your lips.

[cartoonemotion]

you should talk abt the thing w gyro and boyd and lugnut on main some more i am saying this completely objectively i prommy

well long as you prommy youre asking this in a normal way where youre not emotionally compromised i dont see why not

so boyd confuses lugnut a great deal. not that hes met any other robots or even knew there were others besides himself out there really before encountering boyd and ig giz but he doesnt get boyd at all. like why would somebody go and build a little boy when little children already exist ??? it just doesnt seem logical to him. he is hopeless lost with the whole thing and honestly it seems very strange and unsual to him

gyro ""going along with it"" and treating boyd like his son also weirdly fills lugnut with a confusing sense of dread (that he doesnt actually feel because he is an emotionless machine💖 hope this helps), partially because lugnut is wary of Scientist Types (he still thinks giz is also a robot here) to begin with, and gyro has especially earned his suspicion bc i mean. fenton having to deal with a clearly sentient robot with some kind of programming issue giving him trouble ?? probably didnt take much for gyro to get involved and considering lugnut is still out there, doing villain things, it did NOT go well

so in his mind he figures boyd must be broken or something bc its the only way he can conceptualize all this ( <- problems problems problems p) and also this is going under the cut bc it got Long

anyhoo everyone is just IGNORING this and keeping boyd from whatever his original function is supposed to be !!!! the worst thing he can imagine also he is not projecting again hes an emotionless machine we've been over this this is clearly all from an objective understanding of things. and its not his business to speculate on these things or interfere but seeing as he is also an automaton theres probably some kind of obligation on his end to fix this himself. obviously. no sense getting around it

so his plan is to reset boyd + wipe his memory and hopefully that should get him back to his "default" and make everything right, and that should also be easy enough to do because hes a robot he understands how being a robot works except one not really he does not and two lugnut and boyd operate on two VERY different systems bc lugnut's is all archaic. and insane. so it fails (which is yknow overall good for boyd he didnt get mindwiped basically) but it does make boyd all wonky bc its a failed reset obviously and lugnut's immediately full of regret like ohhhhhhh this unit has fucked up. diagnosis of situation: Bad. bad bad bad bad bad . so he tries to plop boyd back down on gyro's doorstep and also try to say sorry for you know breaking his kid hes like 90% sure none of his directives involve doing that (also the fact that boyd behaving all wacked out is reminding him a little too much of his own condition OOPS that does not feel good .)

understandably as you can imagine gyro freaks the hell out like one thats his son also boyd's had enough messing with his programming to last for Forever also thats his SON !! so lugnut escapes his lethal combination nerd + parent rage and gyro does get boyd fixed up eventually but still a scary scenario for boyd to go through ! my g0d ! probably especially bc like since this is boyd we're talking about here i imagine he'd have a lot of sympathy for lugnut and relate to him a lot and also kind of want to help him ? like hey you can choose not to be a killer robot. i promise there are options.. and then you know it doesnt pan out well :v[ to say in the least

anyways the whole thing has lugnut doubling down even harder on his self destructive and like 9/10 times Regular Destructive quest to find his original directives and super give up on having any hope that he can learn how to be a person bc he just made a choice all on his own with his own extrapolated logic no orders no nothing and it went. so bad. clearly he should just never make a decision ever again bc he can only make Bad Ones. he should let other people make his decisions for him forever and ever so he never has to undergo anything like that ever again. this is normal. he is definitely not spiraling (sarcastic) (but things get worse before they get better so its okay)

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Memory

Summary: Somethings wrong, you just aren’t sure what until it’s too late. 

Genre: Angst

Warning: Implied Torture 

Word Count: 2,278

* * * * * *

Your feet slide across the hardwood floors of the compounds common room. You reach out and use the wall to spin yourself around the corner. A broad smile on your lips at the sight of the Quinjet landing through the windows.

The rest of your team watches your excitement with amused smiles. 

They’d been expecting you to react this way. It’s not often that you and Natasha are apart for months at a time like this. 

The second you see her red hair flowing down her shoulders as she rounds the corner, you’re running over.

“Natty!” 

Green eyes widen when your body collides with hers. Your arms wound around her neck as you hug her close and it takes her a moment to hug back. One arm wrapping around your back.

Pulling away, you expect your face to be littered with kisses but she simply smiles and steps away.

“Hi.” She says, hand on your upper arm and sliding away as she moves over to everyone. 

Hi? That’s it?

You frown and grab her hand, tugging a little until she turns to face you,“ is everything alright? Did something happen on your mission?” 

Her head tilts in that adorable way you love and she smiles again,“ everything’s fine.” And then she’s walking away again.

You watch closely as she interacts with the team just as she always does. For the most part she does in fact seem fine. She doesn’t miss a beat in her playful and witty banter with everyone else.

Which just leads you to believe that her problem lies with you. 

Since when does she not kiss you after a mission? And one that lasted four months? Natasha would’ve ignored the entire team just to drag you back to your room and make up for lost time. 

Your thought is further supported throughout the following weeks. 

Natasha doesn’t sleep in your room with you like usual, she doesn’t kiss you when she sees you in the kitchen in the morning, she doesn’t fall into your lap during movie night, and you rarely see her in the compound during the day.

But Tony tells you he sees her all the time in the communications hub, in the med bay, and even once or twice in his lab. Steve and Bucky spend their usual mornings in the gym with her and she even has tea with Wanda at noon. 

She’s handling whatever issues the two of you have passively. When she sees you she smiles and speaks but makes a point to not touch you, and the few times she does it’s just a hand on your shoulder or your arm.

You’d finally had enough one day and went to find her. It was night and you expected her to be in her room, instead you find her in the commons, eyes watching outside the window intently.

“Natasha,” you speak softly, grabbing her attention as you sit beside her on the couch, making sure there’s a bit of distance between you two just in case she didn’t want to touch you.

“Hey Y/n, what’s up?” She smiles.

“Um, I was actually hoping we could talk,” her brows furrow,“ I’m not sure wh-”

“Sup ladies, you joining us tonight?” Sam suddenly walks in, bowl of popcorn in one hand and drink in the other. 

You frown immediately.

“Joining you for what?” Natasha asks, and you figure it’s her way of avoiding talking to you. 

Your frown deepens when Bucky, Steve, and Tony enter as well.

“Me and Stark have been introducing Game of Thrones to the fossils here.” Sam nods his head to the super soldiers.

Right, it’s Wednesday. The only day the two soldiers set aside to catch up with the rest of the world. You’d forgotten.

“Actually we’re gonna skip this time. Me and Nat were-” 

Suddenly the room is plunged into darkness. An instant wave of confusion washes over every member of the team. 

Instinctively your hand reaches beside you, only to come up empty. She wasn’t that far away.

“Tasha?” You frown, squinting to find her.

Steve’s authoritative voice rings out, seemingly louder in the dark,“ Stark, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” his face is barely lit up by the phone he pulls out. Blue tinting the frown on his eyebrows,“ the back up generator is down.”

“Well get it ba-”

Steve’s command is cut short by the sound of shattering glass.

The moonlight just barely shines into the room and gives way to the small canisters on the floor by the broken window. But it’s still too dark for anyone to see the gas pouring from them, the only sign being quiet hiss.

Still there’s no time to stop it and no way to know how with your lack of sight.

As the foreign substance fills your lungs with each breath, your head gets foggy, your limbs growing heavier, and you find it hard to speak. 

Thuds sound around you and you pick up on the panicked, drowsy voices of Steve and Bucky. Their enhanced abilities no doubt fighting this off better than everyone else.

Bright lights flicker through the room and you barely recognize them as flashlights. 

Just before everything fades to black, a light flashes above you, and you see Natasha standing over you. 

“I want this one.” She speaks, green eyes full of malice.

* * * * * *

When you come to again, it’s because of the volts of electricity coursing over and through your body. You shake in your seated position until it wears off. 

Exhaustively, you look around, eyes adjusting to the light and taking in your surroundings. 

The place is unfamiliar. But the person in front of you is.

“Natasha?” A stint of joy passes through you, until you remember what you’d seen before passing out.

You start to put two and two together. 

The HYDRA symbol on the walls. Natasha’s odd behavior lately. Her last mission being in Siberia to take down the last H.Y.D.R.A base. She’d come back okay for the most part and you assumed it was a success.

It was but for them. They got to her. What they’d done, you aren’t sure. But it’s clear she isn’t all there. 

Before you can say anything though an instant searing pain shoots through you. Through jerks of your body, you see Natasha’s hand raised, another widow’s bit missing from her wrist. 

“Please,” you breathe, feeling the effects of the electricity,“ Natasha, don’t.” 

She trades the widow’s bites for a knife. Pulling it from her utility belt.

Taking deliberately dangerous steps towards you until she’s at your side. 

The heart inside you that completely belongs to her, breaks as she holds the knife to your cheek. 

Maliciousness still sits in her eyes and it hurts you more than whatever she has planned for you physically. It’s so far off from the love that had been there. She use to look at you like you were her entire universe, now she stares through you like you’re- a mission.

As she wreaks havoc on your body, you try to dissociate. Natasha would never. This isn’t your Natasha. This is H.Y.D.R.A’s sick joke manifested through the woman you love. 

It drags on for hours until you’re only held up by the restraints of the chair. 

A proud smirk plays on Natasha’s face as she takes in the damage she’s done to you. And she’s ready to continue but becomes frozen in place as her eyes catch the shimmer that comes from your neck. Light bounces off the jewelry on your neck, the slightest red tinted glimmer flashing her eyes.

H.Y.R.D.A made a mistake. 

In their brainwashing they’d wiped away the memories of recent months. The last ten months to be exact. Which just so happens to encompass the entirety of your romantic relationship with her. 

You’d been friends for years so those memories lasted and when they told her to “act natural” she knew to continue being close to you. But she just couldn’t remember that your relationship was more intimate than that.

The mistake lies in remembering. 

Remembering that she loves you beyond friendship serves as a trigger. 

Seeing the black diamond and ruby ring hanging around your neck pulls those memories to the surface.

