#and seeing how alone she was he made it his mission to look out for her 🥺

[mintyys-blog]

Hey, I see that your requests are open. Can you do a Thragg x hero!reader, where the reader is Marks girlfriend but they’ve been having problems as of late because he keeps on overlooking her for Eve which ends up with them arguing a lot because the reader can see that he’s slowly developing feelings for Eve even though they’re still together and the reader loves him dearly.

ANYWAYS…

Thragg for some reason comes to earth to take it over since Nolan failed and the last ones left to fight Thragg is reader, Mark, and Eve. Obviously Thragg is winning, but while they are fighting he’s impressed with readers powers/strength so he wants to take her back to viltrum to be one of his concubines. But he knows that she won’t come with him willingly, and the other two won’t let him take reader so easily. SO INSTEAD HE MAKES INVISIBLE CHOOSE.

Thragg holds an unconscious Eve and a badly hurt, but awake, reader by their necks and he makes Mark choose which one he wants to give to Thragg in exchange for him to leave the planet alone. And Mark after hesitating chooses reader to go with Thragg, and the reader is DEVASTATED.

Thragg tosses Eve back to Mark and he takes off with reader. Later on when they’re back with the GDA and everyone has mixed feelings. Like some people feel bad because Mark was put into a tight spot, but they were shocked because that was his gf??? And he just gave her up. Meanwhile Cecil’s ass is just pissed because Mark just gave up one of their heavy hitters.

And Mark was just replaying the whole scene over and over in his head. Because that look of pure betrayal on the reader’s face will forever haunt his nightmares.

THE CHOICE | mark grayson x reader x thragg

invincible masterlist

warnings ; betrayal, break up, swearing, blood, violence, no happy ending

The silence between you and Mark wasn’t new — but it was starting to feel permanent.

You sat on the rooftop of your shared apartment, your legs swinging over the edge, cooling air brushing your cheeks as the sky turned gold and mauve. The city buzzed below, alive and unaware that its local heroes were in the middle of a painfully slow implosion.

You could feel him behind you before you heard the quiet shuffle of his boots land on the concrete.

“I brought something,” Mark said, voice light, too light. Like a Band-Aid over a bullet wound.

You didn’t turn around.

There was the faint crinkle of a paper bag. You smelled it before you saw it.

Your favorite dessert — that overpriced strawberry shortcake from the bakery across town. The one you made him try once after a long patrol, and he said it was too sweet but still bought for you every birthday.

And flowers. Your favorite kind. A little wilted from the flight, but still trying to look proud in his hand.

He held them out to you. “Peace offering?”

You looked at them. Then up at him.

His face was tired. The kind of tired that came from more than just sleepless nights and too many fights. There were shadows under his eyes, worry lining his mouth — but none of it was about you.

“Was she with you again?” you asked, voice soft but sharp.

His face fell. “Y/N, it’s not—”

“Just answer me.”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tic you used to find charming. “Eve needed help with a perimeter check near the Rockies. Rex and the others were dealing with a kaiju sighting—”

You stood up slowly, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “She needed help, so you dropped everything. Again.”

Mark’s jaw clenched. “She’s my friend.”

“And I’m your girlfriend,” you snapped, then immediately regretted how broken your voice sounded.

He flinched at that, finally setting the flowers and dessert down on the ledge between you. “You think I don’t care about you? I got you this, didn’t I?”

You stared at him, stunned. “You think a cake and a handful of flowers fix the fact that you’ve ditched our last three dates? That you answer her texts before mine? That I have to hear about your missions from Eve instead of you?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then said quietly, “You’re overthinking this.”

“Am I?” you shot back. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re slowly falling for her. And I’m just the one who gets to watch it happen.”

The wind blew past the two of you, a long pause stretching between your accusation and his silence.

Mark stepped closer. “Y/N, I’m trying.”

“Then try harder.”

You didn’t mean for your voice to break again. You hated the way it made you sound — desperate, hurt. Weak.

Mark looked at you like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. He just stood there, the cake between you like a failed peace treaty, and watched you walk back inside.

You didn’t touch the cake.

It sat in the fridge, slowly hardening behind a carton of orange juice and a half-empty takeout box, ignored and forgotten — like you felt most days lately. The flowers had wilted overnight. So had your patience.

You tried to talk to him the next morning, but he was gone before sunrise. Again. No note. No call. Just a text:

[mark]: sorry. eve needed backup. be home late. ily.

That last part used to mean something. Now it felt like punctuation. By the time he flew in that night, covered in dust and the scent of ozone, you were already halfway through your second cup of coffee, sitting at the kitchen table in his hoodie, your arms crossed tight across your chest.

“You ghost me for sixteen hours, and now you want to play house?” you asked without looking up.

Mark stiffened at the door. “I was helping Eve with—”

“Of course you were.” You set the mug down a little too hard. “It’s always Eve.”

He exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I told you. She needed—”

“She always needs something, doesn’t she?” You finally looked at him, eyes tired, voice shaking from restrained emotion. “And you’re always there to give it. Meanwhile, I don’t even remember the last time you asked me how I was doing.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is dating someone who doesn’t see you anymore.” That silenced him. But only for a moment. Mark crossed the room, crouching beside you. His hand reached for yours, hesitant. You didn’t move.

“I still love you,” he said, eyes wide and pleading. “You’re the one I’m with, Y/N. That means something. Doesn’t it?”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But all you saw when you closed your eyes was him looking at her like she hung the stars. Like you used to. “I don’t want to be second place, Mark,” you whispered.

“You’re not.”

“Then why does it feel like I am?” He didn’t answer that. Because you both already knew.

You waited until he got home before you said it.

He looked surprised to see you standing in the living room with your bag packed. Not your mission gear. Just a duffel. A change of clothes. Your charger. The kind of bag someone packs when they’re not coming back.

Mark hovered in the doorway, the air still buzzing from his flight. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

You turned to him slowly. He looked worried. Like he knew. Like part of him had known for a while now.

You swallowed hard. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His face crumpled. “Wait—what?”

“I love you,” you said. God, it hurt to say it out loud. “But I’m not happy, Mark. I haven’t been. And I don’t think you’ve noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” he said, stepping toward you. “I’ve just been… busy. Distracted. The world doesn’t stop just because we’re going through a rough patch.”

You gave him a look. “It’s not a patch anymore. It’s the whole damn field.”

He reached out. “Please. Don’t go. I can fix this. I can—”

“Can you fix the way you look at her?” you asked softly. That stopped him cold.

Your voice broke anyway. “I know you love me. But you want her. And that’s killing me, Mark.” He didn’t deny it. You nodded. That was all the answer you needed.

You slung the duffel over your shoulder. “I’m going to stay with the Guardians for a while. Don’t come after me.” You made it halfway to the door. Then the building shook. The windows shattered. Sirens screamed to life across the city. Somewhere in the distance, you heard the kind of sonic boom that didn’t belong to any Earth aircraft.

Mark’s eyes went wide. “No. No, no, no—” He was already in the air, grabbing his gear, throwing open the GDA comms. Your phone buzzed with the same emergency alert.

UNIDENTIFIED VILTRUMITE ENERGY SIGNATURE. GLOBAL PRIORITY ONE.

You met his eyes one last time. No words. Just the shared, exhausted knowledge that whatever came next would be worse than any breakup. You took off into the sky seconds after him.

The sky burned red. Mark hovered between two women he had failed. Eve’s constructs were faltering. Your breathing was ragged. Blood streaked down your temple, mixing with ash and smoke as the city crumbled beneath you. Somewhere in the rubble, people screamed for help—but this wasn’t a rescue mission anymore. This was survival.

This is my fault.

He clenched his fists tighter. His arms were numb from hours of fighting. His body ached. But none of that compared to the sharp, gnawing fear coiled tight in his chest.

Thragg floated above them like a god descending. Unscathed. Unbothered. Unstoppable. Every hit Mark had landed, every construct Eve had thrown, every burst of power you’d ignited—none of it had even slowed him down. And now, he wasn’t even looking at Mark. He was looking at you.

“I must say,” Thragg said, tone disturbingly calm, “I’m impressed. Of all the weaklings this planet has offered, you are… something else.”

Mark didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His muscles twitched, ready to fly at him again, even though they both knew it wouldn’t matter. You didn’t hesitate. “If you think flattery’s going to save you, you’re worse at this than I thought.” Thragg smiled. Mark’s stomach twisted.

“You misunderstand,” Thragg said. “I don’t want to kill you.” He moved faster than Mark’s eyes could follow.

One second, Thragg was ten feet away. The next, he had Eve in one hand and you in the other—your body barely catching up to the motion, limbs limp as Thragg’s fingers crushed your windpipe. “NO!” Mark screamed.

He surged forward—too late—and halted mid-air as Thragg raised both of you like trophies. One wrong move, and either of you would die.

Thragg’s eyes met his.

“I will make this simple,” he said. “Give me one. And I will leave this planet intact. Refuse, and I will paint its surface with your corpses.”

Mark couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. You were still awake. Struggling in his grip. Eyes wide, confused, terrified—but trying to speak. Trying to tell him something.

Eve was unconscious. Bleeding from her temple. Her constructs flickered out completely.

And Thragg waited. Mark’s thoughts spiraled. Pick Eve, a voice whispered. She can’t fight. She won’t survive another hit.

But then his eyes locked with yours—and it was you who looked at him, not with panic, but with heartbreak. You knew. You saw the decision forming before he even spoke it.

He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do it— But he also didn’t see a way out. Thragg would kill you both. The world would burn. The blood of billions would be on his hands. And Mark had been trained to be a protector. Even if it cost him everything. His jaw trembled.

He looked at you one last time, wishing he could say anything—everything—you deserved to hear. That he loved you. That he never meant for this. That he hated himself.

And he whispered, “Take her.” You froze. Confused. Disbelieving. And then realization hit you. Mark’s heart shattered when he saw the look on your face. Like everything inside you had broken at once.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t fight. You just stared at him, bleeding, wide-eyed, as Thragg’s hand tightened and your body disappeared into the sky. Eve fell into his arms like a rag doll. And Mark sank to his knees in the air, Eve cradled against him, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.

Back at the GDA, the silence was unbearable.

Cecil stood in front of the footage, jaw locked. The other agents kept their eyes averted. Debbie hadn’t said a word. Even Donald looked sick.

“She was one of our best,” Cecil finally said. “And you handed her over like a fucking spare part.”

Mark couldn’t look at anyone. He was still seeing your face. The betrayal. The heartbreak. The last time you ever looked at him like you loved him—before it shattered into something colder.

You loved me. And I gave you up. Every time he blinked, he saw it again. Your eyes. And the way you never screamed. Because you trusted him. And he broke that trust.

[kissandtellus]

Warning, Bite Risk: Ch. 3

ೃ⁀➷ Synopsis: MC goes back to work, leaving Hybrid!Caleb alone for the longest time yet. Caleb shows not only who he truly was in the past, but now, he shows how far he’s willing to go for her.

ೃ⁀➷ Warnings: Caleb is PATHETIC in the best way possible, mentions of PTSD, Slight Yandere behavior, stalking to some extent, possesive/obsessive behavior.

Tags: @mcdepressed290 , @seventeen-x , @rorel1a , @skylarkse

A few weeks pass, Caleb slowly starts to come around to the idea of living in a home where he is loved and cherished. But there is one enemy that he absolutely hates.

And that’s MC leaving for work.

Caleb follows her around the house like a puppy as she gets ready, and his tail is wagging like crazy. It's hard to believe that just a few weeks ago he had been hesitant and nervous to even move. He's excited, but there is a hint of unease.

"What time are you going to be home today?" He asks, a hint of worry in his voice. The question makes her pause, and she realizes what's bugging him.

Before, when she would try to leave the house, Caleb has always had to follow. He's usually very well-behaved, but today she can see some of his old habits coming through. He follows her like a shadow, and he seems like he's ready to make a dash to follow her.

She takes his hand gently, stopping him as he paces back and forth. She keeps her fingers interlocked with his as she speaks. "I'll be home around six. I'm going to pick up dinner, okay?"

Caleb looks down at their conjoined hands and pulls away, clearing his throat. This would be the first time she’d be gone for so long since she rescued him from the shelter.

He's quiet for a moment, and then softly speaks, "Is it... is it a big mission?" She can hear the small hint of fear in his voice, and it's hard to tell if it's for his safety, or hers.

He seems unwilling to leave her side, and his body tenses when she lets go of his hand. His ears lower, as if he doesn't want to leave her, and his tail slows to a gentle wag.

He looks up at her, and she can see his eyes are wide and pleading. "Can I... help in any way?" His voice is soft, and his expression is so soft.

He is starting to look like a lost little puppy again. It's hard to tell if he's acting or if this is sincere. Whatever the reason, she has to be strong. He can't follow her right now, and she can't miss this event.

"I'm sorry, Caleb." She speaks quietly, her eyes pleading for him to understand.

MC grabs her keys and wallet. “Alright Caleb, be good okay? There’s some food in the fridge. I’ll be back!” And then she’s gone, leaving the Malinois Hybrid in the apartment alone.

Caleb looks out the door with a look of longing, almost like he’s waiting for her to return. But finally, he slumps and goes into the living room. He settles in on the couch, and closes his eyes.

MC’s apartment suddenly seems so very… quiet. No one is moving around, or making a sound, and it’s odd. It’s been so long since he’s experienced true silence.

He’s a bit restless, and he can feel the anxiety building in his stomach.

Fighting Wanderers was exhausting, but when MC had a partner as skilled and talented as Xavier, it made a world of difference. They rode the subway home, both Hunters still trying to catch their breaths.

The mission had taken way longer than either of them had expected. MC felt a weird feeling bubble in her gut. She hadn’t really left the Hybrid with any way to communicate with her.

But back at the apartment, Caleb was twitching and pacing with anxiety.

Caleb paces around the small, crowded apartment, his slippers are making a faint click-clacking noise against the tile. His head is spinning, and all he can think about is how worried he is. It doesn't help when he looks out the window and sees that the sun is setting. She should've been back at six. She should've been back hours ago.

He makes a quick decision, and opens the window. He can wait, but he won't wait here. Not when he has no way of knowing what's going on.

Caleb drops out the window and onto the ground below. Luckily the apartment is on the ground floor.

He looks around, and then begins to stalk down the street, keeping to the shadows. His gaze darts from side to side, scanning his surroundings. His mind is focused on the task at hand, his heart pounding and his hands trembling slightly. He seems slightly on-edge, ready for *anything. *

His ears twitch as he runs through the city. He takes long, graceful strides, keeping to the shadows. He's focused, and clearly has somewhere specific in mind.

When he gets closer to the main city center, he leaps up to a fire escape, barely making a noise as he lands. He is careful and quick, trying to keep a low profile.

He has to hurry. He can't lose more time, and she might need him.

When he gets to his destination, he crouches down. He's in a spot where he has a pretty good view of the street, and he can see anyone coming and going.

He scans the crowd, looking for any sight of her or her group of companions. He has to be patient, but his heart is racing.

What if she's hurt?

What if she's in danger?

He bites his lip, feeling helpless with not knowing anything.

A couple of minutes later, MC turns onto the street with Tara and Xavier. The group is chatting casually, and MC feels much more relaxed than earlier. She notices a familiar shape perched atop of a roof, but it soon disappears out of view before she can see who it is.

She sighs, shaking her head with a bit of a smile, not bothering to tell either Xavier or Tara about it. Caleb has been on her mind the entire night, and she wonders how he’s been.

Caleb notices MC, and his heart soars at the sight of her. But when he jumps down, and gets closer, he can see her companions and immediately feels jealous.

Not about Tara so much but a male.

A male that isn’t Caleb.

His hands shake as he forces himself to take a deep breath. He is clearly unhappy, and his voice is almost a growl, though he's trying to sound calm.

"You told me you were going alone." He says, and his voice is low and rough. He looks like he's in a dangerous state of mind right now. "You lied to me."

He steps closer, getting in her personal space. He’s clearly frustrated, and his voice is low and dark. "You don't get to just lie to me. You don't get to just leave me."* He’s glaring at her companions, his eyes narrowing.

"You should've let me come with him," he mumbles. "I-I could've protected you, from them.”

"Caleb, calm down." Tara says firmly, stepping forward. She's clearly trying to diffuse the situation. She was there when MC adopted Caleb, and in the Hybrid’s eyes, she was an enemy, trying to keep HIS MC away.

He snaps his head towards her, his eyes flaring with anger.

He’s not going to listen to her.

"Stay out of this," he snarls, and his gaze flicks back to MC. "Are you trying to prove a point?" He snaps, "Trying to prove that you don't need me?"

MC swallows the lump in her throat. His eyes are not soft and pleading like they are when he’s begging for a piece of steak. They are predatory almost. “Caleb, let’s go home-“

He grabs her wrist a little too roughly, and steps even closer into her space. His face is mere inches from hers. "I would do *anything* for you. And this is how you treat me?" He asks, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "I thought you were in danger, and the entire time you were out having fun?”

