#and then I’m jumping in the car and sprinting back across the state to be back at work on Tuesday

[northwestofinsanity]

Cross state sprint 1, Westbound portion safely complete!  Lots of good music in the car today, and while its battery life has been diminishing, I am happy to report my 14 year old iPod can still play through the entire 5 and a half hour drive (only if I leave it alone and don’t skip songs).

[kiddiesmores]

“𝟖𝟔 𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢-𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢!”

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s your first day on the job out of training, you’ve never been so nervous in your life! You finally met the big boss that everyone is saying the be weary of but he doesn’t seem to be as scary as everyone says he is…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Harmless flirting, Whole lotta swearing, Yelling customers.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞: SHES HEEERREEEE!! Pls enjoy as I try and bring my vision to life! Feedback is welcome but don’t be rude, I argue back. Enjoy!

“Psst…psst…YN!”

You shoot up, looking around in a hurry for a sign of danger. “What! What- Huh? Brooke? What is it? Is something on fire? IS THE DOG OKAY?” You question, grabbing your roommate's arm in fear. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she points to your phone, “Your alarm has been going on for 5 minutes, don’t you start your new job today?”

Your eyes widen, grabbing your phone and staring at the time. ‘9:30am’ it reads, making you gasp and jump out of bed. “SHIT SHIT SHIT, I'M GONNA BE LATE! '' you shout as you rush to the bathroom, your uniform neatly folded on the counter as if you’re going to your first day of school. Brooke follows you into the bathroom, watching you as you quickly brush your teeth.

“Did you still need me to drive you?” She asks, fixing her hair in the mirror. You nod quickly as you scrape your tongue, spitting out the gunk and shoving her out so you can change.

You make sure your hair is neat and tidy, fiddling with the shorts and collard black shirt that hosts the “CHOPS BAR N GRILL” name and logo in the right corner, your name tag taking its place on the left.

You let out a sigh, the nerves of starting a new job sending tingles across your body. “I’m cool, I’m cool! Everything’s gonna be fine- and i’m gonna make so much money-“

“9:45 AND WE LIVE 10 MINUTES AWAY LETS GOOOO” Your roommate calls out. You quickly shut off your lights, sprinting around the room looking for your bag.

“BROOKE MY BAG”

“I GRABBED IT ALREADY”

“AND MY PHONE?”

“IN MY HAND”

You speed walk to the living room, slipping on your work shoes and kissing your roommate on the cheek, “I love you.” She waves you off, “I know.”

The ride there was smooth, Brooke playing old 2000s songs so you can jam out and not think about how nervous you were about your first day. She was the reason you secured this new job, her boyfriend being one of the line cooks and all. He put in a good word for you with the owner as they’re extremely close, making your interview process very simple. You have to tell her to kiss Charlie on the lip real good for you for this one.

As you pull into the parking lot, a wave of anxiety rushes over you, but she’s a step ahead of you.

Hands on your shoulders you stare at your bestfriend/roommate. “Repeat after me, and close your eyes.” She states and you listen.

“You’re gonna make a lot of money.”

“I’m gonna make a lot of money.”

“You’re hot and sexy”

You laugh a bit, “I’m hot and sexy”

Her thumbs stroke your shoulders comfortingly, “You’re gonna have the best day. You made it through the training week just fine, it’s just time for the real thing! Plus, Charlie is there so you’ll have him there for help. I will literally pull right back the fuck up if anything happens.”

You nod, putting a hand over hers as you let out another sigh. You force your knee to stop bouncing, nodding affirmatively and letting out a “Thank you” before grabbing your bag and hopping out the car. You walk with purpose to the front doors, opening it and saying a hello to the hosts who greet you with big smiles. They wish you good luck as you make your way to the kitchen which you reciprocate with a thank you and a smile.

You set your bag down in its designated spot, fixing your face in the mirror and putting aquaphor on your lips. A hand clasps your shoulder making you jump, “Who’s ready for their first day on the floor!” you hear. It’s one of your managers, Rosemary. She’s a really sweet lady, yall are close in age so it’s very easy to talk to her. You put a hand on your heart, “Damn it Rosie, you scared me..” you respond turning to her.

She laughs, “I know you’re nervous, but trust you’re gonna do great. You were amazing in training, and there will always be people to help you. Just ask okay?”

You nod again and she claps her hands together. “Perfect, let’s get you clocked in- good job getting here on time by the way! And there’s someone you need to meet before you start!”

Rosemary guides you to the office where you’re met with a man dressed in a black chef button up with the facial hair you can swear you’ve seen on the logo. His expression is hard to read. It’s grouchy- yet bored- but not angry? He’s sitting in the chair and looking at the computer, an excel spreadsheet on display, checking the inventory from the night before.

Rosemary knocks twice to get his attention and he mutters “What is it?” She smiles, “This is our new hire, Y/N. You didn’t get to meet her during interviews and training but I wanted to make sure you knew who they were before you bitch about seeing someone you don’t know on your line” She jokes. His head turns, looking you right in the eyes, you have to force yourself not to flinch.

“Y/N this is Jay! The owner, manager, executive chef. He’s usually here on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sunday mornings. Saturday night occasionally, so you’ll be seeing a lot of him against your will…” Rosie teases. You let out a nervous laugh, “Nice to meet you sir..”

You reach out a hand for him to shake which he takes, “Welcome to the team, and don’t call me Jay, she only calls me that to piss me off. Call me Schlatt. Have you ever served before?”

You nod, “Yes sir, this will be my second serving job.” He hums, “Good, so we don’t have to teach you to hold a tray or anything.” He stands up with a grunt, and you take him in more. He’s fucking tall, and b i g. You both seem to realize he’s still holding onto your hand and you laugh a bit as he retracts.

“All the advice I can give you is don’t fuck up, but I don’t think i’ll have to worry about that with you. I’ve heard good things, now if you excuse me.”

He gives Rosie a push on the shoulder and makes his exit. She squeals a bit, shaking your shoulders, “That’s the sweetest i’ve ever seen him! You’re so in!!”

Your head tilts, confused, “What do you mean? He seems nice enough..?”

Rosie’s face drops, “Y/N. Schlatt is TERRIFYING. You’re lucky we caught him before we actually opened, he’s a beast when he’s in that kitchen. Just make sure to handle your business so he doesn’t have to leave that line.”

You nod quickly, your head feeling dizzy from the amount of times you’ve done it today. The phone rings and Rosie excuses herself to answer it, asking a coworker of yours to show you the section you’ll have for the morning.

All you could think about his ‘words of encouragement’ he offered, ‘Don’t fuck up’. You were determined not to disappoint him.

“Y/N! You just got sat!” The host comes back to tell you, and you smile at her sweetly.

“Thank you!”

You look in the mirror, forcing a smile on your face and rehearsing your script in your head before turning the corner with a shout, “Corner!”, and heading to your first table of the day.

The morning runs smoothly, you only need to ask for help twice. Once when a lady asked if you could just sell her raw chicken that she could take home for herself to cook and again when a guy tried to buy a case of beer off of you guys so he didn’t have to go to the store. Only later to find out that they were together but just came in at separate times…

Other than that everything was going good. But alas, all good things have to come to an end.

While it was slow you stood at the host stand, joking around with them as you waited for your next table, greeting everyone that came in. An old couple walks in, the man sporting a flannel and a trucker hat and the old lady in a blouse and pearl necklace.

The hosts greet them while you smile. The hosts lead them to your section and you follow behind them.

“Hello! I’m Y/N i’m going to be taking care of yall today-“

“Who are you? We ain’t ever seen you here before.” The man interrupts.

You freeze, regaining your train of thought after the question threw you off script. “Oh! Yes haha, I’m new here! Today is my first day on the floor!”

“Oh isn’t that cute! You’re so precious, are they treating you right?” The woman asks, making your heart warm. “Yes ma’am, they are. Can I get yall started with some drinks?”

As she’s about to answer, her husband cuts her off again, “I don’t know how I feel about some fresh face serving me. Where’s Jessie? Usually we get her on these mornings.”

You blink slowly, is this guy serious?

“Jessie isn’t here today, but I promise I will take care of yall well! This isn’t my first time servin!” You joke, his wife laughs again.

“Well I will take a nice cold sweet tea and he will have a Tall Bud Light, dressed. And we already know what we want to eat. We come in here often!”

Great.

“Of course, what can I get for y'all today?”

You learn their names are Tim and Pam, watching as other servers go up to your table while you’re away and conversing with them.

Pam orders the chicken breast with a side salad with ranch and mash potatoes, while Tim orders a 8oz filet, medium with a loaded baked potato and green beans.

You double- No. Triple check to make sure everything is right before sending the food through. Now all you had to do was wait as you got them and your other tables refills on drinks.

The expo slides your tray to you, muttering a “You're up.”

You carry the tray out to your table, passing it out swiftly before asking if everything is alright. They say everything looks fine but as you turn to leave you hear a yell. “GOD DAMN IT- SEE PAM! THIS IS WHY I DON'T LIKE NEW PEOPLE. MY STEAK AINT COOKED RIGHT.”

Your blood runs cold, you swore you sent it in right? It’s impossible. “I’m so sorry sir, I can send it back-“

“GET ME SCHLATT” He shouts, making you flinch. You nod, rushing to the kitchen, hands trembling. The kitchen is busy, plates are being shoved up on the counter constantly and you can hear Schlatt bitching before you even turn the corner.

You take in a deep breath before putting your face in the kitchen window, “Um…Schlatt? My 411 wants to talk to you-“

“I’m fuckin busy, what is it they want? And why me for fucks sake, where’s rosie? ROSIE” he shouts. You take a step back, finding your voice. “He asked for you specifically, Tim? I think his name was..”

Schlatt lets out a loud groan, slapping his towel over his shoulder before barging through the kitchen doors. “Fuckin Tim, follow me. I’m gonna show you how to handle his ass so you don’t have to bother me again.”

As yall approach the table, you hear Pam trying to calm Tim down.

“Finally! Just the man I wanted to see, your new waitress over here is already causin’ problems! I said I wanted my steak medium well, this shit is damn near raw!”

You look at Schlatt as he stares blankly at the man, his jaw clenched. You swore the man said medium, and even so the steak looked perfect to you so you had no clue what had made him so mad.

“Damn it, Tim! You do this shit every time man, at some point I’m gonna tell them to stop servin ya entirely!”

Schlatt rubs his temples as you stare at him as he lectures the table in front of you, apparently this isn’t his first time bitching at the guy, and evidently it won’t be the last.

“This steak is fucking perfect, just because you don’t like new people doesn’t mean you interrupt MY day. I’m getting sick of you messin with my servers. My day’s already shitty enough. I should fuckin known, you never order your steaks medium well in the first place!” He rants, throwing his hands up in frustration.

He lets out a sigh, “I’ll comp the meal today, but tip your fuckin waitress and get the hell out, I ain’t dealin with this today. .” Schlatt storms to the other side of the store, leaving you to smile awkwardly at your table as Tim grumbles and pulls out his wallet as his wife rubs his shoulder.

You make your way to the POS system to watch Schlatt comp the meal on the computer, mumbling about how he doesn’t have time to deal with bullshit or whatever.

“Thank you for…setting him straight for me, I didn’t know we could talk to people like that.” You joke as he hands you their new receipt. He looks at you, eyebrow raised, “When I told them to hire you I thought I told them to make sure they have a backbone. Don’t let anybody give you any shit, you’re too sweet n’ pretty to be talked to like that.”

You nod dumbly, watching him go back to the kitchen with the towel over his shoulder, hearing his voice boom as he yells at whatever poor cook for fucking up Tims filet. Your stomach is full of butterflies, “He thinks I'm sweet and pretty?”

The rush is FINALLY over and they cut you for the afternoon. You quickly popped in your earbuds as you roll silverware and conversate with your coworkers in passing. Once you rolled the silverware count and finished your side work, you decide to go out for a smoke break before going to sweep your section for the shift change.

You grab the cardboard and slide it between the door to make sure you aren’t locked out, stepping outside for fresh air.

There, you see Schlatt, cigarette in mouth as he scrolls on his phone while sitting on one of the empty barrels. The only other flat surface is the barrel in front of him, and god knows you needed to sit down after running back and forth all afternoon. You let out a sigh and walked up to it, “This seat taken?” you joke as you sit.

He looks up, shaking his head. “It’s all yours.” he grumbles. You nod, taking your vape out of your apron and hitting it. He looks at the device in your hand, “Didn’t know you were a…Watermelon Ice Geekbar kinda person”

You laugh out loud, “Yeahh, trying to ween off though..” you joke back. You offer it to him, “Wanna try it, tastes better than your cigarette” He scoffs, “Yeah and fucks you up worse than one too.”

You smile at his jab, shaking your head and hitting it again. Yall sit in a comfortable silence for a while, letting the sun hit your face as you try to decompress from your day.

“So, minus Tim being a dick how was your shift?” He asks, ripping you out of your dazed state.

“Oh um- great! It was great, the tables were nice for the most part besides a few weirdos. Everyone was really helpful…” you respond sheepishly, toying with the vape in hand. “Thanks again for your help..” you mutter.

He grunts, “Good to hear. It’s no problem really, but you really need to start talkin back. Not like me, you’re nicer than I am I assume, but don’t let anybody walk all over you like that.”

You watch him ash out the cigarette before standing up to go back inside, but your heart is racing. “Can I ask you something?” You call out to him before he goes inside.

He turns to you, waiting for your question, “Earlier, you said I was ‘sweet n pretty’? What did you exactly mean by that?”

He looks you up and down a small smirk on his face, “You been thinkin about that all day huh?”

Tingles rush across your skin, embarrassed as he clocked you. “No-no! Of course not! Forget it, sorry..”

He laughs, and you can’t help but stare at him, smiling shyly.

“Don’t think too hard about it sweetheart,” he starts, opening the door to go inside.

Once he’s halfway in, he peeks his head back out,

“But i’d be lyin if I said I don’t find you very nice to look at.”

And with that he’s gone. Your mouth is left open, trying to process off you heard him correctly. That was definitely him flirting with you right?

The after work debrief with Brooke is going to go INSANE.

//taglist @invadermeweatsshart @ohgodthebogisback

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

To Be a Man - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Wife!OC (Sophie)

Word Count: 2.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Secret Marriage; Non-Traditional Family Dynamics; Mentioned Death of Minor OCs; Marriage of Convenience/Necessity; Mentions of Type 1 Diabetes; Third Person POV, Named OC kids and Wife, No Physical Descriptions of Any OCs

Summary: Hangman is married. And it’s no one else’s business.

Prologue Part 2 Part 3

Master List

A.N. Disclaimer - I don’t have Type 1 diabetes and so this is purely based off of a little research and what I’ve seen my friends with Type 1 do.

“You’re married!?”

Hangman turned around at the accusation to find the rest of the Daggers, save for Coyote, who he was talking to before they were so rudely interrupted, staring at him like he had grown a second head. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, not sure why it was any of their business.  

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Who the hell are you married to?” Rooster asked, earning a condescending smirk from Hangman.

“My wife.”

“Well, no shit Sherlock.”

“Where’s your wedding ring then?” Payback questioned, leaning on the table to inspect Hangman’s left hand. “I’ve never seen you wear one around.”

“It’s on my dog tags, dipshits,” Hangman replied, pulling out the chain to show them, even though he didn’t have to do that. “That a crime?”

“Why do you flirt with other women then?” Bob inquired, sharing a look with Phoenix. “Two women gave you their numbers last night alone.”

“Did you see me calling either one of them?”

“Well . . . no, we didn’t, but—”

“—When did you get married?” Phoenix intervened, tilting her chin up and narrowing her eyes a bit. “And where is she?”

“Two years ago. And she’s driving here right now,” Hangman stated, checking his watch. Pulling out his phone, he looked up his wife’s location before turning back to the Daggers. “She’s about five minutes away, if you want to be specific.”

“She’s staying here with you?”

“For a while, yeah. Like anyone else’s spouse would,” Hangman retorted, getting a bit annoyed with all of the questions. “Why?”

“Well, we’ve got to meet Mrs. Seresin,” Rooster drawled, folding his arms across his chest. “Since we’ve heard so much about her.”

“Do you even have a picture of her?” Fanboy questioned, causing Hangman to shoot him an annoyed look.

“Yes.”

“Well, are you going to show it to us?”

“No,” Hangman snorted, shaking his head. “No, I’m not.”

The Daggers continued to list of questions that Hangman half-answered, half-gave bullshit responses, before Hangman spotted a familiar silver car rolling into the lot. Ignoring the Daggers, he set his drink down and got up from his seat, slipping around the railings on the back porch of the Hard Deck to greet his wife. Coyote was about to take a sip of his drink when he found five sets of eyes trained on him.

“I’m not telling you guys anything,” Coyote stated, shaking his head. “They’ll be here in five seconds.”

“So, you knew the whole time that Hangman was married?” Payback questioned, causing Coyote to nod in return. “And you never thought to mention that?”

“Not my business to tell.”

“Jake!” a shrill voice that definitely belonged to a little kid broke through the air.

The Daggers all quickly pivoted from Coyote to the boardwalk where a girl, probably around six, sprinted down the wooden path. Hangman picked up his pace and scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. And if the Daggers weren’t confused and befuddled before at Hangman’s personal life, they sure were now.

“He’s a dad!?”

“What the hell is he doing with a kid!? This is Hangman we’re talking about, right?”

“She called him Jake, dumbasses,” Phoenix pointed out, though she watched the interaction closely. “What kid calls their dad by their first name?”

Hangman kept walking with the girl in his arms, chatting excitedly with her. Then another kid, a boy probably three or four years old, jumped up onto the boardwalk and raced towards Hangman as well. The Daggers grew even more confused. Hangman leaned over and scooped him up like he weighed nothing, pressing a kiss to the side of the boy’s head.

A woman finally stepped out from in between two cars and pulled Jake in for a tight hug, which he tried to return as best he could with two kids in his arms. The Daggers watched their interaction like hawks but gave each other confused looks when the woman, who they presumed was Jake’s wife, pulled away with just a kiss pressed to his cheek.

“That’s his wife, right?” Rooster asked Coyote, who nodded. “They’re not that affectionate?”

“Maybe five strangers staring at them makes them a little uncomfortable,” Coyote suggested, taking a sip from his beer.

Hangman eventually led his family to the back of the Hard Deck, dreading the conversation that awaited him. Jake’s wife glanced up at the Daggers, who were clearly waiting for them, before turning to Jake. Nudging him gently with her hip, she jerked her head in the direction of his squad.

“Did you tell them anything?”

“Nope,” Jake replied, shaking his head. “Not a single thing.”

The family of four made their way up to the back deck. Setting Leila on the ground and taking her hand as they walked up the stairs, Hangman finally turned to face the stunned and even more curious Daggers. Leila hid a bit behind his leg, always a bit shy around strangers, but he rested a hand on her shoulder to remind her that he was there and that it was all alright.

“Everyone, this is my family. Family, these are the Daggers,” Hangman introduced, half-assed, earning an immediate poke in the side from his wife. Gritting his teeth slightly, Hangman restarted. “Daggers, this is Leila and this is Tyler and this is my wife, Sophie”

After Hangman introduced her, Sophie waved politely in greeting to the Daggers, who awkwardly waved back to her. Withholding an eyeroll, Hangman started on the introductions in the other direction.

“Guys, that’s Bob, Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, and you already know Coyote,” Hangman listed off, pointing at each Dagger as he spoke.

“Javy!” Leila called, running over to greet him.

“Hey, Firecracker,” Coyote joked, picking Leila up and setting her on the stool that Hangman had been sitting on before.

From there, the awkwardness slowly dissipated. Very slowly, but it did dissipate just a bit. Leila and Tyler were running around on the back deck, laughing and stretching their legs after the long car ride down from Lemoore. Hangman had switched his beer for a water and returned from inside the bar with a drink for his wife, whose order he knew from heart.

They were in the middle of a conversation, though Hangman thought that it was bordering on an interrogation with some of the other Daggers when Sophie’s phone started to buzz with a weird ringtone. In an instant, Jake turned to where Leila and Tyler were playing.

“Tyler, come over here,” he called, causing them to stop.

Hangman picked up his wife’s phone and tapped it, causing Tyler to pout. Tyler begrudgingly trudged over to where Jake and Sophie were sitting and Jake quickly scooped him up and sat him on his lap. Meanwhile, Sophie had been rifling around in her purse, pulling out a separate bag.

“Fruit snacks or the granola bar?” his wife asked Tyler, holding out both items.

Tyler quickly leaned over and grabbed the fruit snacks before turning around to hand them to Hangman. Taking them without hesitation or delay, Hangman ripped the package open and poured the fruit snacks into his hand for Tyler, who started to slowly eat them one by one. The other Daggers seemed a bit confused, though Bob instantly recognized the situation.

