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neptunes-sol-angel · 2 years ago

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ஓ๑Morla, The Ancient One๑ஓ

This is chapter one from my 'The Neverending Story' series. This is a pick a pile reading meant to highlight the areas of your life where you are bypassing. Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to, then scroll down for its corresponding message.

If you'd like to purchase a personal reading, then click here to book 🌌.

Pile one Pile two

Pile three Pile four

☆ Pile one ☆

What are you pretending to not care about?

You're pretending not to care about the loneliness that you feel by thinking that indulging in isolation will be the remedy for the disconnect that you have with humanity. There could be pain that you're still holding onto from the past regarding people not treating you with any kindness or in general, you don't resonate with the personalities around you.

Perhaps, you still feel homesickness when you're in a room filled with friends or family. Whatever that contributes to this missing piece in why you don't feel like you belong where you are, is building resentment within yourself for not being a certain kind of way and the difficulties that you face. You're not to be blamed for your misfortunes in attaining healthy relationships, but you also can't keep blaming others for why you deny yourself from connecting with someone when you really want to. It may feel easier to be alone because you just want to hurry up and shine like a star on your own so that your loneliness won't hurt anymore. But the biggest part in ascension when it comes to healing is being real with yourself. You're not being real with yourself by saying you don't care about having relationships and you're not not being real with yourself by saying you're not cut out for friendships. You're cut out for friendships because you've been a real friend to others, it wasn't your fault for how irresponsible they were with what you've given them.

You truly shine and flourish when you're honest about who you are and what you want. This includes acknowledging the fact that a sense of belonging and friendship is what you desire. Weaponizing your solitude as a means to shut yourself out from the world instead of letting yourself be receptive until you encounter like-minded people is just putting a bandaid over a wound that's still there.

You crave real changes, not self-defeatist bandages. You must allow yourself to care about the void that you feel so that you can know how to fill it. Fulfillment starts with you. You cannot continue to make yourself invisible because of how people made you feel about your differences. You're a star that deserves to be seen, keep exuberating your light because your soul tribe is out there just waiting to follow it right in your direction.

☆ Pile two ☆

What are you pretending to not care about?

You're pretending to not take heed to what you're actually feeling to please someone else. What's sticking out the most to me now right now is that you guys need to stop saying yes to people when you really need to say no. It's time to re-evaluate this overachiever mindset that you have of not putting yourself first to be the first in line for tasks that are more than likely not even providing you with a proper exchange, because I'm picking up a strong amount of burnout.

For some of you, this can look like asserting boundaries with your job. Please stop taking on more hours or other people's shift to do more than what's necessary only to recieve not even enough money, the recognition that you deserve, or even the promotion and raise that matches the excessive work that you probably didn't even apply for. Do not let these work places intimidate you, continuing to be passive with your coworkers and managers taking advantage of you in hopes of seeing something come out of it, is taking away from your time and health. And not saying what you really mean, is only affirming to these people that they'll keep unleashing the load on you because they know that you won't complain.

For the other scenario, this can look like keeping a clean and pristine image of always being positive when really you're not feeling that way. There's a difference between changing your mindset and saving face. It won't kill you, if you're unable to be optimistic at the moment. However, it will kill you to let your most harsh emotions like sadness, disdain, anger, or even lethargy, ruminate inside. Give those parts of you room to be seen because it also allows room for them to grow.

Your emotions are only healthy by how you handle them, happiness can become unhealthy when by using it as an excuse to be reckless or to be insensitive towards others who are not, but most importantly, when you fake it. Jealousy and anger gets loud and destructive, whether it's to others or to yourself, when you silence it. Exhaustion becomes unhealthy, when you see rest as something that's earned than it being a need.

Take note of how much you're minimizing yourself to your detriment in order to be someone that's dependable or worthy in other people's eyes. Be dependable for yourself, you need you more than other people's approval and sentiments. This world can be a fickle place with people who take you for granted, it's up to you, to be the person that knows your worth and that you're more than deserving of rest, nurturing, and space for your voice and emotions to be heard.