Images flicker through that part of her mind that felt foggy. Moments spent alone with you. Your hands on her. Your admissions of love. Her admissions of love. Spoken and unspoken promises.

Your eyes barely open, head hanging low, but you notice the break. You look up exhaustedly to see her staring at you, a deep frown on her brows.

“T-” it’s a struggle to find the energy to speak,“ Tash pl- please.” 

Hearing your broken voice tugs at feelings she forgot were there and the fog lifts. 

When her reality sets in she feels her heart shatter. Her recovering mind starts to understand what she’s done and the weight of her actions forces her to her knees.

You see this and the hope that had slipped away hours ago returns.“ Tasha,” her broken green eyes meet yours and despite the pain you’re feeling, you have to assure her,“ it’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Perhaps it’s the strength in your words even though your weak, or the confidence you seem to have in her even though she’s done this to you. Whatever hits her first drives her to action.

She quickly unties you from the chair and catches you before your body can slump to the floor. 

Mentally, she’s cursing herself. A self-hatred stronger than ever blossoms within her. 

She hurt you. She broke you physically, emotionally, and there is for sure to be mental damage. The one person in this world that had loved her and proved to her that she was worth loving, she’d hurt. 

The fact that you still haven’t given up on her despite it all makes the hate grow. 

You’re too in and out to pay attention to how you get out. Natasha had fought a handful of people, there were flashing lights, did you hear gunshots? 

Either way you get out. And the second you’re eased into a chair, you’re out. 

Just like before, you’re dazed and confused when you come to. Except this time the lights are brighter. There are no HYDRA symbols around and you do in fact recognize where you are.

The med bay at the compound. 

Your heart beats in time with the beeps of the machine beside you. Despite the chill on majority of your body, your hand is encompassed with warmth. Once you realize who it’s coming from, that warmth spreads over you. 

Despite how tired you feel and how it seems to take more energy than you have to move, you lift the red head’s hand up to your mouth, and press a kiss to the back of it. 

This stirs her awake and when she looks at you, her green eyes tell the story of how exhausted this had all made her as well. But she pulls a small smile and you swear that heals the internal wounds you suffered from.

“I’m sorry.” She chokes out, seconds after her eyes have scanned your body.

You’re quick to wipe away the tears that pour from her eyes,“ it’s okay.”

Natasha sits up, pulling her hand from yours.“ You should hate me, you should be telling me you never want to see me again.”

“I love you. I’m in love with Natalia Romanova. I know who you are and that wasn’t you. We both know that wasn’t you. HYDRA-”

“It doesn’t matter what HYDRA did because I’m the one who hurt you. I electrocuted you Y/n! I cut and beat you.” 

She’s telling you as if you’d forgotten. As if you can’t still feel the pain like it’s still happening. 

You look down,“ what made you stop?” 

Her anger slips away just a little,“ the ring.”

A smile instantly hits your lips and you gently pick up said ring. 

You remember when she gave it to you. She was scared you would think she was moving too fast and she was scared that what you had would indeed last forever. She asked you to wear it around your neck until you both were ready for you to wear it on your finger. It was a promise that the day would come.

“You stopped because you remembered that you love me.” You clarify.“ I knew something was off when you came back from your mission. You just smiled at me instead of kissing me like usual. HYDRA did more than brainwash you, didn’t they?” 

She twiddles her fingers in her lap and nods,“ they took the memories I had of dating you. I remembered everything but that. I knew we were friends, I knew the team was more than my team. Just not that you were my girlfriend.” 

“But it’s all back now?” 

“Mostly. I can still feel like I’m missing things, like there are holes in the past, but it’s coming back. I’m assuming since I wasn’t. . .gone too long, it’s coming back faster.”

Silence falls over you both for a moment. No doubt time used to process all that’s went down. It’ll take longer to do so completely, and more than just silence, but it’s what you have for now. And you have each other, which you believe is going to be the key to repairing what’s been broken in you both but mainly Natasha.

“Hey,” you nod to her and grab her hand,“ it’s clear you don’t think everything will be okay but it will. I’m not leaving you Natasha, I’m right here until you don’t need me to be.”

Green eyes snap up to yours at your words. Mainly that last statement.“ I’ll always need you Y/n.”

* * * * * *

[kashimos-hajime]

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries. 

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker​ and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky​ with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too. 

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

.

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever? 

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas! 

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

.

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

.

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

[amwritingmeta]

15x19: A First Ending

This was a good episode! Oh, I know, I know - we didn’t get Cas back. But oh, boy, that should mean that Misha shot for five of eight days for 15x20 and that makes me want to rub my hands together with the hope of what that might mean. All the good things!

Oh, don’t hang your hopes on mine btw. I had very high hopes that we’d get Cas back, or very strongly established as coming back (as per 13x04) with a final scene of him waking up in the Empty or something like it, and that didn’t happen, but omg I’m so glad they didn’t.

When Jack started praying and reaching out to Cas my heart almost stopped. 

If Dean doesn’t instigate Cas’ return, then oh it would take away too much!

But then Jack’s moment didn’t lead to anything, and now, the more I think about it, there more it feels like a plant. A reminder of how he prayed to Cas the last time, and woke him. We shall see, eh?

And then we got Dean telling Chuck to bring Cas back, which was a pivotal plant as well. I’d been worried if they hadn’t mentioned Cas more than once, with Dean telling Jack and Sam that Cas sacrificed himself to save him, yeah? 

If there had been no more Cas for the entire episode then, narratively speaking, I would have started wondering what role Cas might actually play in 15x20.

But Cas was mentioned more than once. We even got to hear his voice and have that fake return to stir our... I almost wrote loins, but that’s not appropriate so let’s change it to stir our... martinis. 

Ah yes. We could all use a drink, I’m sure.

The dog as well! Dean was so happy and he carried the dog and petted the dog and put it in Cas’ spot in the backseat and was all, yes, emotional substitute! And then... poof. Because it’s not going to be that easy to replace Cas. *fingers crossed*

Here’s mostly why I’m hopeful for something quite different as the actual finale of the show, the proper wrapping up of these character journeys:

This first ending is for those who have followed the show explicitly to watch these two brothers. (yes there’s a word for them but let’s not)

It ends exactly how these viewers -- and quite possibly the writers who wrote it -- always saw the show ending. It gives an emotionally satisfying wrapping up of all the thematic threads of the show and gives the brothers their hard-won freedom, and keeps the brothers riding in Baby, together, indefinitely. 

And these viewers and fans will always be able to stop watching the show there and keep that as their perfect ending.

Except it’s not the ending-ending. Is it?

This episode neatly and gorgeously wrapped up the Michael/Lucifer/Chuck storyline. It wiped the slate completely clean. Especially with Michael killing Lucifer and Chuck killing Michael. These characters just completely annihilating  each other because they’ve all served their purpose.

And Chuck being drained of his powers and ending up ignored, never to be worshipped again, or even remembered, is such a fitting ending for him! And with Dean refusing to kill him, leaving him to his fate, I’d call that Dean integrating his Shadow.

No more fearing it. It’s powerless. Thanks to Jack (Dean’s inner child) who now holds all the power in the universe.

I’d say Dean Winchester has reached a point of internal balance.

And for all of these good things: Chuck powerless, Jack the New God, surely helping to fix what Cas broke by restoring Heaven (I’m assuming Heaven will be repopulated or that God’s grace will level it out) and Jack stepping into shoes that Cas once tried to fill and failed to, to the detriment to so many of his kin, is simply stunning.

I cried, properly, at Jack’s speech. It was beautiful.

But for all these good things and wrappings up of stuff, didn’t the ending feel kind of superficial? Like stuff was missing in those final five minutes or so? Like... I don’t know... Sam mentioning Eileen maybe? Because surely she was brought back along with everyone else, and one episode ago he was losing his mind over the loss of her.

And they didn’t even mention Cas. Jack mentioned Castiel as a good influence, but Cas was just bunched in with “everyone we’ve lost along the way”.

Meh.

Hey, it’s fine if all you care about is Dean and Sam and you think that they’re at their happiest when they get to drive along a road in Baby, listening to tunes and play-fighting and reminiscing about all those people that have come and gone, while they know they’ll always remain the same.

I mean, if we hadn’t gotten that montage at the end of this episode (a fucking MONTAGE ppl) I would’ve started thinking that maybe Misha was coming back to shoot flashbacks for 15x20, as we got to see the brothers remembering Cas (like with Mary), taking a walk down memory lane and driving around to well-known locales for a final hurrah.

But we got that fucking montage, ppl.

Leaving me to feel that they probably won’t also spend forty minutes rememberembering those same people. You know?

Also, dull. And Dabb is anything but dull. And Dabb loves pulling on stuff he’s hinted at in the first ep of the season. 

And I remember reacting to Sam being the one to escort the kid and her mother into the, what was it? The high school, right? For safety.

While Dean and Cas had that tense exchange by Baby, where Dean couldn’t not ask if Cas was okay and Cas saying, hopefully, that he was, but Dean remaining stone faced and distant. “Awkward” is what Belphegor called it.

Oh. Please let there be awkwardness in 15x20. I beg on bent knees. Beg, I say!

Anyway.

What is 15x20 going to be about if it isn’t about finally answering the question of what will make the brothers happy?

A balanced universe, of course! But freedom without love... sounds kind of lonely to me. 

So, have they answered the question of What do I want? yet? Is this what they want for themselves? More of the same? This season has hinted that it isn’t. It’s hinted very strongly that it isn’t.

So, I’m holding my breath that Dean’s final confrontation is to do with happiness and daring to want it for himself. Daring to admit to wanting it for himself. Daring to go after it... 

Cas does not belong in the Empty.

And hope that it’s telling how Jack didn’t even think to get Cas out of there and bring him home. God got Lucifer out of the Empty so Jack definitely has the power. 

And Dean didn’t ask him to get Cas out of there, not because he doesn’t still want Cas out, but because it would ruin the first ending for the people who want Cas to stay dead. Yeah? 