“He’s Type 1?�� Bob guessed, causing Sophie to nod sadly.

“Yes, he is,” she replied, checking her phone again. She showed Jake her screen, causing him to encourage Tyler to eat the remaining fruit snacks in his hand, before turning back to Bob. “You know someone with Type 1?”

“No, my dad has Type 2. My sister has the same set up on her phone,” Bob explained, causing Jake’s wife to nod slowly.

Tyler seemed a bit upset, though resigned to his situation, but Hangman did his best to try and make it enjoyable for him. Teasing Tyler for his choice in fruit snacks, hiding them and pretending to find them in random spots, and other very un-Hangman-like actions that caused most of the Daggers to grow even more confused at the situation, Hangman blocked all of that out and just focused on Tyler.

“Alright, just hang on for a second, bud,” Jake told Tyler, who clearly wanted to play again.

After they were sure that Tyler’s glucose levels were stable, Hangman set Tyler back on his own two feet. Leila, who had been chatting loudly with Coyote and Fanboy, let out a shriek and started to run after her brother again as if nothing had happened to disturb them in the first place.

“How long have you known that he has it?” Rooster asked, watching Leila and Tyler play.

“About two years now,” Sophie explained, folding her arms underneath her as she rested them on the picnic table. “He was only a couple months old when his doctor suspected something. Took some time to get an official diagnosis.”

“He doesn’t seem to let it get him down,” Payback commented, watching Tyler laugh and run around Coyote.

“No, he doesn’t,” Sophie replied with a soft smile. “He’s like my sister.”

“Your sister has Type 1 too?”

“No . . . she didn’t,” Sophie stated softly, her tone earning a few confused looks.

“Leila and Tyler are her niece and nephew,” Hangman supplied, gently resting the outside of his thigh against his wife’s own to remind her that he was there for her.

“My sister and her husband died a few years ago,” Sophie continued quietly, shifting a bit in her seat. “I got custody after they passed and after Jake and I got married, he adopted them.”

And suddenly all of the pieces were starting to fall into place.

Leila eventually came running over, asking if they could go down to the beach. Sophie got up to take them down herself, not trusting two kids who grew up in desert territory to know anything about ocean water safety. And when they were gone, all eyes fell on Hangman. After a long, drawn out sigh, he slowly narrowed his eyes at his squad mates.

“If any of you fuckers even think about going to the brass about it,” Hangman vowed, pointing menacingly over at the gathered Daggers.

“Dude, no one here is looking to take insulin from a little kid,” Fanboy stated quietly.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for service members to get married for the benefits. And hell, you would have had to have been a completely selfish, heartless, brown-nosing government lapdog to try and get someone in trouble for making sure that a kid with a treatable condition lived happily without bankrupting his family.

“How did you meet your wife then? You knew her before the kids’ parents died?”

“Yeah. We were in a long term . . . situation-ship at the time,” Hangman recalled, earning familiar looks from his teammates. “And she told me that it was a lot to handle and she didn’t expect me to hang around, especially because I was deployed at the time. I came back home to visit her and saw how stressed she looked—she was crying, Tyler was still in the hospital at that point, Leila was barely talking . . .” Jake trailed off, a dark expression coming over his face. “I didn’t think. I just told her to marry me and I’d get it figured out. And I did. They live up with me in Lemoore now.”

“And you guys have an open relationship?” Rooster guessed, earning a sharp glare from Hangman immediately.

“No,” Jake replied bluntly.

“Not even a little?” Rooster asked, alluding to Hangman’s flirtatious personality.

“No,” Hangman stated, folding his arms in front of him. “We’re not.”

“But you’re not in love, are you?”

“That’s complicated,” Jake responded, loosening his posture a bit sheepishly.

“Yes, they are,” Coyote called back, earning a look from Hangman.

“Yes, they are what?” Sophie called out, strolling forward with Leila and a soaked Tyler beside her.

“What happened?” Jake asked, standing up from the table.

“Leila thought that it would be funny to push her brother into the ocean,” Sophie returned, shooting her niece a look. “She thought wrong.”

“He kept pulling on me!” Leila whined, stomping her foot on the ground. “I told him to stop! And he didn’t listen!”

“Well, that’s no reason to try to drown him. Go, sit on the bench right there. Now,” she ordered, causing Leila to huff but follow her order.

“I’ll take him,” Jake offered, walking forward to grab a soaked Tyler from his spot next to Sophie. “Come on, Ty, let’s get you dry.”

Jake reached out his hand for the keys, which his wife handed over without even a look in his direction. It was that smooth, that natural. Jake held Tyler, who had started to shiver despite the warmth, in his arms, not caring in the slightest that some of the ocean water was now soaking his own clothes. Coyote seemed rather amused at the shocked expressions on his teammate’s faces, which Jake blatantly ignored as he strolled away.

“What?” Sophie asked, spotting their confused expressions.

“Nothing,” they all echoed back to her.

Prologue Part 2 Part 3

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

quick question

Tony Stark x GN!Reader

Prompt: "are you seriously calling me right now?”

Summary: the avengers are in the middle of yet another battle with hydra, but that won’t stop tony from continuing your conversation from earlier.

Warnings: fluff, canon-level violence, sexual situations, and I did not proof-read.

Word Count: 2,201

follow my fanfiction sideblog

Ducking under a wild shot from a HYDRA agent’s blaster, you urged the cowering civilians across the street as you raised your arm and fired a return shot from the repulsor gauntlet on your left hand. One of them screamed as your pulse met with one of HYDRA’s jeeps, and the front of it exploded, sending enemy agents scrabbling for cover.

“Miss Y/L/N,” JARVIS said over the comms device in your ear, sounding almost apologetic at the interruption. You paused long enough to see Widow guide the civilians out of danger before you sprinted across the concourse, jumping and sliding over another car’s bonnet. You landed on your feet, punching a HYDRA gunner across the face, hard enough to knock him unconscious, before he could recover from the blast and mount another attack. “Mr. Stark would like a word.”

“Is he not busy enough right now?” you replied, blocking another agents fist with your forearm while firing another repulsor blast at his friend. You swung your arm around, firing another shot into the man’s stomach. You heard another repulsor fire somewhere above.

“He is being rather insistent, Miss.”

“When is he not?” you replied with a roll of your eyes as you heard the connection beep as another channel opened. “A little busy here at the moment, honey.”

“Have I mentioned how adorable it is when you use pet names while kicking ass?”

“Tony,” you replied exasperatedly, ducking automatically as you heard a blast go off overhead. A chunk of the wall ten feet to your left fell to the ground, setting off a nearby car alarm. “Are you seriously calling me right now?”

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation.” he said it as though you’d simply fallen into a bad cell area halfway through a phone call.

“And it couldn’t wait to continue until after everybody was done trying to kill us?” you asked. A HYDRA agent came slowly around the corner you were hiding behind, gun raised in the hopes of catching you off-guard. You punched him hard in the throat, his gun falling to clatter against the pavement. Kicking him in the stomach, you sent him sprawling to ground alongside it before he could regain his composure. “Maybe once we’re back in the States and not actively avoiding getting shot? Just a suggestion.”

You pressed down on the man’s throat with your boot as you picked up the fallen gun until he fell unconscious. Tony chuckled in your ear as you aimed the gun at an approaching Jeep and emptied the clip into its engine block. Ducking back behind the wall as it exploded, you winced at the sound of it.

“But you make it look so effortless,” he teased. “What you just did there? That was hot.”

“Keep it in your pants, Stark.” you replied dryly despite the hint of an amused smile threatening to color your features. “Not all of us have Stark Tech that extends beyond the elbow. So, some of us need to pay slightly more attention than others.”

“You want an upgrade; just say the word.” he offered despite already knowing your answer. You were far too claustrophobic to wear one of his suits of armor. “But in the meantime…”

You sighed, tossing the gun aside. Spotting another agent lining up a shot towards Steve – who was currently pulverizing a guy about forty feet ahead of you – you raised your gauntlet and fired. You turned away before the shot met its target, your bare hand moving to your ear and adjusting your comms’ volume. “Damn it, Tony. You’re exhausting.”

“I thought you liked that about me, sweetheart.” you could almost see that infuriatingly self-assured smirk of his.

“I’m hanging up now, honey.”

Your hair caught in the sudden wind as Tony blew past overhead. He banked left, coming to an abrupt stop as he fired repulsor blasts from both hands at the approaching soldiers. Rolling your eyes, you came to a stop as he flew down and landed in front of you, his helmet opening. His hair disheveled and his face flushed with the excitement of the battle, he smiled widely at you, the chaos apparently forgotten now he was with you.

“Hi.”

“Tony—”

He held up a hand, his eyes begging for patience. There was a strange mix of emotions on his face; that familiar blend of amusement and unwavering affection was warring with what you could almost swear were… nerves? “I just have one question, okay?”

“And it couldn’t wait until we were back on the jet?” your earlier exasperation dissipated with his expression. Your own nerves rose in your stomach, completely independent of the chaos around you.

The two of you had only been dating for a few months, and part of you had been relieved when your earlier conversation had been cut short. It scared you sometimes, how deeply you felt for him. Part of what had drawn you to him had been his reputation, as strange as that was. But his fabled proclivity for casual flings and one night stands had meant, in your mind, that you didn’t need to worry about getting too close. Or getting hurt.

But that famous sluttiness had apparently proven false, and despite your own reluctance for anything serious, the two of you had fallen into something akin to a relationship.

*             *             *

Leaning back against his chest, you smiled as you felt his arms wind around your waist, his hands clasping together in front of you. You turned your head to the side, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. Tony smiled, catching your lips with his own.

“You know, eventually I will actually have to go home,” you pointed out as you parted, fingers sliding over his hands. Tony turned his hands under yours, interlacing your fingers idly. “Pretty sure I left a couple of dishes in the sink, and if they go unwashed much longer, they might gain sentience and rise up against us.”

“My God, you know just what to say to turn me on.” Tony joked, his lips brushing over your temple as you rested your head back against his shoulder. “Tell me more.”

“Oh, shut up.” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “Not all of us can afford a staff of twenty.”

“Twenty? Really?” Tony said thoughtfully. “I thought I had more than that.”

“Tony, don’t be gouache.”

He chuckled in your ear.

“Insulting me in French?” he asked, and you shivered as his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. One of his hands released yours, moving to skim teasingly over the sensitive skin between your thighs. “It’s like you’re trying to seduce me.”

“You can’t seriously be ready to go again already.” you said, a smile playing on your lips. You could still feel yourself tingling from what the two of you had just done, your body practically melted against his.

“Not quite…” he murmured, balling his fist between your thighs to force them further apart gently. You whined as he moved his hands to graze over your cunt. “But I can think of a few things to do in the meantime.”

“We so don’t have time for this, Tone.” you pointed out, pushing his hand away. You shied away from him as you felt his lips on your neck, and Tony pouted up at you as you stood. You collected your discarded clothes from where they’d fallen on the carpet, sorting through them for your underwear. “I really do need to go home. Even if it’s just to do laundry.”

“I actually had a thought about that.”

“About laundry?”

Tony smiled indulgently, reaching behind him to rescue your bra from where it was hanging over his headboard. He tossed it to you, and you caught it one-handed, swinging it onto your arms and clipping it behind your back in one fluid motion. “How do you manage to make getting dressed sexy?”

You smirked, shaking your head in amusement. “You should see me put on thigh-highs.”

“Ooh.” Tony grinned, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “Yes, please.”

“Behave yourself, and you just might.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he gave you a teasing salute with two fingers before running his fingers through his hair, disheveling it further. “But before you so rudely distracted me—”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was talking about your living arrange—”

Your phone rang suddenly, and Tony sighed as you immediately snatched it up from the bedside table and swiped to answer. Old habits trained into you by years in the military and more in SHIELD were hard to break. “Y/L/N.”

*             *             *

“Tony…”

He held up a finger, his other hand rising to fire another repulsor blast without his eyes leaving your own. There was a small explosion as it met its target, but neither of you flinched. “Let me just get it out before we get distracted again. Please.”

Trying to ignore the insecurities bubbling inside you, you raised a brow. “This isn’t distracting enough?”

“This?” he asked, an almost amused smirk touching his lips. “This is basically an average Tuesday for the two of us.”

“Fair point,” you agreed, leaning to the side and firing a repulsor of your own under his still-raised arm. It met its target, and you straightened again. “But we probably shouldn’t be standing out in the open like this. We should—"

“Move in with me.”

You stopped short, shock forcing the words to die on your lips. Instead, you blinked, the confused beginnings of a laugh bubbling out of you. “What?”

Tony shrugged as though nonchalant, but you could see that same uncertainty in his eyes. That same earnestness. “Move in with me. Into the Tower.”

“Tone—”

“You practically live there already, and you have to admit, my digs are a whole lot better than yours.” he said. “No angry neighbors that make the whole building smell like soup, for one.”

“Tony.”

“Or at least, none that make it smell like soup. Romanoff tends to be a little snippy whenever she visits—”

“Stark, I swear to God, if you don’t let me talk soon, I’m going to—” you ducked automatically at the sudden sound of gunfire, turning in the same motion. The two of you fired repulsors at the same time, and the approaching Jeep’s engine exploded. You straightened slowly, meeting his eye again as you blew wayward hair out of your face. “You’re serious?”

“As I ever am.”

When you raised a brow, he reached up, the cold metal of his gauntlet brushing against your cheek as he tucked the hair behind your ear.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. Move in with me. I kind of like having you around.”

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. And, despite your better judgement, despite everything in your past that reminded you that attachments were a bad idea, you said: “Well, how could I resist a line as romantic as that?”

Tony broke into a wide, dazzling grin that made your heart swell in your chest in a way that both thrilled and terrified you. You felt his hand on your hip and—

“This is really cute and all, but I swear, if you two kiss right now, I’m going to shoot you myself.”

You jumped at the sudden intrusion of Natasha’s voice in your ear, and you set a glare on Tony. You would have thumped him in the arm if it wasn’t for the armor. “You didn’t open a private channel?”

“We’re in the middle of a fight,” he said, giddy smile still firmly in place. “Wouldn’t want you to get distracted.”

“Are you kidding, Widow?” Clint chimed in from his position above. “I’m just impressed we finally saw a crack in that stoic armor of Y/L/N’s. It’s been, what, two years? And I think I’ve seen them smile twice.”

“Three times.” Steve corrected, amusement of his own coloring what was clearly supposed to be annoyance at the distraction. “There was that time you fell down the stairs.”

“One step! I missed one step!”

“And it was hilarious.” you said, pointedly deadpan. “Don’t we have a job to do?”

“Oh, no, Y/N.” Clint replied. “You can’t go back to that block-of-granite-exterior now that we’ve seen your soft and gooey marshmallow center…”

“What kind of statue are you inventing?”

“…You’re just a big softie. There’s no denying it.”

“Yeah?” you said. “You want to come down here and test that theory out?”

“…No.”

“Alright, team, focus up.” Steve interjected, his voice far more commanding than before. It was enough for you to stop from shooting back another comment. “Civilians are clear. We need to take out the command center two blocks east.”

You muted your end of the comms after confirming, meeting Tony’s eye. “You’re such a dick, Stark.”

“All part of my charm,” he replied, still annoyingly proud. He leaned in to steal a quick kiss, his nose bumping against yours briefly as you parted. “Tell you what, you can teach me a lesson when we get home.”

You smirked, shouting after him as his helmet snapped shut and he rose into the air. “Count on it!”

.

.

.

Happy Holidays everyone!

tags: @ccbsrms @startrekkingaroundasgard @lina-mar @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @capsironunderoos @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved

[tact-and-impulse]

Narumayo Week 2023 Day 1

@narumayoweek2023 thanks for this year's prompts! This was inspired by the anime trailer for SOJ, and the thought of what if Phoenix never stopped moving from the airport. FF.net, AO3

Prompt: Waterfalls/Reunions

Phoenix hurried down the path, the suitcase’s wheels clattering against the stone tiles. He ignored the encroaching shadows of foliage; he barely registered the distant rumble of water. Maya’s scream still echoed in his mind, as it had in his car left in the States, the commercial plane to Khura’in, the rickshaw he ordered to halt outside this wooded area. He hadn’t stopped moving since her phone call. Somehow, he managed to put together descriptions and directions, leading him to the Lotus Pool, a training site for spirit mediums. 

He glimpsed the bottom of the winding way down, a flat terrace with a painted symbol pointing deeper into the trees. That was when he heard the bell from above, and a small voice asking. “Hey! Who are you?”

“I’m Phoenix Wright, I’m looking for Maya Fey!”

Whoever it was, they were rustling and scrambling, the reply diminished. “She’s…her…wait!”

But he was through with waiting, and he broke into a sprint. He pushed past the trees, the air becoming thick with moisture and incense. The waterfall was visible first, sheer motion from towering cliffs; ripples lapped against the stone tiles, and Phoenix’s gaze was filled by a scene of pink lotuses. At the far edge of the pool, a silhouette separated the thundering base of the waterfall. Hands held palm to palm, chin dipped, dark hair plastered under the spray.

Oh. She was alright. For the first time in over twelve hours, he could breathe.

Maya’s head slowly lifted, and she immediately began moving in his direction. She was wearing a thin white robe, her sleeves dragging across the water’s surface. A light breeze carried her voice. “Nick!”

He was about to jump in, to meet her halfway, when something pulled at his arm. A young boy’s fingers clutched his elbow, as he frantically shook his head.

“You may be Mystic Maya’s friend, but outsiders can’t enter the pool. Unless you’re training as a spirit medium too?” Round eyes stared at the magatama.

“Sorry. This one was lent to me.” He glanced back at Maya, who was much closer than he expected.

…Her clothing isn’t waterproof.

“It’s fine, Ahlbi. You can go back to the temple bells. He’ll help me.” She winked and the boy ducked his head, scurrying away. They were alone.

Phoenix cleared his throat, shrugging off his suit jacket. He kept his focus on her face, not that it was much easier. It was probably the sheen of water or the lack of a spotty connection blurring her features, but her full lips glistened. He draped the jacket over her shoulders. “I thought you were in trouble, and here you are, having a nice swim.”

“Well, I got some help at the last second, but my phone broke. The new one won’t be ready until the end of today.” She twisted the weight of her dark hair in her hands. “In the meantime, I’ll show you a good time.”

“Huh?!”

“You’ve never been to Khura’in before! Since you’re here, you might as well be a tourist. We’ll head out as soon as I’m done.”

“O-oh, yeah. Wait, done with what?”

She gave a pointed look. “I need to change. Into drier clothes. Unless, do you actually want to help me?”

The offer was strangely tempting. Despite his jacket, it wasn’t enough to conceal her body. Slender legs, generous hips, the faint outline of a sarong under her robe. But her breasts were unbound, the damp cloth outlining perfectly formed curves and peaking at the tips.

Realizing he’d been quiet for too long, he grasped for a response. “I could only do that if you give me a blindfold.”

The jet lag was frazzling his mind, it probably was a failure because her cheeks reddened and she abruptly tossed his jacket back. “In that case, you’ll work best as my guard.” Her robe slipped and he caught a flash of creamy skin, her bare shoulder, before he remembered to turn.

Thankfully, the wait was brief, and when he was permitted to pivot again, she was tying up her bun. He took hold of the handle of his rolling suitcase. “You really had me worried, but I’m glad you’re okay.”

She smiled. “And I’m glad you’re here. So, let’s go!” With that, she grabbed his hand and led him away from the waterfall. Nevertheless, staring at her swaying figure, he gulped.

Somehow, I get the feeling I won’t be taking in much of the sights…

[hey-kae]

Secrets He’ll Keep

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

Storyline: Charles finds himself struggling to control his reaction when you call him late at night, drunk and crying into the phone.

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating.

Sidenote: No one asked for this but i’m in the mood to write angst and no one is requesting any. I’m sorry in advance ‘cause this was painful to write.

Any other Saturday, the roles would’ve been reversed and you would’ve been the one repeatedly calling Charles to check if he made it home safely from whatever party he’d be at. For the first time in a while, your monégasque friend was the one sitting anxiously in his apartment, furiously checking his phone to see if you had gotten back to any of his 10 missed calls. With every passing minute of silence on your side, his head got more tangled with unpleasant thoughts and the tight feeling in his chest worsened. It had passed 1 AM and he still hadn’t heard from you, not even a short reply to the nearly endless string of texts he had spammed you with. It worried him sick. He’d understand that you were possibly still at whatever party you were at but he wasn’t at ease knowing that you had been offline for that long, especially when the two of you texted non-stop, even when you weren’t home.

“Come on! Please, pick up.” His anxious state had gotten into him, leaving him in his state of despair, alone in his room at 2AM, begging the phone to let him hear your voice.

“The number that you have dialed is not available at the moment.” The robotic voice talked back to him.

“Fuck!” He cursed and threw the phone onto the bed before he fell back against the mattress himself, wishing he had asked you where you were going.