“I just got back from a mission with Xavier. Tara met us so we could go pick up lunch.” Her voice is even toned. She knew Hybrids could get very territorial. But she hadn’t expected Caleb to escape her apartment and track her down. “We’re going home Caleb. Now.”

Caleb’s chest heaves, and his eyes are wild and frightened. He pulls her closer, pressing his body against hers. He breathes heavily, and his grip tightens around her wrist.

His voice is low now, and almost pleading. "I need to keep you safe. If-if I can’t do that I… I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please, don’t send me-" He swallows, and glances between her and her friends. His eyes plead with her to listen, to understand.

MC sighs and rubs his back in slow, comforting circles. She can physically feel him shaking under her touch like a leaf. “I’m not sending you back to the Farspace Fleet. I promise…”

Caleb seems to relax under her touch, and his breathing slows down a little. He closes his eyes, and presses his face into the crook of her neck, his body relaxing. His voice is quiet, and full of gratitude.

“I… I’m sorry.” He says, feeling foolish now. He had come all this way, and had made a fool of himself in front of her friends.

He hesitates for a moment before adding, "I just... thought I lost you."

MC excuses herself from her friends and coworkers. While Tara brushes the whole thing off, Xavier watches the two disappear into the crowd, his gaze calculating.

The walk back to the apartment is quiet, save for the hustling and bustling of the city around them.

Caleb clings to her arm like a lifeline, even with his height, he buries his face in her shoulder like a scolded dog, tail tucked between his legs.

He walks along beside her wordlessly, still looking nervous. The fact that he looks so upset and guilty is hard to ignore.

He hesitates, but eventually speaks, his voice soft and unsure. “Are you... are you mad at me?” He sounds almost scared to hear to her answer, like he’s afraid that she will be.

He seems to realize how he’s being too much by being so clingy. His ears immediately flatten, his eyes lower, and he leans away from her slightly before stopping.

He slowly looks up at her, his expression unreadable. He hesitates, and then he takes her hand, curling his fingers around hers.

He speaks very softly, his voice tentative. “Please... don't be mad.”

He sounds like a little kid asking for permission to stay up late. His eyes are full of uncertainty.

MC takes in a deep breath before speaking. “Caleb, I care for you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. But….” She chews on her bottom lip.

Was she in too far?

Was this a bad idea from the beginning?

"But... what? I just-"

Caleb pauses, and his hand tightens around hers. His voice is suddenly filled with sadness.

"I can't live without you," He whispers. "Everything has changed so much... I don't want you to leave me."

He doesn't look like a K-9 military Hybrid right now. He looks so incredibly fearful, and vulnerable. It's like he's afraid to let her see him like this, and he can barely meet her eyes.

He drops to his knees in the middle of the street and wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face into her stomach as he lets out an onslaught of pleads

He seems desperate, his voice choked with emotion.

"MC, please," He practically begs. "I'll do anything for you, just... don't leave me. Don't leave me alone again."

He's so focused on her that he doesn't seem to care that they're out in the open, or that people are staring at them.

He tightens his arms around her waist, and he speaks again, his voice hoarse with desperation. "I love you."

MC’s eyes open wide. In the few weeks they had been living together, they had grown close. Caleb was incredibly doting and attached to her, but she had to wonder… was this because of some sort of animal instinct that Hybrids had?

That’s what her friends told her every single time she went out without him, and was met with his worried antics when she returned

“Are you just saying that because you think you have to?” MC asks, slowly pulling away from him.

His eyes widen in shock, like he can’t believe what she’s saying. His eyes search her face, almost desperately.

“N-no!” He exclaims, shaking his head wildly. “I would n-never lie to you.” He seems desperate to convince her, and he sounds a bit upset that she would even ask such a thing

He hesitates, and looks down. “Why… why do you think that? Have I done something to upset you?” He asks in a small voice.

MC swallows the lump in her throat before grabbing his elbow to help him stand. “Caleb you can’t…love me. You barely know me. You don’t have to…to say that because you think I’ll leave you or mistreat you.”

Caleb hesitates, and he looks at her with wide eyes. "But I do know you. I know you like sweet coffee in the mornings, and you like wearing comfortable clothes, with your hair in a ponytail. I know you hate it when people call you ‘Pipsqueak.’ Besides me….” His gaze drops as he says it.

"I know you're kind, and sweet. And strong, and brave. A-and I like that... about you. So, I have to... I have to tell the truth when I say I love you."

MC stiffens her jaw, her eyes dart around to all of the people staring at them. “Caleb please. Let’s…let’s go home…”

He hesitates, but his face falls when he hears the tone of her voice.

"Yes ma'am." He mutters in response, and moves away from her, his ears lowering. He looks like a scolded puppy, and he doesn't seem to know what to do.

He keeps his head low as they walk, and it's clear that he wants to say something. His gaze keeps flickering to her, and his eyes are pleading with her to listen to him, but he stays silent.

The night is quiet when they return.

MC closes herself up in her bedroom as soon as they get home. Caleb is so anxious, whining, clawing at her door desperately.

Caleb whines and scratches at the door, his voice anxious and pleading. "Please, let me in? Please."

He doesn't seem to care that he's literally whimpering at her door like an abused little puppy. He needs to be in there with her.

His voice lowers to almost a whisper as he scratches once again. "Please... I don't want to be alone." He sounds so broken right now.

MC presses her back to the opposite side of the door, sliding down with her face in her hands.

She feels so bad for Caleb, she can’t bear to hear him whine and cry.

She has no idea what horrors he’s seen. She knows that’s why he’s clinging to her so desperately. But it’s not healthy for either of them.

Caleb's voice is strained, like he's about to start crying again. He keeps repeating himself, his voice getting more and more upset.

"MC, please... I won't say it again. I just... I don't want to be alone," and then there's silence, like he can't manage to voice it anymore.

Eventually, after a minute of complete silence, she can hear the sound of a dull thump against the door. He is lying on the floor, curled up into a small ball. His ears press against his head, and his tail is tucked between his legs.

"P...please." He begs softly, his voice now a small, broken whisper.

He sounds like a scared little kid, curled up into a tiny, shivering ball against the door. There's no sign of the tough, confident military K-9 Hybrid left in him. No sign of the cold, emotionless Hybrid soldier that he once was on the battlefield. That persona seems to have disappeared completely.

"I'm... I'm scared." He murmurs, his voice barely audible.

MC can’t take it anymore. She throws open the door and Caleb is on her in a second.

Caleb is quick to grab her, his limbs wrapping protectively around her. He's shaking, and he buries his face in her neck, desperately trying to calm himself.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry." He says, his voice quiet and trembling. He doesn't seem to care that he is probably scaring her. Right now, he just wants to be reassured that she won't leave him again.

He trembles against her, and he takes hold of her like she's his only lifeline.

MC finally lifts her arms to wrap around him, scratching at the base of his neck. “Shhh…I told you I wasn’t going anywhere….”

He nuzzles her neck, breathing in her scent and pressing his body against hers as if he's trying to soak up all of her warmth.

"I'm sorry," he says again, and his voice is still trembling. His hands are still gripping her like a lifeline, and his tail is curled around her waist.

"I'm just... I'm scared," he says again, and his voice is so small and fragile.

"I don't want to lose you."

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

[mothinked]

"Hey, look, the lake wasn't dried up when I last came through. There's a cabin still intact where I stayed for two days. There was even fish in the lake and no infected around from what I could tell; it's not some mirage oasis I dreamt up, alright?" Ellie tipped the beak of her hat down to shield more of her face from the sun. It didn't help much. "We'll have a campfire near the water to cook fish and we can even sleep inside if there's too much bugs at night." She wanted to just leg it the rest of the way to the lake right now and swim until she was as shriveled as a raisin. "You'll be thanking me once we're swimming and I'm catching us dinner."

They could divide the responsibilities. Ellie would go fishing or hunting (whichever got them food more quickly), Lev would scout the area and Abby would set up camp as agreed. It's what had been working for them all this time so why change the system.

Sweat was making her tank top cling to her back and chest like a second skin. Wearing a pack all day long only worsened her discomfort so she tried wearing it with just one strap. Shifting the nylon material irritated her sunburn, making her wince and swear under her breath. The water in her canteen was too precious—shared between her and a large dog not fit for such a climate—to cool herself down with in the same manner as Abby. She was trying to distract herself from the heat with conversation and found that talking to Abby wasn't as difficult as it had been during those first weeks.

Both women were calm and stoic to the point of indifference despite the gravity of their mission, putting survival before their personal issues shockingly well. Ellie knew this wouldn't have been possible had so much time not passed. Time didn't heal all wounds but it did help you see life more clearly. See things, people, for what they really were. Had she not sought serious help for her mental and emotional trauma then she wouldn't have been fit to be a parent to that precious boy... Let alone function as anything remotely resembling a human being. Probably would have slipped on a noose then kicked the chair long ago, if she were honest.

"I keep thinking about how much of a risk you took in coming to find me."

She held a begrudging degree of respect and it was shown in the look she gave Abby at the end of that sentence. "And I've gotta ask: do they know about our... history?" A pause. "Did they assume I was still out there after Salt Lake or did you offer up that information yourself? I know why you're doing this..." For her father. For the mere possibility of a future where one bite or broken gas mask wasn't a death sentence. Even if this was achieved, if a vaccine was engineered and produced for the masses, it would be well past her and Abby's time. They'd live long enough to see their loved ones inoculated but not the whole world. Ellie would be just fine with that.

"What I'm trying to understand is... you could have let other Fireflies talk me into it. Your father's legacy would have continued with his work, right? They need that research. You could have just been the face of it all instead of risking your ass to take me to them personally." Ellie was looking at her again. Las Vegas almost out of view now. "Did you feel like things were..." She searched for the right word, chewing her lip. "... unfinished between us? It was supposed to be the end. I could live with my choice to let you go, and I have." There was that feeling again. That tightness in her chest.

"If Tommy didn't get so fucked up from—" She cut herself off and shook her head, swallowing thickly. It was her who discovered he was still alive after that gunshot to the head. Dina who sewed him back together as best as she could before tending to Ellie's arm. "He would have gone after you in Santa Barbara. Killed you at any cost. Instead he, uh—he guilted me for choosing to move on after Seattle. Told me I was breaking the promise I made. He came to the farmhouse one day saying he got word about a woman that fit your description from a trader." Opening up about all of this wasn't easy but she felt Abby should know the reasoning (or lack thereof) behind Ellie's final pursuit.

"He was angry, hurt... Wasn't himself anymore. I thought if I went I could put my mind to rest, to make the nightmares finally stop." She had that thousand-yard stare, like she was reliving it all. "I told him I killed you but... here you are and here I am. Guess it was meant to be, in some twisted, fucked up kinda way." They were gradually traversing from desert to an area with more vegetation. Beyond the tumbleweeds and cacti there were grass and trees. Patches of sun-bleached grass but grass nonetheless. She began picking up the pace, moving ahead of Abby and Lev, and Jack seemed excited by her sudden energy.

Fuck the sun and fuck Nevada.

“May not have had time to put all the bodies somewhere…” Especially during the early stages of the outbreak. If outposts or camps were overrun, time was of the essence and getting as far away from the infected as possible was crucial. She’d heard some of the horror stories from her dad about how fast towns had fallen. How fast cities had been erased. How fast the world had almost ceased to exist. As terrifying as it was to navigate a cordyceps infested world like they were, the early days sounded borderline unsurvivable.

As they walked, Abby slung her pack over her shoulder so that she could pull her water out of it and take a sip. It was continuing to heat up but thankfully they weren’t quite tiptoeing the line of dangerous heat yet and she was hopeful it remained that way. After another sip, she poured a small bit into the palm of her hand and rubbed it over her face. Another small palm full goes onto the back of her neck before she caps her bottle up and slips it back into her backpack. It’s refreshing and reinvigorates her with a fresh batch of energy to carry on.

Navigating through the cars, Abby was careful to not catch anything on any of the rusted metal that was jutting out in their path as she listened to Ellie continue to speak. A cordyceps infection wasn’t the only way to die and getting a nasty cut from one of these without access to proper care and antibiotics sometimes was just as much of a death sentence. The mention of what seemed like a spore city made her cringe but bringing up Chernobyl was also a nice link. She’d read about it and knew the details but admittedly hadn’t thought about it much. “Yeah I know of it.,” she mumbles out as she hops over a hood with ease and plants her feet back firmly on the ground. “Med supplies or not, you wouldn’t find me within 50 fuckin miles of a place like that… at least not on purpose.” That last part was an addendum as it dawned on her that if nests really were a thing, she’d likely been closer to them than she realized.

Abby hops over another hood and stumbles forward after having to hop off a little hastier than expected to avoid keeping her hand on the heated metal any longer than it needed to be. “Are you sure this lakeIs even still there? Hasn’t dried up? I know mother nature took her shit back after everything but finding any water in a place like this feels suspect.”

[taniamunson]

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 ; ex-boyfriend!eddie x fem!reader

summary: After rehab, you return to Hawkins to find that nothing has changed… except you. And Eddie Munson.

warnings: Substance abuse, depression, mental health struggles, rehabilitation, family tension, past relationship drama, possible triggers for anxiety or trauma.

‼️ I don’t speak English perfectly, my native language is Spanish, and although I’ve taken many classes, my English is not perfect. I’m sorry if it sounds too “formal” or if something is unclear, please feel free to correct me. Thank you. ‼️

Part 1

━─━────────━─━━─━─────

You’re six years old. And the world, though small, smells like vanilla, brown sugar, and melted butter.

Your feet barely touch the floor from the wooden stool you’re standing on, an apron two sizes too big hanging off your shoulders. Your grandma moves beside you with a grace that feels choreographed. Her hands, wrinkled but steady, stir the cookie dough like it’s a sacred ritual.

“You know what’s the most important thing for them to turn out right?” she asks, not looking at you, but smiling through her voice.

You think about it. Maybe the sugar. Or the chocolate chips. Or not eating half the raw dough.

“What?”

“Love,” she answers, turning to you with one eyebrow raised. “If you don’t make them with love, it shows. Just like with people.”

You don’t fully get what she means, but you nod like you do. And you keep kneading with clumsy, flour-covered hands.

“How do you know if you love someone?” you ask after a while, shaping a small ball of dough and setting it on the baking tray.

Your grandma goes quiet. Then she wipes your cheek with her thumb and a sad smile.

“When you think of someone and feel like making them cookies. Even if they don’t ask.”

You frown. It sounds silly. But also a little true.

And that night, when the cookies come out of the oven and the trailer fills with that sweet, comforting smell, you decide—without really knowing you’re deciding.

You grab a napkin, place three still-warm cookies on top, and step outside barefoot into the cool Forest Hills air.

The grass is damp, and the sky holds that deep blue that only exists right before it turns fully dark. You walk carefully, holding in the excitement of a secret mission. The light in the trailer next door is still on.

Two knocks. You wait.

Eddie opens the door.

He’s your age, hair as messy as ever, and his eyes a little red—like he’s been crying. But he smiles when he sees you. That crooked-tooth smile you always thought was perfect.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You lift the napkin with the cookies like it’s an offering.

��I made cookies with my grandma. Chocolate. She said I should make them with love.”

Eddie takes them carefully, like he’s afraid they’ll fall apart in his hands.

“Thanks,” he says, but his voice is soft, dim.

“Are you sad?”

He shrugs.

“I just…” he stops, and you see him bite his lip to keep from crying again, “I think I miss my mom.”

You don’t know what to say. So you hug him—a quick, awkward one, like the kind you’ve seen on TV. He stays still for a second. Then he hugs you back.

“You can come over tomorrow,” you say. “Grandma’s making more cookies.”

He nods.

Years later, you’ll remember that moment. Not because of the cookies. Not because of what was said.

But because that was the first day you realized love didn’t always come with pretty words or forever promises.

Sometimes, it was just wanting someone not to feel alone.

You wake up with a dry throat and burning eyes. You blink a few times before sitting up. At some point, you must’ve dreamed of your grandma.

Flour on your hands, the oven on, her voice saying something that felt important. When you try to hold on to the detail, it’s already gone. Only a trace of warm cookies and a small trailer in Forest Hills remains.

Your mom’s voice echoes from downstairs. It’s not sweet or annoyed. Just rushed. Like someone reminding you you’ve got stuff to do.

She doesn’t answer when you shout that you’re already up.

You take your time before moving. The bed smells weird. Like closed air, dust, and something old that never really left.

The hallway is silent when you step out.

Your mom is gone. On the table, there’s a note in her rushed handwriting:

“Took the car. Don’t be late.”

Nothing else. You pocket the keys and head out.