It’s kind of beautifully done, to my mind, as a nod and a thank you to the people who have supported one reading of the show. It’ll be difficult for them to go apeshit when Dabb and the writers can simply tell them they don’t have to watch further than 15x19 and be content that they’ve got an ending that lets them cling to the brothers as the begin all, end all.

And yes, I remain believing we will get Dean and Cas together-together before the end of the show. I have no clue how much of a together-together we’ll get, but for the show not to give us a clear understanding of how Dean loves Cas back is unthinkable at this point, and will stay unthinkable until the show tells me otherwise, because nothing but those two together makes even a lick of sense to me.

Dean’s feelings were in the subtext this episode because that’s where they always have been and hopefully fingers crossed because this ending wasn’t for us, it was for other sides of fandom, giving them room for denial, if they simply don’t want to see that what Dean wants is Cas back.

Our ending isn’t happening until next week.

Dean: It’s a helluva time to bail. There’s a lot of people counting on you. People with questions—they’re gonna need answers. Jack: The answers will be in each of them. Maybe not today, but someday.

For me this may be setting up for 15x20.

Dean could be said to be accepting the reality of Cas being gone this episode. He starts off not telling the whole truth about what happened with Cas (of course), he’s drinking himself stupid, he tries to demand of Chuck to bring Cas back, he finds that emotional crutch in the doggo and he moves into acceptance because what else can he do?

Especially if he’s still reeling and is struggling with his fear of happiness, with not feeling deserving, with it being easier to simply let it all go.

But.

Letting go of the need is healthy, allowing it to make way for the real want that is about choosing Cas, not because he feels lost without him, but because Cas completes him...

That would be something. 

(oh shush let’s get with the romance) (Jerry always brings it)

The brothers love each other, but throughout this narrative there’s been hints that they both long for more. So much more. It would be so weird if it didn’t all wrap up with more being wanted and chosen and offered and had.

So if the answers are to be “in each of them -- someday”, then maybe Dean just needs to reach a moment where he’s ready to admit to himself that he can’t stand the fact that Cas died not knowing that Dean loves him back.

I wonder if Sam will push for this admittance... I’d like to witness that conversation, that’s for sure.

And Eileen. I hope she’s back sooner rather than later next episode!!

What’s next episode going to be about if it’s not about the breaking of old patterns to make way for new ones...? Are we going to follow the boys around as they do laundry and cook and make a few tentative plans for their unknown future? They won’t be hunting much in 15x20, at least if Dabb is anything to go by. I guess there might be something brief as a final The Boys With Their Weapons Doing Their Thing, but... it won’t be a case episode. And it would’ve been strange if it was, you know?

So then. Hope. One more week breathing eating sleeping on hopes and wishes and we shall simply have to wait and see what we get.

I have every faith it will blow us away, but I’m also sitting pretty. Reining in those horses lest they run away with me. And whatever comes our way, I’m so grateful for this show!

[sinsforjeon]

Possessive|3|

[HELLO LOVELIES💕 I PROMISED A PART THREE AND HERE IT IS-PROBABLY LONG OVERDUE BUT PLS FORGIVE MEEE:D I HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR IT ALSO YOUR FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED I LOVE HEARING YOUR OPINIONS OK ENJOY ILY🤩💕]

(!!! tw this contains themes similar to emotional abuse and a dysfunctional relationship so if you’re triggered by that then please don’t read this!!! stay safe💕)

Pregnant? No. You couldn’t be, there was no way.

Jungkook was laying next to you, his hand mindlessly skimming against the soft skin of your stomach.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t be pregnant.”

It was dead silent after that but not for long, maybe a few seconds. He laughed loudly before leaning down to press a loving kiss against your tummy.

“Did you hear that, little one? Your mommy is being silly!”

“Kook-“

“She thinks you don’t exist!”

You were rendered speechless from his actions. You knew you couldn’t be pregnant because you were taking birth control pills.

“But kookie, I take birth control pills, remember?”

He simply chuckled before he looked up at you. You couldn’t tell what was going on through his mind but then again he was never one to show any emotions.

“Birth control pills? You mean the ones that I’ve swapped out for sugar pills for the last two months?”

It felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. As if someone had poured an ice cold bucket of water over your head.

“W-What?”

“You heard me. We are having a baby.”

You let out a broken sob as reality finally began to set in. You were having a baby. You were having Jungkook’s baby.

“Oh baby, no don’t cry! Is my princess really that happy?”

Jungkook cooed as he brought you into his embrace, your face nuzzling his neck as he ran a hand through your hair and left soft kisses against your forehead.

To any outsiders you probably looked like a loving couple, one that was about to have the perfect little family they always dreamed of, but you were far from it.

You sobbed, shaking your head as an endless string of ‘nos’ fell from your lips. Jungkook rocked the both of you back and forth in hopes that it would calm you down but it seemed to make it worse.

“No? What’s wrong baby, hm? Tell kookie so he can fix it, angel.”

“I can’t- I don’t want a baby, Jungkook! I don’t want your b-baby!”

Jungkook took in a sharp breath at your words before he pulled back, his hands on your shoulders as he held you at an arm length distance. He looked at you as if you had stabbed him in his heart.

“You- You don’t want my baby?”

“T-That’s not what I meant!”

“Well what the fuck did you mean then?!”

This was falling apart very quickly and you had no idea how to take control of the situation. Jungkook was already seething and he wouldn’t give up until he had the final word.

You gulped as you got up from the bed, hiccups slowly crawled up your throat but you forced them down as you hastily wiped your tears.

You took a deep breath before you turned back to him. The panic you had felt earlier was slowly simmering down but it was the opposite for the man across you.

“Kookie- I didn’t mean like that! You know I love you, right?”

“You don’t want my baby? You-“

He let out a humorless laugh as he ran a hand through his hair before harshly tugging on the roots of his hair out of frustration.

“You don’t want my baby- you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Listen-“

“No! You listen to me! I’ve had enough of your fucking outbursts, do I have to make every decision for you? Cause you clearly can’t make up your fucking mind!”

God you had messed up, he was mad but even that was an understatement. Jungkook was fuming. His breathing had started to get erratic so you slowly made your way to him in hopes to help him calm down.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Y/N-“

“Jungkook, baby? Please calm d-down for me, yeah?”

“Y/N, so help me god if you lay your hand on me I’ll do something I’ll regret.”

You gulped, hesitating but still walked towards him. You placed your hands above where his heart was, his heartbeat was fast and so you did the one thing you knew would calm him down. You cried.

Jungkook liked it when you cried, it showed him that he was in control, that you were dependent on him. It worked, your quiet whimpers brought him out of his reverie. He sighed, frustration still clear in his eyes but he brought you into his arms regardless.

“I-I do want your babies, Kookie, was just scared-“

“Shh, baby, don’t cry, hm? It’s ok my love, no more tears.”

You hiccuped, more tears making their way down your face but you were crying for a completely different reason. You had shown weakness again, you had submitted to Jeon Jungkook once again.

You felt the first sign of your pregnancy a week later when you woke up with a strong urge to throw up. You bolted up from the bed as you quickly ran to the bathroom, waking Jungkook up in your frenzy before you fell on your knees in front of the toilet and emptied your stomach contents into the ceramic bowl.

Jungkook hurried after you as he kneeled down beside you in concern. He cooed quietly when he realized what was going on, he held your hair back with one hand as the other rubbed soothing circles on your back.

You whined quietly from the ache that now sat in your throat, the bitter taste in your mouth didn’t help either. Your peace didn’t last long before you lurched forward once again, gagging into the bowl.

Jungkook stayed by your side through it all, he then helped you to brush your teeth before he led you back to bed again. He held you close in his arms, one hand protectively around your stomach and the other in your hair.

“Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?”

“Why are y-“

“If it’s a girl, then I hope she turns out to be exactly like you.”

You let out a forced chuckle as you looked down at the hand around your stomach. You weren’t ready, you weren’t emotionally ready to be a mother and Jungkook was definitely not ready to be a father.

How could you tell him that though? How could you tell him that you didn’t want a baby, not now at least. He would flip, but you had to take a chance.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want a baby.”

He let out a snort before he placed a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t know what it meant but you didn’t question it. He was quiet as if he was contemplating his next words.

“It’s ok.”

“It is?”

“Mhm, I heard first time mothers always get cold feet but I know you don’t really mean it and don’t worry baby, Kookie will take care of everything, yes?”

This was not going anywhere, you were going in circles and it was endless. You fight, you cry, you ‘make up’ and it begins again. You knew that you were going to have his baby whether you liked it or not.

“Just make sure you take care of yourself so that our little peanut is healthy.”

“Yeah... I’ll do that.”

You were tied down from here on out, trapped with a baby. Jungkook’s baby. You could only hope that the new responsibility would change him for the better, for your sake but most importantly for the sake of your child.

You laid there until he fell asleep, silent tears trailed down your face. This wasn’t how you had envisioned life to be like. You always thought you’d be happy like all the princesses in those Disney movies, you’d be the princess and you’d always find your Prince charming and you did in a way but he was not what you had expected.

He was controlling, short tempered but then again he was loving so why did you feel so weighed down? Why did you feel unhappy?

You were a good person, weren’t you? So why had life been so cruel to you? Why didn’t you get the happy life that you deserved, the one all your friends had.

These questions ran through your head until you found yourself getting sleepy and so you slept, you slept in the arms of the love of your life and the father of your child but one thought stayed in your mind even throughout your dreams.

What did you ever do to deserve this life?

For the next few months Jungkook was nothing but pleasant. You no longer fought and you barely found yourself crying. It actually felt like you were a normal couple.

You were nearly due to give birth and the nerves had started to set in. You knew your water could break any day now and you found yourself always on edge even though Jungkook reassured you time and time again.l that everything would go as planned.

The new demeanor from your boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed, you were confused at first but eventually you found yourself getting used to his gentle words and touches.

It began the day when you both found out the gender of your baby. You were having a baby boy, Jungkook had been so happy that he began crying. You had never seen him cry before and you had no idea what to do but to bring him into your arms.