☆ Pile three ☆

What are you pretending to not care about?

You're pretending to not care about life. Something is on it's way and deep down you're hoping for a specific outcome or just good results to happen but you're discouraged about thinking anything of it because you've been in this spot before, and I'm getting you're tired of constantly being excited about stuff only to be disappointed afterwards.

Trying to hide away from the potential of failure is deterring you from the formula of how to reach satisfaction. You have to keep yourself open to what these rejections are showing you in order to reach approval for what is right for you. Failure is never the permanent outcome. I understand that it feels better to not expect positivity with the risk of disappointment, but are you truly bringing yourself peace of mind by expecting that life is only filled with negativity and an ending that isn't in your favor?

Truly release the outcome, by understanding that what is meant for you will not going to miss you. The package of success is going to reach your doorstep eventually, but don't waste your time by keeping yourself stagnant in living because of the fear of things of not going right or what didn't go right. Keep searching for things to look forward to in life. It doesn't have to be huge or even long-term, start with the little things that make you enthusiastic about living.

Tomorrow can be day away, but it isn't promised. Do not wait for anything that takes away from making the most out of your day. Maybe you're waiting for you're waiting for a message, maybe you're waiting for an event, maybe you're waiting for the day where you can become "you" again, but appreciate every phase that you're in by being present with where you are right now.

Don't let your time be in vain and this doesn't equate to society's definition of "productivity". If you feel that you're procrastinating on getting something done, this is a sign to pause and think if your body is trying to tell you something. The most annoying but rewarding lesson behind releasing the outcome, is understanding where you're leaving yourself behind in order to get ahead to a destination.

Is this your end goal? Question yourself if this matter is everything? How do you expect to reach the next level in life if you're leaving pieces of yourself behind? And how do you expect to get out of a situation by forcing yourself to not see a direction. Hope isn't a curse, it's a blessing. It's not wrong to have it, and it's going to pay off in the end. Don't put your life on hold, "dust yourself off and try again".

☆ Pile four ☆

What are you pretending to not care about?

You guys are pretending to not care about your growth. Some of you in this pile could be in school. There's something here that you really want to do, but you're not happy with the progress that you're making. You feel rejected by not being where you want to be in this skill and it's frustrating to the point where you feel like reversing the roles is going to make you feel better. You're pretending that this doesn't matter or mean anything at all to you.

I feel that most of you have dealt or are still dealing with parents that either pressure to build you into something on their own timing or pressure you to break you down because of an ongoing link in your family where support is absent. I want to interject this by mentioning that you're more than what they expect you to do, whether it is to fail or to succeed. You matter, period, not because of what their standards and projections are. You're capable of exceeding so much more than what people limit you to be, and it's going to happen on your own timing, that's the beauty of it, don't worry about speed.

I know that it's easier said than done because of how much that abuse has effected you socially. You could have performance anxiety, where it's hard to do new things in front of people or it's hard to have the confidence to make the first step in something because "trying" is mortifyingly embarrassing for you in front of people. I'm picking up that some of you guys are really passionate about literature, but there are some demotivating factors around you that could relate to how unique you are. I'm getting multiple scenarios.

Internalized racism could be one of the reasons for some of you, like for instance, your own people could feel like you don't have what it takes or this could also be yourself, not feeling good enough about your craft because you do it differently than what's culturally acceptable. That was a very specific scenario that I got for someone, so disregard if that wasn't for you. The main message here is to not discourage yourself from working towards something that actually means a lot to you.

Don't quit because you fail and don't succeed for other people. You have so much talent that's too precious to waste, do it for yourself because it makes you happy. You break the cycle in your family by choosing to go for the opportunity instead of retraining for it to stay in a place with people who are miserable because they chose not to do it for themselves.