Sitting there with a heavy head and racing thoughts, he started blaming himself for the state of misery he was in. He should’ve know better. He should’ve set clear limits for himself the minute he felt his heart flutter at the sound of your laughter the first time. He should’ve stopped himself the second he started feeling like he wanted to rip you out of your boyfriend’s arms. But no, he had convinced himself for a while that his reaction was just because he thought you deserved better, only to realize the truth about his feelings months later when it was already too late. He had to go and fall for his best friend. He had to book himself an indefinite amount of time of hidden pain and stolen glances.

His hand pinched the bridge of his nose like a reflex as he sighed, hoping it’ll relieve some of the weight pressing down onto his chest, making it harder for him to breathe with ease.

Forever and a day seemed to have passed before his loud ringtone blared through the dark room. He leaped to grab it, exhaling in partial relief as he read your name on the screen.

“Charles?” Your shaky voice greeted him as soon as he swiped his thumb across the screen. He wanted relief out of this call, not added worry.

“What is wrong, y/n?” His voice was dipped in fear as he heard soft sniffling on your side of the line.

“Can you please-“ you sobbed, “-pick me up?”

It added to his concern when he realized your words were slurred, indicating that you were actually drunk and sobbing into the phone.

“Oh mon Dieu.” Oh my god. He panicked, jumping off the bed and storming out of the bedroom with his car keys tightly clutched in his hand. “Where are you? What is happening? Je t’en prie d’me dire, ma chère.” Please tell me, my dear. The questions in his mind pushed past his lips without his mind’s permission as he sprinted down the stairs.

Meanwhile, your mind had ignored most of what Charles had said, barely managing to slur the club’s address to him.

Charles found himself thanking his Ferrari for the high speeds it could reach as he drove down the highway, doing everything he can to get closer to you as fast as was possible.

He almost lost his mind when he parked the car and spotted you sat on the curb outside the club with your arms wrapped around your knees and mascara staining your cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck…” He repeatedly cursed as he stumbled out of the car and rushed to you with hurried steps, kneeling down in front of you as soon as he reached you.

Looking up at him, your eyes locked with his worried ones, his image blurry to your drunk mind. Nevertheless, it comforted you to see him so close to you.

“Charles…” You wrapped your arms around him, your eyes clouding with tears once again as his scent invaded your senses, enveloping you in a safe bubble.

“Oh mon dieu, what happened?” You felt his hands brush through your hair comfortingly as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

He felt so grateful that you were finally in his arms where he knew he could keep you safe at least for a while. His heart still betrayed him, clenching every time he heard you sob into his chest, your hands clutching onto his shirt, fisting it so desperately like you were clinging onto him for safety. It was fucking with his mind, making him gulp at how cruel this felt.

“Let me take you home, sweetheart.” He softly spoke into your hair, pulling you up and walking you to the car.

He helped you into his passenger seat and pulled on your seatbelt before he got into the driver’s seat, sitting still-as-stone for a few seconds, his hands forcefully gripping the steering wheel as he took deep breaths like he was trying so hard to build up enough strength for what was to come.

With one final sharp inhale, he turned on the car and started driving, trying hard to ignore your small sniffles so he’d be able to focus on driving, but he just couldn’t. The sound was breaking his heart.

“Hey, i’m right here with you. Cry it all out, love.” He reached over and squeezed your hand for a second but it shook his whole body when he felt the both of your hands grip onto his for comfort, leaving him to drive with just one hand. That was no trouble for him. What was troubling him was the way his heart was racing out of control, pounding so hard against his ribcage, making his blood rush with too many unwanted feelings.

“I feel so fucking worthless, Charles.” You cried, subconsciously holding his hand tighter. Had you been sober, these feelings would’ve never been expressed out loud, but your drunk mind lacked a filter.

The words almost made Charles’ world stop. He couldn’t even fathom being able to cope with the fact that someone had made you feel this way.

“What?” He abruptly braked, slowing the car down. He couldn’t decide what he was feeling: rage or heartbreak because, deep down, he knew he could make you feel like you’re worth more than worth the world’s weight in gold but it killed him that he can’t seem to get a chance to do so.

“He cheated on me. We broke up.” Even in your drunk state, you lowered your voice, fully aware of how Charles never approved of your boyfriend.

He was speechless, his grip on the steering wheel tightening by the second as his whole body tensed at the sound of those words.

“Fuck him.” He spitted out the words with pure, unfiltered anger. The sound of the breathless sob that left your lips as you took in the two small words shattered Charles and even more so the little shake of your head as you rejected the statement.

“But, i love him.” The words hang heavily in the small atmosphere of the car. To Charles, they felt like a merciless stab in the stomach. They tugged on his heartstrings and knocked the air right out of his lungs. This was hurting him so bad but he’d never admit that to you, he cared about you too much to do so, even if that meant he’d have to sacrifice a fragment of his sanity to endure the night ahead.

With a painfully tense jaw, he drove you back to his apartment in silence, not acknowledging your request that he drives you back to the flat that you shared with your boyfriend.

His silence was filled with too many thoughts that all had the same conclusion: he had to put his feelings aside and just be there for you tonight, no matter how much it would hurt him.

After parking the car, he basically dragged you up the stairs, the alcohol you had consumed fully having taken over your body after being sat down for the car ride.

He gently guided you to his bathroom, sitting you on the sink counter before grabbing a cotton pad and heading towards you.

“Look at me, love.” He softly spoke, lifting your head to clean the tears and makeup off your face.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. I never want to hear you talk badly about yourself again. Okay?” He started as he began swiping the wet cotton pad across your face, wishing he had some makeup remover he could’ve used to get the job done quicker.

“You are an insanely smart woman with a personality that people would kill to have. You are funny, sensible and understanding. You are kind to everyone, dedicated to everything you’re passionate about and have a heart of gold. You are successful in all that you do and that is really impressive, ma chère. Don’t ever underestimate yourself. Please.” His thumb gently stroked your tear stained cheek, “And don’t get me started on your beauty. You are breathtaking. You are everything anyone would ever want their partner to look like. Perfect hair, beautiful eyes, a time-stopping smile and a laugh that feels like music to the ears, love.” Charles mindlessly spoke as he stood between your legs, dropping one cotton disk after the other onto the floor as he struggled to remove your makeup with only water.

His words made you cry harder, the tears streaming down your face but quickly getting wiped along with the smudged eyeliner and mascara.

“I need you to believe every word because it is all true. It hurts so much to see you cry, especially when eyes like yours should always shine with happiness.” It was getting harder for him to speak, his throat tightening as it revoked the only three words he actually wanted to say. He took a moment, stopping the flow of words as his hands dropped and he quickly faced away from you and looked down, struggling so hard to blink back his own tears, absolutely refusing to set them free right now.

Being there with you, locked together in his bathroom with you so close to him felt like the cruelest torture but a kind he had willingly chosen to endure. You were so close but in all the wrong ways. Your thighs were grazing his waist but it felt like you were the furthest you’ve ever been, not because you had moved away but because Charles’ perception of your closeness had changed. He didn’t want the same thing out of this as he did a few months ago.

He took a sharp, straggled breath that felt like fire in his lungs.

“I just- I’m gonna need you to know you are not worthless; you are worth everything. If he makes you feel any other way, he’s the one that’s worthless.” He continued, throwing away the last used cotton pad he had in his hand.

You didn’t think your actions through, you just leaned forward and hugged him tight.

“I- I wish i would find someone like you.” You slurred to him, the tears coming back stronger as your drunk mind imagined how perfect a relationship with someone who treated you the same way Charles did would feel, the thought of dating the monégasque himself never once crossing your mind.

As dramatic as it sounds, Charles felt his heart drop and shatter, the small shards shredding everything they contacted in their downfall. A tear he had lost control over rolled down his cheek but his arms stayed frozen by his sides, his body going into momentary shock until his mind finally processed the situation. He hugged you just as tight, squeezing you into his chest as he made sure to appreciate every second of the embrace, to memorize the feeling of having you so close, to remember the smell of your perfume.

“Believe me, i wish so too.” He sighed, the air burning his nose as it left his system. The words he had just spoken into existence mocked him, making the bile rise in his throat as he realized how deep in he already was. The safe shore seemed too far away to reach without some sort of miracle. A life without you in it would feel like pure hell, he was aware of that, but right now he wasn’t sure if having to stick to being your friend would feel any better.

He loved you, there was no point in denying himself of admitting that notion to his mind. His heart stung every time you had called him your friend, every time you had cried to him about how bad your relationship was going, every time you kissed his cheek with the same lips that kiss another man’s mouth on the daily. There were times where he felt like he just wanted to wrap you in his arms and cuddle you all night, times where he was desperate to have you by his side as his source of comfort and happiness: after a bad race, during dull days, on lonely rainy mornings in his Monaco apartment, in painful silent nights spent alone in hotel rooms. It was suddenly not enough being your friend. The one-armed hugs you frequently exchanged only felt like a teasing portion of the actual thing, the full on bear hug you had him wrapped in at the moment.

Swallowing away all the thoughts and words on his mind, he kissed the top of your head and closed his eyes, letting all of his senses focus on the way your body was wrapped around his. He didn’t care that your tears were soaking his shirt, he could stay right there forever until the pain you were feeling grew back into delight and the sobs turned into ringing laughs.

Knowing his wishes were so out of reach, he pulled away from the hug and brushed back your tangled hair, all of his energy going into masking his emotions.

“C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

His hands held onto your waist as he helped you stand up and head to his bedroom.

You sat on his bed and watched through glazed eyes as he dug through his drawers, eventually pulling out a shirt and some sweatpants and walking over to you.

“You can change into these if you want.” He said, his tone cautious and his voice barely above a whisper. He put the clothes on the bed and turned around so you could change.

You grabbed the shirt, its cool and soft material feeling heavenly against your hot skin, convincing you to get rid of the dress and pull it on.

With your gaze glued onto Charles’ back, you stood up a bit too quickly, the remaining alcohol in your system rushing to your head, causing you to stumble and fall right back onto the bed. The small and seemingly meaningless failure still made you feel like shit, like you were weak and vulnerable and broken, the intoxicating substances you had consumed contributing to the excessive emotions you were feeling. A sharp, loud sob broke the silence in the room as you buried your face in your hands, accepting a new wave of tears.

You didn’t even sense Charles move up to you until you felt the cool material of his rings on your skin as he crouched in front of you, his hands wrapped around your wrists in a desperate attempt to get you to look at him.

His own feelings, he was keeping to himself. He felt like he was drowning in your tears, feeling so powerless as he watched the girl he loved so dearly cry over another guy’s foolishness. He hated that he was feeling everything all at once and so intensely.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Please, look at me.” His words sounded like a weak plea as he pulled on your hands, begging you to let him in. He was so desperate to help but he felt so clueless. In movies he had watched, a breakup was followed by either partying, binge eating or screaming to breakup songs, not intense unstoppable crying. It killed him to see you cry so hard that you were shaking right in front of him while he had no clue what to do.

“S’il te plais, regarde moi. Tu m’brise le coeur, ma chère. Je te supplie de me laisser t’aider. S’il te plais.” Please, look at me. You’re breaking my heart, my dear. I’m begging you to let me help. Please. His desperate state switched him back to his first language as he didn’t allow his mind to think his words through.

You shook your head, not even considering showing anyone your face right now.

“I can’t even dress myself, Charles. I’m never drinking again.” Your voice was muffled by your hands.

“So what? It happens.” Charles tried to comfort you, “Here, i will help you change and I will not look. I promise.”

He immediately regretted his words. He wouldn’t survive that.

“Really?” He heard the faint whisper of your voice and realized it was too late to back out now.

He looked back at you, your hands now in your lap. For a moment, he felt his heart stop, the pained look on your face and the sight of your bloodshot eyes shooting a wave of physical pain down his body, punishing him for feeling things he should’ve never felt.

“Really.” He nodded.

He put his palms out and you held onto his hands and stood up, your touch unknowingly burning his skin at the contact.

His teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, trying to suppress the intensity of the feeling coursing through him as he tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes before he started pulling your dress above your head, feeling your hot skin against his fingertips.

“Give me the shirt, love.” He stretched out his hand to you.

As soon as the soft cotton hit his palm, he blindly pulled it over your head, still making sure not to look, cautious not to see anything he shouldn’t, especially when you were so vulnerable and intoxicated.

Once the shirt was covering your body, he turned to look at your face, finding your glistening eyes admiring him.

“Can you hand me the pants now?”

You nodded and did just that.

He closed his eyes again and kneeled in front of you, lifting one of your legs to slip it into the sweatpants. Charles felt your hands hold onto his shoulders for support as he pulled the clothing item up your body before opening his eyes to tie the drawstring on the waist.

“There you go.” He attempted a smile.

“I don’t deserve you, Charles.” His smile immediately dropped as he heard the words.

“Sh, don’t say that.” He cooed, pulling you to his chest, his hand tangling itself in your hair, “Tu mérites tout ce qui est bon dans ce monde.” You deserve all that’s good in this universe.

“Thank you for everything.” You spoke into his neck, feeling so loved in his arms.

“No need,” he gulped, knowing the next words would kill him, “that’s what friends are for.” His eyes squeezed shut and his lips pursed as he realized what he just said. He hated the sound of that statement so much.

“You should lay down.” He advised, breaking his contact with your body and pointing towards his bed.

With no further added words, you climbed onto the mattress, curling up against yourself. Charles, for the hundredth time tonight, ignored his aching heart and leaned forward to cover you up with a warm blanket.

“I will be in the living room.” He was met with a protest from you.

“No. Please, stay.” You asked him with a shaky voice, patting the empty space beside you.

You weren’t aware of how much he needed to escape this room, how hard it was getting for him to breathe in the heavy air of his bedroom, how shaky his hands had gotten, how messy his thoughts had turned and how weak he felt.

“Stay?” His voice trembled as he dreadfully said the word, the nod he received from you then making him feel like he should expect himself to drop dead any second now.

Sighing, he rid himself of his shoes and climbed into bed beside you, staying painfully away no matter how bad his every sense was begging him to get as close to you as was possible. He knew he wouldn’t handle the drop that he’d have to go through after that.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He tried to fill the silence so he wouldn’t be left alone to his thoughts.

You shook your head no, instead scooting over towards him, hiding your face in his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his torso, seeking comfort in his warmth.

His body froze and his eyes closed like he was in excruciating pain. His heart was beating so fast he had become afraid you’d question it and he’d have to explain how much he was feeling. He just held his breath as tears fell from his closed eyes, hitting the pillow under his head. He did not dare to move a limb. He just laid there in deafening silence, hoping and praying that you would fall asleep fast so he could escape. Sleep wasn’t on his agenda for the night, not when the clock on the wall already read 4AM, the numbers laughing at him, laying there in his misery.

He felt you fiddle with a loose string on his shirt, twirling it between two of your fingers. He felt a few more of your teardrops wet the material as well. Then, he felt your body relax against his, your small movements from before stopping, indicating that you were fast asleep.

“Putain.” Fuck. He cursed to himself, feeling his restraint against his emotions faltering. He could keep up a certain image but for how long? He had reached the limit for the night. He looked down to observe the subject of his adoration, your beauty overwhelming him as usual until your image blurred with his forming tears.

“Comme j’aimerais que tu me laisses te montrer que tu mérites le monde, mon amour.” How I wish you’d let me show you that you deserve the world, my love. His voice broke halfway through the sentence that he whispered to your sleeping figure, knowing he’d never have the courage to say any similar words to you when you were awake. The thought shattered him. He bit his lip to contain the sobs that threatened to shake his body.

“Je t’aime incroyablement, ma chère.” I love you incredibly, my dear. He cried the words into a peck onto your forehead before he slipped out of his own bed, replacing his body with a pillow so you wouldn’t notice his absence.

He stood there, watching you tug the pillow closer to you and bury your face deeper into it then tiptoed his way to the glass slide door leading to the small balcony attached to his bedroom. He stepped out into the chilly air, letting the low temperatures startle his body back into a somewhat normal state. He inhaled the cold air deeply but his lungs exchanged the exhale for a soft, heartbreaking cry that had been postponed enough.

He let the thoughts conquer his mind and let the sobs take over his body. He just leaned over the railing and watched his teardrops fall onto the empty Monte Carlo street. A street looking almost as empty as he felt.

Part 2

[reverbtunes]

contentment - j.wy

➤  02:49

“i can’t sleep.”

your comment elicited a sleepy groan from the man beside you. 

“sweetheart, please, this is the fifth time, i’ve tried everything!!” wooyoung said exasperatedly, still facing away from you and pulling his blanket up to his head to block out your whining.

this had been going on for three hours now. you really had tried everything. once counting sheep and singing to yourself hadn’t helped, you decided to wake up your boyfriend and see if he could do anything. clearly, he couldn’t. he sang multiple songs to you, cuddled with you, even read you a bedtime story but you were still wide awake. 

“i’m sorry i just really really can’t sleep. i don’t even know why,” you said apologetically, frowning to yourself.

wooyoung let out a long sigh and stood up, saying, “alright well i’m not sleep anymore, let’s go.”

you gave him a confused look and sat yourself up. the man beside you dragged you straight to the front door, made you put your shoes on and walked out the door. you quickly ran out behind him, thankfully not forgetting to lock the door.

“an explanation would be nice you know,” you called after wooyoung, who simply turned back and smiled.

“i have a foolproof plan babe, follow me!”

you did not know how to feel about that. but, as you saw wooyoung walk towards your parked car, a sense of comfort rushed through your veins, a smile unknowingly spreading across your face. you sprinted to him and jumped on his back in excitement. 

“i love you, i love you, i love you!!” you squealed, placing sweet kisses on your boyfriend’s cheeks, as he laughed and held you tight, carrying you to the car.

drives with wooyoung were the best. his presence beside you as the both of you watched the world blur out was a feeling you couldn’t describe.

“can i drive?” you asked enthusiastically.

“with the state you’re in, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

you tutted and got off wooyoung’s back, going to the passenger’s side and sitting down, wooyoung joining you a second later.

he pulled out, and the drive began. looking out the window, you saw people outside, the lights, the trees, the night sky, everything mixing up together in a blunder of colours. it was like you and wooyoung were the only people in the world, all the others reduced to blurred visions. with the man beside you, contentment was the only emotion you felt. even that was an understatement.

feeling the light breeze on your face, you were slowly lulled to sleep, your mouth slightly hanging open, and a tranquil look on your face. wooyoung smiled to himself as he stopped at a red light. he leaned across and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.

“sleep well darling.”

[miedei]

AYUMIE PLS FIND YOU IN OUR DREAMS IS SUCH A MASTERPIECE OMG 🥺 YOUR TALENT IS OVERFLOWING 😩‼️ also can i request h from soulmate alphabet + jake from enha? i think it'd be such a concept + with your top-tier writing... I AM CRAVING SIM JAEYUN CUDDLES AND YOUR TALENTED WRITING, I WILL DO ANYTHING 💳💥

hearts beating together.

gn!reader × jake soulmate!au, fluff, friends to lovers, mentions of itzy's ryujin, itzy’s yuna, stray kid's jeongin, nct’s chenle

word count: 1.7k

aaaah thanks so much for liking it you flatter me too much oml <33 this was such a fun request i hope you like it!!!

send in a letter + an idol/character and i'll write a little about it! my request guidelines are on the link in my bio

warning(s): swearing, mentions of food, petnames used platonically(?)

h...eartbeats (the soulmates share the same heartbeat—when one feels panicked, shocked, tired, etc, the other can feel it too).

your heart confuses you. it races when you relax, slows in the worst of times. a heartbeat bond is strange and uncomfortable at times, but the rush of excitement you feel when your heartbeat changes is incomparable to any other feeling. but of course, it has its downsides.

"...left leg on the ground, right leg bent, stretch out those muscles," of course your soulmate is getting into a stressful situation just as you're trying to relax. you press pause on the yoga video and flop onto your bed. you’re so excited to meet your soulmate, but the way they’ve messed your plans up so many times, you’re looking forward to giving them a good punch too. you focus on the ba-dump, ba-dump of your heart, like it could somehow lead you to the person behind it. huffing out a sigh, you pull out your phone, shooting off a text to your groupchat with your friends

RYUJIN’S HOES

sent: are any of you free? my heart person’s being an asshole so i may as well go out

delivered, jeongin: well shit sucks to be you i’m at work with my SOULMATE

sent: fuck right off

sent: ryujin jake chenle please

delivered, ryujin: i’m omw to practice but you can come?

delivered, ryujin: i know you have swim after just hang out till then

sent: YES THANK YOU BABE this is why i’m only ryujins hoe smh

“get in loser!” ryujin is pulled up in front of your door, watching you scramble to not drop your bags. you run down the driveway, waving goodbye to your parents as you slide into the passenger seat.