You’re focused. Not perfectly, not like before, but enough. The teacher’s giving notes and you write them down without complaint. It’s like your body is tired of stalling and just wants to function.

Your handwriting is neater than usual. You even use headings. Silly details, but part of the effort.

When the bell rings, you gather your stuff and move without hurry. When you reach your old locker, you hesitate just a second before turning the combo. It opens.

Inside, there are still some old photos and drawings. You smile—small and dry. You don’t take them out. You just organize your books and close it.

You’re not running from the memories. You’re not clinging to them either. You’re just trying to live with them without letting them eat you alive.

Your next class starts quietly. The teacher drones on, but it doesn’t bother you. You take notes. You listen. You force yourself not to check the clock every five minutes.

And for a while, you succeed.

Until, about half an hour in, the door creaks open.

And there he is.

Standing at the threshold, messy-haired, no backpack, that same Dio pin on his denim jacket. The school principal could vanish midair and Eddie would still look unfazed.

“Late again, Munson,” says the teacher, not surprised.

Eddie raises his hands in mock apology, still grinning.

“I know, sir. Blame it on… life in general.”

A few scattered chuckles. He strolls across the room slowly, and just before taking the last seat in the back, he sees you.

You avoid eye contact. But you felt it.

And for the first time since you got back, your heart races.

You wonder if he already knew you were back.

You wonder if he cares.

You weren’t ready to see him. You weren’t ready for anything, really. But you’re here.

The rest of the class turns into a slow kind of torture. The teacher keeps talking, but the words blur into background noise.

You feel Eddie’s eyes on you. Like he’s also trying not to look but can’t help it.

You force yourself to keep writing. You grip your pen harder than necessary. Your handwriting turns tight, messier.

You don’t want to turn.

You don’t want to know.

Because if you do—if your eyes meet his—you know something inside you is going to break.

And you’re not sure you can hold it together after that.

The classroom air feels heavy. Like the whole room has shrunk and you’re stuck in a fishbowl, breathing too fast.

You bite the inside of your lip.

Your breathing shifts. At first so subtly you barely notice. Then quicker. Shallower.

Like the air’s too thick to get in properly.

You inhale slow. Exhale even slower.

It doesn’t help.

The clock ticks forward with cruel slowness. You watch the second hand jump, mocking you. Each minute dragging like it weighs a thousand pounds.

Count.

One, two, three.

Inhale through your nose.

Four, five.

Exhale through your mouth.

Again.

And still, it doesn’t pass.

Your fingers start to tingle. You clutch the pen tighter.

Don’t look. Don’t do it.

You cling to the routine.

Write. Breathe. Don’t look.

Count. Breathe. Don’t think.

And then, finally, the bell rings.

You don’t even wait for the teacher to finish his goodbye. You shove your things into your bag and stand so fast the chair screeches. You don’t apologize. You don’t look at anyone.

You walk out almost running, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape too. The hallway’s half full, but everything feels too loud, too bright. You just want out.

The air outside is freezing, but you don’t feel it. Or you feel it too much. You can’t tell. You walk to your car like your body knows where it’s going even if you don’t.

You get in. Shut the door. Silence.

You don’t start the engine. You just sit there, hands on the steering wheel, nails barely digging into your skin.

“You have to try.” You whisper it, barely audible.

You promised yourself. Back there, in that white room that smelled like medicine and wilted flowers. You swore you’d make the effort, even if it hurt.

But now, sitting in this cheap car, eyes burning, chest tight, it feels impossible.

You’re tired.

Not physically. Not from lack of sleep… but from holding everything together on your own.

Your parents tried to help, but they didn’t show up. They weren’t there. They didn’t ask. Not once during your time away did they step through that door. Maybe a weekly call—at best. Then silence. Like sending you away had been enough.

And you thought… you thought he would.

Even in secret. Even just a letter. You thought Eddie would show up. Because he always did. Because when you were just a little girl with a big, clumsy heart, he opened the door like you were the best part of his day.

But he didn’t. He never came. He didn’t ask.

And it hurts. Even if you shouldn’t admit it. Even if you know hurting doesn’t change anything.

Sometimes you just didn’t want to be alone. You needed him.

You close your eyes. Breathe deep.

Until the shaking in your fingers fades.

tags:

@transparent-enemy @melvin333

[s-sugustar]

Trust? Trust Who?

𝖼𝗐 ☆： possessive zayne , possessive sex, zayne with a gun?!?, gun play, overstimulation, jealous zayne?!

𝖺／𝗇 ☆：haven’t edited it. we die like men!

It was the middle of winter, snow falling heavily onto the ground, causing you to clutch the scarf a bit closer to you as you cheerily spoke to one of Zayne’s colleagues who came up to you based on the champagne that sloshed around in your wine glass. “Ah, that makes sense, you seem like the type to like dry wine, preferably red too.” You chuckled as you raised the glass to your lips, eyes scanning the floor for Zayne, who seemed to be nowhere in sight at the moment.

The heels on your feet were started to hurt, maybe you should’ve listened to Zayne when he said not to wear them. Yet you loved the pair of nude YSL red bottoms he had given you a couple weeks ago. He always had a thing for gifting you things, the way your eyes shone at the bags or boxes he would give you, the smile that would be etched onto your face or how you squeezed him into a hug with a series of ‘thank you’s’ leaving your lips.

Maybe it was the way his name fell from your lips with your knees touching your face, the little jingle from the gold Pandora anklet he had given you when you first met back up with him after your two months mission. He wouldn’t show it in public but when the condo’s door closed, his arms never seemed to fail in finding your hips. “You seem to enjoy the wine a lot. What is this, your third glass?” Andy smirked, head tipping to the glass that was still in your hand. With a roll of your eyes, you downed yet another glass before calling over the bartender. “I think she’s had enough for the night.” A smooth voice called from over you, pulling the glass out of your hand without much hassle. “Hey—”, “That’s enough y/n.” you pouted as you watched the glass move away from your eyesight.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her.” Zayne nodded towards his younger colleague, who shook his head in return, quietly slipping away, leaving the two of you alone. You turned to face him, eyes slightly glossed over, but that wasn’t the main idea right now. “I see that you’ve worn the cuff links I got you.” You glanced at his wrists, the silver glint adorning them. You saw as one of his hands pulled at the other wrist, the link stringing between his fingers. "They fit well and it goes back with the suit," Zayne replied, the tip of his index finger pushing up the bridge of his glasses onto his nose. He seemed tense and you weren't sure as to why, but you'll eventually find out.

The music within the ballroom changed to more of a slower tune. You took this opportunity to tug at Zayne's sleeves, his steel grey eyes piercing yours. "Why don't we go and dance for a bit?" Without a verbal answer, Zayne gripped your wrist, not too tight, but he did have a grip on you; maybe unafraid to let you go. With your hand in one and his other hand around your waist, the two of you quietly swayed to the rhythm of the tune. Feeling at ease, you rested your head against his shoulder, eyes shut as the two of you danced away. Almost forgetting the main reason you brought him onto the dance floor.

You looked up from where your head lay, eyes squinted as you looked up at the man in front of you. With grace, the man whom you had known for many years looked down at you, eyebrow raised as if he was waiting for you to say something. Your poor little heart couldn't help but skip a couple of beats, and the butterflies in your stomach were having a field day at this moment in time. "You looked tense earlier, was something wrong?" You searched his eyes for an answer, but all you got was a certain pull that drew you in further. God, you hated the things this man made you feel.

Zayne was unsure of how to tell, but was quite certain of the way he felt about you. To him, you were everything he wasn't; complete opposites, and you two are the same. When you were loud, he was quiet; when he didn't feel like enough, you made it known that he was the whole world and so much more. His fears became your fears which were overcome by the two of you working things out, your insecurities were things he reassured you of time and time again, never failing to swoon you with his words, make you weak in the knees and soft in the heart; yet neither of you dared to pop the question.

'What are we?' It hovered, it came and went, it was so loud yet still so silent. So much potential, yet the chaos was near. The two of you had liked the dynamic you had going on, two close friends who helped relieve each other from stress from time to time. Zayne said 'friends with benefits' sounds brash. You never expected the gifts to be a part of it. It started small, then Zayne got addicted to seeing that pretty smile of yours that would light up the room from miles away.

Recently, Zayne had been feeling a lot different to the times before when he was around you, his heart raced ten times faster when your hand pulled at his wrists or when you brushed his hair out of the way from time to time. Or maybe it was the way anger coursed through his veins when he saw any other man speaking to you or breathing the same air as you. What would ever possess them to be around my wife?!! Ah, right. It took him a while to figure out that his feelings he had for you were not the same as they were before.

He thought the gifts he bought for yu would steer the men away, that was the reason he started in the first place to claim his stake on you; to show them that you belonged to him and no one else but the way the side of your eyeswrinkled everytime you smiled or the little squeal you would let out when you saw him with yet another bag from some designer store in his hand made him change his mind completely. It was no longer to show people that you belonged to him but for the giggles, the smile and especially the squeals; he lived for the squeals day in and day out. His heart beating like never before, his eyes shining bright as he lightly smiled down at you. He shouldn't be feeling this way, but he couldn't help himself.

"Do you trust me, Y/n?" he asked, his head tilted as he waited for your answer. You looked at him as if he had grown three extra heads. "Of course I do, you should know this." You answered, a bit unsure of why such a question was being asked. You trusted him with your body, your soul and mind, so why would he be asking such a question? You shook your head, deciding not to dwell on it much longer. Although it stayed in the back of your mind, you made sure to not let it ruin your night with Zayne, even though your question remained unanswered.

It was later in the night when the two of you decided it was time to head out, seeing that your eyes decided it was soon time to clock out and with Zayne being as perceptible as he was, he had seen this and decided it was time to go. The car ride was quiet, no music, no small chat, just pure silence and not the easy-going one either. Zayne decided that instead of taking you to your home, you would stay the night since it was easier for you to reach work from his place, to which you had no issues.

The door closed once the two of you were completely inside the house, the heels quickly coming off before you made a beeline to Zayne's room, stripped out of your clothing, leaving behind your blue lace bra and panty set. You grabbed your towel and wrapped it around you before entering the bathroom. With your hair wrapped in the bonnet, you took this time to grab one of the aloe wipes to remove your makeup, once you were finished, you washed your face with the cleanser you had brought over from your place, gently scrubbing your face to get rid of any dirt that would've still been stuck to your face. With the final wash, the hair on the back of your neck stood up, causing you to look up when you had finished.

Zayne stood by the bathroom door watching. The jacket he wore was off, which left the dress shirt partially undone. With the tie loose, a couple of buttons at the top undone, and the sleeves of the shirt rolled up to his biceps. Damn, he looks good. You glanced at him before heading over to the shower, unaware of the looks that were headed your way. "You've been silent," he noticed, taking small steps towards you until he was behind you, pulling away your hand from the shower and towards him. You looked up at him, eyes searching and mind pondering on what to do next.

"Is there something I should say? Or is there something that you want me to say?" you responded, leaving the floor open to his answer. Zayne sighed before walking over to the bed, sitting on the edge as he pulled off the tie. "You're making this harder than it needs to be, y/n," he murmured, which caused you to scoff. "I'm making this harder? You're the one who decided to ask a stupid question." You stood by the bathroom door, shoulder propped against the door as your eyes continued to stay on Zayne, who, for some reason, was avoiding eye contact with you.

You took this moment to step closer to him, taking the spot next to him on the bed; a deep sigh exiting your body as you rested your head against his shoulder. "I didn't mean to make you feel any type of way, I just wanted an answer from you," he reasoned, making you sit up and face him. "But why? You of all people know that I trust you. We've been friends since we were kids, so what gives?" you uttered, still unsure as to the reason behind his words. "You make this so much harder for me." Groaning, Zayne pulled away from you, standing from the bed as he started to head towards the door.

"Zayne, what are you on about?" Standing from the bed, you stood where you were, not sure of where this was going. "I didn't start giving you gifts just because I wanted to. I started because I got jealous; I heard others talking about you, I saw men smiling with you, and you doing the same. It made me angry, my heart was racing, and my head felt hot. So I had to do something, that's why I thought of the gifts for you; it was stake my claim on you, and I know that sounds so wrong, and I'm sorry, but after a while it wasn't about that anymore, it became all about you. The way you would smile, glimmer in your eyes whenever I handed you the gifts, Y/n."

Zayne had already pulled away from the door and was now much closer to you than before. "Then the sex. God, it got worse from there. I can't go a day without seeing you under me. Sometimes I can't even focus at work; the flashbacks, I can hear you in my head. The way you say my name, the way you keep begging me, I-I can't. Please. I can't bear seeing you with others, and you probably don't even feel the same, and that's fine, but at lea-" Zayne couldn't finish what he was saying before you pulled him even closer to you, his lips attaching to yours.

His hands found comfort in holding onto your hips, yours found peace in his hair. Pulling away to catch your breath, you found yourself staring into his eyes, pools of the colour hazel dripped into yours. The quiet breathing between the two of you slowed, hands frozen in the spots that they had been in for the past minute. Words came, but voices were lost. It took you a minute to regain your voice. "For someone as smart as you, you sure are stupid when it comes to me," you giggled, causing the doctor who held you close to roll his eyes. "Just jump." Of course you did, you should've asked how high when he did, but maybe another time.

With his hands holding most of your weight, you took the opportunity to kiss him again. Your lips moulding into his as he moved closer to the bed. Your hands find solace in his soft raven hair, tugging slightly at the roots, causing the poor doctor to moan into your mouth. Your tongue limp as his explored your mouth, from the roof to the bottom of your tongue. Feeling the soft mattress against your back, you took the opportunity to move one hand from his hair, lowering it to unbutton his shirt. To fully get it off, he pulled his hands away from your hips, reaching back to fling the shirt somewhere across the room. His calloused hands roamed all over your body, from in between your hips to under your breasts.

Pulling away, Zayne moved back. His hands caressing your thighs before pulling them open. The wet patch seen against the wine red fabric caused the stoic man to grumble in pain. His thumb pressed against the patch, stroking the thin material before snapping it. "Hey, I liked this one a lot," you whined, seeing him fling the fabric in some direction or the other. "I'll buy you more tomorrow," he answered before pressing his nose against your core, a deep inhale before pressing his tongue flat against you. "F-fuck." You whined, your hands almost immediately gripping his hair. His tongue plunging into your gummy walls, hands gripping onto the flesh of your thighs as he continued to slurp your juices, his tongue feeling every inch of your insides.

"hgh, Zayne. I'm close," you uttered, tears filling the brim of your eyes as you gripped his hair, gasping at every slight movement, silently begging for more. You felt the knot in your stomach, and you could feel the vibrations from below. "S'okay, cum for me, my love." Squeezing your eyes shut, you whined in separation as you came undone. Tears falling from your eyes, as you looked down towards Zayne, who was already staring back at you. Eyes glossed over, quiet panting fell from his lips as he looked up, catching your eyes. You surely didn't miss the way the moon cast a glow on his face, a sheen of light covering his lower face. "Do you trust me?" There he is with that question again. You rolled your eyes before nodding. "I need words. I know you haven't gone dumb on me, have you?"

You shook your head before replying, having gone a bit hoarse from before. "I do trust you." He looked at you once more before pulling himself up, reaching over to the drawer that was next to the bed. You didn't quite follow what he was doing since you had been more focused on his body. Your hands gliding against his Adam's apple before moving downward to his chest. "You have a thing for my Adam's apple?" he smirked, peering down at you. "I like touching it, something wrong with that?" you retorted, your hands tracing circles onto his back. When he pulled away, you saw a gun in his hands, safety still on it seems. With a raised eyebrow, you patiently waited for his reasoning.

"I want to try something a bit different. You did say you trust me, right?" With your nod of confirmation, Zayne leaned back, gun in one hand while the other rested low on your hip. You felt the gun near your entrance, it felt cold, but nothing you couldn't handle. Zayne took his time as he pushed it in, taking in the look on your face every time he pushed it deeper. "S'okay, I got you," he whispered, his thumb rubbing your clit as he pushed the gun back and forth into you. "f-uck." Your hand gripping his wrist as the warmth from his thumb and the coldness from the gun clashed with one another, giving you something else to feel out from.

"Just want another from you, okay?" Zayne continuously reassured you, his hand finding the side of your face, his fingers running along the side of it. Taking in the way your eyes fluttered or the softness of your skin. "You truly are beautiful," he whispered, slowly taking the gun away from your insides before placing the barrel against your lips, tapping your bottom lip for you to open. Lowering your lip, the gun was slowly pushed into your mouth, your tongue latching onto it almost immediately. The harsh metal scraped against your tongue, every ridge and dent was soaked with your spit, your teeth barely grazing the edge of the gun. "Good girl. Keep doing that for me."