Creativity thrives in a person that chooses to create anyways, regardless of how to public views it. Apply this to your life as well. Continue to live your life instead of shying away because of how other people see you. How do you see yourself? It matters how you answer this question. Believing in your greatness is what will take you far and away from the places that try to suffocate you. Keep growing (and trying) until you've outgrown the naysayers.

Thank you all so much for reading ♡ I hope that you're enjoying this series so far. There are three more chapters to go. Feel free to check out my other pick a card readings and if you'd like to purchase a personal one, then you can book here on my website 🌌.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #oracle #spirituality #pac #tarot #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot readings #tarot reader #tarot reading #tarot community #tarotblr #psychic reading #psychic readings

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crimsonbubble · 4 years ago

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[4:12 PM]

(warnings: fem teacher!reader, school teacher!Jongho, dilf!Jongho, mentions of blood, clothed sex, overstimulation, edging, clit play, fingering, cum eating, brief spanking, mirror sex, praise, pull out method, exhibitionism, brief pet play, mentions of Mingi and Yunho)

*more and taglist after the cut*

note: @woowommy enabled me

---

"You've got to be kidding me." Jongho looked at his colleague in distaste. "Come on, you're always working, you need some time to just relax and have some fun.." Jongho quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the way Mingi held back from saying something. "You're hiding something. Spill it." Before Mingi could open his mouth again, someone opened the classroom door.

"Ah Ms. L/n, good morning." You walked into the classroom, a warm smile on your face. Jongho felt his heart rate pick up, his face turning a soft shade of pink. "Morning Mr. Song. Principal Jang wants to speak with you, she's waiting in her office." Mingi said his farewells, waving as he left the classroom. "Good morning to you, Mr. Choi." Jongho felt his throat go dry as he looked at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with what to say.

You shook him by the shoulder, trying to stifle a laugh as he stuttered off his mind. "Take a breath, slow down." Jongho filled your words, calming himself down before he embarrassed himself further. "You're awfully dressed up for a sports day." You pointed to his suit, moving your water bottle to your other hand. He let out a grumbled mess of words, running a hand through his hair. "I forgot sports day was today until Mr. Song reminded me."

You let out a laugh, making Jongho look back at you. "Well, I've seen what you can do in suits. I'm sure you'll be fine." Jongho felt his cheeks heat up, your suggestive tone and your hazy eyes made his brain go on autopilot. "Besides, you look hot." You winked at him before turning around to leave the classroom, leaving Jongho a flustered mess.

---

"Remember students, if you or another student happen to get hurt, alert one of the teachers nearby immediately. That's it from me, so have fun today!" The end of Principal Jang's message ended with a beep, letting the third, fourth and fifth grade teachers lead their students outside to their assigned stations.

---

Two students come up to you, one of them holding their arm. "Ms. L/n, they need a bandaid." You bend down, asking if you could see the scrape. The student holds out their arm, letting you inspect the wound. "Ok bud, let's get you a bandaid. You can go back and play, alright? We'll be back in a few minutes." You smile softly, leading the student to the front office. "Hey Mrs. Cho, can I have a sanitizing wipe and a bandaid?"

The front desk secretary looks from you to the student who lets her see the small scrape. She smiles and nods, walking off to the back room to retrieve the items you've requested. "Come on, let's sit down for a second." You softly nudged the student forward, letting him take a seat while you stood against the wall. A few seconds later, Mrs. Cho came back, handing you the items. "You can be brave for me, right?" The student eagerly nodded, wanting to show you that they can do as you asked.

You carefully cleaned up the small cut, quickly peeling the bandaid. "Wait, can I do it?" You smiled gently, giving the student the sticky bandaid. You watched carefully as the student applied the bandaid, who smiled triumphantly when they got it on. You gave them a high five, standing up to walk with them back outside to the field. "You did great buddy, now let's get you back outside." Before you opened the door, you turned to the student, pointing to the bandaid. "Remember to be more careful, or you'll get hurt again." They nodded quickly, running off to their friends as soon as you opened the door for them. "Thank you, Ms. L/n!"