“god you’re such a lifesaver, whoever’s attached to my heart has it out for me” she chuckles, completely used to your rants about your soulmate. she hasn’t found hers either, but her soulmate has a much less intensive schedule, so she’s not very bothered by her bond, although, the pink-haired girl next to you is an athlete, so her soulmate is probably just as aggravated as you.

the ride to the school is short, and you find a parking spot quickly, so you’re out on the football field in no time. ryujin’s teammates are already on the grass, adjusting uniforms and stretching. she joins them quickly, changing inside and running out. you take a seat on the benches lining the field, settling in to watch them play. your heart is still pounding, but watching the others play, you don’t notice it as much.

the boy’s team is playing one field over, so you can watch them as well. familiar faces dot that field too, and because they let out before the girls, you get to talk to them while waiting. chenle and jake plop down next to you, teasing you about your obviously heaving chest.

“you all worked up watching the games?” chenle nudges you from his side, the feeling of his sweaty shoulder making you shudder. “as if. my soulmates running a marathon or something, like they like to do every day,” jake twists his face in sympathy, "well you've got practice in a bit right? give them a taste of their own medicine!"

"yeah, you know what? i will! thank you jake, for being a good friend," you speak pointedly, gesturing towards chenle. pushing yourself up off the bench, you walk towards the changing rooms near the pool, yelling out a goodbye to your friends.

changing quickly, your walked out to the pool, greeting your teammates with a smile. time for some payback. tugging on your fins, you dove into the water, relishing the instant comfort it gave. following your coach’s orders, you, along with the rest of the swim team, start swimming laps around the pool. half an hour in, your heart is pumping, and the fact that you were the cause for it makes it so much more sweet. friends have begun to line the sides of the pool, yelling out encouragements and teases. you can easily spot the soulmates of the people swimming with you, their chests heaving, but big smiles on their faces. ryujin, chenle and jake are sat near your lane at the leftmost side of the pool. the three of them, still sweaty and tired from their practice, watch you swim, happy grins on their faces. an hour or so later, you are doing a few mock races, and jeongin has joined them too, his usually teasing visage now smiling with pride. you streak through the water, enjoying the burn in your arms, feeling the exhaustion through your bones in a way that swimming only gives you. you reach for the edge of the pool, and it’s coming closer, closer, until you feel it, slippery on your soaked skin. your friends jump up, yelling out in excitement, filling your heart to the absolute brim.

“alright y/n, good job! you can go change, see you next time,” your coach calls out to you, signalling for you to climb out of the water. your friends swarm you, words of happiness and congratulations surrounding you.

“you did good, fucker,” ryujin ruffles your hair. “now go shower and cool down so you can do that in the actual races,” chest heaving, you flash a huge grin at them, “be right back! i’ll meet you in the parking lot!” they nod their assent, and you begin to walk to the showers, barely catching chenle say something.

“jake, are you really still tired from football? you’ve been panting for ages.”

hours later, you find yourselves in your usual post-practice spot, the local diner near the school. chatting and laughing, you lose track of time around the point when your fries arrive. jeongin regales you all with stories of the crazy customers he dealt with at work, and ryujin gives you the rundown of all the drama that happened in her football practice(seriously, how do they even have time to kick the ball around when so much is going on??). you get that heady feeling of pure happiness, when you’re not thinking or worrying about anything, just paying attention to the amazing people you get to surround yourself with.

you only snap out of that headspace when chenle looks down at his smartwatch(rich boy) and lets out a noise of surprise.

“it’s 19:42! i need to go, fuck,” he begins to clean up his stuff and lays down money for his meal. the rest of you follow suit, appalled at how long you’ve been sitting in this booth. all the money is on the table, and you rise from your seat, ready to go home.

“ryujin, can you drive me home?” you hold the girl's arm, pleading with her so that you won’t have to walk. she opens her mouth, ready to speak, but then she hesitates, a look of mischief crossing her features.

“okay-” you rejoice, pumping a fist in the air, until she goes on: “only if you can beat me to the car. okay 3,2,1 GO!” she starts sprinting, long legs bringing her halfway across the parking lot in no time. you let out a groan of exhaustion, and start pumping your legs to follow her.

by some miracle, you reach the car at virtually the same time, doubling over to hold your knees in your worn-out state. ryujin, in between her attempts at gulping down air, tells you she’ll take you, and you wait for the rest to reach you.

jeongin, chenle and jake walk leisurely up to you, starting to say their farewells. you straighten up, grabbing first chenle, then jeongin into a hug. they yell out some more goodbyes as they walk off to their cars, when you hug jake.

for having just walked here, his heart is racing. why? you focus your hearing on his heartbeat. it’s almost as if he sprinted here. pulling your head away from him, you look up at him, voicing your concerns.

“are you okay? your heart’s beating really fast.” he frowns at you, and presses a hand to his heart. you follow suit, feeling the thump, thump, thump of his chest. it feels familiar. why do you feel so used to this heartbeat? confusion ripples through your mind, until it clears, with a feeling of shock. you know this heartbeat. you know it because it’s your own.

grabbing his other hand, you place it over your heart. his face twists with surprise, and then an emotion you’re not familiar with crosses his features. he pulls you back into a hug, excitement so evident that it’s crossing over to you. jake is your soulmate! which a choked laugh, you pull him impossibly closer to you. he tucks his head next to yours and whispers in your ear.

“it was always you, wasn’t it?”

bonus:

you pull back from the hug, your smile dropping into a serious face. he looks in confusion, as you rear your arm backwards. you push forward, landing a punch in his gut, and he stumbles backward with an ‘oof’

“that was for never letting me rest!”

“YEAH GET HIM!” ryujin yells from her seat in the car. the only thing she’s missing is popcorn, a whole-ass soap opera just happened in front of her.

[fismoll7secinv]

So this nandermo ficlet of mine apparently has a chapter 2 now ahfkbdsfk

Nandor realises that, in fact, he does need a bigger coffin to snuggle with Guillermo 

[AO3]

-----

“Master’s been acting strange.”

Guillermo sat in the living room, camera crew in front of him.

“He’s been absent-minded and down recently, but now he started sneaking out of the house again. He’s livelier, yes, but that worries me because-“ he searched for words, “because I’m his bodyguard after all, so what if something happens and I can’t help? And honestly, we can’t have him get his heart broken again, especially not in this unstable state, and- and it’s bad for the council as well, and the dynamic in the whole house is off…” his rapid words trailed off as he paused for a second, eyes cast to the side yet not looking at anything in particular.

“So I tried to follow him,” he turned back to the camera again, “but it’s not that easy to keep track when he turns into a bat and disappears into the night, right?”

The crew nodded and murmured with understanding.

“But you know what?” he leaned forward and whispered with a devilish smile, “I have a plan.”

He put his hand up in the air to indicate that he might take a moment so there was no need to keep recording, then reached for his phone and started fumbling with it.

“Um. Guillermo?” the camera guy suddenly interrupted.

“Yes?” he looked up.

“Could you repeat all that? Real sorry for that, I forgot to press play.”

Guillermo winced at the camera, only now noticing the lack of twinkling red light at the front.

“Oh. Yeah, no problem, happens to the best of us,” he waived his hand, sounding unaffected yet his shoulders visibly drooped. Before he hid his phone again, he glanced at the dim screen which displayed a map with a blinking dot on it.

He suddenly jumped from the couch and run out of the room, grabbing his coat on the way.

“Sorry, next time, I need to go!” he shouted over his shoulder at the bewildered crew.

A distant “wait!” reached his ears but he paid it no mind anymore, sprinting out of the house with eyes staring at the screen and trying to decipher which way the blinking red dot on the map went.

Maybe it wasn’t the most ethical thing for him to do, but after previous disappearances he sneaked a tracking device into Nandor’s favorite cape which he recently almost never took off. He wondered if it would work in the bat form but, considering that their clothes always somehow stayed with them during the transition, he decided to give it a shot. Now, as he got into his car and set the phone on the stand above the radio, he smiled to himself triumphantly before setting off with screeching tires.

It didn’t take him long to reach the destination, where he parked across the street of the target building.

“Funeral house?” he muttered to himself, leaning on the steering wheel and squinting his eyes at the ornamental letters on the signboard above the doors.

The place looked not only old but also old-fashioned, quite out of place among the rest of the modernistic street. For a moment, he considered sneaking in or simply going inside and acting as a customer, but in the end he decided to firstly lay low and see what happened.

A couple of minutes passed, spent entirely on him fidgeting and focusing on the street, glancing from time to time at the dot to confirm its unchanging position. Just when he made up his mind to make a move, the doors opened and Nandor walked out. The vampire turned around with a smile, stopping in front of a woman in a long, elegant dress, who followed him from the inside and leaned on the door to hold it open. They exchanged a few more words before Nandor bent in half in a deep bow and bid his farewell with an excited jump.

Guillermo sat still for a while, staring out the window, his eyes jumping between the closing door where the woman disappeared and Nandor’s retreating back. His throat uncomfortably tight and heart hammering in his chest.

So that’s how it was after all.

As soon as he made sure that the dot reached home safely, he started the engine up and left his spot, itching to get away from the cursed place. There was no need to return to the house right away, so he drove around the city aimlessly, not yet ready to go back to their place which could feel so lonely sometimes. He was thankful that the crew didn’t manage to keep up with him this time and that he could have some alone time for himself without anyone watching.

A long time passed and the dawn was drawing near, so he had to finally buckle up and turn back to prepare for his master’s slumber. With each kilometer closer to the house, he felt his gut twist more, his perception of the time stretching minutes into hours even though the ride didn’t last long. When he finally parked under the house, he took a deep breath in, held it in for a moment, then breathed out with a hum. Feeling determination coming back, he exited the car, entered the house energetically, then went straight towards Nandor’s room without hesitation. His momentum seemed to have run out just then, as he paused in front of the door with his hand hovering over the handle and refusing to go down just yet.

Suddenly, the door opened on its own and the lady from the funeral home walked out, making him back off into the corridor to avoid collision. She looked at him briefly, her piercing eyes evaluating him from top to bottom, before she flashed a smile which presented her long fangs and passed him by.

“Hopefully see you soon,” her melodic voice announced as she disappeared around the corner.

Guillermo clenched his jaw.

“Hopefully on my stake,” he mumbled.

“Guillermo? Is that you?” Nandor’s voice came from the room.

“Yes, master!” he shouted back, slightly louder than what was needed.

“Then come here, you little rascal!”

“Yes!” he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed yet something felt quite off. Guillermo halted after just one step, his eyes scanning the room until they stopped on the big coffin standing on the platform in the center, almost identical to Nandor’s one except its larger size. Many questions immediately whirled inside his brain, yet he only shifted his eyes to his master and stared quizzically at him without a word.

Nandor stood by the coffin proudly, one hand resting on it, the other on his hip.

“Do you like it?” his mouth stretched into a toothy, smug smile.

“Uh, yeah, it’s really remarkable, master,” Guillermo finally found his voice again. “It’s understandable that you needed more space for yourself. Who wouldn’t feel too tight in that small coffin,” he laughed nervously.

Nandor narrowed his eyes.

“Are you mocking my old coffin, which served me for so many years?”

“What, no, it’s extraordinary as well.”

“But ‘too tight’,” he repeated Guillermo’s tone.

“If you say so, master.”

“Well, whatever, now there is more space. Come look!” he stepped aside in an energetic leap, waiting for Guillermo to open the lid.

Guillermo still felt a bit lightheaded, not able to wrap his head around what was happening. He mechanically approached the coffin and opened it with some difficulty, the lid now wider and weighing more than before. The inside was upholstered with fluffy mottled fur, comfortable and inviting, identical to the old coffin’s insides.

“That is undeniably more space.”

“Well then,” Nandor approached the stairs and waited with his hand in the air.

Guillermo took the hand and helped his master get inside the coffin, then circled the new piece of furniture and reached for the lid.

Nandor sat down, then turned to him and paused.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting to close the lid?”

“But I’m here alone?”

Guillermo’s heart sank.

“Are you-“ he took a breath. “Is the lady from before coming soon?” he asked politely.

“What, why would she? Her job is done.”

“What job?”

Nandor looked at him as if he was stupid.

“Making the coffin? Oh yeah, that reminds me,” he leaned towards him and jabbed his finger at Guillermo’s chest. “Where were you? I was searching for you to go fetch the coffin, but you were nowhere to be found for a long time, so we had to do it ourselves!”

“Well, I was just,” Guillermo stuttered, completely lost in the situation.

“Now, get up here!” Nandor interrupted him, crossing his arms on his chest and falling back into the coffin with a thud.

That was the last push which sent Guillermo over the edge, and he accepted that nothing made sense to him anymore.

“What?”

A moment of silence passed before Nandor sat up again with an expression hovering between annoyed and hurt.

“You don’t want to?” he asked, voice quieter than before.

“No, I want to!" a pang of sadness invaded his heart as soon as he looked at his dejected master. "Uh, but what exactly?”

“Come here to sleep,” Nandor kept his attentive eyes on Guillermo, possibly searching for something or testing him. “It’s time for the slumber,” he added, as if it was not obvious and clear enough.

Guillermo blinked a few times.

“Inside the coffin? Me?”

“I am really starting to think you don’t want to.”

Guillermo ran to the stairs and jumped on them.

“No, no, I do, I just,” he searched for words, “I thought it was for someone else.”

Nandor looked at him for a moment before reaching up and holding his hand in the air, offering help. Guillermo took the hand with a small “gracias” and stepped inside the coffin, wobbling for a moment to catch the balance. He sat down carefully next to Nandor, with no other way than to be tightly connected by the hip, and then realized that although the coffin looked big, it was still not wide enough for two adult men to fit side by side. He looked behind him to assess the free space left after Nandor lay down, too small for him to not be squished next to the vampire, and he wondered if it really was a fit for him. Nandor adjusted himself slightly, wiggling with his shoulders to find a comfortable position, then stretched his arm to the side and stared at Guillermo.

Guillermo felt heat crawl on his face and neck as his heart picked up the pace even more. He felt almost dizzy when he leaned back, then turned to his side out of habit, ending up with his head leaning on Nandor’s shoulder stiffly. He didn’t know what to do with his arms, and so he left them tightly plastered to his stomach, squeezed between them uncomfortably.

Nandor lay for a moment without commenting on anything, then, without a word, pushed Guillermo up and towards himself using the arm which was circled around the smaller man. Guillermo made a short sound of surprise as he was suddenly shoved forward, searching with his hand for any kind of support and ending up grabbing the material on Nandor’s stomach while his head fell on the vampire’s firm chest. Not giving Guillermo any time to adjust, Nandor reached up for the lid and closed it with a thud, cutting off the world and sounds from the house.

Everything suddenly became so quiet that Guillermo involuntarily held his quickened breath in and froze completely, still clutching at Nandor’s shirt. However, what he couldn’t control was his heart which hammering in his chest so hard that he was certain that Nandor could hear it just as well as loud bells ringing right next to his ears.

“Are you comfortable?” Nandor’s voice finally broke the silence.

“Y-yes.”

“Don’t worry about the air, there are small holes in the sides.”

Guillermo frowned.

“Won’t the sunlight seep through them then?” he asked, worried.

Nandor chuckled with obvious proudness, making Guillermo’s head bob up and down together with his rising chest.

“There is an additional layer inside, slightly lower than the outer one so it covers the holes but leaves a space for the air at the top.”

Guillermo shifted his head slightly up, wanting to glance at his master’s face before he realized that it was futile in the pitch-black darkness of the coffin and stopped.

“Wow, that’s. Really smart.”

He felt a small squeeze of the arm circling his back, almost like a little triumphant dance. His heart seemed to swell and his lips couldn’t help but stretch into a smile.

As they lay for a while in silence, comfortable and warm in each other’s presence, Guillermo’s heart managed to gradually calm down, as the situation started to sink in and his recent worries disappeared one by one. His heart rate still kept picking up from time to time whenever doubts invaded his mind, but nonetheless, whatever it was about, he let himself feel happy and appreciated at least for a while. After all, why would Nandor go out of his way to prepare a coffin where they both could fit and he wouldn’t suffocate? Another vampire wouldn’t need the air holes. On the other hand, did that mean that he didn’t plan to turn him into a vampire, but still wanted to use him as a body pillow? He frowned.

Lost in his thoughts and dwelling on the feeling of every inch of his body tightly and comfortably snuggled to Nandor’s side, he suddenly felt like he was forgetting something.

“Wait,” he raised his head. “I didn’t put out the candles.”

“You’ll do it tomorrow,” Nandor’s content voice came from below.

“But what if the house burns-“

“Leave it,” Nandor growled, squeezing Guillermo’s waist tighter and grabbing the hand which lay on his chest, trapping the human completely.

Guillermo flopped back down, softly falling into the comfortable space by Nandor’s side, and he squeezed his master's hand back. Maybe he should stop thinking for a while.

And if the world burns, then he might as well let it.

[thirstyforcharacters]

Tequila (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Every person has a soulmate. When your soulmate experiences pain, so do you, and any bruises, scars, or other markings that they get appear on your skin. Or, the story of how aliens attacking Las Vegas was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Notes: Hello! I already did a very similar soulmate AU for Sam Wilson (which you can read here), but I love soulmate AU’s so much that I decided to do one for Bucky, too! Hopefully, I made them different enough that they don’t seem too repetitive. Did I write this while I was supposed to be watching a documentary on Bach for music history? Maybe. But I think this was a much better use of my time. Hope you enjoy! (no y/n, no pronouns)

Warnings: canon typical violence, alien invasion, blood (not too much tho), car crash

WC: 1.9 k

For all of your life, you couldn’t feel your left arm.

When you started to crawl, your parents noticed you only used your right arm to pull yourself forward while your left would hang limply at your side. Your parents brought you to the doctor, deeply concerned, but when she examined your arm, she found nothing wrong. No x-rays showed broken or deformed bones, and no MRI’s showed any problems in the brain. By all medical standards, you should be able to move your left arm. You just couldn’t. Everyone hoped that it would go away, but to their chagrin, it remained unmoving throughout your childhood. You obviously knew your arm was there since you could clearly see it, but you couldn’t feel the nerve endings inside it. When you poked your arm with your other finger, you felt absolutely nothing. And weirdly enough, your family said it was always cold to the touch, no matter how warm the rest of your body was.

You had a feeling that it had something to do with your soulmate, and when you reached adulthood (specifically around 24), you were almost positive that was the reason. You often woke up with random injuries that you knew you didn’t give yourself. Gunshot wounds, deep slashes, broken bones, and large bruises were commonly branded on your skin. You were positive that if your soulmate was getting shot at every other night, then they almost definitely had some sort of damage done to their arm that affected your own. But if they had had this condition since you were born, how old were they? That was always a question that kind of weirded you out. You didn’t particularly want to be “meant to be” with some wrinkly, old person! Especially if they were somehow getting themselves into this much trouble. And now that you thought about it, none of these injuries were on your (or their) left arm. How could that be if they’ve literally been hurt everywhere else on their body?

When you weren’t in and out of the hospital with randomly serious injuries, you were quite busy cooking up a storm in Turkey, Tacos, and Tequila, your restaurant in Las Vegas. You and your best friend, Nicolás, had opened it three years ago; you were the head chef and he ran the business side of things. The two of you had talked about opening a restaurant together since you were teenagers, so both of you had moved to Vegas together after college/culinary school. Together, you found that you were an unstoppable team, and within a year of opening, you were one of the most popular restaurants throughout all of Vegas! Most times, because you were so busy, your soulmate problem stayed in the back of your mind. But every once in a while, a bruise would appear on your eye or a large cut down the length of your leg, and you would be reminded again.

Nic, as you called him, already found his soulmate. Oliver had moved in with you a year ago, and joined you side by side in the kitchen. You became almost as close with him as you had with Nic. They were adorable together, and never made you feel like the third wheel. There were some times, though, where you found yourself a little bit jealous that they had found each other so quickly, and that neither of them had ever suddenly started bleeding all over a nearly complete order of mango fish tacos.

Whenever you got a little down about it, Nic would always clap you on the shoulder and say, “You’ll find them someday. And when you do, break their nose. They deserve it for the hell they’re accidentally putting you through.”

It never failed to make you laugh. You had half a mind to do just that when you met the love of your life. You just didn’t know when that would be.

On yet another hot and dry Nevada night, you were closing up at the restaurant (or morning, you supposed, since it was nearly 1 am). Nic, Oliver, and your other employees had gone home already, so it was only you that remained. You turned off the lights and locked the door. You pushed your way through the drunken crowds and tourists on the street and made your way to your car. As you were opening the door, you could hear gasps of shock coming from the crowd of people roaming the streets. You looked up and saw an eerie flash of green across the sky, and a strange-looking, portal appeared in the sky! Shrieks of fear permeated the air as grotesque, reptilian creatures began spilling from the portal.