From then on he would tend to your every want and need, always rubbing your feet, getting you whatever food you craved for the day or night and would stay by your side 24/7, occasionally conversing with his unborn son. The sight was wholesome, seeing him smile wide was rare but when your boy kicked at the sound of his voice his whole face lit up.

It was perfect. He was perfect but of course good things don’t last forever, not for you at least. Jungkook worked from home, always had but on this particular day he had to attend business somewhere else.

The news didn’t sit well with you. You were so used to having him around you that him leaving for over an hour was enough to send you into a panicky state, especially now, you needed him more than ever because the baby was almost here.

“D-Do you have to go?”

“Y/N... yes! Yes I have to go, how many times do I need to tell you this?”

You whimpered quietly at the tone of his voice, it had been so long since he got angry at you and you didn’t want it to begin anytime soon.

“Kookie, don’t leave please! I need you here with me.”

“Fucks sake, Y/N, do you even hear yourself? You’re making it sound like I’m going to war! It’s just a couple of hours, angel, I’ll be back.”

His words somehow set you off, he was talking down to you and it made you feel stupid but more than anything it made you angry. Maybe you were being unreasonable but rightfully so. He was going to leave you in a house that was basically in the middle of nowhere when you could pop out a baby at any given moment.

“But-But what if the baby comes and you aren’t here?! Then what am I-“

“God! You are pissing me off, Y/N, I’m already stressed enough as it is don’t add anymore fucking baggage to my problems.”

This was the Jungkook you knew, one that had been locked far away for a very long time, maybe too long and maybe that’s why he was being so harsh. You let out a shocked chuckle at his words.

“Really? I’m adding on to your problems? I told you! I fucking told you that we weren’t ready for this but no! Kookie always knows best right? I should’ve known you weren’t ready to be a father-“

Your words seem to set him off even further, you were adding fuel to a burning fire and it was bound to end in flames. He slowly walked towards you, a frown etched on his face as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re making me angry, Y/N. Do not-“ He gulped before taking a deep breath to center himself. “Do not make me angry, not today.”

“Oh fuck you, Jeon Jungkook! I’m the one who is carrying a human that YOU put in me so I’ll make you angry all I want. I swear to god if you walk out of that door, you will come back to an empty house.”

Jungkook growled at your words, his hand quickly going around your neck, it was loose but it scared you half to death. Maybe you had pushed him too far this time, so far that he had forgotten that you were carrying his baby.

“Now you better listen to me, little girl because I’m only going to say this once and I won’t repeat myself, am I clear?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. First of all, don’t you ever, ever raise your fucking voice at me again, secondly do not even think about setting foot out of this house, not with my son because I will haunt you and when I do find you, you’ll wish you were never born and finally don’t threaten me, angel, don’t ever make that mistake again because you never threaten Jeon Jungkook and get away with it.”

You gulped, nodding quickly before he pulled his hand away from you just as quickly as he had wrapped it around your neck. Jungkook took another deep breath before cradling your face in his hands.

He wiped the tears that had leaked down your face, you had been crying? You were so scared that you didn’t realize and even now the feeling of his hands on your face made your heart beat fast with fear.

“I’m going to go now, ok? And you will lock the door after me, don’t try anything stupid because it won’t end well. Don’t make me make you cry again, angel.”

He left but not without a soft kiss on your forehead. He grabbed his car keys and phone before he made his way out of the house. And just like that you were left alone.

You let out a breath of relief as you finally locked the door. It was silent, something that you weren’t used to because Jungkook would always find something to talk about for hours on end.

It was silent, until it wasn’t anymore. You felt it first but you refused to believe it but then you heard it. Had it been a different scenario you would assume that you had peed on yourself but it wasn’t, this was reality.

Your water broke.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Steve Rogers - Promise

A/N - So, this is my first marvel imagine? I haven’t watched all the films yet, I’m halfway through and watching them all in chronological order, but I couldn’t resist because I love Steve Rogers. So much. Once I’ve finished watching, I'll probably realise a shit tonne of mistakes in this, but please don’t judge. Apologies for any typos and incorrect information. GIF credits to owner.

Warnings - angst, smut so 18+ please; fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do it), borderline ‘captain’ kink, 5k.

Summary - you’re an admin worker in stark tower, an average working girl except for one thing, you have a superior memory, one that has aided you many a time. But when you’re leading Cap on a mission and it gets cut off, is it because of your memory, or are you just letting your crush on Steve cloud any reasonable thinking?

YOU LOVE YOUR JOB, there’s no denying it. You’re young, a Brit in America, just working to help with your future, but after how well it’s been going recently? You don’t think you’ll want to leave. 

You’re an admin at Stark Tower. Not that one is really needed with all of Tony’s tech, and the fact that everyone is more than capable of sorting themselves out, it’s just fun to be around. Not only do you complete all the stenography and spreadsheets that don’t necessarily have to do with anyone specific, but you also do many of the more artistic plans and are everyone’s personal therapist. You probably don’t help your own cause - leaving your door propped open with a book to let anyone drift in and out of their own accord at any given time, unless you’re properly working, and then they know to find you in your office. Yes, your very own office.

Recently, with you becoming more and more familiar with the workings of all the residents, growing more knowledgeable of their work lives, picking up the lingo and everyone’s gladness at your perfect, imperturbable memory, you’re slowly being given more tasks. This could be anything from mission reassignment to looking through months old footage, but you’ve been helping out over the system on a couple of missions. You really feel like one of the team even though you know you’re far from it. Sleeping in the tower helps, as well as being welcomed by everyone every meal time that you sit together, especially the way they test your memory trick and always seem completely amazed at how you remember the most obscure details. Anything from the exact positioning of a birth mark on someone that Natasha took down the first week you began working, to the precise measurement of metal that Tony needed to complete a new project, to the freckle on Steve’s bare ass that one time he had to use your shower-

That escalated quickly. 

Currently, you’re in your office, daydreaming and completely wistfully thinking. You have no trouble remembering every conversation you and Steve have ever had, not that many admittedly, but he’s always been so kind to you. He was the first one to truly make you feel part of the team, welcoming you with a hug before holding you at arms length and brushing a crease from the arm of your blouse. You’re not really sure if he’d seen anyone dress that way, since all the girls he was around were always in their kick ass clothes, gym shorts or comfies, so you wandering around day in day out and wearing frilly Victorian-era blouses paired with short, tight pencil skirts and Louboutin stilettos may have been a shock to his system. It wasn’t with any agenda in mind that you did this, merely a mix of modesty and business woman style. Every word Cap has ever said flies through your mind, the impeccable memory of the way his exquisite nylon suit clings to him in all the right places... 

Steve is the only guy you’ve fancied for a while, the only person you’ve ever really gone for emotionally, and all of that is because he’s such a cute human being; so genuine, so upbeat around you, so supportive, and his smile. Goddamn his smile. He’s just too cute for life, which is also why you should really be concentrating, considering you’re supposed to be monitoring his mission. 

“Y/N, are you there? I think somethings happening, someone’s here that we didn’t know about, where do I go?”

His usually soft voice is frantic, and you can tell he’s a little scared, since this was supposed to be a simple solo mission, in and out, but now you’re having to recite an escape route. 

“Turn left at the end of that corridor, half way down there’s a grate on the wall. Pull it off, climb inside.” You tell him as calmly as you can, but even your heart is beating out of your chest, breathing laboured and a slight sweat forming on your forehead. 

“I’m in, sweetheart. What next?” Not the right time for your heart to flutter at his words, especially not the time to imagine the way his raspy morning voice would curl around those very same Few words...

“Follow the route, it’ll bring you out in a downstairs kitchen area that was empty last time I checked, I’ll look again...” you trail off, clicking off the one screen with the dot of his whereabouts to check the surveillance, and he seems to be safe. 

You hear his breathing calm down as he crawls through the ventilation system, but even as you flick through every camera that you’ve been able to access in the building he’s in and the surrounding area, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary apart from a couple of unconscious, probably dead blokes scattered across stone floors.

“I’m in the kitchen, but there’s no doors in here, no way out.” He says. 

Fuck.

Your heart sinks to your feet.

“Yes there is Steve, it’s on the north wall beside a faux, oversized spice rack. It has a silver handle and it’s an oak door, exactly like my bedroom door.”

He pauses, his heart rate thrumming heavily, “sweetheart there’s no door here, there’s no spice rack, just old built in cabinets and flat walls. You must have misremembered.”

“Shut the fuck op Steve, I’m doing what I can,”

Your usual eloquence is out the window along with all of your chill, sounding mildly like a road man as you frantically tap between the screens. He’s right though, his only way out is to climb back in the vent and hope to god, well, or Thor, that no one finds him there, but that may be too late.

“Try the cold tap on the sink, I don’t know exactly what was said but I distinctly remember someone talking about it. Stay calm for me Cap, please.” You want to beg for him to be ok, to come back in one piece, because this isn’t a normal mission, you’re emotionally attached. 

He takes a deep breath and walks over to the tap, but as soon as he touches it, all surveillance is cut off, your computer goes black, and you can’t even hear his breathing anymore. 

“Steve? Cap, come back to me, can you hear me? Steve?” With each call of his name to which he doesn’t respond, you grow more frantic. The lights are still on so you know that it’s not the mains, but you’re not educated with circuits, so you do what you can to reboot your computer, only for it to show up with your bland screen of spreadsheets, sans anything about the mission or Steve.

Your hands start shaking, lip quivering and mind overwhelmed with stress. It’s over, you’ve lost Steve, fucked up the mission, you’ll be out of a job, and the worst part? You broke a promise. 

“Promise you’ll keep me safe out there Y/N?” Steve asked, his cute little smile twinkling in his eyes and making your whole body go giddy.

“I promise, but you have to promise that you’ll come back in one piece.”

“That I can do, for you.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around your body and placing a kiss to your hairline. 

You haven’t been at the compound long enough to know whether this is normal for Steve, or for anyone, or if he’s just a natural flirt. Whatever it is, you feel too guilty to face him again if he even comes back alive. 