---

You talked and laughed with other teachers, taking a pause every few minutes to check on the students. "Ms. L/n, watch out!" A chorus of students called out from behind you. A sudden chill goes through your body as you turn around. You put a hand on your back, peeling away the popped water balloon. You looked to the students, who only laughed and pointed at Jongho. He held up his hands in defence, trying to talk himself out of this situation.

He couldn't stop the smile from making its way onto his face, as he watched you set down your stuff. Mr. Jeong, a fellow colleague, handed you a water balloon, smiling at Jongho who looked almost scared. "You better start running!" You yelled as you threw the water balloon, making it pop against his chest. Jongho let out a loud laugh, running away from you as you picked up more balloons.

You chased after him, soaking him as well as yourself, laughing as Jongho surrenders when he ran out of water balloons. You stepped forward, making Jongho step back against the wall. You step back, the students cheering as you popped a final balloon over his head. Jongho looked at you in fake offence, brushing his hair out of his face. He looked at you, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath from all the running. But before you knew it, a sudden rush of cold water crashed over you. You and Jongho both yelped, looking at each other in shock.

The students and staff members laughed as they watched the scene unfold. You turned around, spotting Mr. Jeong holding a bucket. You almost lunged at him but stopped once the staff dismissed the scene. "Alright students, as fun as this is, you can get back to your play stations. Mr. Choi and Ms. L/n can head inside to dry off." Principal Jang laughed as she ushered teachers to lead their students back to their stations. You couldn't even deny it, he looked so hot right now. His black hair wet and sticking to his face, his clothes soaking wet and sticking to his well defined and sculpted body.

Jongho turned to you, eyeing up and down your body, trying not to let his eyes linger on your chest for too long. Though Jongho couldn't deny that he thinks you looked hot. The way your shirt clung to your figure, more specifically your chest, made it hard to focus on anything you were saying. You could both tell that you're staring at each other, but your desire is starting to peek through. "Let's head in shall we, m'lady?" You rolled your eyes at his antics, walking away with a slight sway to your hips.

Jongho trailed behind you, taking quick glances at your ass. He made eye contact with Mingi in the hallway, who only sent him a wink. Jongho's tongue poked at his cheek, trying to hide his smug smile. Jongho scanned around him, making sure the classrooms and hallways were empty. Once the coast was clear, he sped up to you, throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a small yelp, staring down at the ground, shocked as Jongho rushed to the nearest staff washroom. Locking the door behind him, Jongho set you down, turning you around to face the small mirror above the sink.

"You can stay quiet for me right, baby?" You nodded eagerly, your grip tightening on the brim of the sink. "Please Jongho, just fuck me." Jongho unbuttoned your shorts, tugging down to your thighs along with your panties. Jongho leaned into your neck, placing sloppy kisses on it as he tugged down his own pants and boxers. He let out a shaky breath, sliding his cock through your folds. You spread your legs as far as you could, giving the fact that your shorts are around your thighs.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll make you feel good." His voice went down an octave making your pussy throb. You leaned forward, pushing your ass out to him. "Even going as far as presenting yourself to me, so needy." Jongho slapped your ass, making you let out a soft whine. Jongho trailed his middle two fingers through your folds, carefully pushing into your hole. You pushed back against him, moaning as he thoroughly scissored you open. "So pretty, baby, always so fucking pretty." Jongho groaned as you clenched around his fingers at the praise. You've never felt this full before, your fingers not being as long or thick as Jongho's, making you push back against him as you release over his fingers.

"Aww, look how fucked out you are, and I haven't even fucked you yet." You look up, catching your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks heat up as Jongho laughs from behind you, his fingers not stopping even as you come down from your first high, already working for a second. You bit your lip, trying to stop the flurry of moans that threatened to leave you as Jongho steadily pumped his fingers into you. "You can be good and cum again, right?" You desperately nodded, wanting nothing more than to hear him praise you for taking all that he gave you. "Always so good, so well behaved." He mused as his other hand languidly stroked his throbbing cock.