Frantically, you flung yourself into your car and turned over the engine, hoping to escape the clutches of these aliens. Though your apartment was in the opposite direction of the portal, as per usual, there was a decent amount of traffic, so you weren’t sure how good your chances were. But you figured you’d at least be safer in your car than exposed outside of it.

You were able to pull into traffic and weave through it fairly well, making good use of the side streets that only the locals knew about. But the creatures were overtaking the city faster than you could drive. You knew you didn’t have long before they caught up with you.

Just when that thought popped into your head, a blinding flash of light appeared in your rearview mirror. A loud bang, almost like a cannon, sounded, and through your mirror, you saw a truck hurtling toward you at breakneck speed! You attempted to swerve out of the way, but the truck crashed into your car, shoving it against a street light! The driver’s side of your car crumpled against the lamppost, and the glass in your window shattered at the contact. You attempted to cover your face with your hands, but a piece of glass still managed to make a pretty deep cut above your left eye, as well as a few pieces of shrapnel sinking into your legs. The whiplash from the contact damaged your neck as well; pain spread throughout your neck and back. All you could do was sob in agony. You had never felt this much pain in your life.

Your hand was trembling as you unbuckled your seatbelt, but you found yourself unable to leave your car! The driver’s side door was crushed, the truck was smushed against your passenger door, and there was no way you would be able to climb out of the backseat, nor lift yourself out of the broken window with the injuries you sustained. You were trapped. You waited for a little bit, until some of the chaos surrounding you died down; even in your damaged state, you knew that no one would be able to hear you even if you screamed for help as loudly as you could.

You strained your ears, and were able to hear gunfire, commands being shouted, and the hissing of these reptilian creatures. Eventually, instead of the noise of a battle, you could hear voices trying to dig people out of the rubble. Somehow, they sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place how. Well, if they were rescuing people, you figured they were your only chance.

“Help,” you screamed, “I’m trapped in my car! Please help me!”

You heard footsteps sprinting in your direction and a voice call, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of there!”

You watched in amazement as the truck on your passenger’s side was surrounded by a glowing, red presence, and moved out of the way! It had to be the Avengers! Who else would be able to do something that crazy? You were brought out of your thoughts by your car being dragged away from the pole, making you jump. A face popped up in your shattered window. He was gorgeous; bright, blue eyes, short, chestnut hair, and a warm smile. He took hold of the broken door and wrenched it from its fastenings.

“Hi. My name is Bucky Barnes. This is Wanda Maximoff,” the man said, gesturing back to a woman wearing scarlet, “we’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, relieved, “thank you so much!”

He smiled again, “Oh, it’s no problem. You should probably stay there until the EMT’s get here. Moving might make your injuries even worse.”

You nodded slightly in reply, but the pull in your neck made you groan in pain.

He winced, “Try not to move that, either. You may not be bleeding there, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Here, let me help you with that. I can at least stop the bleeding,” he offered, gesturing to your forehead and leg.

“Oh, thank you!” you answered.

He nodded and reached for some bandages he had in his jacket with his metal arm. His left arm. Suddenly, you noticed things you didn’t notice before. He also had a large cut above his left eye, in the same spot as your injury. It wasn’t bleeding, though, perhaps because of his enhancements. You noticed him moving his neck in a circular motion, seemingly to stretch it out. He had holes in his pants and small puncture wounds on his legs, in the same spots where glass was sticking out of you. Again, though, they were already healing. Could that be why you had never felt your arm before? Because your soulmate’s was metal? It would make complete sense.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t even realize you had zoned out until Bucky addressed you. He was gently cleaning the wound on your forehead.

“Yes,” you whispered, fixated on the wound on his forehead.

His eyebrow raised, “Are you sure? You seem a little out of it.”

“I-I’m fine. I just noticed something kind of strange. I think the cut on your forehead matches mine.”

He touched his forehead, “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that with the adrenaline and everything. Only got it maybe 20 minutes ago.”

“That’s when my car crashed. And you’re having neck pain, like me,” you murmured, “and your arm is metal. I’ve never been able to feel my arm.”

His eyes widened, “Really? You think we’re meant to be?”

“Maybe,” you replied.

He nodded, “It seems likely. What’s your name?”

You gave him your name and he smiled again.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a century.”

You giggled softly, “I guess that explains why I’ve been experiencing this since I was born. I was afraid you’d be gross and wrinkly.”

He chuckled, “Well, hopefully you don’t think I’m either of those things.”

“Definitely not.”

The EMT’s arrived then. Bucky stepped aside and the medics removed you from your car.

As you were being loaded into the ambulance, Bucky approached you.

“How can I get in contact with you after this?”

“Just come by Turkey, Tacos, and Tequila. It’s my restaurant, I’m almost always there,” you told him.

“Okay. I’ll drop by sometime soon, when you’re better of course.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

As he was walking away, you couldn’t stop the grin forming on your lips. Sure, what had happened to you today was terrible. But you knew you would heal, and now, you had also finally met your soulmate. No wonder why you were randomly injured all of the time! If today was any indicator of what the rest of your relationship would look like, though, you’d probably need all of that tequila you were selling for yourself.

[coffeecakefanfics]

A moments glance | B.B x Fem!Reader

Requests are open!!!!!

Summary: Bucky misses the feeling of human connection, both emotional and physical, so does Y/N. After a particularly brutal mission the two can deny their want any longer 

Warnings:  Language, angst? SMUT! (probably badly written but oh well)  This fic is a lot longer than I wanted but it’s worth it I promise.

Missions are normally pretty easy.  Luckily it was the dream team that got stuck on this mission together.  Sam, Bucky, and Y/n stood around a base layout, making a plan as to how to get this mission to sail smoothly. It was a simple job, repo a plane that had been stolen and return it to the owners, aka the fucking US Military. 

“So Y/n has pilot knowledge so if we can get through the fence and to it she can fly it back here to base, easy,” Sam explained the plan to the soldiers. 

“Sam and Bucky will go with me as my second hands and eyes, be my body guards,” Y/n nodded and looked up. “This is an easy job so it shouldn’t take long, maybe a couple hours, but stay on standby in case force is needed,” the woman stood straight and tapped her fingers on the table.  The crew split into the groups, taking their places.  Sam sat in the drivers seat of the car while Y/n sat in the front and Bucky was stuck in the back. 

“We’re here, everyone ready?” Sam asked and threw the car in park.

“Are we ever ready?” Bucky snarked and stepped out.  The three were greeted by a fence with barbed wire across the top. 

“Can we break it down?” Bucky looked between the two.

“That my dear would be destruction of property, a charge none of us can afford right now,” She huffed and opened the backseat, pulling the floor mat out. 

“What the hell are you doing with that?” Sam looked at the girl as if she was crazy.

“Throwing the mat over the wire?” she furrowed her brow and tossed the mat over the fence and scaled it. 

“Coming? or am I leaving you two dummies for the birds?” she smirked. 

“Ha ha very funny,” Sam snarked back. 

“This guy,” she smiled playfully at Bucky, who in return smiled back, a small one, but a smile. 

“There she is, look at this beauty,” Y/n motioned to the plane.  The three climbed in, starting the engine. 

“Bucky once we’re in the air I want you to contact the air force and tell them their plane is on it’s way,” she spoke calmly as she started down the runway. She was setting up controls when Bucky’s voice broke their silence. 

“Uh guys? I think we got company,” a black SUV sped down the runway, stopping before two guys stepped out wielding guns. 

“Pull up!” Sam yelled the girl.

“I’m trying,” she yelled back, the plane getting closer before finally taking off. The firing followed them up into the air. 

“Looks like we’re clear,” Y/n took a breath.

“There’s probably a reason they didn’t want us taking the plane,” Bucky commented.

“If I had to guess, drugs, I mean the air force tests flights so much that nobody bats an eye, especially at fort carson,” the woman nodded. “Sam can you check all of the compartments?” she looked back at him. 

“Yeah, of course,” he tipped his head and began opening the compartments lining the walls, bags of cocaine spilled out of an overhead bin.

“Oh shit, that’s thousands of dollars worth of hard drugs right there,” she peered back at the mess.

“yeah no shit, what do we do?” 

“Get on the comms and alert them of what’s happening”

“on it” 

The blaring sound took over their voices. 

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked

“We’re losing altitude, buckle in for a crash landing”

“I’m sorry what?!”

“Do it!” she barked “Sam jump and get to the base, let them know what happened, go now!” she was barking orders at them.  

“I’ll hurry back” Sam called and jumped, catching wind just in time.

“So what are we just going to die?”

“No, not if I can help it. But we are going to have to drop into the mountains, so hold on to something,” she gave him a sympathetic look.  The plane crashed down into the mountain, losing the wings in the process.  The two climbed out, seemingly unharmed. 

“So what are we just going to sit here and wait?” Bucky looked at the girl.

“I’m afraid so, we can’t risk moving, they won’t find us,” she huffed and slumped against an aspen tree.

“Great,” Bucky huffed and sat across from her, against a fallen pine log.  The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the ringing in their ears taking over. 

“Have you ever been this far west?” Y/n asked. Bucky peeked up at her. Sighing he tossed a rock to his left. 

“No, at least, not that I can recall,” he looked back at the dirt. 

“It’s pretty, Pikes peak is worth the view, if you ever get to go,” she cleared her throat, awkwardness settling in. 

“You been?”

“Yeah, I uh, I grew up here, in springs, that’s why I knew about the fort carson stuff.  They always test fly and they take kids for rides sometimes.  also teach kids how to pilot when they reach a certain age,” she trailed off. 

“Military brat?” 

“Yeah” 

“I never knew that,” he looked at her, really looked at her.  He noticed how she sat with her knees up, but her shoulders slumped.  Her she chewed on the inside of her lip.

“I never really told anyone,” she shrugged,”You know we have worked on the same team for I don’t know how many years and yet I feel like I hardly know you,” she remarked. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I don’t really open up to people, it’s not something I do,” it was his turn to chew on his lip.

“I get it, you up walls, try and protect yourself. . .”she trailed off, a soft rustling in the brush caught her attention. She held her finger to her lips and slowly stood, Bucky following her move.  The two crouched and ducked behind some bush.

“They couldn’t have gotten far, move,” a mans voice barked. Y/n looked at Bucky with wide eyes.  Bucky scanned the are before nodding to a path, they crept their way over, carful not to make too much noise. One they had gotten far enough away they stood straight and starting sprinting.  

“The guys that hijacked the plane?” She asked.

“That’s my guess,” he shrugged. 

“Bucky I need to stop,” she panted, trying to catch her breath.

“We’re probably far enough away,” he slowed to a stop.  

“I’m sorry,” she took a ragged breath

“It’s fine, not all of us are, what do you like to say? built different,” he cracked a smile.  Y/n smiled back at him before they broke off into laughter.

“You remembered that dumb saying?”

“I try to remember them all, I’m trying to make my place in this world, and if that means learning the lingo then I guess I have to”

“Must be hard,” she stood next to him, “trying to get used to this”

“you have no ide-” a gunshot and a scream of pain cut him off. His eyes shot in the direction of the shot before landing on the girl, crumpled on the forest floor. 

“Shit” he scooped her up and started sprinting west. 

“Shit shit shit, hey doll, if you can hear me keep  your eyes open you hear,” he peeked down at her. She was clutching her stomach.

“Tell me something, tell me about, tell me about your house of a kid,” he scrambled to find anything to talk about.  

“yellow,” she breathed,” it was yellow” He caught sight of a cave and ducked into it. 

“keep going”

“It had, two floors and an attic, the uh, the upstairs had a balcony,” she took deep breaths.  Bucky pulled out a knife and cut the bottom of his shirt, putting pressure on his wound. 

“Bucky?” she looked at him as close as she could

“yeah?”

“What was your favorite part about the forties?”

He laughed. “The stupid dive bars, going dancing,” he thought for a second.

“Were you any good?” Y/n teased.

“Oh please, look at me, I was the best,” he said, jokingly cocky. The silence took over.  The only sound was a ragged breath every now and then.  Y/n Held her phone up. 

“Nothing,” she felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Bucky?” She got his attention.

“yeah Y/n? what’s up?”

“If i’m going to die today, can I at least get to know you before I go?” she asked

“Listen to me, and you listen to me good, you ain’t dying today got it?” he spoke sharply, but with concern laced and weaved in his voice. 

“In my jacket is a pack of matched, I saw some twigs and pinecones at the opening of the cave, grab them, make a fire, please, i’m freezing,” she pleaded.  Bucky didn’t say anything as he obliged.  The small fire illuminated the walls, but was small enough that they wouldn’t be spotted.  Bucky sat across from Y/n, he watched as she scanned the walls. 

“Mica,” she spoke plainly. 

“Yeah, ton of the shit too,” he kind of huffed, looking around.

“They used to make windows out of it, for cars and shit, also dry wall, but most importantly it used for stuff like spark plugs,and electronic components like compasses during world war 2 ” she stated, half heartedly. Bucky looked at the girl shocked.

“Yeah, thats- how’d you know that?”

“Grandpa fought in the war, told me all kinds of stories before he passed, also taught me about minerals and stuff before he passed too, he and dad used to take me camping, they’d teach me how to hunt, farm, fish, find and purify water, which berries and shrooms are good to eat, case I ever got lost,” she laughed and winced at the pain.  “I miss them,” she sighed.

“Those are good skills to have,” Bucky smiled at her. He went silent.  It had been a few hours, no sign of anyone.  He looked at Y/n, she didn’t look great, she was pale, she was growing tired. He didn’t want her to be miserable, or to die not knowing him. 

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, I was born March 10th 1917, I have a younger sister named Rebecca, we called her Becca,” He spoke up.  Y/n looked at him with a smile and nodded him on to continue, “I’ve always wanted a cat, and if I could have kids i’d want a daughter, I’d name her Scarlett,” he stammers on. The young woman listens attentively.  Her breathing became slower, more strained. 

“no no no, don’t fucking die on me,” he jumped over to her, clutching her wound. “Please, I barley know you, I want to know more,” he pleaded.  She smiled at him and held her blood soaked hand to his cheek. 

“thank you,” she husked before her eyes rolled back. 

“No!” he yelled.

“Bucky?!” Sam, it was Sam, and the air force.  Bucky was pulled away as they loaded Y/n onto the chopper and raced her back to base.  Hot tears slipped down his face as the world seemed to slow down.  His connection, the one person he started to open up to was ripped from his arms, just as the walls came tumbling down. 

He sat pacing the hospital room, her body laid limp in the bed, unmoving, just as it had for the past two days.  The nurses tried to get him to go home, but after the third shift change and his protests to stay after visiting hours they gave up.  He stared out the window, looking to the mountains, they were still capped with snow.  He remembers her saying she was freezing, he recognizes that feeling now.  Cold, unmoving, dead.

“Hey champ,” a hoarse voice spoke in the room. He spun on his heels, Her eyes were opened, still droopy from the pain killer, but opened. 

“Thank god you’re okay,” he yanked a chair beside her and clutched her hand.

“I should’ve believed you,” she cracked a smile, Bucky felt his eyes well. Why? He still barely knew her. 

“My name is Y/n L/n I was born (your birthday), I have no siblings, I have always wanted a dog and if I had a kid i’d want a little boy named Matthew,” she squeezed his hand slightly.

“Good morning,” another womans voice broke the room with a knock. “I’m your nurse for this morning, my name is Sarah Good, yes like the book the crucible and i’ll take care of you till 7 tonight,” she smiled at the two brightly. “Todays agenda, always will be on the board, we want to get you to be able to be in a sitting position, and we want to start PT, or physicsl therapy if we can, We’re going to try and get you a real lunch today, and if we’re lucky you can get off those iv’s by tomorrow”

The last week was rough, But Bucky sat beside her through it all, they talked about life, about death, the world, every little thing they could think of.  When she was released it was Bucky who escorted her back across the country to home.  Sam met them at her apartment for diner and a toast to a job not so smooth for the dream team, now stronger that all three had a bond.  Sam had left about an hour ago, Bucky insisted on staying to help clean up. 

“Bucky, really this is too much to ask, it’s fine,”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s the least I can do”

“It’s late, do you want to stay? I mean I can take the couch and you can take my bed it-”

“I’m not taking your bed doll, I’ll take the couch if you really want me to stay but it’s not a problem for me to go home,” he smiled at her and set the last plate in the dish washer. 

“I kind of got used to you staying around,” she blushed. “We can watch a movie?” she offered.

“Sounds great”

They weren’t paying attention to the movie, well at least they pretended to,  Each watched the other out of the corner of their eyes. It was Y/n who made the first move, leaning her head on his shoulder, Bucky tucked his arm around the woman, inching her closer.  She felt her face get hot, she peered up at him to find him looking back, they ripped their eyes apart and both went flush. 

“Bucky-

Y/n I-” they spoke at the same time, letting out a laugh. 

“Go first,” he insisted. 

“No, it’s fine,” she stammered. 

“Y/n I- I really like you, I’m glad I let down my walls for you,” he swallowed the lump in his throat.  She felt her breath hitch. 

“I was going to say the same thing,” she spoke, barely above a whisper.  It hadn’t occurred to the couple just how close they were to each other.  Y/n felt Bucky’s breath dance across her face. 

“Can I. . . can I kiss you?” he breathed out.  She sim-ply nodded and met his lips, soft and delicate at first before he set his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in.  Her  lips were intoxicating, he could get drunk on her. She let a moan slip as he pulled her into his lap gently. He felt his eyes roll at the sound. She ground into his lap, letting the feeling of his growing bulge tease her. She laced her fingers in his short hair, gently tugging where she could, causing a groan and for him to buck his hip to meet hers.  Y/n pulled back panting, trying to catch her breath before moving her lips to meet his neck.

“Y/n doll, I uh- it’s been a while,” he panted and fought the moans that threatened to leave his throat.

“It’s okay, let me take care of you?” she caught his eyes.  Her face was pure, innocent, but her words were laced with lust. He nodded and let his hands grip her hips.  She tugged his shirt off of his body, decorating his chest with kisses, working and inching her way to his hips.  She looked up at him, he was a mess, head laid back, breathing ragged.  She carefully undid his pants and slid them down his legs.  catching the skin above his hip bones she left a small purple mark on either side, claiming him as hers.  He had looked down at her now, catching her eyes.  She licked her lips before taking him into her mouth, The moan he let rip from vocal cords was ungodly. 

“Fuck, doll I -” he let his eyes meet hers, still laced with innocence, before groaning and throwing his head back.  He let his air out in puffs as she worked him over.  Her touch was delicate and sweet, he forgot how nice it felt, to be taken care of, to be treated with kindness. She let her fingers slip to cup his balls, gently playing with them as she let her pretty mouth suck his cock. The sight was straight out of a wet dream, 

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he pleaded, grabbing her hair with his flesh hand, clutching the couch with the metal one.  The small breaths he let out only encouraged him further, she picked up her pace, daring him to cum down her throat.  A string of fucks and his hips tensing, and slowly relaxing followed soon after.  She caught his eyes, swallowing what he gave her and grinning at him.

“Holy-”

“Yeah,” she smiled. 

“Let me return the favor baby,” he pulled her back into his lap.

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Our Story - Prologue

theA/N: My first Chris Evans series. This is just a fluffy little series that has been floating around in my brain for a while, and because I've recently fallen head first into the Chris trashcan, I figured he’d be the perfect person for this little love story AU. I mean absolutely no disrespect with this, it's just a work of fiction. I also want to give a huge thank you to @percywinchester27​ and @girl-next-door-writes​ for being my betas for this story. You are both amazing and I'm so grateful for your help on this. 

Chapter: One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (unfortunately no Chris in this part) 

Warnings: Absolutely none. 

Wordcount: 1850

Four weeks after my twentieth birthday, I left my childhood home in Savannah, Georgia, and pointed my nose towards New York. It was hard to believe that eight years had passed already, but my twenty-eighth birthday approached in large strides to remind me of how much time had passed, and how much had changed. New York City was a stark contrast to Savannah, the city that never sleeps VS the most charming city in America. When I first moved here, it was my intention to stay for only a year, then I would be back in Savannah with my family and the man that I loved so deeply, Josh. 

However, life never really turns out how you intend it to, no matter how much you plan for your future. Josh and I used to talk at length about our future together, and I honestly couldn't wait to get started on it all, house, careers, and then a family of our own at some point. Then, after eight or so months of long-distance we finally broke and admitted to ourselves that it was just too hard. I know you might think that since we had stuck it out for that long, we surely could manage a few more months, but by then I had been asked to stay on in what was supposed to be a temporary position, and I had fallen in love, not only with the city, but with my work. I asked Josh to come to me, told him we could find ourselves a little apartment in Queens, or the East Village, something we could afford, and we could spend a few years together here before moving back home to start a family. I guess you’ve already figured it didn't turn out that way, and it ended, as long-distance relationships often do, in heartbreak. It was my first real heartbreak- amicable, civil, and soul-crushing. It was also then I realized, as we all, unfortunately, do at some point in our lives, that love does not, in fact, conquer all. 