It became too much when you felt his dick inside you, the sudden thrust jerking you back to reality. "Didn't mean to startle you, my love." The gun was pulled away from your lips and placed in bed bedside drawer. His thumb swiped away some of the spit that fell from your lips, putting his thumb in his mouth to taste you. "You really like how I taste, huh?" you smiled, fully coming back to earth. Zayne felt you squeeze around him, causing the man to whine, eyes squeezed shut as his hands gripped your hips to steady himself. "D-don't start," he warned, eyes piercing through you as he thrusted deeper into you.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Nocturnal guilt and training

John Walker x fem!reader

warning : emotional, fluff, kiss, hurt/comfort, wounds (blood), no use of Y/n

Summary : It is one thing when you don't concentrate, it's another when you let yourself get hurt to deal with your own pain. John finds himself in dark places from time to time, which is especially evident after the last mission, but the soldier wants to go through it alone. Yet his girlfriend is there to help him no matter how long it takes, they would make it together.

info : Finally another fluffy hurt/comfort for John, he just needs a makeover and now have fun reading :)

masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The sirens of the fire engines and ambulances could still be heard, the explosions and gunfire seemed to be ringing in everyone's ears.

What had started out as a nice morning of fun, breakfast together and a good cuddle with John at her side, who could finally sleep in a little, had turned into an emergency call shortly after bread, muesli, fruit and coffee.

An emergency call that the Thunderbolts had of course responded to, a mission in which there were no injuries, everyone came out of it unscathed, civilians cheered and the television reported.

With Ava's help the explosion shrunk to a level where it could do no harm, the rest were little more than training...or so it should have been.

Even if her her pistols were accurate and she and Yelena moved forward in the shadows. They all did their best to do good, to do justice and to somehow maybe turn out to be really good.

They all had dark pasts, they all carried pain and mistakes, but seeing the smiles and relief of the people when the heroes came out, along with their sense of family, was perhaps the forgiveness they all needed.

But one look to her side, one look to her partner, her shield of all shields and her boyfriend let her know that John didn't seem to feel any of that forgiveness.

The moment they went back into the helicopter, which was less out of place in the city than the jet, she saw that something was bothering John, that his fixed gaze and tense posture had not ceased.

A complete contrast to the sleepy, friendly man in whose arms she had lain in the morning, whose bright eyes were filled with love and joy and whose posture was relaxed seemed no more.

The rotor blades spun faster and faster and the team took off, sitting down next to John, after a moment she let her hand rest on his, “Are you all right?” her question as quietly as she could so that he could still hear her despite the loud vehicle.

The others were chatting animatedly so she and John had as much time as they could for each other in the vehicle, “Yeah, don't worry,” he replied short, looking from his still bent shield to her.

A small smile might be a good lie, but the look in his eyes as his lostness met her unsureness, she knew somethin was wrong.

But she knew John just as well and knew that the former soldier wouldn't just open up like that, he was a soldier, he wasn't allowed to have emotions, at least that's what he had said himself until recently.

John had fought in wars, he had been deployed and he had obeyed orders, but what was going on inside him had never played a role in his preconceptions.

Only when the new Captain America did something 'wrong', something that was overwhelmed by emotions and distation...but now?

What was it that was bothering him?

A question she didn't know how to answer, the many attempts she made to calm him down, to make him realize that he could tell her, were blocked and at the latest when he turned to his shield and his bright eyes didn't look away from it, she knew it was useless.

Placing her hand on his one last time, she moved away from him to give him space for the rest of the flight.

Turning to her friends and joining in the discussion, she gave John a few more glances before she let the soldier be a soldier and stood back.

Because even if it hurt her, even if she knew how hard everything was, he would talk when he was ready warm John was an adult but sometimes he seemed to have the stubborn silence of a child.

A fact that the others in the tower also noticed at the latest when John retreated wordlessly and more sullenly than usual to his room, “I don't know what's wrong with him, since the mission, he's been like this,” she said and only a short moment later felt Alexei's hand on her shoulder.

The older man had a surprisingly understanding look on his face as he said empathetically, “Sometimes a man has to be alone to fight his own battles,” and Bucky only gave a short nod, they both knew what they were talking about, they had learned what it meant to be a soldier themselves.

But Yelena's shaking head and Ava's incomprehension held against it, “That's all well and good, but he should still talk to you, you're his girlfriend and not since yesterday,” Yelena argued, putting her hand on the other shoulder and Ava nodded in agreement.

Before any of them could fall into the group, they heard a quiet, “Well, I'd just talk to him again in the evening,” from Bob, who had been listening to all this on the couch and took a sip of his milkshake before continuing to dry the cutlery he had spent his time with before the mission.

Giving her friend a grateful look and spending some more time with them so as not to worry too much about John, she went about her day as best she could.

She tried to distract herself, not to read too much into it, but how could she not?

She was his friend, at the latest in the evening they would sleep in the same bed and meet again, she wished to have her John back but just as she had her dark days she would not run away.

She was an agent, she had done and overcome so many battles and missions she would not leave John behind, which is why she waited until dinner.

The meal where they all sat and ate together, talking about the day, what they had done and how the day had just passed.

What was normally a pleasant time, everyone knew something was wrong when John didn't show up, a former family man who made a point of eating in the evening, but as the minutes passed, everyone knew something wasn't right.

Taking one bite after another without a word, her worry continued to grow, even the worried looks from the others didn't help to reassure her that everything would be alright.

Which is why, towards the end of the meal, she was grateful to feel Bob's embrace before the rest of them murmured in one voice, “It'll go over, don't worry so much,” Bucky said before wishing the others a good night and the rest of the team retired for the night.

After she had stayed in the living room for a few more minutes but John still hadn't shown himself, she gave up with a sigh and retired to her room, lying alone in bed, alone in the actual double bed that had room for John on the other side.

She didn't feel an amorous look on her face as she slipped into something more comfortable and she didn't feel a hand brush along her thigh as she moved under the covers.

John wasn't there, her worry too great and every time she closed her eyes it only seemed to get worse I just wanted to help you she heard her thoughts as she opened her eyes again and sat up.

With a jerk, she pushed aside the covers and quietly walked out of her room, knowing that she had to be there for John now.

A quick question to the tower's ai system let her know that John hadn't left the building since they got back and with another question she now knew that the only room still in use was the training room one floor below her.

Getting into the elevator and pressing the button for the floor below her, she felt the uneasy feeling in her stomach, her heart beating faster than usual.

It wasn't a normal argument, something was bothering him that he didn't even seem angry, at least he didn't take his anger out on her or the others He still cares about us she thought to herself, not letting go of her hope.

In the past he would have snapped at the others when he was angry to get his temper out but now, no, he tried to snap at his more, at least not without reason.

She kept her gaze straight ahead as the silver doors opened and she stepped out, hearing muffled thuds, glancing through the glass panes that revealed the room she saw John standing in front of a punching bag in the darkened room.

Carefully opening the door, she slowly stepped towards him, “John” she said his name and stopped a few meters away from him.

Even in the darkened light, she saw how his t-shirt stuck to him, how sweat ran down his face, how his arms seemed to tremble slightly with every lunge and she realized with concern that he had probably been training for hours.

He normaly trained for several hours but never to the point of this exhaustion, “John...it's late, do you want to come to bed?” she dared to ask, and he didn't answer, besides the hurried breathing and repeated thuds he made with his bare hands on the punching bag.

It seemed to be the only thing between them, as if he didn't hear her at all, as if he was blocking her out, as if he was losing himself in himself.

She made up her mind as she walked the last few meters and said louder, “Jonathan! Would you please talk to me?” and a loud bang rang through the room as he knocked the punching bag off the chain with a grunt and such a strong blow that it flew several meters across the floor with an open dent.

Startled, she remained in her position, her hand only a few centimeters away from his when he finally turned to face her and his blue eyes finally looked into hers.

“John-I just want to help you, you've been avoiding me and the others for hours, lashing out and hurting yourself. What are you doing?” she demanded with every word, finding her courage and worry again as she pointed at him with her hand.

Pointing to his bloodshot eyes, the sweat dripping from him, his unsteady stance before she reached for his hand, blood dripping from the unprotected blows on the equipment.

“John, what is-” her question stopped when his hand suddenly went to her cheek, for a moment she thought he was going to grab her neck, he was going to attack her, he was going to hurt what was most important to him.

But when she felt the trembling, the warmth emanating from him, she saw the guilt, saw the fear and the uncertainty, “I had to think about nothing again, I could have been better...you almost got hurt,” he confessed and the last thing surprised her.

The mission had gone well, he had done excellently, what could he have done better?

Carefully taking his hand in hers and trying not to touch the torn and bleeding knuckles he seemed to have seen her questioning look.

“John it doesn't matter which mission or when we are all reminded of the worst but no one has been hurt. We're all back safe, the civilians are safe...we're both safe,” she tried and gave him a gentle kiss on the inside of his hand.

The faint smile was little consolation, but when he let go of her hand and took off his T-shirt, her expression was one of horror.

John had a stab wound in his shoulder that was not even properly bandaged, but due to the lack of proper first aid, it looked much worse and bloodier than it should have.

“He snuck up on me, my shield was protecting you and I wasn't fast enough, which is why I took the attack like that,” he gave the cure and looked ashamed as she led him to the bench and ordered him to sit down.

He came to terms with the matter too, there seemed little of his pride left at that moment, he seemed exhausted, tired and lost, “That was brave, proud and stupid John...but you protected me, you did what a hero would do, do you hear me?” she asked, holding his face gently with her hands.

There was honesty in her gaze and she saw how something slowly stirred in him, how her words changed his mind, how they gave him back the support he needed.

When he gently leaned his forehead against hers and they both closed their eyes, just holding each other for a brief moment, she knew that John was calm again, at least for that night, that when she felt the grateful, gentle kiss and the hands wrapped around her, he was pulling her close.

His head against her chest, listening to her heartbeat for a moment, just a moment of peace as she heard the words, “Thank you dear” before he released her so she could fetch the first aid kit.

When she stayed in the doorway for a moment and glanced at him, he sat tighter, less slumped, still exhausted, but the look John gave her let her know that her beloved U.S. agent was back, that she had her heart back.

That John would snuggle up to her again tonight instead of losing himself in the darkness. They were finally there for each other again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@neska223 , @brisselfshipping , @bribrisposts , @redlightgreenlight01 , @arickaandherfictionalothers , @eurydicesxshadow , @addi-florida , @marvelnerd18 , @celebrimborcoulddestroyme , @panda-b0s , @marebearjo , @crimsonkingart , @warlikebisexual , @tallulinha

[softly-faye]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡’ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

(Rafe Cameron x innocent!homeschooled!relgious!Reader - reader grew up in a very traditional household and had religion forced upon her. No smut but mentions of sexual activities once or twice)

౨ৎ

You’d never even been on a date until Rafe.

Never kissed a boy. Never even talked to one alone for longer than a few minutes. Not unless you count the youth group coordinator’s son, who once told you Harry Potter was demonic.

And then you met him.

Rafe Cameron. The name alone used to mean trouble. But that was before. Before therapy. Before the medication. Before the long talks with Wheezie that made him realize maybe he didn’t want to be his father after all. He still had a temper. Still said the wrong thing more than he should. But when it came to you he was patient. He was trying.

You didn’t understand a lot of things. You were twenty-two and still called bras “undergarments.” You didn’t cuss. You apologized for everything. You still said “gosh” and “goodness” and blushed if a kissing scene played in a movie.

You talked about your childhood like it had been a mission trip you were just now recovering from. Rafe would be eating dinner with you and you’d say something casual like, “Mama used to make us wear gloves to the grocery store because modesty was a reflection of holiness,” and he’d just freeze with his fork halfway to his mouth like what the actual fuck.

He didn’t say it though. He never judged you. Never rushed you. Not when you told him you didn’t want to have sex until it felt safe. Not when you told him you still weren’t sure if kissing was a sin or not. Not even when you once asked him quietly what a blow job was and if it hurt.

Tonight you were curled up on his leather sectional, legs tucked under you, a big fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He had picked out a horror movie. Nothing too gory, but enough suspense to keep your hands clenched in the fabric near your collarbone.

Ten minutes in and you were already hiding your face. Rafe reached over and gently tugged the blanket away so he could see your eyes.

“You sure you want to keep watching this?” he asked.

You hesitated.

“I mean… it’s just pretend, right?”

Rafe tilted his head toward you on the couch. “Yeah. All fake. Actors and effects. Nothing real.”

“I know but…” You bit your lip. “It feels bad. Like I’m doing something wrong by watching it.”

He muted the TV and turned toward you fully. “You mean like… wrong how?”

You looked down at your hands. Picked at a thread on the edge of the blanket. “My parents used to say horror movies were demonic. That watching them let evil in.”

Rafe blinked. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“I guess. I just… it still feels like I’ll get in trouble. Even though I’m an adult.”

Rafe leaned back against the cushions and rubbed a hand over his mouth. You were so pretty sitting there, all wide eyes and worry, like someone had put an angel in the wrong world and now she was scared to move.

“Listen,” he said. “You don’t have to believe all the stuff they taught you. Not if it doesn’t feel right.”

You looked up slowly.

“You’re not a little girl anymore. You don’t have to be afraid of movies or music or what’s gonna happen to your soul if you say ass out loud.”

You actually blushed at that.

“Don’t say that word,” you whispered, eyes darting toward the ceiling like God might drop through the roof.

Rafe laughed under his breath and shook his head. He leaned in a little, voice softer now. “Sweetheart. You can say whatever you want. You’re not in that house anymore. You don’t have to follow their rules.”

You didn’t answer right away. Your fingers twisted together in your lap. Then quietly, almost like a confession, you said,

“I don’t even know if I believe in all of it anymore. The way they taught it. The way it felt like fear and shame were part of being loved.”

Rafe’s hand slid over yours, firm but careful.

“You’re allowed to figure that out for yourself. No one gets to do it for you.”

“I don’t want to stop believing completely,” you said. “But I don’t want to live like that again. I don’t want to be scared all the time.”

He nodded, eyes steady on yours. “So don’t be. Believe in what feels real to you. Not what makes you feel small.”

You looked at him like he was something you weren’t supposed to touch. Then you leaned into his shoulder, letting your cheek rest there, quiet and slow.

And he didn’t push. He didn’t slide his hand under your dress. He didn’t ask for anything.

He just held you like you were something to be guarded.

౨ৎ

The next night, Rafe was pacing in the kitchen while Topper sat at the marble island, eating leftover garlic knots.

“They’re coming to the house, man,” Rafe muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “The house. Where we sleep. Where she told me she thought the dishwasher was too worldly. I don’t even know what that means.”

Topper snorted. “You gonna wear a tie?”

“I’m gonna burn sage and say a prayer.”

“You don’t believe in God.”

“I do now.”

Topper laughed hard enough to choke on a piece of bread. Rafe ignored him and opened the wine cabinet.

“I have to act like a fucking saint,” he muttered. “No swearing. No touching. No breathing too loud. I already moved the condoms out of the nightstand.”

Topper wiped his mouth and leaned back in the chair. “You’re really into her.”

Rafe looked up slowly. “She makes me feel clean. Like if I’m careful enough, I won’t ruin her.”

“Hey I mean at-least you’re not coked up anymore.” Topper cackled on the other side of the pool table, racking up the balls again. “Aren’t they, like, super Jesus-y?”

Rafe took a long swig of beer, ran a hand through his hair. “They homeschooled her, bro. She didn’t even know what a blowjob was until like three weeks ago. I had to explain it with my hands.”

Topper snorted.

“I’m serious,” Rafe groaned. “And now I gotta sit at the fucking marble dining table and convince her dad I’m not corrupting his little angel when, like—technically—I kind of am?”

He trailed off.

౨ৎ

They arrived exactly on time. Six o’clock sharp.

You had been ready since four.

Rafe watched from the kitchen as you smoothed down your dress for the fifth time. It was pale blue, high neckline, sleeves that hit your wrists. No makeup. No jewelry. Your hair was pulled back with a satin ribbon. You looked soft. Fragile. Like you’d been pulled from a page in an old Bible.

When the doorbell rang, you froze.

Rafe opened it.

Your father stood like he owned the air behind him. Tall. Clean-shaven. Cold eyes. A Bible clutched in his hand like a threat.

Your mother stood beside him, pleasant but brittle, her smile too perfect, her tone rehearsed.

You stepped forward, voice small. “Hi, Daddy.” Rafe hated that word. Your father didn’t hug you. He looked you over.

“You cut your hair,” he said, disapproving. “And your dress is too fitted.” “I thought it was modest,” you said quickly. He didn’t respond.

Rafe stepped aside. “Come in.”

They did. Silently.

Your mother looked around the foyer, her eyes scanning everything the light fixtures, the crown molding, the art on the wall.

“It’s… modern,” she said. “Very polished.” Your father nodded once.

“Marble in the kitchen. That’s nice. You must be doing well.”