Jongho quickly brought you to your second high, rubbing against your sweet spot as your hips jolt. Jongho leaned over you, kissing up your neck. "F-fuck, Jongho please fuck me, need you so bad." You whined, looking at him through the mirror with glossy eyes. He smirked, pulling his fingers out of you to slide his cock against your folds again. He pushed forward, his tip brushing against your clit, making you clench around nothing. "Think you can take it, darling?"

Jongho watched in amusement at how you begged, loving how easy it was to make you fall apart. Feeling strung too high, Jongho pushed into you. Your back arched as Jongho slowly pushed in, inch by inch. He stretched you out deliciously, reaching deeper than you thought anyone could. You shook under him, making him laugh as he held your hips. "You really can take it," Jongho watched how his cock disappeared inside you, "Taking my cock like the pretty little baby you are." You moaned loudly, making Jongho cover your mouth. "Seems like you want us to get caught." You whined against his hand, your back arching as he pulled out only to slam back in.

Jongho fucked into you vigorously, slowly losing his self control with how warm and tight you feel around his cock. Your knees buckled and you would've fallen if it wasn't for Jongho holding you up and the sink you were leaning on. Peering through the mirror, your eyes rolled back at the sight. Jongho's dark eyes hooded, his head thrown back with his hair sticking to his forehead, his rolled up sleeves showing off his toned arms and pulsing veins; he looked delicious. But you can't seem to think as Jongho fucks the common sense out of you. Your cunt clenches around him as you cum. You can feel yourself drool against his hand, listening intently to the deep moans Jongho lets out.

---

It's been at least five minutes and Jongho has managed to pull four orgasms out of you. How he's still holding on is a mystery, but you don't mind because he feels so good rubbing against your sweet spot. "O-oh fuck, gonna cum." You tried to meet his thrusts halfway, your ears ringing as Jongho pulls you back. Jongho pulls you away from the sink just far enough to have you completely bent over for him.

"Aah fuck-" Jongho pushed the back of your shirt up, before pulling out and releasing on your wet back. Your cunt throbbed as you felt his cum spurt onto your back. "You did so well for me, took me so well." Jongho patted your ass, humming softly but his next action almost made you cum untouched. Jongho held your hips as he leaned down, dragging his tongue over his own mess. You let out a whine, feeling his warm tongue slide across your skin. Jongho laughed against your skin, leaving a kiss on your spine before letting your shirt fall back into place.

"This is far from over," You looked back at him shocked, nearly choking on your spit. Jongho looked at you with a smirk, his eyes trailing down to your exposed cunt. "You'll just have to wait until after hours to get a good taste of what I can do to you, my pretty pup."

---

@a-soft-hornytiny @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @hanatiny @hyetiny @latte-fairytaekwoon @multidreams-and-desires @mingisstar1117 @serialee @seongsangsgf @strawberry-joong @vocalyunho @yunhofingers @yunhospuppy @minhyukmyluv @yunsangoveryonder

#ateez smut #ateez smut drabbles #ateez smut imagines #ateez x reader #ateez jongho smut #ateez jongho smut drabbles #ateez jongho smut imagines #jongho smut #jongho smut drabbles #jongho smut imagines

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comfortbucky · 4 years ago

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requests? did someone say requests??😌

fluffy headcanon, mafia boss!bucky comes home after being away for a week or so and it’s just a cute ass reunion between the reader & him with lots of kisses & hugs n shit

or(take your pick) :)

one shot, where john walker is really rude to reader(insults her & shit), but she stands up for herself. they(her & john) get into a fight & bucky finds out by surprisingly swinging by her apartment. of course bucky is pissed, but he tends to her wounds. then for some stupid reason, john shows up at readers apartment & bucky loses it. but it ends in bucky admitting his feelings to reader n some fluff 😩

hope you find motivation for at least one of these:😚

hi yes hehe i did say requests🙈

i’m a sucker for tfatws!bucky so- (and john walker is a rat bastard🤣 so lemme go off)