Slowly, soft sobs start to escape your lips without you noticing, tears slipping down your cheeks and dampening the neck of your blouse. You can’t help the guilt that overtakes you, the fear that you can’t even reason, and that’s when you hear a soft knock on your door.

“Can I come in?”

It’s Natasha. You nod gently as she takes a seat in the corner of your room, throwing her feet up on your coffee table so nonchalantly that it’s almost not a challenge of authority. 

“What’s up? Didn’t you have to radio for Cap?” Once again you nod, hastily wiping the tears from your face and smoothing your skirt out. “So, why are you crying?”

You like Natasha, of course you do, but you have normal people emotions and a little more conscience, unable to stand the thought of anyone even getting a papercut on your watch. 

“He went off, the computers crashed, and it’s all my fault.” You say, standing up and moving to shut your office door, locking it for safekeeping, because if Bucky finds out then you’re dead. 

Natasha grabs a lollipop from your sweet bowl and sticks it in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s flirting. She’s not, that’s just Natasha. “Care to elaborate?”

You take a sharp breath, “someone was there that we didn’t calculate, I had to get him through the ventilation system to an abandoned kitchen that I KNOW had a door, my memory doesn’t glitch, so in the time it took for Steve to get through the vents, someone must’ve closed off the door, but I’m not sure how. Then he just went when he touched the only possible thing that could be an escape route. Fuck, what if he’s dead?”

You feel tears bubbling up in your eyes again, blinking harshly to keep them away. 

“So what if he is? You’re smart, you’re panicking, so you’ve obviously done everything. It sounds harsh but you can’t get too attached. Just listen out and he’ll come back of his own accord, but if he doesn’t then we’ll have to deal with that later.” She says, grasping a hand around your shoulder before  stepping over the threshold to the main compound, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Maybe she thought tough love would work, but she has a point. You’ve done everything you can, so now it’s just a waiting game.

You keep an ear piece on you but shut your office for the night, heading out to the bar to pour yourself a more than healthy sized glass of wine. You unbutton your shirt a little and slide down the wall to your favourite reading spot, in one far corner, you set up some cushions and bedding. You’re the only one that uses it, but you could swear that you’ve seen Steve eyeing it up before. So you sit, tears streaming down your cheeks and leaving you with mascara-stained tear tracks, the first few buttons of your shirt recklessly undone, and your heels flung elsewhere. You bring the bottle over with your glass, and you pick up a book to keep you distracted. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, guilt slowly building, occasionally calling Steve’s name to check if he’s come back on the system, but there’s nothing. Nothing until the lift doors open, and out walks a very bloody Cap with his suit half on and a skin tight white t-shirt clinging to his upper body.

The tears don’t stop falling from your eyes, but you close your book anyway. You would stand up, run to hug him, but your legs can’t hold you up, so you stay seated, all your words caught in your throat as Steve edges further across the common area towards you. 

He offers you a shy smile, virtually collapsing into the carpet only metres from you. Slowly his head lifts, hair falling into his eyes, and he holds his arms out. 

“Oh god Steve,” it’s him. Really him. You feared he’d be a hologram or something, your eyes deceiving you from their soreness post crying. But he’s here, you can tell from the overly memorised display of veins in his bicep when he offers you his arm. 

“It’s me,” he nods, edging a little further towards you as you crawl closer and settle into his grip. 

Your tears flow freely, dampening his shirt. Neither of you says a word, he just grips you closer to him, cuddling your legs into his lap to soothe you.

After a while, Steve fidgets, and you find your eyes dry. 

You angle your head upwards, your well kept chignon completely haywire. Steve’s face is covered in bruises and dried blood, but his eyes don’t look at all worried. 

“What happened?” You whisper, words vibrating through his chest. 

“The tap was a trick, or maybe I twisted the wrong one, but all the lights went out and I was shocked, I had to attack a few guys but I made it out, albeit bruised.” He swallows, running a shy finger over the curves of your face. “Were you worried about me?”

You nod, clutching him close. He chuckles and draws circles on your back through your shirt, just his soft touch more comforting than anything else. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart, is my nose broken though?”

You look at his nose, softly smoothing over a hell of a bruise, before placing a gentle kiss to the bridge. 

“No, trust me. In British comps, fights happen daily, and my ex was in with a bad crowd, always in fights. I had to deal with all kinds of injuries, and your nose is not broken. Be grateful because it hurts to sort it out.”

He laughs and brings you in.

“You deserve so much better than someone like that. I was worried about you when I was out there you know...” he says.

A strange conversation transition, but who are you to judge. 

“I was so scared, I thought you’d died,” ah shit, here come the tears again, “Natasha told me to just wait it out like I wasn’t completely emotionally attached to you. Bloody hell, Steve, I’d be responsible if you died.”

He cooes sweet reassurances in your ear, wrapping his arms entirely around your torso while the join between his neck and shoulder becomes your sanctuary.

“I’m emotionally attached to you too if that helps,” he whispers in your ear, so quietly that he hopes you didn’t hear, instantly regretting it. But with the soft kiss you place on the sweet spot just below his ear, he brings up all his courage to angle his head just right, capturing your lips in his in the sweetest of kisses. 

You gasp into the kiss, your reaction giving Steve means to believe you didn’t like it, instantly pulling away and dropping his hands from around your body.

“I-I’m sorry, you’re upset and I took advantage of that, and I haven’t really been with anyone since, well...”

“Shut up and kiss me, Steve.” You command, cutting off his rambling, your hand cupping his cheek. 

His hands slowly make their way around your body, fumbling for the bottom of your blouse and subsequently unable to find where your shirt ends and your skirt starts. You giggle a little into the kiss, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss by delving his tongue into your mouth. You place your hands over his and guide them to your chest. For a second, he seems confused, his lips halting their massaging movements on your own, until he finds the open buttons at the top of your blouse. He pulls his lips away for a moment, breath mingling together in the air. His smells of strawberries, you note. He glances at you for reassurance, something which you eagerly give, so he begins. His hands slowly work their way over your chest, fingers fiddling with your buttons as you wait patiently, completely submissive for Steve to do whatever he wants to you. 

He pushes the material from your shoulders, and you untuck the back of it from your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, revealing your bra. Though now you see Steve eyeing it up, you realise it’s not really a bra at all, rather two triangles of flimsy fabric with some bands and strings attached, one of your only bras that doesn’t show through a sheer blouse. The way his eyes are boggling at your tits though, you guess he likes it. 

An unwitting blush creeps up your neck and cheeks, suddenly feeling cold under his scrutiny.

“You can touch them if you want,” you chuckle lightly, fearing that you’ll sound like an inexperienced teenager if you say more. 

Steve blushes as crimson as you, his large hands leaping at the opportunity to feel you. You throw your head back in pleasure as his cold thumb rubs over your nipples, making them hard to the touch, and the rest of his hands get to work massaging and kneading your boobs, pulling down the fabric to softly kiss your bare skin. 

Although he hasn’t done this in a while, well, a lifetime, he still knows how to do it realllly well. 

Your hands fly to his heart, keeping him there, his lips switching between your breasts until you grow a little more needy, grinding down on his bulge. 

“You wanna do this?” He asks, voice a little hoarse but still silky. 

“Yes, Steve. Fuck, just take me.”

“Language,” he chides jokingly, but despite that, he agrees. 

Clearly he doesn’t need to be asked twice, because he has you flipped beneath him with your back on your cushions in your reading corner, his lips attaching your neck. 

You fumble with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head between kisses and suckles to a sensitive spot on your neck. He’s carved like a Greek god, abs toned to perfection, his tanned skin rippling with any given movement. He feels so soft too, skin tender beneath your fingers, trailing them gently across his back and torso to simply feel him. The contrary of gentle skin and solid muscles is one that makes your mouth water with desire, bringing Cap’s lips back to your own, palms pressed firmly against his back. You go in deep this time, licking his mouth and devouring his taste. To your surprise, he kisses you back with even more fervour, so passionate that you lose track of any thought swirling in your mind. 

“Suit off, now.” You call breathlessly, watching on as Steve clumsily tries to peel off his trousers by using the sleeve of his suit. He’s moving so recklessly that with an abrupt movement he’ll snag the fabric, ripping the suit that makes him look heaven sent. 

“Here,” you giggle, offering a hand out which he gladly takes, letting you shimmy the tough material down his legs, only blocked by his clunky boots which he kicks off at the same time as the suit, haphazardly leaving them wherever they fall in the lounge. “Fuck.” Is all you can choke out. The serum worked on everything. Even with his briefs still on, you can see his cock twitching within its confines.

“You’re wearing too many clothes now,” he faux scolds, leaping atop you again, kissing your collarbone as his hands work their way down your body. 

First he unhooks your bra properly, throwing it off and you both hear it land on the glass coffee table from the way your clasp knocks the glass. Next he moves onto your skirt, unzipping it, your hips raising of their own accord to accommodate his actions, slipping it off alongside your tights, revealing your bare legs to him for the first time. He doesn’t care about any of the natural marks that grace your skin, merely that you’re sitting in just your panties and only for him. 

“God you’re so beautiful,” he says.

He runs his palms over your thighs, just feeling your skin beneath his. His touch is soothing, as is his presence, allowing you to feel open towards him. You tilt your legs a little more open, revealing to him the small wet latch that graces your not-so-sexy work underwear. 

“All for me?” Steve asks, eyes innocent and doe like. 

If he’s really this sweet and naive then you’re gonna fucking ruin him. Sweet Jesus what you wouldn’t do to that man, starting with your incredibly well hidden Captain kink, though it may not be hidden much longer.

He brings a finger up to your core, pushing your panties to the side to run a finger up and down your slit. He audibly moans while collecting your slick from between your folds, fingers rough in contrast to the part of his body that you’re gripping onto, though you’re not sure quite where from your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Ready?”

You nod, bracing yourself as he rips your panties off and pushes one finger inside you. He feels brilliant, his fingers so much longer and better than your own, already bringing you jolts of pleasure from its presence. 

He draws it out before pumping back in again, continuing his movements. Your forehead falls against his bare shoulder, small gasps of pleasure escaping your open mouth.