“I do alright,” Rafe said.

No smile. Just level eye contact.

౨ৎ

Dinner was already plated when they sat down. You had made everything yourself. Lemon rosemary chicken. Garlic green beans. Bread rolls made from scratch. You had cooked in silence all morning, humming hymns under your breath.

Your father reached for your hands before anyone touched their food. “Bow your heads.” Everyone obeyed. His voice filled the room.

“Lord, protect this house from temptation. Keep our daughter’s feet from straying. Cast out all false spirits. And remind her that obedience is the foundation of salvation.”

Your mother whispered amen before he even finished.

Rafe kept his eyes closed. Barely, The first ten minutes were quiet. Your father chewed slowly. Swallowed. “The chicken’s dry.”

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately. “I was trying a new brine.” “Stick to what you know. Simplicity is godly.” You nodded.

Rafe’s knife scraped across his plate. Once. Sharp.bYour mother wiped her mouth delicately. “So. Are you two attending church together?”

“No,” you said. “Not regularly. Sometimes I—” “She hasn’t found one she likes,” Rafe cut in. Your father frowned.“There are no preferences in faith. You submit where you’re planted. Or you don’t grow at all.”

You nodded again. Head down.

“And what exactly is your job?” he asked Rafe. “Private equity. Land development.” “Lots of greed in that line of work.”Rafe smiled without humor. “Lot of corruption in churches too.”

Your mother blinked.

The silence that followed was loud.

Conversation turned to your childhood.

Your mother bragged about how you never watched television growing up. “How she used to cry if she even heard a curse word on the radio,” she said. “We didn’t let her listen to anything but worship music until she was nineteen.”

“She still prays before she eats,” your father added. “Even snacks. Keeps her spirit aligned.”

“She was so obedient,” your mother said. “Always asked permission before speaking. Always wore long skirts. Never once acted out.”

You didn’t say anything.

Rafe looked at you.

You looked like you were shrinking.

Your father leaned back in his chair. “I hope you’ve kept her disciplined.”

Rafe stared across the table, dead calm. “She’s not a dog.”

“No. She’s a woman,” your father said. “And women need guidance.”

Rafe didn’t blink. “She needs space.” “She needs structure. You let a woman think for herself too long, she’ll confuse freedom for purpose.”

You looked down. Gripped the edge of your seat.

Your mother chimed in. “We fasted every Monday and Thursday for her spiritual protection growing up. Once she got sick with a fever and we just prayed through it. Three days. No medicine. And the Lord healed her.”

Rafe was silent. His face unreadable.

You spoke up, barely above a whisper. “I remember thinking I was going to die.” Your father looked at you sharply. “You were being tested.”

“She was seven,” Rafe said. Quiet. Cold.

Your father turned back to him. “And God got her through it. Not a hospital.”

Rafe leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice low.

“She could have died.”

“Then that would’ve been God’s will.”

There it was.

That was the moment he knew.

They would’ve buried you without blinking if they thought it made them holy.

After dessert, your mother offered to help clean up. You insisted it was fine. She didn’t push. You always handled everything.

Your father walked to the foyer, Bible still in hand.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said. “But I expect you to lead her with conviction. I won’t have her straying.” Rafe nodded once. “I don’t lead her. I stand beside her.”

“She’s not equal to you.”

Rafe’s voice dropped. “Get out of my house.”

Your father stared at him. But didn’t speak.

Rafe opened the door.

When they were gone, the silence felt alive.

You stood in the kitchen, hands braced on the edge of the counter, head bowed.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “They mean well.”

“You know what fuck them, Y/n. You don’t deserve them. If you want you never have to go to church again your fucking twenty one not four.”

You just hugged him rubbing your face into his chest, “I love you Rafe.” He smiled softly. “I love you more.”

[glubglubgurgle]

bruised apples (EPILOGUE)

happy ending? :3

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

pairings: caleb/unnamed afab mc

tags: fluff FLUFF FLUFF !!! some angst.....a good chunk of angst...but mainly fluffy and lovey dovey stuff :3 established marriage!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: the official ending to bruised apples :3 thank u so much for reading :3

reminder tag!!! for one person LOLOL: @mcdepressed290 <3

epilogue

“Are you sure you’re okay with living in Linkon?” She asked him for the thousandth time as they unloaded the truck into their new home. “There was that house in-”

Caleb rolled his eyes, stopping in front of her, making her bump into him. He turned around and freed one of his hands to poke her on her forehead. “Silly girl. This place is perfect for us. It’s near the Association and walking distance from the park and all those cafes you like. Aaaand, they have a parking spot on the roof.” Once Caleb graduated from the DAA, everyone wanted him as their fighter pilot. It was almost like he was the star player during the trading season. It didn’t take long for him to be able to afford his own aircraft. Even though he was still based in Skyhaven, living in Linkon was no problem since he could just fly out to work.

The two of them lived apart while she was studying to become a Hunter. He got his own apartment in Skyhaven while she stayed in the dorms. Then when she passed the Hunter’s test, she was able to get her own apartment in Linkon. Their first years in their careers were far too hectic to find a place together, and Caleb grew restless. He was doing his best to be patient until the incident on her first mission alone.

He wanted to ask her to marry him since that first day she visited him at the DAA, but he managed to control himself for years. And then one day, he flew to Linkon in a rush once he got the call that she was extremely injured from an attack at work. When he reached her, she was battered up and barely breathing. Even when he went on his own dangerous missions, he never felt that fear before. She was in a coma for a few days, and he never left her side during that entire time. The ring he always carried around with him weighed a ton in his pocket with the worries and regrets of not asking sooner. Her coworker visited them on the second day of her being in a coma to deliver a stack of letters, a sight he knew all too well. 

His own job had dangerous missions as well, flying wasn’t always a guaranteed landing gig. They made it common practice to write letters before missions just in case anything happened. He wrote each and every one of them to her, the most important person in his life. He never thought that her work had the same practice, but it made sense all of a sudden.

“She wrote one before the most recent mission…she always did, even if it was a simple patrol. I usually toss them once they come back, but she asked me if I could keep them safe for her. And you must know how hard it is to say no to her…Anyways, even though I’m sure she’ll be fine, I think you should have these so you can stay stronger while you wait.” Her coworker said to Caleb as she handed him the stack. “She’ll probably be upset when she wakes up, but you just seemed like you needed to hear her.” 

Caleb spent that night reading each letter. Some short, some long. He could tell when she was confident and when she was nervous before the mission. The handwriting changes and the mood changes all aligned with the way she was in person. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Tears formed in his eyes as he looked up to find the love of his life still unconscious on the hospital bed. “I should have just married you that day you said you loved me.” He sighed, holding her limp hand. “You know I’d never stop you from doing what you want, but it’s so hard seeing you risk your life.” He brought her fingers up to his lips to kiss. “I know, I know. Caleb’s such a hypocrite…But you know why I wanted to be a pilot, right?” He held her hand to his forehead, as if he was praying to any deity to wake her up. “So that if anything went wrong on the ground, anything too much for you to handle…I would be able to scoop you up and take you far away.” He sighed. 

He asked her to marry him the moment she was discharged from the hospital. He actually asked her the moment she woke up, but she was too groggy from the drugs to believe him. 

“Caleb?” Her voice cut through his memories. “Are you okay?” Her palm held his cheek, as if she was checking his temperature.

He held her hand, “Sorry, I got distracted.” He smiled at her, cherishing the present moment. “I love you, you know that right?”

She rolled her eyes, jokingly and lovingly. “Really? I thought we got married just as buddies.” She took her hand back and picked up the box labelled “Kitchen” from the floor. “I love you more, you big goof. Now come on, the moving truck has to be returned in two hours.” 

-

“Our wedding photo finally arrived!” She exclaimed as she walked into their home, holding a big box. “Did you have to order such a big frame of it…?” She had it lean against the wall and examined the size. “This is literally almost half my height…”

Caleb instantly jumped up his spot on the couch to excitedly unpack it. “Of course, honey. How else would those coworkers and friends of yours know that you’re married?” He held up the portrait, reminiscing their wedding day. 

A perplexed look plastered her face. “Did you…” She held onto his wrist with an accusatory glare, “Is this what it was about? The celebration party I’m holding here for work?” She gasped. “You planned it all out!”

He stifled a laugh. He was guilty. Caleb has a mole in her coworkers and they told him that a new recruit had a crush on her, so he couldn’t help but splurge for the biggest option for their wedding portrait. He was already thinking of getting one in the first place, but he wasn’t sure how to ask her. Once she told him about the party she was hosting, he bit the bullet. He thought it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission for times like so. 

Caleb carefully set the portrait back down and grabbed her by the waist to pull her into a kiss. She stilled for a moment before reciprocating. When he pulled away, he smiled at her. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

She rolled her eyes before pushing him away. “Tara told you about the new recruit, huh?”

He pretended to be ignorant. “What? A new recruit? Of course not. I know nothing, Pipsqueak.” He busied himself with the bubble wrap of the portrait. “I wouldn’t know anything…like his name, or his birthday, or the fact that he actually had to take an extra year of the Hunter’s Academy because he was too busy partying…”

Gasping, she playfully hit Caleb. “Hey! We talked about you and your stalker tendencies!” Although she had an angry tone, he didn’t miss the slight twitch of her lip.

He knew she got a kick out of him being a little possessive. “Little” may have been an understatement, but he was aware that she was the same way. When he was promoted, his workplace wanted to assign him a sort of assistant to help with maintenance of his jet and paperwork after missions. He was given a stack of potential candidates and he took it home for her second opinion. The following day, he noticed all the lady candidates’ resumes were in the trash.

He couldn’t tell if it was sick or romantic, but all he cared about was that she liked him enough to be a little crazy.

“Why don’t you hang it up, I’ll tell you left or right.” She crossed her arms, pretending to be upset. “Wait, let me go to the bathroom while you get the ladder.” And she ran off.

Caleb chuckled to himself. Happy with the domesticity that his life had become. He stood holding the portrait for a minute. Tracing her features on the picture, recalling one of the happiest days of his life. 

Their wedding was far from small. And his classmates from the academy even prepared an air show for when they kissed. The officiant almost needed a crowbar to tear him away from her after he pronounced them husband and wife. 

He thought back to their high school years, when he thought it was completely hopeless. He was more than happy to remain by her side as her closest friend, but the fact that he was able to become her husband made him elated. He wished he could go back in time and reassure 19-year-old Caleb. He knew how crazy he was going when she told him she had a crush on that Eric guy.

Caleb looked around their home. His Skyhaven apartment was nowhere near as warm as the home he shared with his wife. Photos of them littered each side table and bookshelf. Fresh flowers filled every vase in every corner. The sofa they shared had indents of where they would normally sit and cuddle during movie nights. It truly was their home. 

He moved the sofa a bit so he could set up the ladder, excited to put up their portrait.

She came back out and grabbed the necessary tools from a drawer in the kitchen. She handed it to him and stepped back, pondering the placement of the massive frame.

Caleb positioned it on the middle of the wall, right behind the sofa. He wanted it to be the most-eyecatching thing in the room once entered upon.

“Hm, how about more to the right? I want to leave room for when we get a family portrait soon.” She nonchalantly suggested.

Puzzled, Caleb asked, “To the right? What family por-” He nearly dropped the wedding picture when he realized what she meant. His head whipped back, he was sure it would have snapped. He turned towards her to find her holding up two pregnancy tests. Instantly setting down the picture onto the floor, he took long strides to close the distance between the two. He grabbed the tests from her hand and saw the positive symbols.

Tears formed in his eyes as he looked at her own teary eyes, looking for confirmation. “Is this real? Are we really…”

She nodded, the tears falling from her eyes. “We’re gonna be parents, Caleb.”

He scooped her up into his arms, burying his face into her neck as he gleefully sobbed with excitement. She let out a surprised yelp before reciprocating the joy she felt and wrapped her arms around him. 

Caleb once yearned for a future that he thought he could never have. He thought that the person he truly cherished was one day going to end up in the arms of another. And at that moment every daydream and wish he made upon a star came to life with the most important person in his life, the person he could never live without. He knew right then and there that he was the luckiest person ever.

[loki-child-of-frigga]

Loki was glad she agreed since he was sure she'd get into trouble going against a magic user alone. Mostly because she wouldn't know what to watch out for. It was possible for a normal person to beat a magic user but it took knowledge that she wasn't likely to have at this point.

When allowed he would check to make sure she hadn't gotten whiplash before easing the pain in her head as much as he could. That done he would step back once more to give her space.

"Yes. Part of the mission I was sent on was to retrieve the tesseract or more accurately the Space Stone within it. Seeing that glass cube reminded me of the time I spent in the Void." He confirmed grimly, not liking to admit it but at least it likely served as proof of his words since a panic attack like that wasn't easy to fake even for him.

When he sat down he made sure there were at least a few feet between them even though it would look a bit odd when the police showed up. He would worry about that later. For now he just tried to relax and think.

"I challenged her and her control over your family. Considering how much control over your father she has and how long she'd had that control she is likely loath to give it up." Loki explained with a sigh, keeping his head tilted down to avoid the rain falling directly on his face. He turned a bit to give her a wry smile. "You're welcome."

"Okay i will do that." Margo agreed to his plan about calling him later to ask for assistance on finding out about Cecilia. She was even more relieved that loki would agree to not have her research alone although she no had problem doing it if she didn't have another choice.

As she pinches the bridge of her nose, her eyes half closed from the throbbing headache, she heard loki step closer to her. She flinched a bit she was caught off guard by him being so close. When standing still her eyes locked on his, silently giving permission as he places his finger tips on her temple. Her breath catch at the feeling of his magic, her eyes briefly close. Whatever loki did it seems to have ease the pain.

Afterwards she continued to listen to loki about his story of what really happened to him. It all made so much more sense now that she thinks about it. The media had made it seem like he was something to be feared and threat that most humans were out of there depth on someone like loki. But the way he was telling her the story sounds sincere that couldn't help but believe him. Especially how different he seems now in compared to two years ago. She also felt sympathy for the god of mischief and she wonders who this big bad threat was that took over his mind. " when we were in that gift shop, and when you saw that blue glow box, thats why you freaked out." Now thinking back about hearing reports about the tesseract, the mind stone. She gave him a look that said she believed him.

She did need some space as she sat there on the curb. Trying to process everything she had learned. Most of her suspicions were correct. When he came over to sit beside her. She didn't actually move away from him but there was decent amount of space between them.

Margo let out a small smile when he mentioned fandral. Remembering when loki told her about him as luke she should've known than with a name like that he wasn't of this world either. " Yeah I know, its just this annoying guilt that I cant shake off. Just because you played a few pranks on her doesn't mean you deserve her wrath either." Margo said with a low tone. Turning her head to face him. " Thank you loki."

[sun-marie]

Been replaying ME1 and I got slammed hard with Anderson/Shepard father/daughter feels 🥺

[em1i2a3]

i don’t know if you take requests but some yearning or very obvious bob having a crush on reader… like full on fluff and everyone makes fun of him cause he’s just that obvious

Plainclothes Man

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone at the compound knows Bob has a massive crush on you–except you.

Warnings: Semi-Spoiler for Thunderbolts because of Bob’s involvement but other than that…None :)

Author's Note: Hey y’all! I do take requests! Just to make that clear! Nothing is really off limits! :) I love this idea! So I thought I would start with it. I kind of rushed it a bit because I have so many ideas going at once for Bob right now, but I wanted to please y’all so hopefully it’s good :)

Word Count: 1,775

Bob was a neon sign of romantic agony.

Everyone could see it.

He was about as subtle as a firework in a library when it came to you, and everyone–everyone but you–knew that he had very obvious feelings for you.

At first, it was just the little things. He would hold the door open for you, make your coffee in the morning, and sometimes he would walk you to your training sessions carrying all your weapons and gear. God forbid you mentioned needing help with something too, because it was like he teleported into the room instantly just to be your knight in shining armor.

It would’ve been sweet–it was sweet–except for the fact that he looked like he was going to pass out every time you smiled at him, or the fact that the first time you touched him he felt like he was having a heart attack.

Not only that, but at the Thunderbolts compound, privacy was a myth. Everyone noticed the way he put you first, and nobody had the emotional maturity to leave it alone, especially during down times when everyone was home with no missions or jobs to run off to.

Idle hands made for cruel commentary.

They started small. Little side-eyes, snorts, giggles, the occasional cough-covered ‘lover boy’ muttered under someone’s breath when Bob stood the moment you entered a room, like he was always on guard.

Then it escalated.

Yelena turned it into a sport, narrating his reactions like a nature documentary when you weren’t present.

”And here we see Bob Reynolds in his natural habitat–blushing violently, hands wringing in his lap, trying not to pass out because Y/N said his name. Observe how he avoids eye contact while trying to remember how to function.” This would make him even more flustered, and only add to his embarrassment of wearing his feelings on his sleeve.