𝗶 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!avenger!reader

warnings: john walker (grr), violence! and descriptions of bloody injuries

A/N: also! i sort of changed the prompt i hope u don’t mind too much🥺 // this oneshot will not be taking place during the canon timeline btw but inspired by the events/themes of tfatws

word count: 1.5 k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

Y/N sighed, as she plopped onto the couch after a long day. She, Bucky, and Sam had spent the whole day researching the Flagsmashers to try and track them down. It took all day, partially because Bucky needed a little extra help with learning how to use his laptop. She chuckled at the memory, grabbing the remote to turn her TV on. Suddenly, a loud, aggressive, knock interrupted her thoughts. She sighed and leaned her head on the back of her couch, taking a moment to debate leaving her very comfortable spot, before getting up to answer the door. Y/N knew that she probably should have peeked through her peephole before answering, but she wanted to return to the comfort of her couch as soon as possible. She opened it to see none other than John Walker, greeting her with a smirk. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, John? How the hell did you even get my address?”

“All government property has GPS tracking in it," he said, pointing to her laptop on the kitchen table behind her. She turned and frowned as he continued. "Look, you need us, me and Battlestar, to take down Karli.” She looked back at John, laughing at Lemar’s alias.

“No way I’m letting someone who goes by Battlestar help me out.” He glared at her comment. “Or you, a Captain America wannabe.”

John took an aggressive step closer, way too close for Y/N’s comfort, as he replied. “I am Captain America, whether you like it or not.”

"You'll never be Captain America," she snapped back. "You don't have what it takes." He glared at her and put his face right in front of hers.

"How would you know? You're a pathetic excuse for a soldier," he spat and Y/N grimaced at John's spit landing on her cheeks. He looked at her, his eyes examining her body. She hated every second of it, his stare making her feel grimy all over, like she immediately needed a shower. “Who’d you fuck to get into the Avengers anyways? Bet it was Steve.”

John’s comment was immediately followed by Y/N’s fist connecting with his cheek, forcing him to stagger back into the hall. She’d heard concerns about her abilities as an Avenger before, calling her weak, fragile, a bitch, etc. But she knew they almost always came from misogynistic men, and was able to shrug their comments off because she knew that she could easily beat all of them to a pulp, no problem. But thinking that she would sleep her way into becoming an Avenger crossed a line. Especially someone she respected and had admired as much as Steve.

John held his hand to his cheek, where he’d been hit, and looked up to make eye contact with Y/N. He smiled and before stating in a condescending tone, “That was cute.” John kicked her in the stomach, launching her onto the floor of her apartment. As she groaned and started to get up, John chuckled and kicked her down before she got to her knees. He went to kick her again when she rolled away, dodging his kick and standing up quickly, panting as she responded.

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

She kicked her leg up to deliver a roundhouse kick to John’s face, spinning around to punch his nose. He stumbled a couple steps back, regaining his balance before swinging a punch towards Y/N. She caught his fist before it hit her and John took the opportunity to use his free hand to grab his shoulder and knee her in the stomach. She gasped, getting the wind knocked out of her. He then threw her into a shelf, shattering several photo frames on the ground. She landed on her stomach, attempting to get up by pushing her self up on her forearms. Y/N felt a warm liquid on her cheek and touched it, pulling it away from her face to see her fingertips covered in blood.

“Asshole,” she mumbled, before standing up to continue fighting.

Several moments ago, Bucky had made the decision to show up at Y/N’s apartment. He pressed some random keys on his computer, and now there was an error message that wouldn’t go away on his screen. Stubbornly, he tried to fix it on his own but ended up making it worse. He sighed in defeat, closing his laptop shut and tucking it under his arm before heading over towards her apartment. Bucky was just down the hall when he heard the sound of glass shattering, his leisurely stroll turning into a sprint to Y/N’s door.