If I'm being completely honest, I knew within my first month in this magical city that I would never want to leave, and after things ended with Josh, I felt as though I had deceived him in some cruel, unintentional way. Every conversation we had, had after that had been filled with lies and promises I never intended to keep. I had fooled myself as much as I had fooled him. After our break up, although completely heartbroken, I felt free and unburdened, which strangely made me feel even worse about the whole thing. Our love didn't end in some big blowout argument, or because we didn't want to be with one another. It ended because of the thousands of miles that separated us, and because in the months we spent apart, I changed in a way that could not have been foreseen. Never did I imagine myself in a big and busy city, but as I said, New York and me, it was love at first sight. 

You might be wondering what job took me from my safe and comfortable life in Georgia, thinking that it must have been some grand, once in a lifetime thing. It was not. It was a temporary job as a personal assistant. I found it as I sat by my computer one night, daydreaming about what kind of life I would live if I had all the money in the world, what life Josh and I could create for ourselves. That's when I came across the ad. A woman, Mrs. Wallace, needed an assistant. She was a very wealthy woman in need of someone to keep track of her very busy social calendar, amongst other things. I knew she was wealthy because she lived on Fifth Avenue, not that I had ever been to New York and really knew what that entailed, but I had seen movies and read books placed in the city and knew very well that Fifth Avenue was a very expensive street. There was little to no description of the job or what Mrs. Wallace was looking for in an assistant, other than that they had to be organized and were able to juggle multiple things at once. Beyond that it really came down to compatibility. I was nothing if not organized, so before I knew it, I had compiled an application letter and sent to her email. I told no one about this, because it was ridiculous for me to think I'd even get a reply back. In all honesty, it had all been forgotten by the next morning, and I didn't think of it again until three days later when, at dinner with Josh I might add, I got an answer. She would like for us to meet. We sent a couple of emails back and forth where I tried to, as politely as possible, explain that I did not have the means to travel to New York just for an interview. I stated that I appreciated her interest, and apologized profusely for not being able to make it out there. It was then she asked for my details, and about fifteen minutes later I got a confirmation from American Airlines that my ticket had been booked and paid for. Two days later I was sitting opposite Mrs. Wallace at a restaurant that I would never be able to afford, listening to her talk about the job I had applied for and what she expected of me. 

The very first thing that struck me about Mrs. Wallace was her age. For some reason, I had imagined someone in their fifties, full of botox, fillers, and whatever else middle-aged women put into their faces to look younger, but Mrs. Wallace was not that much older than me. At the time we met, she was twenty-seven, so younger than I am now, and strikingly beautiful. Thick, black hair that looked professionally blow-dried and sculpted so that not a single strand was out of place. It draped over her shoulders in loose Hollywood style waves and stood in sharp contrast to the white blazer she wore. Her skin was olive, her eyes deep brown, and her cheekbones could probably cut glass. When you put that together with her long, model-like legs, an hourglass waistline, and a very ample bosom, the woman looked like a greek goddess. To top it all off she had a warm and kind smile, and a kick-ass sense of humor. Kate, as she insisted I call her, was far from the stuck up, nose in the sky, botox filled woman that I had imagined in my head. We hit it off, and before dessert was served, I had a job offer. 

It's hard to explain, but I felt as though I needed to take this opportunity, that this was an experience I was meant to have in some inexplicable way, and I accepted right then and there without a second thought, or even a conversation with my family or boyfriend. Josh was angry with me at first, but supportive, so two weeks later I stood in front of 1040 Fifth Avenue and looked up at the towering building with its limestone and intricate carvings here and there. Kate greeted me at the front door as I stepped out of the car that she had sent to pick me up from the airport. This place even had a porte-cochere to protect the residents from rain as they walked from the door to their private chauffeur-driven vehicles. I would be staying here with the Wallace family, in the staff quarters with the rest of the staff of course, so that I could be available to Kate at all times. And that's how my New York adventure started. 

Eight years later, I am still working for Kate, still living in my little room in the staff quarters, but I love it. I have a little bathroom and everything I need. Food is prepared for us all by the cook, Rosalia. She is a little, plump woman in her mid-fifties, kind and compassionate, not to mention deeply passionate about the food she prepared for the whole household. Along with me and Rosalia, the other staff in our quarters are Magdalena, the housekeeper, and Mitch, who is Mr Wallace’s assistant. There was more staff, of course, like the private chauffeur’s, who didn't live on-site and throughout any given day, people would be in and out of the place like it was a busy office space as opposed to the home that it actually is. 

Now, Mr Wallace was a very busy man, working non-stop whether it be at his office, or at his home office. It seemed as whenever I saw him, he was walking in fast strides, either on the phone, or confirming things with Mitch who half sprinted behind him with his I-pad, trying not to trip over anything as he tried to keep up and take down notes at the same time. Henry, that was Mr Wallace’s first name, was a little older than Kate, not so much that you could accuse her of being a gold digger, but he was approaching his fifties now. He didn't look it though, he was a very handsome man, and kind. Imagine George Clooney, a man that just seems to get more gorgeous with every passing year. Kate and Henry were busy, always had their hands full with whatever it was, but somehow they always found time to share a meal together every day. Even if it meant having Rosalia heat up some leftovers for them at midnight. They were very much in love, and it was clear in the way they looked at one another, and how they always made sure to have that little moment to themselves every day. A couple of years ago, Kate had confided in me that she could not have children of her own, it was something that had weighed on her since she was only sixteen years old, but with Henry, she said, ‘I have all I need with that man, all the love I could ever wish for.’ It was a shame really, because I knew that Kate would have made an amazing mother, and Henry a great dad. ‘I'm alright,’ she had assured me. ‘I've come to peace with it, and learned not to dwell on something that will never be.’ 

So, that's the short version of how I ended up here, doing a job I adored in a city I loved with all my heart, so I think it's about time we move forward. Jump to the part where my real story starts. Spoiler alert; it involves a warm summer day in Central Park, a ruined dress, and an extremely handsome man named Chris. 

******

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Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

[edie-baby]

Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 2 | Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

Sava woke up on Friday with no intention of getting out of bed before noon. And then realised that she wasn’t in her bed, it was a hotel room. The memories and realities of her current situation made her head spin, and with a shit eating grin on her face, she jumped out of bed and into the shower. Feeling as though she should stay on brand, Sava pulled on a white pleated skirt and tucked the oversized Carlin shirt into the waistband. She braided her hair while it was still a little wet, knowing it would be easier than the kerfuffle she had yesterday trying to walk, carry a helmet, and braid at the same time. Combat boots, a phone, and paddock pass later and Sava was leaving the hotel room to meet Amelia in the cafeteria-like space on the ground floor to have breakfast and chat about the agenda for the day before they headed to the track.

Unbeknownst to Sava, a number of the F1 drivers were staying at the same hotel, and when she stepped into the room, eyes focused on finding other Carlin shirts, many heads turned her way. Obviously, news about a girl in a Carlin race suit with pink hair had spread into the formula one paddock quite quickly. Sava gave up on trying to find her assistant when she had no luck, preferring to make her way to the coffee bench to make herself a very sweet black coffee over ice. While the coffee began brewing, she turned her back to the bench, taking another look out over the crowds of people at tables to try and find her friends again, only to see that 75% of the room was already looking at her, and those that weren’t were whispering to the people that were. The poor girl looked like a deer in the headlights, and apparently one man couldn’t see her like that, as he stood from his table and walked toward her. He was still metres away and Sava was already having to strain her neck to look up at him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bombard you like this while you’re already quite overwhelmed. But I can tell you’re a bit lost. Would you like to come and sit with me until you find your team?” The man asked, his accent was distinctly French, and Sava kicked herself for not instantly recognising the man as Esteban Ocon.

“Oh my, yes please! This is my first time outside of karting, let alone in the actual F2 paddock, so I’m so lost and don’t know anyone.” Sava giggled, finishing up making her super sweet coffee and following Esteban’s stride toward a table of black and yellow clad people, along with the unmistakable grin of Daniel Ricciardo.

“I’m Esteban, by the way. I think I heard your name was Dvarokova?” The Frenchman questioned after a few beats of silence, realising that the 5’1 woman couldn’t walk as quickly as he.

“Ah, Dvorakova. Don’t worry about messing up the pronunciation, I misspell it sometimes. My name is Sava, but pretty much everyone calls me Bunny.” Sava replied with a giggle at the butchering of her surname. She couldn’t blame anyone, it was a hard enough name to most Eastern Europeans, she couldn’t even imagine how some of the nationalities in the paddock would pronounce it.

“Bunny. That’s quite cute.” Esteban mused, and they finally reached the rowdy table of Renault employees.

“Guys, this is Bunny. She’s going to sit with us cause she’s new and can’t find anyone from Carlin.” Esteban introduced, and a round of wolf whistles sounded as she threw up a peace sign, then took the seat next to Esteban, across from Daniel.

“Hi, I’m Danny. You’re such a little cutie.” Daniel introduced, leaning his arm over to poke at Sava’s cheeks that immediately heated up in a flaming blush. Another round of oohs and ahs went through the table and Sava giggled again.

“Pipe down, I’m only 17.” In immediate reaction to her statement, Daniel threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes connecting with a few guys nearby who all laughed at his expression.

“Way to make a man feel like a pedo.” Daniel mumbled, and more chuckles reverberated around the group who heard. The team all spoke to Sava with interest and respect, something she didn’t expect she would be getting before she had even gotten into a car. After about fifteen minutes, she spotted Yuki walking through the door with Amelia, and excused herself quickly, exchanging fist bumps with everyone she passed along the Renault table. When she got to the end, she met Yuki and Amelia with surprised looks on their faces before the three found a small table by the window to finally sit down and eat.

“How ready are you Bunny?” Yuki asked later on that morning while the two pulled their race suits up and made final preparations. Sava looked over at him nervously as she tucked her pink braids into the suit.

“Considering I’ve only ever driven a go-kart or a Hyundai I-20, I’m shitting myself. But I’m confident enough in my karting ability to do well-enough here. How about you? Amelia told me you have a seat at Alpha Tauri next season, are you still nervous about these races or are you a cool guy about it?” Sava hit back, smiling at her first friend in serious motorsport, who she could tell she would miss if she made it into F2 next year like Dr Marko had suggested.

“I still want to do well so that they don’t think they’ve made a mistake. But I’m not as nervous as I was when I didn’t know if I’d have a seat.” The Japanese man replied, and pulled on his balaclava, Sava following shortly after. They made eye contact, their mouths obscured by the fabric, and burst out laughing. Amelia guided Sava away so that she could get her helmet on and have one final chat with the engineer she would be hearing in her ears for the weekend. Yuki ran over just before Sava jumped in the car and slapped the top of her helmet, just like her uncle Sebastian had done before every race and she smiled the biggest she probably ever has. With a quick hug to Yuki and another scolding glance from Amelia, Sava climbed into her car for her first ever free practice in a single seater.

“Radio check.” Sava spoke, her voice wobbling slightly as she felt the rumble of the car beneath her.

“Confirm, Bunny. Hop to it.” Her engineer, Marcus, stated with amusement in his voice. Sava audibly laughed as she stepped on the accelerator, rolling out of the garage when she got the signal. Driving through the pitlane was surreal, and Sava knew she’d be feeling that a lot throughout the weekend. She ran two warm-up laps, getting acquainted with the car and testing the responsiveness of the brakes and the throttle. Once her tyres were at the right temperature, she got a radio message to give it hell, and so she did.

It was complete radio silence in the Carlin garage as everyone, including Yuki, sat and watched the rookie on her first hot-lap. She got a purple first sector, green second sector, and purple third sector, putting herself at the very top of the timing tower. While the practice session had only been active for around eight minutes, she had already beat two other drivers who had put in preliminary hot laps. Marcus relayed the time to Sava, and when she asked for the fastest time out of a qualifying session from the year prior, she groaned in frustration.

“Can I run a few more out laps and get comfortable with the responsiveness? I know I can do better.” Sava pleaded, and Marcus quickly agreed. If she thought she could get a better time than the one she had already given them, then hell they’d let her run all day. After four out-laps, she was brought in for a quick refuel and to look over the data of her hot-lap in comparison to Yuki’s. He was braking later, but Sava was getting better acceleration out of the corners. She knew now just how good the brakes were and considering she was known throughout the European karting scene for braking extremely late, she knew she could get better times, and maybe knock a few tenths off her entire lap. By the time she was finished looking at the data, everyone on the grid had put in multiple flying laps, and she was confident that whatever she pulled out now would be a decent comparison of her speed to the rest of the grid. With two more out-laps to get her tyres and brakes at the perfect temperature, she was off again.

Purple first sector, purple second sector, purple third sector.

As her name flew up the timing table, the Carlin garage waited with baited breath, to finally see Sava Dvorakova land at P1, four tenths quicker than the next fastest, Juri Vips.

“No fucking way.” Amelia mumbled, her eyes trained on the initials of the girl she had been following around for the past two days. Similar reactions were happening over in the Renault garage, many of the team who spoke with the girl earlier that morning tuned in to catch the first performance.

Qualifying later that day followed a very similar pattern. Finishing P2 behind Juri Vips, their times separated by one one-thousandth of a second. The real test was to see if the Czech could keep up the pace in their sprint and feature races over the next two days.

Those boys had hell to pay, and sure as shit, Sava was gonna come collect.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 25)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 6423 Warnings: mention of injuries, fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 24 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Time stands still like the eerie calm of the earth before a storm and in less than the blink of an eye things move all at once. The clouds break open with the downpour of your tears, a tornado sends you in a dizzying frenzy to change your clothes, hellish winds are unleashed that blow you across town so quickly you nearly forgot to take your phone with you as you scrambled out of the Uber that raced you to the hospital.

Sam’s call was brief. Bucky was brought into the emergency room by ambulance, fading in and out of consciousness from a car accident. Sam nearly went into shock himself seeing his friend littered in cuts and scrapes. You didn’t have time to ask much else, barely even changing out of your pajamas. You swapped thin bottoms for leggings, quickly grabbed your bra and threw a hoodie over it all, not thinking about how your hair looked or bothering to pick out the crust that just began to take root in the corner of your eyes. You grabbed a bag tossing in your keys and wallet and clutched your phone in hand to run downstairs.

The fluorescent lights are blinding as you enter the hospital, searching for Sam through the chaos of chatter and noise. The beep beep beep of machinery all around you, coughing, crying, moaning wails from people that want help or attention or just a place to sleep off their drunkenness. The ER was a maze you knew every route of but your mind pushed the knowledge out needing more space to panic.

Where is Bucky? Where is Sam?

You remembered the nurses’ station, sprinting towards it and happy to see a familiar face that does not recognize you right away. You didn’t expect Stacie to; you looked quite different when you were not put together in professional clothes and on the verge of bursting into tears and throwing up at the same time.

Together you quickly found Sam, unable to hold back the dam when you saw him and asked about Bucky.

“He went up into surgery.”

“Surgery!?” you cried out. “Is he going to be okay? Sam what happened?”

He let out a long and heavy sigh. The harsh lights above were unkind, showing the depths of the circles under his eyes.

“His leg is broken and he has some internal bleeding but we stabilized him and…”

You knew how hard Sam works, how everyone in this hospital works, getting an up close experience from your time there so you hated to be this person, frantic and begging for answers that he didn’t have.

“Doctor Palmer is an excellent surgeon. I’m gonna call her assistant now to let them know I’m sending you up.”

You nodded, biting your lip and roughly wiping away fresh tears. Sam pulled you into his chest and you felt your knees buckle. Bucky had to make it through surgery, he had to! A heavy sob wracked through you as you thought of the worst. Sam squeezed tighter, wishing he could stay with you upstairs through the surgery. Hell, he’d scrub in himself if they’d let him just so he could say he’s done everything to help his friend through this.

“I’ll be up when I can,” he promised, walking you towards the elevator.

You forced a worried smile. “Thanks Sam. Do you know… did anyone call his parents?”

Sam clenched his jaw as he thought about it. “It was pretty crazy in there, I’m not sure. I could fi–” He was interrupted by someone calling his name and you knew you had taken too much of his time already.

Your stomach dropped as the elevator went up, bringing you to an unfamiliar floor with unfamiliar faces that made you feel like an unwelcome stranger in someone’s home. You let the staff know you were here for James but a by-the-books nurse wasn’t keen on giving you information. Without thinking straight you had stupidly answered no when they asked if you were family, and when you asked if Bucky’s family was called she wouldn’t tell you.

You exhaled a deep, calming sigh, not wanting to yell at the person that was just doing their job, but as you sink into the uncomfortable chair you can’t help but silently cry to yourself. This woman doesn’t know how badly you need to know if Bucky’s okay. She doesn’t know that you spent the last few months ignoring him and wishing you could take it all back. She doesn’t know how much you miss him, how you love him. Even though he broke your heart you couldn’t help yourself from gluing the pieces back together and you needed to tell him, maybe you couldn’t tell him the truth but Bucky needed to at least know that you didn’t hate him.

The clock ticks away slowly and no one has come to speak with you. You stare at Winifred’s profile. She hasn’t updated her status since late in the afternoon. Does she know? Did anyone call them?

You decide they need to know, they need to be here just in case. A wave of nausea rolls over you at the thought and suddenly you become dizzy in your seat. You’re hot, sweating in the hoodie and yet you push on. Shaky fingers google his parent’s names and hometown in the hopes they are listed. You find a number, hesitant to call at this late of an hour. Rebecca was a few hours behind, and you debated messaging them in hopes of a fast reply. Should you do that? Should you be doing this at all?

Fuck.

If you had some answers you could at least feel a little better about all of this. You messaged Rebecca on Instagram telling them what happened and leaving your number. Your cheeks burn like lava as you rest your palm against them, dialing the number that google provided which may or may not be correct.

The phone rings and rings, and with each unanswered ring your stomach twists a little tighter. Relief comes but only slightly by way of Winnie’s bubbly voice prompting you to leave a message. Your voice shakes as you do, letting out a strangled cry as you leave them the limited details you knew about Bucky. Are they sleeping?

It doesn’t take long before your screen lights up with a number you don’t recognize and you were relieved to hear Winnie’s voice. Someone did call her and George, and they were on their way to the hospital.

“Rebecca sent me your number. I’m so happy you’re there. We’ll see you soon sweetheart,” she said, with sobs in her voice.

After hanging up you saw a message from Rebecca repeating what you already knew. They asked if it was okay to call you and you were thankful for the distraction. Together you tried to comfort each other, worrying about Bucky making it through surgery, about their parents driving with little sleep and so much on their minds.

“They’re here,” you said spotting George first from down the hallway, “I’ll call you back.”

It had been at least a half hour since their call and getting up from the chair was slow, your body ached from sitting for too long but you didn’t care. George and Winnie wrapped you in their arms, tears flowing as you embraced. The tears poured a little harder as you gripped them tightly, realizing how nice it was to see them again but wishing desperately it was under different circumstances.

George withdrew first, going up to the desk to let them know he was there. Winnie cupped your face softly, her hands were cold but it felt good against the heat of your skin. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile that released more tears down her reddened cheeks, her eyes already swollen and full of spidery veins.

Together you waited. Talking, pacing, crying, waiting, waiting, waiting until a short woman in green scrubs called out for the Barnes family. The three of you jump up and you feel immediately sick, holding on to Winnie’s arm as you try to read the expression of the woman before she said anything.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes my name is Doctor Palmer, I was the surgeon who worked on your son James.”

Winnie held your hand a little tighter, squeezing as every second went by until Dr. Palmer said he was stable and in recovery.

“He came in with blunt force trauma from a crash. He fractured two ribs and there was some internal bleeding from his spleen which we were able to repair with arterial embolization. However, James had a severe compound fracture of the tibia. We debrided the area and secured the bone with plates and screws. James is in the post op recovery room and he’s awake but not fully lucid.”

A collective sigh of relief filled the waiting room, with mixed tears of happiness flowing freely again. The doctor said a nurse would come by to bring you in to see him shortly and you couldn’t wait. You didn’t know what you would say to Bucky or if he would even be alert enough to hear you but you knew it was time to let him know that the past is in the past and you want to move forward.

A beat fills the room, steady like a metronome to keep the rhythm but the sound is unfamiliar. Too soft for the drums, not high enough for strings. Quick, simple. Piano? No. The sound isn’t broad enough. Keyboard? Yes. Electric, synthy. But it still sounds wrong.

Bucky tries to open his eyes but his lids are too heavy, bolted down by invisible chains. He sees the light of the sun through them. He tries to lift his arm to shut the blinds but even they are too sluggish to move, heavy like they were coated in cement.