“Please stop,” He would say, with his face on fire.

Ava took to mimicking Bob’s dreamy stares behind your back when the both of you would talk to one another, making sure there was grotesque exaggeration to every detail. How his eyes would widen, and his lips would part, oftentimes she would clutch her chest dramatically and sway from side to side, which only made his cheeks go a bright red as he was talking to you.

Even Alexei, who should’ve had better things to do, began to offer unsolicited advice.

”You must confess, Bob. Women like confidence. You must say, ‘I am man of strength and softness, let us be passionate together!’” Bob nearly choked on the air he breathed, blinking up at Alexei, who was nodding like he had just offered the secret to eternal happiness, and not a line from a Soviet soap opera.

”I…I’m not saying that,” Bob stammered, voice thin with embarrassment.

“Why not?” Alexei boomed, looking over at Walker and Yelena as if they were going to back him up, “You are soft man! Strong man! Women love this contradiction!” Walker sipped his protein shake without looking up from his phone.

”Honestly Bob…It’s not the worst idea he’s had.” Bob looked like someone had just pulled the emergency brake on his nervous system. He was stunned by the agreement the idea was receiving, then he rubbed his hands over his face, like he could scrub away the humiliation clinging to his skin.

”I can’t say that…I’ll die in the middle of it.” Bob muttered, his hands muffling his voice, before hearing a little chuckle coming from Yelena.

”You’re like watching a candle melt under a heat lamp…Take it easy on yourself Bob.” She said, leaning back in her chair.

”Seriously,” Ava added, leaning against the counter with a yogurt in her hand, “ Just say something. Anything at this point will be better than nothing. And please hurry up, because you’re starting to give us secondhand embarrassment with this mating dance you’re doing.” Bob was about to say something then the door creaked open, causing him to pause mid conversation.

Bucky walked in with a towel draped around his neck, drenched in sweat from the endurance run he had done on the treadmill just moments ago, with a look of vague concern on his face.

”What’s with all the noise? I heard Alexei yelling about passion through the vents.” He said, glancing over at everyone who was crowded in the kitchen.

”We’re trying to get Bob to confess his undying love for Y/N.” Yelena replied, watching as Bucky looked over at Bob who was hunched over the kitchen island and flushing a scarlet red.

”Oh,” He said, like it suddenly made perfect sense, “…Wait, he still hasn’t said anything?” He added, confused.

“Nope,” Walker responded, still scrolling through his phone, not bothering to look up, “Somehow he’s been able to keep the verbal diarrhea to a minimum with her.”

“Barely. Last week she complimented him on how strong he was for carrying six bags of groceries for her in one go and he stammered over a thank you for two whole minutes.” Bucky let out a little laugh.

”Pretty sure you’re describing a stroke, not a crush/“ He started, wiping his face off with his towel, “What exactly are you waiting for, Bob? A written invitation from the president or something?” Before Bob even had a chance to answer, the door creaked open again, and you appeared.

You were still damp from the shower you had taken a few minutes ago, with your hair pinned back, and your skin still flushed from the heat of the water. You had on a soft, oversized t-shirt and…Bob’s sweatpants. He had given them to you last week without prompt, saying that you would be warmer in them, and since then, you managed to forget to give them back–whether it was on purpose or by accident, nobody really knew for sure.

Yelena had caught it immediately though.

”Wow…Y/N, those are some nice sweatpants, where’d you get them from?” She drawled, grinning like a cat that had just spotted a mouse. You glanced down at them and pointed.

”These? They’re Bob’s actually, so I have no clue where they’re from, but they’re super comfy.” Bob made a noise that could only be described as a choked squeak, as everyone glanced over at him in their own small ways. Yelena grinned.

”Oh, Bob’s, huh?” You nodded cheerfully, completely missing the way Bob’s soul was visibly leaving his body.

“Yeah, I was freezing after that mission last week and he just gave them to me. I forgot to return them, but they’re just too good to give up.” You replied, looking down at them fondly, like they were a luxury item of sorts, before adjusting the waistband a little bit, “Hope you’re okay if I keep them a little longer before giving them back to you.” You added, with a little smirk.

Bob–already pink from neck to ears–opened his mouth but only managed a soft, and cracked, “Yeah…Yeah totally fine.”

You smiled at him–kind, and warm, and totally unaware of how he was going to spontaneously combust in a few moments if you didn’t stop looking at him the way you always did, with this admiration and care.

Yelena nudged Ava as you turned to the pantry to grab your tote bag.

”I was about to actually go on a grocery run, I figured it’s a good time to stock up for movie night tomorrow…Bob, do you wanna come?”

He lifted his head almost immediately, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you correctly–or like he was still rebooting from the sight of you wearing his sweatpants again and saying you might want to keep them longer.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised, and everyone else looked at him like a firing squad waiting to shoot.

”I-uh…Grocery run?” Yelena pressed her lips together to hold back a grin, before glancing over at Bucky who was shaking his head, then Walker glanced up from his phone, staring at him with a look that basically screamed ‘don’t you dare blow this.’

“Yeah, “ You said with a casual smile, “I was actually going to go because they finally restocked those kettle chips you like, and that weird sparkling iced tea…The lemon honey one. But I thought I’d just kill two birds with one stone and just take the whole movie night snack order now and get it over with…Y’know what I mean?” Bob felt like his entire chest was going to cave in under your words. The fact you remembered such little details about him killed him, because it gave him those butterflies in his stomach–the ones that gave him hope. Dangerous, reckless hope.

”He’ll go.” Yelena replied, “He’s not doing anything anyways, he’s super available right now, aren’t you Bob?” All eyes turned to him.

“I–uh…”

“He lives for those late night grocery runs,” Ava chimed in, “You’ve made his week.” Bucky crossed his arms, clearly entertained.

”Oh yeah, didn’t you say twenty minutes ago that your dream night would be picking out snacks with a girl you–respect deeply as a teammate?” He piled on, causing Bob to swallow loudly.

“Well that’s perfect then! I’ll meet you in the garage in five minutes!” You said brightly, giving him one last smile that probably shaved three years off his life expectancy before you turned and strolled out of the kitchen, with your tote bag bouncing against your hip. Everyone waited until the front door clicked to interrupt the silence.

”Oh Jesus.” Bob said, sinking his face into his hands, hearing Yelena clap like a coach at halftime.

”Alright, let’s lock in–because if you mess this up, Bob, you’re probably never getting another invite like that again.” Ava pointed her spoon at him like a judge handing down a sentence, before saying.

”And it’s the first time she’s asked you to come with her somewhere instead of you tripping over your shoelaces to offer a hand, so that’s a good sign.”

“Yeah,” Bucky added dryly, “So don’t think yourself into a grave for the love of god, because you’ve done it all backwards. She’s supposed to be wearing your clothes when you’re dating, not before.” Bob groaned louder.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

[sinner-as-saint]

You take the dark and carve me out a home

Bucky Barnes x New Avenger!Reader 

Summary: Unwinding after a tough mission is not exactly easy. Especially not when you’re part of a group that is always, constantly under scrutiny. Which is why you were always extra hard on yourself whenever you felt like you made a mistake or let the team down in any way. Bucky was aware of this, he was aware of everything regarding you, and usually he gave you your space and within a day or two you’d get back to normal. But this time was different, he noticed. It had been a couple of days since your last mission and you were still in that weird, distant headspace. And Bucky needed you back, the whole team needed you back, but him more because… well, because he cared about you a lot more than he let on. 

Themes: soft!dom!bucky, praise kink, angst, hurt/comfort, friends-to-lovers, fluff

“Where is she?” 

Bucky demanded, walking in, looking around, and noticing immediately that you weren’t at the dinner table. The rest of the team looked like they’d just been done eating. Alexei was almost falling asleep in his seat already.

“I thought she was with you?” Ava squinted at Bucky. 

Yelena added, “Don’t you two always work out together every night?” 

Bucky frowned. “I know, I…” He paused to think. “I left the gym hours ago. She said she was gonna finish up and come find you guys.” He rolled his eyes at the realisation, “So she’s been in there alone for the past couple of hours and no one checked on her.” 

“I did.” Bob said, always with that lost puppy dog look in his eyes. “I went to the gym earlier to get a workout in. But she glared at me, so I just kinda left, like, really quickly.” 

“Relax, man.” John spoke, adding to Bucky’s irritation. “She’s probably still working out to get her mind off things. You know how she gets.” 

Bucky sighed and walked away, leaving the rest of them in the kitchen. Damn it. He could’ve checked up on you too. But after his work out he had some calls to attend to, and deal with some things on behalf of the team. He’d totally lost track of time. Also, he genuinely didn’t think you’d stay in the gym for hours. He knew you worked out each day, sometimes twice a day. But lately, he was getting more and more worried watching you put your body through pain hours at a time. 

He took the elevator to the floor the gym was on and walked in to find you with your boxing gloves on, the punching bag swinging gently in front of you. Your head was lowered, your back to him but he still saw the way your shoulders moved as you breathed quickly. Your skin glistened with sweat, and Bucky just knew you weren’t having a good night. 

Again. 

He needed to do something about that. 

“Have mercy on that poor punching bag.” He said, keeping his eyes on you as you turned to face him. He realised he would never get used to it, that intense look in your eyes whenever you got into moods like these. The look that made most people run away from you. But not him. Never him. “Let’s go. You’re tired.” 

“I’m not.” You were quick to argue. Always quick to argue. Then you took your fighting stance again, facing him rather than the punching bag, your fists up in the air. Ready to spar. “Come on. And don’t be gentle with me.” 

“No.” He declined politely. “You’ve been here for hours. You need to shower, eat, and get some sleep. I can’t have you walking around looking like that anymore.” He stepped closer, your dark red gloves almost touching his chest. “I know you think you messed up on our last mission. But you didn’t. We made it out alive, all of us. Stop punishing yourself for things you didn’t do.” 

You lowered your fists. Looking defeated. Bucky always saw right through you. “But I put us at risk. I didn’t wait for the signal,” You stated. “I could’ve gotten us all killed.” 

“But you didn’t.” He said firmly. “Besides, one mistake doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the best out of all of us.” He sighed upon seeing how truly hard you could be on yourself. “Give yourself some grace.” 

You hung your head again. Bucky wanted to hold you close and not let go until you felt better. And it killed him that he didn't know how to get you out of that dark, shadowy pit of guilt and disappointment. He reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers cupping your face. “What’s going on with you? Where are you?” He whispered, “Come back to us.” 

Come back to me. 

You gave him a faint smile. Bucky had always been your safe place. With his dreamy blue and often tired eyes, and his Disney prince, perfect hair, and his charming smile. He was definitely your go-to person. You loved the rest of the team, but Bucky was special. He somehow always got it. With him, you never had to explicitly explain everything, he always just understood what you meant. He spoke your language. 

You two had always been closer to each other than to the others. And while the others constantly teased you about the tension between you two, you never acted on it, nor did either of you ever deny it. Sure, flirty comments here and there were a regular thing. And you both cared deeply for one another, but you never talked about it in a serious way. Having the other there was always just… comfortable. 

Bucky managed to get you out of the gym and sent you to your floor. He took the stairs to the kitchen again and made you a plate, full of your favourite things, and took it to your room. The door was unlocked and he could still hear you in the shower. He didn’t want to disturb you so he placed the plate on your bed and left. 

–

Hours later, Bucky still couldn’t sleep. He’d received a text from you, you thanked him for bringing you food and said you were off to bed. But something was keeping him restless. He didn’t know what it was. He simply couldn’t stay still. 

He quickly checked the cameras and was relieved to see the gym was empty. Which meant that you were up in your room. Which was a good thing, but something in his gut was telling him to go check up on you. Bucky got up immediately as soon as the thought crossed his mind. 

He made his way to your floor again, the entire building was quiet. It was well past midnight and he said he’d just check on you. Nothing else. He would knock on your door and if you didn’t answer immediately, he would go back up to his room. 

But something told him you were still awake. And if you were awake you were probably overthinking yourself to death, drowning in guilt and disappointment. Bucky sighed, waiting for the elevator to stop on your floor. That look in your eyes earlier in the gym was haunting him. He missed the spark in you. The brightness. That empty look… he wanted it gone. 

Bucky found himself rethinking his actions once he was at your bedroom door. There was still silence, even on the other side. But he knocked twice, he had to. 

He waited, a little embarrassed because what the hell would he say he was here for? That is, if you were still up. 

He was still wondering what he would actually say when you opened the door quickly, as if you were waiting for him to show up. 

Bucky took one look at you and your face, tear-stained and lips trembling as you tried to keep it all in, and he pulled you into his arms immediately. Walking in and shutting the door behind him, Bucky kept his arms securely around you. 

Your breaths were shaky. Your body trembling with your quiet sobs. 

“Hey, I’m here.” Bucky whispered, his lips pressed against your forehead. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay. I’m here.” 

And somehow, being in his arms made the darkness go away gradually. Bucky’s scent, his body heat, the feeling of his strong arms around you, hearing his steady heartbeat, it calmed you down instantly. 

“Come here,” He walked over to your bed, sat down on the edge and pulled you down onto his lap. He had hugged you many times before, but this felt different. Intimate. But natural. It felt like you belonged there in his arms. 

You straddled his thighs, limbs wrapped around him like he was the only thing left in the world. Like he was all you had. Your face hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands running up and down your back and sides while he kept mumbling reassuring words in your ear. You felt safe. 

“I’m sorry.” You said. 

And your voice was so quiet and weak that it broke his heart. “Don’t be.” He quickly said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We all make mistakes, it’s okay.” 

“I feel… inadequate.” You sniffled, pulling away to look him in the eyes. His ocean blue ones looked into your eyes with so much patience and warmth that it healed parts of you. “And empty,” You continued. “I feel like I’m not doing enough. Like I'm still not strong enough. Just not enough.” 

“Hey,” He cupped your face in his hands. “Just ‘cause that’s what the voices are screaming at you, doesn’t mean it’s true. Okay? None of what you just said is true.” He said, sincerely. “None of it. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re fierce and kind. You boss most of us around, but you care so deeply and it shows.” His thumbs wiped your tears away. “You add so much to our team, don’t you see that? You’re one of the few people Bob is comfortable around. You and Ava make a deadly combo. You and Yelena keep everything in order. You and John work really well together when it comes to keeping us safe or protecting us during combat. You and Alexei, well, he loves you just as much as he loves Yelena.” Bucky listed, “And as for you and I, we’re simply the best duo there can be, aren’t we?” He sounded a little playful. 

And it put a faint smile on your face. You sniffled, nodding slowly. “Just having a rough couple of days, I guess.” 

It was more than just that, but Bucky only asked, “What do you need? And don’t say you need to box or spar, or anything. Clearly that’s not helping like it usually does.” He pointed out. “You wanna take a few days off and go somewhere to clear your head?” 

You shook your head, whispering, “No. I like it here. It’s fine, I just… I don’t know.” You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can’t quite put it into words.” 

“Try.” He said, “Take your time. I’m here, I’ll listen.” 

You sighed again, unable to look him in the eyes as you spoke. “I just feel numb all the time. And it gets worse when I don’t do my job well. And now I’m struggling to just… feel something. I feel nothing all the time lately and I know it sounds like I’m whining about it but…” You took another deep breath, “It’s exhausting. It’s heavy. It’s not just numbness, it’s like I’m stagnant and I want to get out of… whatever this state is and I try, I try but something keeps dragging me down and keeping me in a chokehold right where it feels the heaviest. I wanna get out. Of my head, out of this weird headspace I’m in but nothing helps. Nothing works. I don’t know. I don’t know if that made sense, I’m just fucked up I guess.” 

Chokehold. He knew that feeling all too well. “You’re not fucked up.” He said, “I know how it feels.” 

“I know you do.” You finally met his eyes and the shadows disappeared gradually. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Buck.” 

“What can I do to help?” He asked. It killed him to see you like this. You were here but also so distant. He wanted you back, for your own sake, but also because he missed having his best friend around. 

“Make me feel something.” You said, softly like you were afraid someone else might hear. “Anything, please.” 

“Oh, baby.” Something about the way you sounded so vulnerable, which was rare from you, made Bucky forget about everything else. He didn’t care, all he wanted to do was piece you back together. “I’ve got you.” He whispered, and leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, hands trailing down your body until he placed his hands on the curve of your ass and pulled you into him even more. 

You gasped against his mouth, kissing him back slowly, melting into him. His metal hand came to rest on your exposed thigh, only then did you realise that in your PJ shorts really didn’t hide much. His cold fingers lazily grazed the crease between your hip and thigh, and it was all you could focus on in the moment, other than the heat of his mouth. 

Bucky pulled away to whisper, “Just so you know, we can stop if you don’t want this,” before he kissed you hungrily again, his beard and his long, soft hair tickling your face. “We can go back to talking and we’ll pretend this never happened.” 