“More,” you pant, ready to feel more of his intoxicating ministrations. 

He nods obligingly, slowly adding a second finger, continuing his gentle assault on your pussy. God, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex, just his two fingers pumping in and out of you brings you more pleasure than you’d care to admit. 

“S-stop,” 

He looks up at you, immediately withdrawing his fingers, covered in your juices and glistening in the moonlight. You flush far too deeply at such a simple thing. 

“I need to feel you already, please.”

You sensually drag your finger all over his bare chest, hearing his breath hitch in his throat. He nods vigorously, hair falling in his line of vision, but scrambles to be on top of you properly, hands either side of your head on your array of cushions and his legs steady, trapping you completely beneath him. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna take advantage of you, y/n. You’re so beautiful and perfect and I want your first time with me to be something you’ll remember forever.” He says sweetly, but despite his kind words, you can’t help but chuckle for a solid few seconds before he realises what he’s said. 

“Ok, but are you sure you wanna do it here rather than my room? Yours is out of the option, everyone will assume you’re dead if your book isn’t there anymore...” 

once more you chuckle, as does he, bringing your hand up to cup his jaw. 

“I’m sure, Steve, now get inside me before I change my mind and wake Bucky up,” you quip. 

He knows you’re joking but gets to work anyway, swiftly getting rid of his brokers and ungracefully kicking them off as you watch him. He may be hot but even Loki’s magic may not be able to make him elegant. 

As soon as he’s back in his previous position and you see is dick slapping against his stomach, hard and already a little red, you can’t help but gape. His too-tight boxers didn’t do him justice because now you’re worried he won’t even fit. 

He sees your worried face and panics, “We can go back if you want, we don’t have to do this.”

“I want this Steve, shitting hell-“

“Language,” he chides, interrupting you, allowing you to cock your eyebrows at him, a look to say ‘is this really the time?’

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, just go slow because you’re huge.” You finish, smiling at his dorky smile and flushed cheeks. 

Of all the things he could blush at, he chooses a compliment. Such a dork, you think to yourself, unable to stop the contagious smile creeping onto your face.

“I’ll be careful with you, I promise.”

And that he is. 

“Oh, and call me captain.”

That’s something you knew he’d have a kink for, making you smirk a little too. 

He runs the head of his cock through your folds to father a little lubrication before pushing in, very slightly and very gently. He bends his arms and kisses all over your face with the new leverage, feather light kisses of pure affection before you give him a breathy whisper, resembling of a ‘more’, so he pushes in a bit more again, repeating the process until he’s buried to the hilt inside your aching core, clenching around him without Steve even needing to do anything. 

“Can I start moving?” He asks, awkwardly shifting his weight above you, but you nod vigorously, kissing him urgently as his lips begin to move. 

He starts off slow, gradual thrusts, ensuring that he finds every weak spot inside or you, making your toes curl already and your legs knot around his waist, his tongue still dancing with yours. 

He increases his pace after a while, bucking into you faster, making you moan out his name and clutch onto his wonderfully broad shoulders.

You pull your lips away for a moment, “more Captain,” you ask, nothing more than a breathy sound, but Steve obliges. 

He breaks the kiss as he begins snapping his hips into yours with fervour and purpose. His balls are hitting your bare ass, his cock stuffed inside you and making the most delectable sounds from how wet you are, all for Steve. He looks down, tearing his gaze away from your pretty little face with your die eyes and parted lips, only to watch as he sinks into you again and again, blurring the lines of where he ends and you begin.

“Steve, Captain, please, talk to me,” 

Your words come out as a strangled cry, a beg mixing with his moan at the name, oxygen lessening as your eyes flutter shut, too engrossed in the pleasure to even care that your voice has gone up in pitch while his has gone down. 

“You’re such a tease, walking around in that tight skirt all day, those long legs always crossed. All I want is to pull them apart and go down on you, under your desk, in the kitchen, just anywhere that I can have you for my own.” 

His voice is low, raspy and needy as he trails his tongue along your collarbone filthily, forcing your eyes open with some unearthly force he must possess simply so that he can meet your gaze as he bites your nipples, his cock continually hitting that sweet spot inside you. 

“It’s not just that though,” he continues, resuming his dirty talk between caresses of his lips all over you, “you’re so perfect. So stunning, so intelligent, the reason I wake up every day just for the hope that one of these days I’d be able to kiss you.”

his hips halt just for a moment, long enough to unwrap your legs from his back and throw them over his shoulders, lust filled eyes boring into your own with an uncharacteristically devilish smirk. 

He kisses you again, fleeting but passionate before he nibbles your earlobe and purrs,

“And now I get to have you at my mercy, and believe me, that desk fantasy is gonna come true every day.”

With that sentiment, he starts ploughing into you even more ferociously than before, making you scream his name, a lot of murmured ‘Captain!’s and curses mingling with the cries. 

The new angle hits spots you forgot even existed. Your nails take his back, tugging in and clinging on for mercy, the burn of your legs in such a contorted position only adding to your pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you shout breathlessly, chest heaving, your boobs moving up and down of their own accord and Steve is unable to take his eyes off them.

You feel the coil ready to spring in your stomach, a climax that’s been steadily building since he first kissed you. 

“Tell me what you’re gonna do with me tomorrow, and then you can come.”

His words are something forbidden, coaxing you off the edge, daring you to hit that wave of pleasure. Just the thought of your past daydreams make your walls clench around him. 

“I’ll wake you up by sucking your magnificent cock, then I’ll ride you harder than anyone has ever before, and then I’ll ride your face before we have intermittent sex in my office, at least twice.”

You don’t even know what you’re saying, your imagination running winks with the thought of Steve having you in his lap in your desk chair, pressed up against the glass of your office for everyone to see as he fucks you senseless. You’re insatiable. The thought of his dick twitching in your mouth is too much to handle, especially as he brings his thumb down and presses on your clit, moaning unintelligibly at your apparently sexy words, and you feel it. 

Your orgasm crashes over you so hard that you feel it on your bones, thrashing around beneath Steve, screaming out his name as he dudes your high out only seconds before coming too, his muffled cries of your name drowned out as he bites onto the juncture of your neck, bruising it and rendering you unable to wear anything other than polo necks for a good few days. The pleasure he’s given you is unrivalled, and you can’t waist for more.

His body collapses onto yours inelegantly, wrapping you unto his body warmth in your cosy little corner, both forgetting that you’re completely naked in the common area after having rather loud sex. 

“Was that good?” Steve asks sheepishly, fingers running through your tangled hair.

“Yes, incredible. And for you?”

He thinks for a moment before answering, “exquisite, sweetheart.”

Your heart glows a little at his sleepy voice. You run your thumb over the bump of his nose and the blood residue still on his face, but you think you may like Steve a little roughed up. You stay close to each other, breathing together and sharing kisses in the night time, so absorbed in your own bubble that you don’t hear someone come in.

“The fuck is this, Steve?”

Fuck, Bucky. 

“Couldn’t you have been a little better at aiming your clothes? We’re all glad you’re finally together, but loud and untidy as well as sex in the common area? Come on.”

You can hear the humour in his words, but they do hold some sincerity, making you blush and chuckle. Next thing you know, your bra is being thrown at the pair of you, landing in Steve’s messed up hair.

“Thanks buck...” you say with a meek giggle, kissing Steve and removing your bra from his face.

“Round two? My room?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling. 

“Promise you’ll let me clean you up first?!” You insist, kissing his shoulder and beaming at him. 

“Promise.”

[mysticmegaraofficial]

A Sham Psychic || Ben & Meg

TIMING: Present. LOCATION: Coffee Plus PARTIES: @professorbcampbell & @mysticmegaraofficial SUMMARY: A ‘psychic’, a cultist, and a spirit walk into a bar.. CONTENT: Body Horror Mentions, Grief Mentions

Looking around the tables of Coffee Plus, Ben settled in his usual corner of the shop with a book and a tall iced coffee. The weather had been unseasonably warm lately, which had put an unfortunate damper on his prospects. Not many people were interested in sitting in a Coffee Shop in the middle of summer. But, he’d keep an eye out anyways. Shifting in the seat that was just a bit too small for his wide frame, Ben looked around at the other patrons with an appraising eye. A woman sipping coffee as she read the newspaper, a young man who looked quite fidgety as he waited for his espresso, and-- Ben’s eyebrows creased together as he took in the woman who was… doing fortune telling? In the corner of Coffee Plus of all places? Whatever she was saying clearly had some kind of an affect on the person she was talking to. Ben watched her, analyzing the way she spoke, the way her eyes moved. A hack. A sham. Incredible, even in White Crest, there were people trying to play the part of the psychic.

Ben watched and waited until the client had slid a crumpled twenty across the table and walked away, visibly shaken. Interesting, interesting. Smiling to himself, Ben took his coffee cup and strolled across the shop towards the woman. “Hello there. Are you doing… fortune tellings?”

“Are you sure?” Jolie’s quiet voice was hard to hear, her shaking hands clasped around her to-go coffee cup. Meg felt sorry for her. Losing a partner so soon after marriage must be one of the hardest things someone could go through. Pierce’s spirit stood over her, disfigured and sad, but mostly full of concern for his wife.

Meg hadn’t planned on doing any readings in Coffee Plus this afternoon. She had just settled down at a corner table when tear stricken Jolie and her ghost husband approached her. Jolie was, apparently, a fan. Please, she said, I’m so lost. Admittedly, Meg usually charged for impromptu readings since she wasn’t keen on using her downtime to do her job. That said, she didn’t charge Jolie anything. This woman wasn’t an excited fan eager to meet a celebrity, this was someone in a lot of pain. Besides, Meg always had a soft spot for crying women anyway.

“I’m sure,” Pierce said. “I just want Jo to be happy. I don’t… I want her to process her grief, and move on. And to look back on our memories together with fondness.”

An emotionally mature ghost was a godsend for Meg. She reached across the table and gripped Jolie’s hand. “I’m sure,” she said, softening her voice. This wasn’t on television, so it didn’t need a big finish. “I see happiness in your future. You’re going to succeed in writing. Publish the novel you’re writing. And even if you don’t form a better relationship with your mother, you will still be happy.” Pierce had very helpfully provided those details for her.