He feels the scratch of a rough blanket against his skin, vague thoughts cross his tired mind wondering the whereabouts of his comforter. His toes are cold, feeling like tiny icicles are hanging off them. His right foot drags against the mattress. Was it always this uncomfortable? It’s his left foot that isn’t covered, a sock that probably came off in the night.

In a state of half sleep Bucky tries to wiggle the icicles off and suddenly his whole body feels like it’s been set ablaze. The beat quickens. A terrible pain fires through every nerve. There’s a sharp sensation in his hand when he tries to move it making him wince. His left side has a dull stabbing ache that increases as he takes a deep breath. Bucky feels sore all over like he was just hit by a–

And then he remembers.

His breaths are shallow, the tempo moving rapidly like the hook of an EDM song about to drop the beat as Bucky replayed the scene like a movie. He left the premier’s after party in an Uber never expecting the violent jolt of an SUV t-boning the car into a traffic pole. Everything after was a blur. There were flashing lights, noise, a steady bright light, an angel with the face of Y/N.

Bucky’s eyes fly open in state panic as he looks around wildly at his surroundings. His leg is in a cast, elevated by a sling. Needles in his arm, tubes around his nose, wires everywhere. He felt like a mess, he could only imagine he looked even worse but then all of his worries fade away when he sees Y/N, the angel at his side.

You’re asleep on the chair, elbow propped up on the wooden arm with your head leaning against your palm. It’s not comfortable at all but you didn’t complain, it wasn’t important. It was nearly five in the morning when Bucky was moved to a room. The walls were a dreadful sage green that looked more like dirty money in the dim light of dawn. The room was small but the lack of a second bed for the time being made things seem a little larger.

George went off in search of a third chair for the room as you and Winnie pulled yours up close to Bucky, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Sam came up to visit after his shift ended, introducing himself to Bucky’s parents. The tackling hug Winnie gave him was unexpected by his sleep deprived body but he accepted it all the same, giving her a reassuring hug that everything would be okay. Before he left you whispered a thank you in Sam’s ear, for treating Bucky and giving you a call. You promised to keep him updated as told him to get some rest, he certainly deserved it.

Bucky slept peacefully as you watched over him, your head falling forward and jolting you awake every time you had begun to fall asleep. Winnie had already fallen asleep but you were fighting against your body’s needs. You stared longingly at Bucky, wanting to be awake in case he woke up. George put a gentle hand on your shoulder, nodding with silent permission that it was okay to shut your eyes. A large black cup of coffee aided him in keeping watch and so you blinked slowly, your lids growing heavier with every languid motion until they remained shut for the next few hours. It wasn’t until the sound of rapid beeps that you were alerted into consciousness again.

Your head whipped up quickly with concern at the sound that slowly began to steady, finding Bucky awake with an ever so slight tug of a smile on his lips that grew once you locked eyes. It had been far too long since you looked at Bucky, truly looked at him without anger and heartache clouding your vision.

The scrapes and bruises that littered his face did not hinder any part of his handsomeness. His lips were dull and slightly chapped and yet it didn’t stop you from wanting to press yours against them. You lifted your eyes towards his, feeling blessed to be able to stare at the most beautiful shade of blue once more. They glistened with unshed tears as Bucky gazed back at you.

Your own tears came instantly, falling down the curves of your smile as you leaned over him. Your name fell softly from his lips and hesitantly you lifted your hand, wanting to reach out and caress his face. You pulled it back, dropping your head for a moment, squeezing tears out of your tightly shut eyes. Bucky was a blur when you opened them again but he was there, he was alive and you were more than thankful.

“Hey neighbor,” you sniffled. “It’s good to see you.”

No longer caring if you should or shouldn’t touch his face, you wanted to. Your thumb gently grazed the delicate skin of his cheek, early stubble scratching lightly as you brushed against it.

Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling him smile against your palm. “It’s good to see you too.” His voice was strained, still dry from surgery.

You took Bucky’s hand in your own, careful of the IV sticking out. He asked what happened, knowing he was in an accident but unsure of the details afterwards. It was obvious his leg was broken but you told him the specifics– the emergency surgery to fix his break and stop his internal bleeding, how Sam had treated him when he came into the ER. He smiled at that.

“You broke a few ribs too.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised in acknowledgment. “So that’s why it hurts to breathe.”

Your lips pulled tightly across your face, wishing you could take the pain away from him. The tension released when you felt Bucky squeezing your hand as if he heard your thoughts, offering you comfort when he was the one that really needed it.

“Oh, your parents are here,” you remembered, though you looked around, unsure of where they went. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to contact Claire.” The shock of Bucky’s accident made you forget to text all your friends until the early morning.

His face twists with confusion. “Claire?” Did you really not know? “Claire and I have been broken up for months.”

Your lips move without sound as you try to process what he said. You didn’t know what to say, wondering if Bucky hid his breakup as you had yours. Now you didn’t feel as guilty holding on to the feelings in your heart. You’re about to blurt out the words, to tell Bucky what you couldn’t say back to Peter but the sound of Winnie calling his name stopped you and you turned to see her running up to his bed.

“James, you’re awake. We were so worried,” she cried in his ear, contorting herself around machines while being mindful of Bucky’s injuries.

George walked in with a cup of coffee for you and you thanked him, getting up so he could get closer to Bucky. The warm brew felt good going down even though it wasn’t the best, forgetting to warn them about the cafeteria’s lack of quality. Good thing you weren’t relying on this to keep you awake, not since Bucky shocked every cell of your body into full alertness with his news. Though you were happy to learn he broke up with Claire it still didn’t mean what you wanted it to and you were thankful you hadn’t scared him off with an “I love you.”

Pulling out your phone you saw a text from Wanda, featuring a block of caps locked screaming with question marks and sad emojis. You typed back an update about Bucky, looking over at him with his parents and back down again to the message that was still in the process of sending. It took a few minutes before the message decided not to go through at all.

You excused yourself, letting everyone know you were going to update all your friends about how Bucky was doing. George commented on the terrible service in the room so at least it wasn’t just your phone. You probably could have stood on a chair trying to force better service somehow in different parts of the room but you also wanted to give Bucky and his parents an opportunity for privacy.

“I’ll be right back,” you said with a smile, passing a woman coming in with flowers for the person who had been brought into the other side of the room early in the morning. Your gaze lingered back at Bucky one final time before leaving.

George shared a look with Winnie and staring at her son she said, “Y/N was here all night you know...”

With your phone in hand you follow it like it’s a map with five full bars leading you to treasure. It only took walking around the whole floor to find a good spot on the opposite side of the building near a window for your text to go through. In between sips of coffee you recorded a message for everyone on the group chat, it was so much easier than typing it out and you were still very tired.

You decided to finish your coffee there, giving Bucky and his parents more time as you stared out the window at what looked like a bright and beautiful morning. A slew of notifications came on your phone as half the people responded. Clint was probably still sleeping but Natasha replied asking if Bucky needs anything. Though Peggy was in England she asked if there was anything she could do. Steve wondered if he wanted visitors and asked you to pass along his get well wishes. You typed back that you would find out, promising to keep in touch as the day went on.

When your cup was empty you tossed it into a nearby garbage can and headed back, not expecting to hear your name being called.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You turned to see Elena, concern etched on her face as she held onto your shoulder. Embarrassment washed over you as you remembered how you looked, feeling even worse when you realized that earlier in the week Elena was technically your boss.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay. A friend of mine came in last night, car accident. I’ve…” you took a moment to yawn, covering your mouth, “Excuse me, I’ve been here all night.” You slapped your face lightly to wake up, now wishing the coffee had been stronger. “He’s going to be okay though,” you finished.

“He? Is this Bucky?” she wondered, and you were surprised she recalled his name since the wedding was months ago. You sighed, nodding slowly as your lips pulled into a soft smile. “I hope everything works out.”

Elena hugged you before she turned around to see a patient, reminding you she was here if you needed her. It was really nice to know she was there for you, Elena had become more than a mentor in the time you’ve worked for her.

Heading back in the room you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face when you saw Bucky. The few minutes apart you spent were more than you ever wanted to do again. George moved down a seat so you could sit closer to Bucky, letting him know everyone was asking about him, wondering if he wanted visitors.

Bucky sought your hand again, smiling as your soft touch helped to ease the discomfort he was feeling. It would be nice to see friends but he was more than happy you were here with him. It wasn’t long before a nurse came in to check vitals and Bucky was relieved since he definitely could use more pain medication.

Winnie asked you to join her to get food since no one had really eaten and even though you didn’t want to leave Bucky you weren’t going to say no to his mother. Besides, you needed to steer Winnie away from the cafeteria and the nurse seemed thankful to have less people in the room.

Bucky felt settled after a dose of painkillers, easing the radiating aches from all over his body. George poured a cup of water, handed it to him and set aside the pink plastic pitcher.

“How’re you feeling James?” he asked, forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was cry looking at the state of his son, from the deep purple bruises on his temple to the scrapes that marred his skin.

Bucky gulped down the water, quenching the arid condition of his mouth. “M’okay, a little better I guess.”

“Your head feels okay?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, no one said I hit it or– ”

“Are you sure about that?”

George leaned in closer, as Bucky squinted in confusion. His smile dropped and his eyes grew stern as he organized his thoughts into a more appropriate lecture despite the disappointing anger that bubbled beneath his skin.

“I really wonder James, because see Y/N, a great girl who clearly loves and cares about you and you let her go.” Bucky tried to interrupt, to fill in all the details he hadn’t told him in the past but George wouldn’t let him. “No son, there has to be something wrong with you if you can’t see it.”

“Dad, it’s… it’s complicated,” Bucky let out with a sorrowful sigh.

“James, real love is complicated. It’s wild and passionate as much as it is frustrating, but when you find someone that loves you as much as you love them it makes overcoming obstacles worthwhile. Love isn’t easy but it is easy loving someone that makes you feel alive, that makes life worth living and when you find that someone you don’t let them go. Don’t let her go, James.”

Bucky sits with the weight of his father’s words heavy on his chest. It had already been hard to breathe and now things felt worse. He doesn’t know the full story, how a stupid mistake ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He wants to make it right, to tell you everything not that it would change anything. Bucky assumed that since you spent all night waiting by his side that you at least don’t hate him anymore like you used to, so maybe your friendship can be salvaged. Still, it’s going to hurt him to see you in Peter’s arms but Bucky would rather have you back in his life because not having you there at all is far worse.

You come walking in with his mom, smiling and laughing and it’s such a beautiful sight. The smile on his face can’t help but grow. Bucky watches as his father wraps an arm around his mom, pressing a kiss to her temple. She smiles looking up at him, pulling out sandwiches from a deli you had come from.

“Ohh and someone wants to say hello,” Winnie said, pulling out her phone, trying her best to connect to Rebecca on FaceTime despite the shitty signal. The connection is spotty and Bucky ends up having a regular phone conversation with them. They were definitely happy to hear he was doing better.

After the call Bucky asked about his phone and his mom found the bag of his personal belongings in the closet. She grimaced at the lack of clothes, realizing whatever he came in with was most likely cut off him in the ER, thoughts of the whole ordeal bringing tears to her eyes. Underneath his shoes were his wallet and phone which she handed him, surprised to see the screen had not cracked.

Bucky attempted to turn it on but it was dead. Normally you carry a charger with you but in the rush to leave your apartment that was the last thing on your mind. Your own battery had just passed half its life but you didn’t really care. There was nothing else you needed to focus on today besides Bucky.

His parents stay into the afternoon, getting a chance to speak with the doctor and meeting Natasha, Clint and Steve who arranged their visit together. They left shortly after since the room had gotten crowded between everyone and visitors for the person in the other bed. You and Winnie hugged, squeezing tight for a lingering moment, fighting the urge to cry again out of exhaustion and relief for the night you went through together. George gave an equally strong hug, one that Bucky watched from his bed, overhearing his parents making sure you had both their numbers.

You looked just as tired as they did and Bucky knows you should probably go home. He wonders if you’ll leave when your friends do but when the time comes and Natasha is shrugging on her jacket you make no move to do the same, only getting up to hug them goodbye.

Alone again, Bucky finds comfort in the silence between you, as the speaker for the TV lays beside him filling the background with noise. He watches as you set up the cards he received on the windowsill, making sure Clint’s it’s going tibia okay card is angled so Bucky can see it and smile.

When dinner arrives he frowns at cold peas and carrots, eats the bland chicken and enjoys the soup more than he thought. Bucky urged you to eat something more than the bags of chips and nuts you had been snacking on since the sandwich you split between breakfast and lunch. You insisted you were fine but he forced you to eat his salad, assuring you he was not in the mood to have it.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky groaned through an exhale, his eyes squeezed shut as hissed an unconvincing “yes” through his teeth.

“I need more pain meds and…” he shifted as much as he could trying to ease his discomfort.

“And what? Bucky, whatever it is I can get the nurse in.”

“I… it’s embarrassing,” he admitted.

You smiled softly, leaning close to remind him, “Whatever it is can’t be more embarrassing than the time I nearly shit myself in front of you. Remember? All my trips running to the bathroom hoping I could make it on time?”

Crinkles formed around his eyes as Bucky smiled, chuckling before he realized how much it hurt to do so, at the memory of your food poisoning and the weekend he spent helping you recover. And now here you were by his side, doing the same.

“It’s uh, my…” He looked away, blushing beet red as he squeaked out, “...my catheter. It’s not great.”

An array of expressions crossed your face. “Yeah… I can imagine.” When you finally locked eyes with Bucky again you couldn’t help but smile awkwardly, offering to go get him a nurse.

It took a few minutes to return as you looked for the nurse, coming back with a surprise, Wanda and Sam. Wanda held back tears as she carefully hugged him and Sam couldn’t help but go into doctor mode and ask how Bucky was doing.

“I’m good. Alive thanks to you.”

Sam grinned. “I can’t take all the credit, but you are lucky. Very lucky.”

The nurse lumbered in, tired from a long shift but his demeanor changed upon seeing Sam, the two of them knowing each other well. Riley had praised Sam’s skills having formerly worked beside him in the ER for a while.

“Riley, this is my boy so please, whatever he needs make sure he’s taken care of, alright?” Sam turned to Bucky, “You good? Do you need a sponge bath?”

Bucky sighed, “No Sam, I don’t need a sponge bath.” He blushed with embarrassment, rolling his eyes at his friend’s teasing. “I would really like to pee on my own though.”

“Riley, call the stream team!” Sam shouted a little too loud.

Bucky instantly regretted his admission, pinching the tender bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “It’s nice they let you out for some fresh air Sam, that padded room must get pretty boring.”

Sam wore a toothy smile, happy to see his friend was still in good enough spirits to rib him back. He and Wanda stayed long enough for the shift change and though Sam didn’t personally know the next nurse he introduced himself and wanted to make sure Bucky was taken care of.

Once again you made no move to leave when Sam and Wanda did, getting up only to stretch. Your bones creaked like old wood, stretching out stiff muscles until you felt the slightest bit of relief. The chairs provided were not the most uncomfortable but after almost a day they definitely took a toll.

Bucky notices the way your eyes grow tired, how every action has slowed. You’ve been in the hospital nearly as long as he has and he doesn’t envy you, even with his injuries.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, stirring you alert. “It’s late, you should go home.” Your head shook before you spoke, opening your mouth to protest but he cut you off. “I’m good, I promise. You’ve been here all day and night, go get some sleep in a real bed.”

It would look stupid if you argued at this point, as you tried to fight back a yawn. Bucky asked you for a favor before you left, to grab his keys and bring some clothes and his phone charger tomorrow. “Only if you don’t mind.” Of course you would.

“Oh and one more thing,” he said, his eyes pleading up at you. “Call me when you get home. I need to know you got back safely.”

You nodded, smiling softly, before entering the number from his bedside phone into yours. Leaning down you pressed your lips against Bucky’s forehead, letting them linger against the warmth of his skin. Upon pulling away you shared a moment, smiling back at each other before Bucky took your hand.

“Thank you Y/N,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There was so much Bucky meant within those words and by the way you looked at him he believed you knew.

With his body on fire Bucky still rested easier than he had in the last few months, knowing at the very least he had you in his life again.

The subway rocks gently as you travel down the familiar route to the hospital, this time not worrying about making it on time to clock in but with excitement fluttering in your belly to be able to see Bucky again.

Last night you called him just before you went into his apartment, grabbing the few things he asked for and not lingering. You were a second away from crashing, having enough energy to plug your phone in before your face hit the pillow.

In the morning you showered, drinking a strong cup of coffee as you got ready. You didn’t bother with much but it felt good to look presentable. You grabbed Bucky’s things, texting people before you lost service underground. Rebecca thanked you for the updates and said they were looking to fly in towards the end of the week. George and Winnie would definitely be happy to see them again. They contacted you this morning as well, saying they would be seeing you at the hospital in a bit.

Bucky tried to keep himself occupied, shutting his eyes and eventually finding sleep for a few hours before the nurse needed to check his vitals. He stared out his window, watching the dark blanket of the sky slowly lift over the buildings, falling asleep once more before the next round of nurses coming in. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to heal if he can’t sleep but the doctor lets him know he should be released tomorrow or the following day.

It lifts his mood but the height of his spirits soar high above the atmosphere when Bucky saw you walking into his room. You look much more rested than he does and he’s happy about it. He savors your arms around him, feasting upon the scent of your floral shampoo, your smile bringing sunshine upon a gloomy world.

You put the clothes he asked for in his closet, taking his phone and plugging it into the nearest outlet, settling down again in the familiar chair beside his bed. You were just as excited to hear about Bucky getting released soon, the thought of him being just beyond your shared wall again was comforting.

After charging for a little bit Bucky asked for his phone, just to check a few quick messages. You got up to unplug it, the screen lighting up and making your mouth fall open. Bucky’s lock screen was you! Well, it was the two of you, from that time Winnie was testing out her new phone. It was a beautiful memory, a candid capture of a moment in time when you gazed into each other’s eyes, the corners of your mouths settled into a smile; two people holding back the feelings that were written so evidently across their faces.

You pretended not to have seen it, handing him the phone with the screen down. Bucky nearly forgot about the picture himself, his eyes flitting quickly your way as he tried not to breathe too hard and have the monitors give away his panicked state.

Your head was turned up towards the TV, watching The Golden Girls through the muffled sound of the speaker resting against the side of the bed. You couldn’t look at Bucky in the moment, not when you felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. No, you needed this time to collect your thoughts, to find the perfect words to express exactly how you felt and right when they were at the tip of your tongue you held them back.

Winnie and George walked in looking a lot better than they had yesterday. They greeted you both and settled in for the next few hours. They too were excited about his impending release, offering Bucky to recover at their home.

“No, ma I’ll be fine. The building has an elevator, I’m good.”

Worry crossed her face. “What about food shopping? What about bathing?”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “Well you’re not gonna bathe me if that’s what you think.”

You swallowed a chuckle, shifting your expression to a serious one offering your help. “For the food shopping,” you nervously added. Learning from the past, you shut your mouth to avoid the risk of digging yourself a deeper, awkward hole.

His parents left to get lunch for everyone since Bucky was sick of cold vegetables, and the two of you were alone again. He cleared his throat, licking his lips before asking, “You really don’t mind helping me?”

Your smile answered him before your words. “Of course not. Plus we still have a lot of pizza to try.”

You bit your lip watching the smile spread across his face, relief washing over him as things seemed to snap back into place as if nothing had changed. But Bucky forgot about Peter. You had been spending so much time with him this weekend he almost convinced himself things were different.

“Peter isn’t mad you’ve been gone all weekend?” Bucky asked, doing a poor job in hiding the uneasiness in his face as he anticipated your answer. He’s a glutton for punishment, reminding himself that things will never truly be the same again and little does he know how right he is.

“I broke up with him weeks ago.”

Your answer takes a moment to register, the realization hitting Bucky more than the impact of the accident. “Why?”

Haloed by the glow of the sun behind you, the words sang like the message of an angel, because there had to be some sort of divine intervention that brought all of Bucky’s dreams true when you answered, “Because he wasn’t you.”

A tear slipped down your face and Bucky lifted his hand, cupping your cheek and brushing it away. You cupped his hand against you, exhaling staccato breaths and smiling down at the man that brought music into a world that felt silent without him.

You leaned down, the tip of your nose grazing against his, your smile matching his as you closed the distance, pressing your lips together once more. The sound of love flooded your soul as you and Bucky found harmony at last.

EPILOGUE

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[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 5

Summary:

I once again expose myself for being into older men, and you and Woods go on your first date

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, age difference

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4 | Chpt 6 | Warnings: strong language and some age difference, in case you don't like that

“Anyway, can I help you with something?”

Your friendly voice and sweet smile pull him out of his thoughts. Frank looks down at you, and instantly lets his nerves get the better of him. This was a mistake from the beginning.