“Please don’t stop.” You mumbled against his mouth. “I need this. I need you.” 

“Okay,” He whispered, in between kisses, “I won’t stop, baby. I’ve got you,” He repeated. “Don’t worry, I’m right here. Okay?” 

You pulled away from the kiss, teary eyed again. “I trust you, Buck.” 

Bucky accepted the weight of that trust, he cupped your face and said softly, “I know, angel. I’m gonna take care of you. I promise.” 

You could’ve sworn he used superhuman speed with how fast he flipped the two of you, tossing you down on your bed as he climbed on top of you. He carefully grabbed your hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly as he whispered, “I’ll be gentle.” 

“Don’t be.” You pleaded, looking up at him. His hair framed his face in a perfectly messy way. His body was warm above you. Bucky was always warmer than most people, you figured it was a supersoldier thing. “I don’t want gentle.” 

He nodded. “Okay, angel. Remember, we can stop whenever you want to. Alright?” 

“Yes.” 

Bucky held your stare as he rapidly undid the buttons of your satin PJ top, and immediately diving in to take a nipple into his mouth once the top was open. Sucking, and biting until your back arched off the bed. 

“Bucky…” You gasped, and moaned as he alternated between each breast while his hand slipped down to pull your shorts and underwear down your legs until you kicked it off yourself. 

He pulled away to look at you, sprawled on the bed under him. Then he leaned in to whisper against your lips, “You don’t want gentle, huh? Well, you’re gonna be a good girl and do exactly as I say, okay? I need you to stop thinking, to stop calculating, and analysing, just listen to me. My voice and that’s it.” 

He knew what it was like – that feeling of wanting someone to just tell you what to do. It didn’t have to be sexual like right now, but just the loss of control in a safe, consensual way. With someone you trust blindly. He knew it could heal, partly at least. So he knew exactly what you needed right now. 

He kissed you roughly, taking what he wanted from your open, willing mouth before pulling away to look down at you with a dangerous, gorgeous smile on his lips. “You’re all mine now. You hear me?” He whispered against your mouth. “You’re my perfect girl. And my perfect girl doesn’t put herself down. She doesn’t think she's not good enough. She doesn’t think she’s done a bad job. She doesn’t think she’s fucked up. Because she’s not. She’s my good fucking girl, and she’s perfect. You hear me? You’re perfect.” 

You gasped as he lazily ran his metal fingers down your wet folds. 

“Look at you, such a good girl. Lying here so perfectly with your legs spread, just letting me touch you however I want.” He stated, grabbing your face in his other hand as he slid two metal fingers inside you. His voice was steady, controlled, and firm as he said, “This is how it’s gonna be from now on, okay? Whenever you need to be reminded how good you are, you come find me.” He slid his fingers deeper, pulling them out slowly in a way that he knew drove you insane, judging by the sounds you made. “Whenever the voices get too loud, you come find me.” He did it again. “Whenever it gets too dark, you come find me.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll fix it, baby. I always will. You don’t have to carry all that alone, I’ll help you. I’ve got you from now on, you get that? You’re not alone, I’m here. I’ll always be here.” 

He had you coming all over his fingers in no time. He stroked you in all the right places and your body responded to each one of his lazy, deliberate strokes beautifully. You squirmed as he kept finger-fucking you through your orgasm. 

“There’s my perfect girl,” He cooed, watching you squirm and whine under him. “You did so well,” He kissed your cheek, then the other, “You sound so perfect when you come.” 

He pulled away for a brief moment, getting off of you and standing at the end of your bed, taking his t-shirt and sweatpants off but leaving his boxers, lowered just enough to free his erected cock. 

He stood there, wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it twice while he held your stare. “It’s all for you, angel. All for you and no one else.” He said, watching with a slight smirk as you looked down at his cock and bit your lower lip. “Are you gonna be my good girl and take it?” 

You nodded quickly, “Yes.” Not even realising that all the prior shadowy thoughts had completely left your head. This was all you could focus on – him. Bucky. With his perfect body, and his beautiful hair, and his dreamy eyes. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. 

Buckley climbed on top of you again. “Careful what you ask for, baby. Supersoldiers don’t get tired.” He sounded so cocky it made you only want him more just to prove him wrong. 

“I want you, please,” You begged, looking up at him with those eyes that made him weak.

One of his hands found its way to your throat and he wrapped his fingers around it carefully as he stared into your eyes. “Nothing else holds my girl in a chokehold but me, you hear that? Nothing else has power over you, but me. And you,” He leaned in closer to make sure his point got across, “You are my good girl. You’re enough. You do a great job everyday. You’re stronger than all that’s trying to drag you down. And you’re louder than all the dark voices, you hear me?” 

You nodded, the look in his eyes was so intense, so raw and sincere, and so shamelessly feral that you might’ve come undone right there if he asked you to. 

“You will come for me like my good girl, won’t you, baby?” He asked, guiding the tip of his cock over to your clit and circling it, smearing his precum and your wetness around. 

You whimpered at the sensation. So fucking good. You nodded rapidly, “Yes… please,” You begged. 

“Of course you will,” Bucky chuckled, “Because you’re my perfect girl.” He teased you a bit more by just pressing the tip of his cock against your tight hole. Not pushing it in, just pressing ever so gently until you whined and clawed at his neck and shoulders, sliding your fingers into his ridiculously soft hair and tugging on it gently. 

“Bucky, please.” You mumbled, “Please, please, please…” 

“I know baby, I know.” He said, keeping his hand around your throat, pinning you down on your bed with it. “I’m here, I’ll make it feel good.” He whispered, before pushing his cock all the way inside you. 

You gasped loudly at the same time as he groaned when he slid all the way in you. He remained still for a few moments, just relishing the feeling of your warmth around him. Your breath was shaky as you felt him fill you up and stretch you out so deliciously, snug, deep, and big inside you. 

Bucky looked down at your face contorting in pleasure as he breathed heavily. Then he moved just a little, and the slightest friction made you whine even louder. “Does that feel good, baby? Is that cock good enough for my perfect girl? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You breathed, looking at his gorgeous face above you. Fuck, you could spend forever here under him. He felt so good. 

“Look at that,” He said, “You’re tearing up already,” He pointed out, noticing the wetness in the corners of your eyes. “Feel good inside you, don’t I?” He teased, rolling his hips just the slightest bit in between your thighs. 

You cried out in pleasure. 

He tightened his grip around your throat slightly and said, “I know baby, I know it feels good. This is exactly what my good girl deserves.” He whispered. Then he said, “Now, keep your pretty eyes on me. I want you to watch me while I fuck you, okay?” 

You nodded quickly, a tear escaping your eye already. Fuck, he felt so good. 

Bucky let out a grunt as he started fucking into you hard and fast. He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, holding your stare and telling you how good you felt. 

You could only respond with moans and whimpers, which only made him fuck you harder. 

He sped up into you, mumbling, “Knew you’d feel fucking amazing around me. ‘Cause you’re my perfect girl, aren’t you? Perfect, tight pussy as well.” He whispered, in a daze as he pounded into you. “You were fucking made for me.” 

Your body squirmed under him, your back arching off the bed, you were burning. Bright and hot. Like the fucking sun. And he was giving it to you like you wanted it, hard, fast and raw. 

His thrust was relentless, his weight on top of you felt too good. So good you never wanted him to pull out of you, so you raised your trembling legs and wrapped them around his hips. 

He chuckled when you did that. “Yeah? Don’t want me to stop, do you?” He taunted. “Just want me to keep going, keep fucking my good girl how she likes it, huh?” He pressed the sides of your throat as he fucked deeper into you. 

He watched as you got closer and closer to the edge. And just when you were right there… he stopped abruptly, and pulled out. 

You gasped in shock. 

“Oh what, you thought you could just come so easily?” He teased, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you around onto your stomach. “I tried to be nice and sweet to you, but that’s not what you want or need, is it, baby?” You moaned as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your lower back with one hand, while the other guided his cock over to your hole again. “You see? This is what you need.” He leaned over you to whisper into your ear, sliding back inside you as he said, “You wanted me to make you feel something, huh? Do you feel it now, baby?” He tugged on your pinned wrists, which made you whine in pain and pleasure. “You feel me inside you? Right where I belong, isn’t it?” 

You nodded, rubbing your face against your dark, cool bed sheets. “Yes…” 

He began fucking into you from behind, hard and fast. Mercilessly. Like he was claiming you. Marking his territory. Rough. Raw. The pleasure was overwhelming, building, and building, and building… 

Until you couldn’t hold it back much longer… 

“Come for me, angel.” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. “Be my good girl and come all over…” 

You didn’t hear the rest. You came all over his cock with a loud moan, gasping and crying as he came right after you – filling you up with his cum as he did. You were gasping for air, and so was he. His body weight on top of you felt nice, his body heat felt nice. Everything was nice, light, and perfect. 

He let go of your wrists and then you felt him kiss along your spine, gently. Softly. Like he hadn’t been fucking you like an animal just seconds ago. “You okay, baby?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” 

You were still catching your breath when Bucky lay beside you and pulled you into his arms. You immediately clung to his side. 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered. 

You sighed, with a faint smile forming on your face. Your cheek pressing against his damp chest. “Thank you, Buck.” Your mind was quiet, but in a good way. “I needed that.” 

“I know.” He murmured, rubbing your back in that soothing way he always did. 

But then, you still had one question. “How did you know when to come find me? I texted you I was going to bed.” How did he even know to come and check on you? How did he know you weren’t doing well at all? 

A smirk, then he said, “I always know what my girl needs.” 

You teased, “Your girl, huh?” 

“You’ve always been my girl.” 

—

a/n: [escapes my padded cell to throw this at your face]

[boopsiesdaisies]

being near each other

bob reynolds/sentry x reader | 2,130 words | angst&fluff | gn!reader

THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS

tw: panic attacks, swearing

bob and you are both so bad at feelings, but maybe you'll find a way to make it work?

a/n: i'm down bad crying at the gym, why does he look like a kitten in a storm drain, but ripped as shit??

link to part two!

____

Living with the New Avengers was the most difficult task that you had encountered in your life. Sure, you had defeated your fair share of villains, but living with roommates was arguably the worst experience of your life. Not just any roommates, these roommates specifically. All of you had tried to establish a chore chart, but after Walker’s week of hell, it was a collective decision to abandon that. You had no idea how that man had survived life to this point, since he somehow made chloroform to clean the communal kitchen and knocked out every member of the team, you had decided that he was never to be allowed near bleach or rubbing alcohol again. If cleaning the base didn’t stress you out enough, the bass on Alexei’s speakers that played nearly 24/7, or the constant lack of personal space from working and living together was going to drive you mad. But cleaning, noise, or personal space weren’t the issues that worried you the most. The worst issue was Bob. 

You had hoped that after living with the team that you would be able to shove any emotional feelings for Bob deep, deep down. It hadn’t worked. Instead, you spent everyday attempting to hide any upturn of your lips and softness for the man as the feeling in your chest continued to grow. It only grew worse with every single interaction. From sitting next to him in meetings to watching him quietly hum to himself while he washed the dishes. Alright, so maybe you watched him a lot, but that wasn’t your fault! It had to have been Bob’s fault with his dumb stupid hair, and dumb stupid smile, and dumb stupid laugh, and dumb stupid abs that you would  have never expected on him– 

Woah. You were getting ahead of yourself. The blush began to creep higher on your cheeks as you tried to will yourself to focus on the moment. 

“Okay, who's sitting out of the mission tonight?” Yelena’s voice pulled you back to the present. 

“None of you look at me, I’ve done it so many times it’s not even fair,” Alexei said.

“Who’s turn is it anyway?” Walker turned to look at the chart in the meeting room.

“No, no way, you didn’t like the chart so don’t go looking for it to save you now,” you laughed. 

“Actually,” Walker’s tone increased in pitch, elevating the level of cockiness to him. “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” You clarified, fear beginning to pull at you.

You wanted nothing more than to get out tonight, the heat of your blush was beginning to go to your head, and the idea of sitting with Bob tonight was not going to cure it. 

“Yep, your turn,” Walker solidified and turned back to Yelena. “Do we want to wheels up at 0800?” 

“Oh my God we get it you were in the military John, get a hobby,” Ava spat as she began to stand.

As she stood, it cued everyone else to stand, as you were left reeling. Panic began to set in as you realized you couldn’t be left alone with Bob today, your heart might explode in an ungraceful love confession at this rate. 

“Wait, wait, wait, I can’t stay behind this time guys.” You said as you tried to stop everyone from leaving the table.

“It’s your turn,” Walker said.

“Okay, so it’s my turn because the chart said so, but if the chart said it was your turn you would fight it, how is that fair?” You pushed.

“Because it is convenient for him now, it’s no big deal, we each take turns staying home with Bob,” Yelena pushed back, as everyone left the room, except for you.

“Guys, c’mon,” you groaned and turned your back to face the wall, only to see the face of Bob staring back at you. There was a softness in his eyes despite the childish display you just put on.

He cleared his throat and looked down, “sorry you got stuck with me.”

“I didn’t get stuck with you, I just didn’t–” you started, quick to stop yourself. Shit, this was going to go poorly. 

“It’s fine, I’m used to it. Well not used to my powers, which is why you’re stuck here, but I mean, used to being left behind.” The small smile that graced his lips made everything worse.

“You’re not left behind, it’s just not safe for you until you know what you’re doing, which is why we probably shouldn’t let Walker anywhere out of the house.” You laughed softly to yourself. “I just wanted to go today, that's all.” 

You were lying through the skin of your teeth and you were hoping that the seemingly every permanent blush on your face wasn’t going to give you away. 

“So, since we have a few hours to ourselves, do you want to make dinner or something?”

“Sure!” Bob bounced up, seemingly recovered from your persistence to leave earlier and bounded over to the kitchen.

If you were never letting Walker in the kitchen again, you weren’t going to let Bob near it again with a ten foot pole. You had never encountered someone who truly could not find anything or do anything in the kitchen. At every step, you guided his lost eyes to where he needed them and while the love of him was rising in your chest, you could feel the energy beginning to shift around him. 

“Hey, it’s no big deal, why don’t you just taste test for me and you can help me clean up after we’re done?” You asked.

“I just want to be useful,” Bob said. 

The tremble of Bob’s lower lip made you reach for him, the worst idea you had in a while. Your fingers lightly brushed against his hairline as tucked the ever persistent piece behind his ear.

“I think you’re useful, just maybe not at cooking,” you replied.

Bob’s hand covered your wrist and suddenly everything went dark as you relived the very worst moments of your life. 

___

When you finally came to, the smell of burning food overpowered your sense as you gasped for breath over and over. The tears that pricked the edge of your eyes overflowed as you pushed yourself to sit up. The panic in your body began to rescind but the pain from falling to the floor seemed to dull any other sensation or cohesive thought. As you tried to reorganize your thoughts, and catch your breath, the only thought that came to your mind was Bob. He was here when you fell and now he’s gone. The panic refilled your lungs again, although it wasn’t about you anymore, it was entirely for Bob. Every fiber of muscle pushed you forward as you searched for his figure around the kitchen. Seemingly absent from the kitchen, you pulled the food of the burner worrying about turning the stove off later, as your feet began to run to the hallway of shared rooms. Your voice carried his name over and over as you prayed that you were going to be able to find him before the Void took over. You cursed yourself, feeling entirely at fault since it was your inability to come to terms with care for another person that put him in this mess. As you approached the hallway, the level of destruction increased. Overturned furniture, picture frames torn off the wall, and blocking the path, crowded you as you pushed through the mess to find him. 

You heard him before you saw him. Loud sobs coming from behind the door to his room, only halfway on its hinges. Slowing, you peek through the door to see him. Balled against the furthest corner of his room, with hands pressed over his ears, gasping for air just as you were only moments ago. You were so focused on him you couldn’t tell if your breathing was still ragged. 

“Bob?” You asked softly, praying the human part of him was still winning the fight.

He didn’t respond to you as you pushed through his room. The broken wood and glass fragments crunched under your shoes as you stepped closer to him. The darkness pulled away any of the light near him or of the setting sun in the window, covering the edges of his arms. You crouched down, and sat next to him.

“I’m going to touch you okay?” You asked as you reached to rub his back.

“No!” He pulled away, “you can’t, it’ll happen again.”

“I don’t think it will, it’s okay, I’m just going to rub your back.” You lightly placed your hand on his back, and began to rub small circles on his upper back.

Bob began to speak again, but stuttered over his words as the sob racked through his body.

“Hey, it’s fine, take a deep breath, I can’t help you if I don’t know what's wrong.” You leaned closer to him as looked up to you.

Bob’s eyes scanned the room, he seemed so afraid. “What does it matter, you don’t care.”