“But --”

Meg smiled at her. “I know it must be difficult for you -- I mean, picturing a life without the one you love? But I can sense Pierce. He longs for you to go through the tunnel of grief and come out the other side. It won’t be okay today or tomorrow and the sadness you feel may never go away completely, but the pit of grief and sadness will shrink so you don’t fall in every time.”

“You’re sure?” Jolie asked. “Do you really see success and happiness?”

Meg nodded. “I do. I promise.”

In the end, Jolie walked away sniffling. She seemed calmer though, not quite at peace and not quite okay, but satisfied with what Meg gave her. Pierce gave her a nod, and followed after her, and both disappeared through the exit of the coffee shop. Meg relaxed a little, and considered grabbing her book from her purse when someone else approached her.

She glanced at the man, taking a sip of her coffee. “Psychic readings,” she corrected. “Fortune telling is a different sort of art. But no -- well, yes. Technically. This was an…” Meg paused, tapping her cheek as she tried to think of the right description. “Fantastic coincidence, me and that woman both being here at the same time.” Meg smiled at him.

“Anyway, were you just curious, or were you looking for a reading?” Meg gestured to the empty chair across from her that Jolie vacated. “I wouldn’t mind company either way.”

Ben hadn’t paid much attention to the woman who had left, but he caught a glimpse of her wiping her eyes as she left the shop. Clearly, whatever this hack had said must have struck a nerve in her. A very emotional one. But how? There was always a trick with these things. Ben had seen a great many things, met a great many creatures that could masquerade as almost human. He was familiar with the werewolves that howled in the night and the vampires who leeched life from the residents of town. But he knew there were no such things as psychics or mind readers. Otherwise, his family would have been found out long ago. Arching a brow in the appearance of interest, Ben asked, “Psychic readings? What exactly does that sort of thing entail?”

A fantastic coincidence. What that meant, Ben had no idea in the slightest. “You know, you’ve piqued my curiosity. If you don’t mind, I’d love to have one done.” And see if I can uncover this sham.

Meg examined him, making sure to keep her face friendly and open as he took the spot across from her. A part of her wanted to make the man cough up cash payment for a reading, but she technically offered and it wouldn’t be fair to charge him anything when her previous guest hadn’t been charged a dime. “I’m so thrilled I’ve managed to pique your interest, ” Meg said. “A psychic reading is … Well, in layman’s terms an attempt to discern information about your past and how it’ll affect your future with my gift -- my heightened perspective of being able to look through the fabric of time and space.”

She reached to take a sip of her iced coffee right when she felt the presence enter the coffee shop. Her stomach sank, brief flashes of the last time an unexpected spirit came into this establishment. Not a great memory for her or anyone else who had been here that day. It wasn’t a poltergeist, though. Meg watched as the girl dressed in fashion Meg herself wore in high school phased through the wall, floating over to their table to examine them, taking her place behind the man. Was this his ghost? Or was she just being a spirit medium magnet again?

“Of course,” Meg continued, “I do have to give you a warning.”

The spirit made eye contact with her, and Meg raised her eyebrows slightly.

“Hello,” the girl said. “You… can see me?”

Meg gave the slightest incline of her head. An unfamiliar expression flashed across the girl’s face.

“... This is Benjamin Campbell. Everyone calls him Ben.”

Meg continued speaking to Ben.  “I do real psychic readings - I’m not going to tell you what I think you want to hear. I’m going to tell the truth. And you may not like it.” She was taking a risk with her next question. The ghost may be lying, or producing old information hoping she would fail. Meg was fine with taking risks. “Will that be alright, Mister Campbell? Or do I have permission to call you Ben?”

Ben made himself comfortable in the seat across from the woman, his expresison politely neutral and open as he listened to her prattle on about how she could look through the veil of time and space. As if she could do such a thing. Zombies, vampires, demons, gremlins, and horrifying creatures that could steal the faces of his colleagues? Of course they existed. Psychics? People claiming to peel back the void? Utter garbage. There were no such people, or else His Lord would have warned him. Hrvsht’ooooor had offered all kinds of advice to the Campbells over the years, whispering the ways to avoid detection, describing the sort of creatures who were unfit to be sacrificed to him. Like the walking garbage disposal that Ben had an unwilling alliance with. Psychics did not exist, plain and simple.

Taking a sip from his coffee, Ben watched with mild interest as the woman seemed to stare not at him, but past him. She really was keeping up with this whole act of seeing past the unseen, wasn’t she? Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her words, Ben smiled instead. “I think I can handle the truth.” He said with a shrug. When he said his name, Ben raised an eyebrow. “You may call me Ben. I hope you don’t think that’s enough to impress me though.” He said, turning the plastic cup of his ice coffee to show the hastily scrawled “Ben” on the side. “And my family is quite well known around town.”

Meg grinned as he turned the coffee cup towards her. Really, she should have caught that, even without the spirit lingering over his shoulder. “You’ll have to forgive me when I say my goal isn’t to impress you,” Meg said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Too many psychics like myself spend far too much time trying to impress people with their gifts -- trying to make people believe them. People will believe whatever they want, regardless of what I say or do. So I just give the truth, and let people take what they will from that.” Still she clapped her hands together. “Fantastic. There are many people who can’t handle the truth. You may call me Meg, by the way.”

“I remember his mother,” the girl said suddenly, and Meg fell silent to listen to the secrets she whispered. His mother. His job. Meg smiled.

“Your mother worked in the front office at the high school.  Before my time, of course, but she always had cookies on the table for the kids. Nice lady, everyone loved her.” Meg sipped her coffee. “And you -- work at the college now, right? I suppose I should have said Professor Campbell. Forgive me.”

The woman brushed away the obvious dig with a nonchalant wave of her hand, making Ben’s grin only grow wider. Not in mirth, but in irritation. She was really going to keep up this charade? These sort of scams were just that-- scams. There were tricks, there were ploys, there was subterfuge abound. But he had to admit that her dedication to the act was something else. “Meg. Charming to meet you.” He said with a nod, before taking a sip from his coffee. He watched her expression intently. She wasn’t looking off into space like she had been before, but he could see the slight way her pupils dilated as though she’d been struck with something--

At the mention of his mother, Ben offered a nod. “Yes, my mother did. She also enters the annual bake off every year and, again, we’re quite well known in town. If you know me, you know my mother.” He said with a blasé expression on his face.

Oooh, he didn’t believe a single word she was saying. Amusement grew in Meg, a little more than it should. She was, in fact, a fake psychic with some otherworldly capabilities, so it wasn’t exactly offensive when people could see the actual truth. More often than not, their disbelief was rooted in the special kind of place lots of White Crest citizens resided. “It’s a pleasure,” she confirmed. She leaned back in her chair, nodding along at the information he willingly gave to her. “No wonder all the kids loved her then. You must have great taste in baked goods.”

“He doesn’t believe you,” the girl said, frowning. The spirit seemed far more upset by this than Meg was. Meg was already calculating exactly who Ben was -- rather, making generalizations about his character from his attitude, body language, and the information she had, and was ready to continue on with her reading when the spirit offered her something more.

“You loved to learn -- I mean, you’d have to, if you’re a Professor. But only in the subjects you find interesting. You’re not a Professor of Physics, hm? I see your past -- you making your physics lab partner do all the work for your project. Stellar grade, that A+. A shame Wyatt had to share it with you - naughty.” Meg said teasingly. It was all in good fun, of course. Meg herself had definitely bribed her sister into doing some work for her when they were younger, just like Meg had posed as Willow on request to break up with her boyfriend because she was too scared to do it. Children were funny.

Crossing one leg over the other, Ben leaned back in the chair, his considerable bulk pressing against the back of the thin chair as he regarded the woman. Meg. Her name seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. And he certainly didn’t recognize her. She’d confirmed that she was younger than him-- his mother had retired a year after he’d graduated high school, having no other reason to remain in the school district now that her sons were no longer a part of the system. Which meant she was a local. She wasn’t just some drifter who had set up shop in White Crest, drawn by the peculiarities of the town. “My mother’s spoiled me on them, that’s for certain.” He said coolly.

Ben kept his eye trained on Meg’s face as she next spoke. There was something off about this whole thing. She didn’t know this information off the top of her head. It was almost like she was being fed it, like someone was telling her. Ben’s forehead wrinkled in a frown at the woman’s next assertion. What? Physics? He’d taken that class over two decades ago, he couldn’t be bothered to remember every peer he extorted. Of course, he had a feeling it was true, but she didn’t need to know that. “I can’t say I remember that. You’ll have to excuse me, but high school was over twenty years ago for me. I have no idea who Wyatt is.”

“Mother’s do tend to do that,” Meg agreed, her easy smile still on her face. I can’t say I remember that. Possibly the truth, especially if high school was twenty years in the past for him. Meg quietly cheered to herself. She was younger than him. High School was what? Fifteen years for her. She knew that eye cream she bought did wonders for her. Before she could continue on, the spirit spoke again, her flash of anger causing the lights to flicker ever so slightly. Meg crossed her legs, leaning forward on her elbows as the spirits whispers floated to her ears.

“Wyatt Miller, he was one of your teammates from when you played Football. I think he was the one who… What was it? Fumbled the ball during the state championship?” Meg’s smile widened. She was actually enjoying this reading quite a bit. Benjamin didn’t seem like he was exactly pleasant, and she found just a tiny bit of joy knowing she was right about everything she was saying. “You threw your helmet at him. Chucked it even, you were so angry… It was scary.” Meg echoed the spirit, head tilting to the side. “Are you an angry person, Benjamin? When things don’t go your way? You should watch your temper. You never know when it could get you into trouble.”

Ben was about to respond when he noticed the way the lights in the coffee shop began to flicker. What was that? A trick of the light or just some theatrics? This woman must have a friend on the inside, someone who was manipulating the lights in the back of the store to make it seem as though she had some kind of “power.” How else would they be doing that. And, as the woman spoke up once more, Ben knew that she had to have an informant. Someone from his high school days. Someone with a keen memory, or maybe just a vendetta against him.