He looks away, attempting to mask his insecurities with a gruff exterior, “Uh, it’s nothing. Sorry, may-”

“Oh no no, it’s fine, really! I just have to deliver these papers and then I can be right with you”, you smile encouragingly, and then… he decides to stay. More due to the fact that he feels unable to say no to you rather than by his own resolve, however.

He’ll have to watch out for that.

So he waits. There’s exactly one other chair in your office, a squat cube shaped thing sitting on the other side of your desk. Clearly this is something you own and brought in, rather than a piece of furniture that was given to you like that plain old black office chair behind your desk. The chair looks like it was brightly colored once, and smacks of something salvaged from the early 70s and dragged into the modern era. Still, it’s rather comfortable despite the faded, slightly sagging state of it.

Frank traces his fingers up and down the angular arm rest, thinking of you. You know, now that he’s had the chance to look around… There’s actually quite a few things of the past in here. He sees a bulky old camera and even a typewriter tastefully displayed amongst a few other nik naks on your shelves, both of which look like they were rolled out around the time he was just a child.

For a moment, he feels uncomfortable again and far too old to be trying something like this with you. But then, the anxiety is washed away with the musing that perhaps…. You like old things.

He can’t help but huff a laugh at that. A wishful thought on his part, maybe, and yet… not completely untrue.

“What’s so funny?”, your curious voice pulls him out of his thoughts as you suppress a small laugh of your own.

“Huh? Oh, nothing just… That camera’s gotta be older than I am”, he chuckles and points to the black box of a thing just above you. “What are you doing with a piece of junk like that anyway?”, he laughs.

You gasp in mock hurt, “It’s not junk! It works!” Suddenly you seem to grow quite excited, trotting up to retrieve the object in question. Cradling it carefully, you swing around your desk and take a seat on the hardwood, showing off your treasure, “This is a Kodak Cartridge Hawk-Eye from 1926!” You enunciate the date excitedly as though it were a relic from the dinosaur days, meanwhile all Woods can think of is that that was only a mere four years before he was born.

For a few minutes longer, you go on giving a whole info dump on all you know about the little device, wave upon wave of building excitement adding to your voice and before long, Frank finds himself being swept up in it all. No offence, but… he really doesn’t give a single fuck about the camera. But, the way it has you grinning bright as sunshine. The electric spark in your eyes. The way you give his arm a gentle touch to brace him for what you seem to think is a very riveting fact…

He would listen to you talk about that damn thing all day, just to see you like this.

Before he knows it, the lecture is over and he couldn’t be more disappointed. You shake your head, just now realizing you’ve gone off on a tangent once again. “Ugh, sorry…”, you laugh it off and go to put it away, “I just get so excited about my antiques. I love that stuff, you know? Anyway, before I go off again… What was it you wanted to see me for?”

Suddenly, Frank can feel his heart clench tight. He had almost forgotten why he came, and now… he’s wishing you would’ve too.

“Oh? Uh, why… Why did I-? Uh… Yeah, um, so-”

Damn it! He never thought he’d say this, but he’d rather be in a gunfight right now. Anything then this… juvenile, high school shit. You’ve since returned to your spot on the edge of your desk. Despite his highly suspicious stuttering, your expression remains polite and even encouraging as you wait for him to formulate a coherent sentence.

While his mind reels for some sort of excuse, anything to get him out of this situation he’s dug for himself, his nervous gaze lands on the very last thing it needs to right now. Your eyes are glittering in this afternoon light. Do you know that?, he thinks. You’ve locked eyes right back at him, but the situation is anything but awkward. He appreciates the way that you aren’t afraid of him. That you’re willing to show him patience and understanding… Like he’s a fucking human being, instead of some crazy old veteran that you’re just indulging until you can finally get rid of him.

The longer he looks back at you, the more and more he can feel the tension melting out of him. Each muscle in his body slowly but surely unclenches, allowing him to relax at last as he leans back into his seat. He can’t lie to you. You don’t deserve that.

Damn it…

Frank breaks eye contact at last. He flexes his hand gently, working out the nervous energy, as he makes a fist. “I uh… I was just wondering if, maybe… you wanted to get coffee sometime…”

Immediately he braces for… well, he’s not sure what exactly, but rejection for sure. He closes his eyes so he can’t see the disgusted face you must be making, and all the muscles he’d just set at ease jump back into bands of iron across his chest, tensed so tight, he feels like his heart might stop. It’s only been a few seconds, but it feels like years have passed when you finally respond…

“Sure! What time would work for you?”

His eyes snap open as he jerks his head around to look at you, not entirely sure he heard you right. But then… there’s that same, sunny smile and electrified eyes that tell him you mean it.

“I-I uh…”, and just like that, he snaps out of it. Woods sits up straight, fixing a strand of hair that’s strayed from its place, and grinning excitedly himself. He hasn’t felt like this in… years. “W-well what time would work for you? I’m sure as shit not doing anything”, he laughs.

You think for a moment, “Oh! Say, do you go for a run on Saturdays too?”

Pft, not lately. “Yeah! Why?”

You light up, “Great! Tell you what, let's meet up and we can go for a run together then hit that coffee shop we met at last time. Would that be alright? Could be fun!”

As though you even needed to ask, he’s already agreeing. The two of you make some more concrete plans like the wheres and whens specifically before preparing to head your separate ways. You stop him and scribble down your number on a torn sheet of paper. “Just in case”, you smile. “And hey… Loser pays”, you break out into laughter.

“Oh yeah?”, he smiles back, “Don’t think I’ll go fucking easy on you!”, he calls, half way down the hall by now as you wave him off.

When you’ve retreated out of sight, Woods takes a look around. Alone again. Good. He reaches into his pocket and gingerly retrieves the slip of paper. Over and over again he reads and re-reads the chicken scratch handwriting you’ve produced. To him, it’s wonderful.

By the time he gets to his car, he feels like he knows that number better than his own dog tag ID. He slips the precious sheet into his wallet, the first of a few select reminders of you that he’ll keep safe in there.

As the few short days go by, he waits restlessly until he can see you again. And finally… Finally, Saturday morning comes.

5:26 am, and he’s up before his alarm. He doesn’t even need to check the digital clock to see what day it is. He already knows as he jumps out of bed and races to get ready. In no time at all he meets you early at the nearby park you agreed to meet at. You’ve come prepared in your high tops, short shorts, and nylon catsuit. Stylish and modern, but thankfully not as over the top as what the fashion industry would have you in.

It takes every ounce of willpower within him to keep his eyes up.

“Ready?”, you stretch your arms up high, only accentuating your body as you do so.

Frank can feel himself turning red as he status out an affirmative, earning… is that a smirk? from you.

“Alright then, ready… set…”, without warning you bolt off for a head start.

“Hey!”

He wants to be mad, but… He’s just having too much fun, damn it. About half way through, it’s a fair race, and although he’s beating you it’s not by that much. Once he’s proved to himself that he’s still got it, Woods allows himself to fall back, giving you the ego boost you need to stick it out and sprint to the finish, tired as you are.

Frank trots to a stop behind you shortly, only slightly more out of breath then you are. He may have let you win, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t give him hell in the first half.

“Cheater”, you give his shoulder a light punch and a knowing look.

“Me?”, he laughs, ignoring the accusation that he would ever let someone else beat him in a competition, “What do you call that stun at the start?”

You merely laugh, wiping some sweat from your brow as you head towards the door of the coffee shop. The bell chimes as you enter and walk up to the counter together. You place your orders, and Frank pays. You wait in silence for your orders, merely taking the time to completely catch your breath.

Drinks and breakfast in hand, you sit by the large bay windows together. The sun has just peeked over the horizon, filling the room with a golden glow. A halo of light shines around you, catching every perfect curve and angle you have to offer as you grace him with your presence. The food and coffees are nearly forgotten as you both get caught up talking about everything and nothing all at once. Conversation topics turn and change like leaves in the wind, easily transitioning from one to the other as you slowly yet surely get to really know one another.

Frank is on the edge of his seat, waiting eagerly to hear what you have to say next as he talks with you. It’s the most excited he’s been to hear someone else drone on and on in his entire life. By the time you’re both feeling talked out, the sun is well on it’s way to rising and the morning dew has since evaporated.

But, it doesn’t matter. How could he ever feel time was wasted when it was spent with you?

The two of you walk back towards the park, making sure to take it slow so you can get the most out of what little time you have left together.

“And then I said, ‘Looks don't count for shit in the jungle. This is 'Nam baby!’ “

You burst out laughing, “Did you really? And then what happened!”

He grins, “Well, the- Oh, wait, we’re uh, we’re here…”

The two of you stop at the edge of the parking lot. It’s practically empty aside from your lone car only a stone’s throw away. At that, the mirth seeps from you as well as you agree.

“Well… I guess… thanks. I had fun, you know”, Frank turns to face you, hoping more than anything that you enjoyed yourself as well.

“Yeah, me too!”, that familiar little smile that he’s grown so fond of slowly makes its way back. “Maybe… Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Besides,”, you act on a jolt of courage, stretching up on the tips of your toes to press a little kiss to his rough, stubbly cheek, “you have to tell me the rest of your story”

You lick your lip and give it a little nervous bite as you shyly take his hand in yours for comfort.. It feels huge, more like a bear paw than a human hand, compared to yours. “Well… See you later…”, you turn and begin to back away, holding his hand until you can no longer reach, forcing you to let go. You offer him one last smile, but all he can do is stand there, frozen amongst a roar of emotions.

Woods lifts a hand to his cheek, reverently caressing the spot your lips touched. The depth, breadth, and complexity of feeling circling in his mind are far too much for him to ever put into words. But, out of them all, one rings out loud and clear. He’s so, so…

Happy.

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Two

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: PTSD

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*gifs not mine

Chapter Two - His Gravity

Bucky sat on his couch, an old shoe box sitting in front of him on the coffee table. The contents of the box held everything from his and Y/N’s relationship he had kept besides her clothes which still sat in his dresser and closet. He lifts the lid slowly, pulling out a stack of Polaroid photos. He was always taking photos of himself with Y/N, wanting to preserve every memory of them as if he knew one day Y/N would need to be reminded. He flipped through the photos until he got to the last one. Y/N was sticking her tongue out at the camera while holding a tattoo gun in her hand. She had been tattooing little hearts on Bucky’s arm between the rest of his tattooed sleeve. He set the photos down, glancing at the other contents of the box. There was her old house key that she had painted a light blue with pink dots and a pressed red rose Bucky had given her one Valentines. Bucky’s eyes finally rested on a black velvet box at the bottom but he couldn’t pick it up. It was too painful to look at the ring he was going to use to ask Y/N to marry him but after he got the news she was accepted as a trauma surgeon in the military, that plan fell through due to his own selfishness and the horrible things he had said to her. Bucky leaned back into the couch, staring at the box. He wondered if him and Y/N could ever get back to the way they were before she left. He would make it his life mission to get back to that point. He glanced over from the couch to the kitchen, reading the time on the microwave. It was almost three in the morning but he couldn’t will himself to sleep knowing Y/N was back and not waiting in bed for him. His phone buzzing in his pocket broke his train of thought, pulling it out and seeing Steve’s name. He quickly answered, “Yeah?”

“Buck, is Y/N with you?”

“No.. She’s not at home?” Bucky stood at the question from Steve, suddenly concern washing through his body.

“No, I woke up to check on her and she’s not in bed and the front door was open… Pegs and I are driving around looking for her but we haven’t found her…”

“Keep me updated, I’m going to look for her.” Bucky hung up the phone, shoving it back into the pocket of his leather jacket. He practically sprinted out the door and hopped on his bike, quickly speeding down the roads looking for Y/N. This was not the time of hour for a woman to be out alone in the dark, let alone a woman with no memories. She was vulnerable and if anything happened to her, Bucky would blame himself for not keeping her safe. 

Y/N had been sleeping soundly, but hours ago she woke up to the spinning fan on the ceiling. As soon as she laid eyes on it, she was stuck in her head thinking she was still across seas and that the blades were from a helicopter. She had stumbled out of bed in only her pajama shorts and a tank top, walking out the front door. In her mind, she was injured with a bullet to the head and needed to find help. She walked for what seemed like hours down the sidewalk, staring blankly ahead in a trance as she tried to find help.

Bucky sped down every road he could, looking around for Y/N in the darkness. He even stopped and yelled out her name a few times before continuing to ride down the streets. He paused as he saw the back of a woman walking down the sidewalk in pajama shorts and a tank top, blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. Bucky would recognize Y/N anywhere. He slowed down on his bike until he was right beside her instantly feeling relief when he saw it was Y/N, “Hey, Y/N, what’re you doing?” He shouted so he could be heard over the sound of his motorcycle but it didn’t seem to grasp her attention as she kept walking, staring ahead, “Shit..” He muttered out as he brought his bike to a stop, kicking the kickstand down and jumping off. He ran over to her, standing in front of her to get a look at her blank face. He’d seen that expression before from soldiers who came back from combat with PTSD, he’d seen that look on himself before. Bucky placed his hands on Y/N’s arms, bringing her to a stop, “Hey darlin’, it’s me Bucky. You okay?” He asked as he stared at the blank stare on her face.

Y/N slowly looked at him, still in a trance, “I’ve been shot and... I need help.” She said softly towards him, her expression still blank.

Bucky sighed a little in relief at being able to get her to respond. He nodded, taking off his leather jacket and draping it over Y/N’s cold shoulders, “I know, doll. I’m here to help. Let me get you somewhere safe, okay?” He asks to which Y/N slowly nodded towards him. He took her hand, pulling her towards his motorcycle. He gently helped her lean back on the seat before pulling out his phone to call Steve, “I found her, near the Rosewood Park.” He informed before hanging up, knowing it was safer to transport her back home in Steve’s car rather than on his motorcycle in the state she was in. Bucky glanced over her, watching her shiver slightly although she didn’t seem to notice she was cold. He took her hand again, gently pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her, “You’re freezing..” 

It didn’t take long for Steve and Peggy to pull up behind Bucky’s bike. Steve jumped out before the car had even stopped, running over to Y/N who was still being held in Bucky’s arms for warmth, “What happened, Y/N?” He asks his sister who didn’t reply.

Bucky looked at Steve, “She’s stuck in a trance.” He told him before looking down at Y/N, “Hey, this is Steve. He’s your brother and he’s going to help you. We gotta get you home first before we can take a look at your injuries. Let’s get you into the car, okay?” He asks her to which was answered with another slow nod. Bucky walks her over to the car, opening the back door and watching her get in slowly, still staring straight ahead, “I’ll meet you back at the house, okay? I promise.” He waited for another silent nod but it didn’t come. He gently closed the door then turned to Steve, “I’ll meet you back at the house.” He said shortly before walking back to his bike, bringing it roaring to life and already starting his way back to Steve’s. Bucky couldn’t help but be a little irritated with Steve for allowing his sister to somehow get outside and walk a few miles away before noticing she was gone. That would’ve never happened if Y/N was at home with him where she belonged.

Steve got into the backseat with his sister who was still wrapped in Bucky’s leather jacket. He watched her stare straight ahead, wondering what had triggered this trance. Peggy pulled away from the curb and followed Bucky’s motorcycle back to their house, parking in the driveway next to Bucky who was immediately at Y/N’s door opening it. He helped her out of the car, walking her inside with Steve and Peggy right on his tail. Bucky walked Y/N to stand in front of a mirror on the wall, wanting her to see that she was home and no longer injured to try and snap her out of the trance, “Look, no blood… You are home and you’re safe.” He whispers to her as he stroked hair away from her ear to show the healed pink wound instead of a bullet hole. 

Y/N blinked at the mirror, watching Bucky move her hair. She observed herself for a moment before blinking a few more times, “I’m home?” She asks softly, tilting her head at her reflection as she stared.

Bucky nodded to her, watching her face in the reflection of the mirror, “Yeah, doll, you’re home and you’re safe. Don’t worry.” He said softly to her, a small smile curving on his lips as he could see her trance fading away before his eyes. 

Y/N bit her lip as she watched herself in the mirror, then turns to face Bucky, “Bucky…” She breathes out softly as she ran her eyes along his facial features. Something about the way he looked at her made her think they were more than just really good friends before and she wished she could remember what that was like, “It was the fan spinning…” She remembered, “It reminded me of a helicopter… After I was shot I just laid still for a while until I couldn’t hear them anymore, then I heard a helicopter and walked to it for help..” 

Bucky nodded at her words, lifting a hand to stroke through her hair slowly as he had done many times before, “I’ll tear that fan out of the ceiling, doll.” He told her with a small smile. He’d do anything to help her just like she had for him when he came back with his nightmares. He could hear Steve trying to come over but Peggy kept holding him back saying ‘give them a moment’ which Bucky was grateful for. He had been away from Y/N for over 18 months and he felt as that he had a lot of time to make up for.

Y/N looked at Bucky in his grey blue eyes, biting her lip softly. Why did she feel so close to him when she didn’t know really anything about him besides he rode a Harley and seemed to be protective over her? She took a deep breath, “I guess I’m sleeping on the couch tonight where there’s no fans.” She said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Bucky nodded, “And tomorrow, I’ll replace the fan.” He promised with a small smile as he followed her back to the living room, sitting on the couch beside her. He didn’t want to leave her, he wanted to stay close in case she needed him. 

Steve and Peggy came into the living room after they heard Y/N and Bucky sit down. Steve came over and looked down at his sister with a small concerned smile, “Doing better?” He asks to which Y/N nodded, “Alright, well, try to get some rest, don’t let Bucky keep you up all night. Wake us up if you need anything.” He told her with the same smile plastered to his lips. He knew there was no way he was going to get Bucky to leave Y/N’s side so there was no point in fighting about it. He turned to Peggy, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down the hallway towards their bedroom. 

Y/N watched Peggy and Steve disappear, a small smile on her lips, “I wonder what that’s like…” She said softly, not realizing she said it aloud.

Bucky looks down at Y/N curiously, “What?” He asks with a small smile, wondering what she saw that triggered the question.

Y/N looked at Bucky, “To be that in love with somebody, I wonder what that’s like.” She said softly to him, watching his facial expression for any hints.

Bucky sighed softly, lifting a hand to run through his dark hair as he stared at her. He thought about how he should answer for a moment before finally speaking, “It’s the best and scariest feeling in the world.” He told Y/N, “Being that in love with somebody… It brings out a side of you that you never knew you had. Makes you crazy, intoxicated with your person to where you’d do anything to see that smile and know you’re the reason for it.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “But it’s also frightening because you know you can break them without meaning too.”

Y/N nodded slowly at his words, biting her bottom lip as she listened to him, “Sounds like you’ve been that deep in love before.” She said softly, curiously as she was trying to put the puzzle known as Bucky Barnes together. 

Bucky smiled down at her, “I have… She was the most amazing girl I’ve ever met. My best girl.” He moved his gaze to stare ahead as if he was stuck in his memories, “The way she moved… it was like gravity was pulling me towards her at all times. She was smart, way too smart to mess around with me,” He chuckles, “But nothing could stop her when she had her mind set on something and I was so lucky to be the one she set her mind towards. The way she would laugh was music to my ears, my favorite song on repeat and the way she looked at me made me feel like my whole body was on fire.”

Y/N smiled as he spoke. She could tell he was completely in love with whoever he was speaking about and it even sparked feelings of jealousy that she didn’t remember what that felt like, “So what happened?” 

Bucky took another sigh, knowing the question was coming. Y/N had always been naturally curious and he could read her like a book, “I fucked up, really bad.” He said looking down at her face, “I said some things I didn’t mean because I was scared and I broke her heart.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, seeing the pain across his face as he spoke, “Well, I don’t know much about love or relationships, if anything, but maybe you should tell her that you were scared. From the way you talk about her, a love like that seems too epic to let go because of something you didn’t mean.” She said with an encouraging smile.

Bucky stared at her a little dumbfounded at her reply. Of course that was her reply, part of him knew it would be. Y/N always gave him the best advice and it was like she was here walking him through their relationship but she didn’t know he was talking about her, “I’ll have to give that a try, thank you for the advice.” That was all he could say to her even though he wanted to tell her he was sorry for what he had said the night she left.

Y/N nodded with a smile, “You’re welcome, Buck. I’m rooting for you two so don’t mess it up.” She told him before pulling one of the blankets on the couch over her lap. She leans her head on his shoulder slightly, feeling the sleep slowly taking over her body. It wasn’t long until she was comfily sleeping on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky waited until he knew she was asleep to respond. He knew everything about her and knew when she was fast asleep, “I won’t, doll.” He whispered to himself with a small smile. Y/N hadn’t slept next to him for so long it almost felt like a dream. He gently lifted his arm as to not disturb her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leading her head down to lap to make her more comfy. He gently brushed his finger’s along Y/N’s face, something he thought he’d never be able to do again. God, she was beautiful when she was sleeping. It was something he missed most, watching her sleep after he woke up looking like an angel wrapped in his sheets. Y/N was still his gravity, pulling him towards her at every moment.