“Of course, I care,” your hand fell off his back. “I care about you a lot.”

“You wanted to leave,” he said, quoting the moment from earlier and part of your heart ached.

“I did,” you agreed. 

There was no point in denying the moment, but you weren’t quite sure how to vocalize why that would make sense.

“I don’t–” you began only for Bob to interrupt you.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking, rigging that stupid chart like they all suggested to get you to talk to me, why would you even want to talk to me?” He fully turned away from you in that moment.

The irony of the moment made you laugh. 

“See now you’re laughing at me and –” He started.

“No, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at how bad we are at…this.” You gestured to the invisible this, and noticed Bob’s breathing, while still quick, seemed to had slowed down enough for conversation. In a moment of bravery, you pulled Bob’s face back to look at you.

From this distance you could see the details in his eyes. The brightness that pulled into them as his powers grew in intensity was overwhelming. The eye contact was going to kill you as if you didn’t already want to crawl into a hole and die. Your communication skills were going to shit the longer you looked at him. The constant blush that accompanied your face when you were near him seemed to worsen, as you hoped the tightness in your chest was from the fear of sharing your feelings over another run in the Void. 

“I wanted to leave because I’m afraid of talking to you,” you started. 

The hurt that flashed across his face in that moment seemed to make everything worse for a moment. “Shit, not like that, not in the ‘I think you’re scary’ or ‘I don’t like you’ kinda way, but in the ‘I like you a lot and I’m afraid of real feelings’ kinda way.”

Still getting no response from Bob you kept going, “I had hoped that if I kept avoiding talking about it that it would get better. But everything you do makes me feel whole and like there's this warmth in my chest whenever I’m near you, and I’m blushing like I’m some high schooler, and it’s weird and I don’t hate it but I don’t know how to deal with it.” 

“What?” The starkness of the question pulled you out of your tangent.

“I like being around you,” you said softly. “I really do.”

“You’re not mad at me?” The tears began to well in his eyes again.

“No, why would I be mad at you?” You asked.

“Because of the kitchen?” He looked down at his shoes, apparently finding something interesting in the chaos of the room.

“Did you do it on purpose?” You asked.

“No!” Bob started, before you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Then I would never be mad at you.” You did your best to sound reassuring.

After a few moments of silence, Bob spoke. “I don’t know how to talk to you either, but I like being around you.”

“Okay, so we’ll work with that.” You smiled. “We’ll just start with being near each other.”

Bob’s eyes met your eyes again. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you replied as you brushed the piece of hair out of his face again. This time, his eyes were back, the blue looking almost gray in the low lighting of the room.

“What the fuck did you two do?” Yelena’s voice pulled the two of you out of the moment. 

You really hated your roommates at that minute.

[lovebugism]

Bug! What if you and grumpy!Bucky were trying to spend time alone together but the rest of the Thunderbolts kept interrupting?

thank you for requesting :D — the one where bucky wants to kiss you but the rest of the thunderbolts won't seem to let him (established relationship, fluff, thunderbolts spoilers, cw for brief mentions of injuries)

A dark blue bruise peeks from the neckline of your dress. It falls like spilled watercolor down your spine and bleeds softly past your shoulder blade before disappearing into the fabric of your rented gown. 

Valentina needed good press and thought throwing a gala the day after a near-lethal mission was the way to do it.“The whole beat-up schtick makes you guys look more heroic, trust me,” the woman said through gritted teeth as she faked a grin for the journalists. “Now just smile for the cameras, okay?”

The front page of the newspaper will undoubtedly show six bruised and beaten New Avengers tomorrow morning, but at least they make the future president look good.

You let Val have her fun in front of the cameras and distinguished guests while you disappear outside to the balcony. You stand at the edge of the Avengers Tower, overlooking the star-speckled skyline you’ve looked upon for years, and try not to think about how different everything is now. ‘Cause you’re back home, sure, but in a way you’ll never truly be back home again. 

“These still hurt?” Bucky wonders from beside you, tracing the blurred edges of your bruises with a gentle, vibranium hand. 

You answer him with a question of your own. “Shit— You can see them?” you mumble, trying hopelessly to peer over your shoulder and fix the sleeve of your borrowed dress at the same time. You can feel the ache in your shoulder blade every time you move your right arm, like a dull knife stabbing under the skin.

Bucky huffs sharply through his nose and looks away. He stares daggers through the sliding glass door at Valentina as she parades through the crowd in a bright red, floor-length dress like satan herself. Anger pierces somewhere deep in his chest. He fidgets with the knot of his tie with his flesh hand when he feels like it’s choking him. 

“I told her we needed to wait— We weren’t ready for this yet—”

“It’s best to get it over with,” you shrug and bring the flute of champagne to your mouth. Your following words come out echoed as you mumble into the glass, “The less I have to hear from her, the better.”

Bucky looks back at you and softens all over again. You’re too stubborn for your own good. There hasn’t been a battle you’ve backed away from — not the Winter Soldier, not Thanos, and certainly not Valentina. You’ll keep fighting the good fight ’til it kills you.

“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Bucky admits quietly, smoothing his metal hand up and down the length of your spine. “That’s all…”

Your mouth leaves a faint lipstick print on the rim of the glass. Champagne glitters faintly on your rouge-tinted lips before you lick the sheen away. “You know I’m an assassin, right?” you quip with a pair of squinted, made-up eyes.

Bucky huffs, ‘cause it’s too like you to dismiss his attempts to care for you. “Shut up,” he murmurs in a low, honeyed tone and ducks down like he intends to kiss you. His gelled back locks fall over his scruffy cheek as he cups your jaw in a gentle hand.

“Like, for years,” you continue despite his face being mere, stomach-swirling inches away from yours. “My whole life, basically. So I think I can handle a few bruises, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Shut up—”

You’re left giggling against his mouth when he finally kisses you. You fight back the sunshine smile on your face so you can kiss him properly back. He tastes like sweet wine, spearmint, and something unnamed but still strangely familiar when he licks into your parted mouth. His spit glimmers faintly on your lips in the moonlight when he’s forced to part from you.

The sliding door opens with a whoosh. Bob stumbles from the threshold with a lopsided smile on his flushed face, clad in a pair of borrowed slacks and an ill-fitting button-up. If he notices the way you and Bucky part less than casually, he doesn’t show it.

“This is such bullshit, right?” he says through an awkward chuckle and swipes a nervous hand through his curls.

You nod with a tight-lipped smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Yep,” you sigh and turn your back to Bucky, facing the dishevelled boy across from you. 

“I mean, we just got back from a mission saving her ass yesterday,” Bob rambles and saunters towards the opposite end of the luxurious balcony without ever looking your way. “She could’ve at least given us a warning, you know? Like, read the room, Valentina. Come on.” 

He laughs at himself and looks over his shoulder at you and Bucky. Only then does he notice the tension between you, which he has since sufficiently broken, and the rosy lipstick smudged on the grumpy man’s mouth. His eyes widen at the realization, and his chest inflates with a deep breath.

“Oh, shit…” he mumbles, eyes flitting wildly between you. “I— I’m the one that needs to read the room, aren’t I?”

You shake your head with a kind laugh. “No, Bob. It’s okay—”

“Well, yeah, kinda,” Bucky mumbles simultaneously, then winces when your elbow digs into his ribs.

“Sorry,” Bob grimaces, wringing his pale hands into a knot. “Sorry… I’ve always had a weird thing about that— You know, showing up places I shouldn’t. I think that should’ve been my superpower, honestly.”

“You can stay, Bob,” you assure him. “It’s okay.”

He shakes his wild head and walks backwards towards the door. “No, I should— I should go—” 

He spins on the heel of his brand-new loafers and hits the glass door with a thud. It garners the attention of the crowd in the main room, and Bob flashes you a wavering grin before sliding the door properly open and slinking back inside.

You sigh wistfully when he’s gone. 

“He’s so cute…” you hum to yourself.

Bucky scowls from behind you. “I’m standing right here.”

You turn to face him and poke him hard in the chest. “You should stop being so mean to him, you know?”

“And you should stop treating him like a kid.”

“But I like him…” you whine with a scrunched nose, using Bucky’s tie as a leash to pull him further into you. “Do you think we can keep him?”

Bucky laughs, a sharp exhale through his nose. “I don’t think we have a choice,” he grumbles and glances inside again. 

Through the large glass door, he can spot the blundering members of the new team. Walker towers over everyone else and tries hopelessly to show off his new shield to an uncaring crowd. Bob follows Ava around like a lost dog before she phases suddenly through a wall (which he, then, ultimately runs into). Yelena and Alexei take a series of shots together, never minding the press watching their every move.

Bucky sighs. “I think we have to keep all of them, unfortunately.

“Don’t say that like you hate them,” you giggle.

“Well, I kinda do.”

“What about me?” you whisper with your brows raised, and your eyes wide and innocent and knowing.

“Especially you.”

Bucky smiles crookedly and ducks down again when you pull him closer with his tie in your fist. This time, his attempt to kiss you is interrupted by a rapid beating at the sliding door — several thud, thud, thuds from the other side of the glass. You part from each other again, heads whipping to find Yelena and Alexei all but pressed against the door. (They tend to act like carbon copies of each other when they’re drunk.)

“I need help!” the blonde girl whines, muffled through the closed door.

“With what?!” you shout back.

Alexei tries to answer at the same time as Yelena. You can only halfway understand them as they talk over one another in similar, deep, Russian accents. “Valentina said— But we wanted to— And we can’t find—” is all you can make out.

“What?!” you repeat, face twisted with confusion.

They repeat the same spiel once more: different sentences spoken muffled and simultaneously.

Bucky huffs in annoyance. You shake your head and shout, “Just open the door!”

“Oh,” Yelena says, pink mouth pouted, as she slides the glass open with a whoosh. She pokes her head past the threshold with an innocent smile. “Do you maybe know where you can find the booze?” she lilts, voice airy and slurred in a Russian drawl.

“The good stuff,” Alexei corrects from behind her. “Not this watered-down American shit.”

You click your lips against your teeth. “Uh, well, the liquor Tony left is somewhere in the depths of the wine cellar, I think— The one downstairs, not the one in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” Yelena says with a huff, like she’d been looking everywhere for an answer. She’s about to close the door behind her but stops with a suspicious look in her eye. “Were you guys about to make out?” she singsongs quietly, waving an accusatory finger between you.

Bucky nods. “‘Trying’ being the key word here.”

“Oops,” Yelena whispers with a feigned wince, disappearing back inside and talking through the closing door as she goes. “Sorry— Carry on— We were never here.”

Bucky sighs when she’s gone. “We’re never gonna have a moment alone again at this rate,” he grouses.

You grin with a mischievous glint in your eye. “But that just makes it more fun, don’t ya think?”

[daxisyzz]

hiiii i hope you are well !!! i was wondering if you could maybe do a fic where the reader gets kidnapped and tortured by hydra on a mission or something, and after a while bucky and the team find her and save her but she’s so psychologically damaged that she’s scared of everyone? preferably lots and lots of protective and comforting bucky as he looks after her and he becomes the only person she’s comfortable with, all the angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending would be amazing!!! thanks 🩷

Heyyy!! Hope you're doing well too. Writing this fic made me cry so I hope it's what you expected. Sorry for answering late🙃

Only safe with you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, trauma recovery, Kidnapping, psychological torture (not graphic), PTSD, panic attacks, emotional vulnerability, mentions of touch aversion, recovery

Word count: 1.1k+

You didn’t scream when they took you.

That came later—when your voice cracked raw from begging the shadows for mercy, for death, for something other than the cold numbness pressing in around you like icewater under your skin. But in the beginning, there was only silence. The kind that hollows you out from the inside.

The kind that makes you forget your own name.

You had been captured by Hydra. A mission gone wrong. A corner turned too fast. A shot fired too late. And then it all disappeared beneath the haze of a needle and the slam of a steel door.

No one found you. Not for weeks.

And in that time, you stopped existing.

You curled in on yourself, starved and shaking, while voices you didn't recognize whispered in the dark, breaking you down with every calculated word. They told you you were abandoned. That no one was coming. That you were alone because you were unworthy of being loved.

They never needed to touch you.

They just watched you rot from the inside out.

When the team finally found you, you didn’t recognize them.

You heard the explosion first—the thunder of boots, the sharp bark of Bucky’s voice, the sound of someone screaming your name like it meant something.

But all you saw were more shadows.

You tried to crawl into the wall when they burst into your cell. Your fingernails broke against the concrete, your body instinctively folding into itself, your mouth whispering pleas in a language you didn’t know you remembered.

You didn’t know Bucky was crying until his tears hit your hands.

"Hey," he choked, dropping to his knees, blood on his knuckles and desperation in his eyes. "It’s me. It’s Bucky. I’m here, okay? I’ve got you. You’re safe."

But safety was a concept that no longer made sense to you.

When his hand brushed yours, you screamed.

You screamed like you were dying. Like you were on fire.

And something in Bucky broke that day.

The jet ride back was too bright. Too loud. You were swaddled in a blanket like a child, staring through people who whispered your name with eyes full of quiet sorrow. Natasha sat across from you, tense and silent, her hand clenched in her lap.

Steve paced quietly in the back, eyes heavy with guilt.

Tony said nothing, choosing instead to sit beside you in stillness.

They all felt the ache, but none knew how to hold it.

Because they saw the pieces of you, scattered and bloody, and none of them knew how to put you back together.

Except for Bucky.

He didn’t leave your side. Not once.

You wouldn’t let anyone else near you. The first time Bruce tried to assess your wounds, you had a panic attack so violent your lips turned blue.

But Bucky?

You let him stay.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t sleep. You didn’t see him. But he was there. Sitting on the floor, silent and patient, like he was trying to absorb your pain with every breath.

"You don’t have to talk," he whispered once, voice so low it made your ribs ache. "I’ll just be here. I’m not going anywhere."

And he wasn’t.

Not when you curled into corners, sobbing so hard you threw up.

Not when you tore your own skin in your sleep.

Not when you started to disappear into yourself again.

He stayed.

And the others watched, hurting in their own quiet ways.

Natasha lingered by your door some nights, pacing like she wanted to knock but couldn’t.

Steve brought books you didn’t read.

Tony made sure the lights never flickered in your room again.

They didn’t say much. They didn’t force anything. But they were there.

And Bucky? He just was.

Weeks passed.

You started whispering again. Small things. Words like "water" or "blanket" or "stay."

Always to Bucky.

Only to him.

He was the first person you let touch you again.

A pinky finger. Brushing yours. Barely there.

You sobbed when it happened. Clutched your chest like it hurt. Like it burned to feel something again.

Bucky didn’t cry. Not then.

But that night, Steve found him in the hallway outside your door, fists bruised and bloodied against the wall.

"I can’t lose her again," Bucky whispered, voice shattering. "I can’t."

Recovery wasn’t linear.

Some days you smiled.

Some days you screamed.

Some nights you let Bucky hold your hand.

Some nights you clawed at your own skin, begging him to make it stop.

And he did.

Not with force.

Not with words.

Just with presence.

He’d pull you into his lap, wrap his arms around your shaking body, press his lips to your temple and whisper, "You’re safe. You’re not alone. I’ve got you."

Until you believed him.

Even if only for a moment.

One night, you whispered, "Why did you stay?"

Bucky looked at you, moonlight catching the cracks in him that matched your own.

"Because you matter. Because you didn’t give up. Because you let me find you."

You blinked, tears spilling freely. "I don’t feel like a person anymore."

His voice broke. "Then let me remind you how to be one."

They say healing is like a mosaic, broken pieces coming together to form something beautiful.

You were still cracked. Still healing. Still learning how to exist in a body that had been turned into a prison.

But Bucky loved you through all of it.

With hands that never rushed.

With words that never demanded.

With a heart that only ever whispered, You are safe here.

And for the first time in months, maybe years—You believed him.

One Year Later

The morning sun slipped in through the curtains, painting your room in pale gold. The shadows that once clung to the walls had long since faded, replaced by quiet warmth and slow, steady breaths.

You sat curled on the couch, a book in your lap, half-forgotten, as Bucky entered with two steaming mugs in hand. He paused in the doorway, watching you with that soft look he reserved only for you—a kind of awe, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

"You’re staring," you said, voice lighter, steadier now.

He grinned. "Can you blame me?"

You set the book aside and took the mug he offered, your fingers brushing his without flinching. That tiny act still felt like magic sometimes.

You leaned into him when he sat beside you, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in without a word.

There were no more nightmares that week.

You’d started laughing again. Dancing in the kitchen. Humming in the shower.

You still had days where the world felt fragile, like it could crack open beneath your feet—but you no longer fell alone.

You looked up at Bucky, your eyes soft. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

His thumb brushed your cheek. "You saved yourself. I just got to love you through it."

And you did. Slowly, then all at once. Day by day, moment by moment, you let the light back in through him.

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”