Ben kept his expression pleasantly amused as his mind raced. Who was she? And more importantly, who was her informant? Who was telling her these things about him? Because, if they had as long a memory as it seemed, they would need to be dealt with swiftly. He couldn’t have his high school antics coming back to haunt him, not when he was so focused on his goal. If this wasn’t a public place, if this woman wasn’t… visible. Oh, he would love to watch her bleed for Hrvsht’ooooor. Not die, that was an honor she wasn’t worthy of. But bleed and beg and suffer for Him? Ben would love to see that. Instead, he stood up with a shake of his head, chuckling. “High school emotions run high. Teenage emotions. Everyone gets a little out of hand at that age.” He said with a rueful expression on his face. “I shudder to think what life would be like if we were to judge everyone on their highschool personas.” He said before casting a shrug in her direction. “Tell your friend, or whoever told you about me, that I’d love to meet them. It’d be nice to catch up on old times.”

He seemed amused, which kept the light airy talk between them. Ben clearly didn’t believe her, and it was almost funny watching him wash everything off as typical high school antics. “That’s true, I suppose. Too much testosterone and puberty,” Meg said. But she couldn’t help the cheeky grin that came across her face as she finally leaned back in her chair, reaching down to pull out the book she was reading. “You’re ending the reading early,” she told him. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll find a secret you don’t want anyone to find out about? Are you hiding something you don’t want me to see?” The question was innocent enough and left unanswered. Meg laughed under her breath, shaking her head as she opened her book to continue where she left off the previous night.

“He’s not my friend,” the spirit said suddenly, and Meg looked up, brows furrowed. She had forgotten the girl was there. The girl wasn’t looking at her anymore though, she was looking in the direction Ben had walked off towards. After a moment, the spirit turned and walked away from the table. She didn’t seem interested in Meg at all. She was going to call out to her, but the second she caught sight of her back, Meg’s voice caught in her throat.

The girl’s spine and back of her rib cage were pried open, sticking out every which way. Translucent organs stuck out, unseen from the front. Meg was never a great at anatomy, but she was pretty sure the only thing missing were the girl’s lungs. Meg’s eyes narrowed, and she couldn’t help but glance off in the direction Benjamin went.

A coincidence, surely. Right?

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

 Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.  

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

[beetlebumxo]

She's My Collar (pt. 2)

Part 1 (smut)

Pairing: Damon Albarn (2015) x Reader

Warnings: some flirting, some language, angst, sadness...

Word Count: 1663

A/N: The morning after..

I wrote this as a continuation of the first part. I felt it was a little too long for one story. It took me so long to finally get this somewhat close to where I wanted it. It was a little painful, but I wanted to try and write a not so happy ending. Thanks for reading. ♥️ Sorry if it sucks.

----

I woke up to find Damon sitting up in bed, our clothing strewn on the floor, the only remnant of the sins we committed the night before. I looked over at Damon, the comforter was wrapped messily around his waist, as he sat writing in his notepad.  I laid my head against his warm shoulder, taking everything in. I relished in this moment we shared. I sighed and sank under the covers a little. Why was he making this so difficult for me and my stupid feelings now? Why was I having this reaction to him? This wasn't the first time we were together. I knew exactly what this was, and all it would ever be. Just another conquest, and we would meet again and again this way as we had. The last words he spoke to me still rang in my ears -- "I love you, too".

I pushed my thoughts aside and tried to focus on the present. I tried to forget about it and hope that he wouldn't bring it up. I wasn't sure how much time we would have left together, until he had to leave again for another place, another city, another show without me. But maybe just maybe..

"Good morning, love. I take it you slept well?" He said, gently kissing my head.

"Oh, you know I did after you tired me out." I playfully poked his arm.

"I think we both needed that, eh?" Damon chuckled.

"Mm. Damon, what are you writing?" I mumbled, still half asleep, I pushed the blanket a little further down off of my naked shoulders.

"Well, I've got this song, and.." he paused, adjusting his glasses.

"Annnnd?" I began.

He winked at me and adjusted his glasses again. He began reading a few lines off of the page. "she's the one I'm running with...this is my persona, secret lover, she's my collar.../sense her in my mind"

He looked at me, nodding with a slight smirk.  I stared into his stunning blue eyes again.

"Look, I know what we do, what this is. But, honestly, I do think of you often." He replied. Damon gazed at me, slowly moving his hand to touch my cheek.

He knew exactly how to play the game to make me fall completely in love with him, but I kept shutting out the thought, I had to protect myself.

If we really became emotionally involved with each other it would hurt too much, as charming and beautiful as he was. I would just be another link on his chain, another notch in his belt.

I admit that I could see us together at times, times when he was sweet, caring, loving.  I had visions of us walking around St. James Park, romantic candle lit dinners, holding hands. I suddenly felt a consciousness come back to me, as if I had returned from a  somewhat outer body experience. I couldn't really fall in love with him.

My emotions were getting to me, maybe because I was almost completely sober last night, the words he said, how he made me feel, how I lost complete control in that moment.

"Damon.." I began, with a heavy sigh, breathing in his scent. "did you really m--" he suddenly cut me off, as if he could already read my mind.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/N. Sometimes I really think we make sense, don't you?"

I tried to hold myself together and avoid his charm. "Damon, don't do this. Don't you do this." I said with a tinge of pain in my chest.

Damon let out a heavy sigh, taking off his glasses and placing them on the nightstand. After a long pause he pushed the covers down and got out of bed. Placing a gentle kiss on my head, he began, "I'm going to shower ok? I need to be out of here in about an hour or so. Erm.. I'm not sure what your plans are, I mean you can stick around a bit or whatever you want to do." I watched his slightly toned figure disappear into the bathroom, as he closed the door behind him.

The bed was still warm from his body and I could still smell his cologne mixed with sweat from last night. I felt a little intoxicated just breathing in his scent, recalling last night. I felt a warmth wash over me again as I slid my dress and underwear on. I gazed around the room, his notepad caught my eye again.

"She's my serpentine, she's my collar/I send a message never call her/And now I wanna taste another."  

I felt a slight wave of jealousy, my emotions were taking control now. I sighed heavily -- What was I doing? What was this? I love you.  Oh there were so many things I loved about him. His brilliance, his talent, his sense of humor, his voice, his eyes, his gorgeous perfect nose, his strong, beautiful hands - oh, my heart wanted him, but my mind...

Damon soon emerged from the shower, his hair wet and shaggy, sticking to his forehead. He still managed to look absolutely gorgeous; if I wasn't completely sober and having these second thoughts--

"So, what about the rest of the song?" I asked, holding his notepad.

"Oh, it's nothing, really."

"Really, now?" I looked at him with disbelief.

"Y/N." He said with a bit of sterness in his voice. If he had said my name in that tone in a slightly different setting, I would have completely come undone. "I told you. Why are you reading so much into this? It's really about passion, having passion isn't it? Being passionate people?"

I sat back on the bed, wiping my sweaty palms on the white linen sheets.

"What are we, Damon?  We sleep around, but then you tell me you love me?"

"You realize you said it first." Damon retorted

Those three painful words. The truth was, I was falling hard for him. I loved him.

"Damon…" I paused. "We agreed we would just sleep together. But what the hell are you doing to me, Damon?" I raised my voice, rubbing my forehead for a moment -- and I lied.

"I can't be in love… and neither can you." I whispered.

Damon walked over to me, still in his bath towel. He grabbed my hand, skin slightly warm and still wet from the shower.

"Y/N, wait, are you saying you're actually in love with me?"

"I don't know what I am anymore. After last night, something happened.  I wasn't drunk. I felt things last night and I don't even know how or why."

"Oh, darling, Y/N. I didn't mean to hurt you. I felt things too, love.  It was real for me. But, surely you understand this life, and-and.." Damon stuttered.

"I can't keep pretending that if or when we sleep together again, that I won't get jealous or angry. I thought I could fucking hold it together." I confessed, so confused by these feelings.

He looked at me with longing and hurt in his eyes. That look that made me love him, that look that made me want to forget reality and live in this fantasy world where things would just be perfect between us.

"Y/N, love, listen." He said running his large hand over mine. I looked at his ruggedly handsome face. "I never ever meant to make you feel this way. You are absolutely incredible. But.."

"But.." I repeated.

"But, I can't make these promises to you. I would love to do those, erm...boyfriend things with you." Damon started to look down and fidget with his hands. The once strong, dominant man, had now been forced to act like a small, insecure child. "You deserve someone who can give you that."

"Damon.." I paused looking directly into his eyes again. Those eyes that had such hunger the night before, those eyes that had such passion.

"Y/N, I know you understand all of this."

I stared at him for a moment, holding back the tears in my eyes, it was all too much.

I got up and started to pack my bags. It was almost time to check out.  I realised that I wasn't sure about anything anymore. I had been his lover, his hook up, his groupie girl, his little slut as long as he wanted me to be. But now, I wanted to be his only. I wanted him to change. I wanted to be the girl he thought of every morning when he woke up and every night before he went to sleep. I wanted to be the one he wanted, the only one he wanted.

"I need to go." I said, my voice shaking.

Damon walked over to me and wrapped me in his strong arms. I couldn't handle this, this was all I wanted. Sure, we had sex, it was incredible. But this, oh this.. and yet I knew I could never really have this. I know a million girls would kill to be in my shoes, yet here I was just wanting to be his girlfriend, his wife, his love. I forced myself to break the embrace -- on the verge of breaking down.

I forced myself towards the door, trying to be stoic. My heart was breaking into a thousand pieces over this man. I wanted him to swoop in like in those romantic films and stop me from leaving. I wanted him to close the door, kiss me and tell me he's wrong, he's sorry, and I'm the only one he's ever loved. But, there was none of that, it was just me with my bag over my shoulder, holding onto the door knob just hoping he would see me and make me stay. I swiftly turned around and whispered "I love you, Damon." as I shut the door behind me.