Bucky arrived to see you pinned up against a wall with John’s hand around ur throat. Your hands were desperately clawing at John’s, attempting to free yourself from his grasp. Fear and terror consumed him before a wave of fury took over. Immediately, Bucky launched into action, dropping his laptop in the process. He ripped John away from you, tossing him on the ground. Bucky moved to hover over John, punching him repeatedly in the face. Y/N finally caught her breath and crawled over to Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder, signaling him to stop. He kept his eyes on John’s bloody and bruised face, lowering his fist.

“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” he snarled, releasing John from his grasp.

John rolled over, took a moment to catch his breath. Bucky was standing, fists still clenched by his sides, as he watched John get up and exit Y/N’s apartment without another word.

He closed the door behind him and immediately spun around to see Y/N struggling to get up, attempting to push up from one of her knees. Bucky instantly rushed to her side, helping her to her feet. He grabbed one of her hands in his own and placed his other hand on the small of her back, as he guided her to the couch. He examined her and felt a pain in his chest, looking at her black eye, cut cheek, and her bruised neck outlined with John’s handprint. Without saying a word, he stood up and returned with a first-aid kit from her bathroom. He sat back down and immediately started to tend to her wounds. As Bucky started to disinfect the cut on her cheek, he spoke.

“That was stupid of you,” he mumbled, gently dabbing antiseptic ointment on her cut. It was a drastic contrast from his behavior only minutes ago, nearly ready to murder John. He took a bandaid from the kit and delicately placed it on her cheek. Bucky then moved his hand to assess her black eye, his thumb softly grazing a soft patch of skin under her eye. She frowned and lightly pushed his hand away.

“I would’ve been fine on my own, you know.”

“Sit still so I can take a look at your bruise.” He responded gruffly, lifting his hand and attempting to look at her bruised eye again. She shoved his hand away, this time more aggressively, and tried to stand up.

“Just leave me alone,” Y/N said, wincing and clutching her abdomen in pain, causing Bucky to grab her waist and slowly lower her back down onto the couch. Fucking John Walker.

“Y/N.”

She pulled his hands off her and reluctantly sat down to face him.

“You don’t need to defend me, Bucky,” she spoke, Bucky sensing anger in her voice. “I’m not some weak, helpless civilian. I’m a god damn Avenger for christ sake!” As Y/N shouted, her voice wavered and her eyes started to well up with tears.

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and Bucky sat with his hands resting on his lap. Although she was speaking to Bucky, she felt like she was more-so trying to convince herself of what she was saying.

“I know,” he said calmly, but with a stern tone, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“Okay, so leave me alone.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not!”

“Because I fuckin’ care about you!” Bucky shouted, causing Y/N’s face to immediately soften.

Her arms dropped to rest in her lap and she froze as Bucky softly raised his hand to cup her cheek, captivated by his touch. He cautiously moved, worried she would push his hand away again, but she didn’t. His thumb gently caressed her non-cut cheek and he pulled her face close to his. She felt his breaths fan her face as he spoke.

“I know you’re one of the strongest Avengers,” he started. “And I know you could kick John’s ass any day of the week. But I care so much about you and I need you to be okay.” Bucky’s lips hovered over Y/N’s, lightly brushing against hers.

“I need you, Y/N.”

She responded by crashing her lips onto his, moving her hands to hold his face closer to hers. The kiss was full of passion, love, and unspoken feelings. When they broke apart, gasping for air, Y/N smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair.

“I care about you too, Buck.”

Bucky had never seen such a bright light in his 106 years of living.

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deaconusdelirium · 3 years ago

Note

Um so I don't actually know how to submit a request so, I've never done it before, but I hope this is right.

So I read this enemies to lovers with Tech where the reader is the Batch's new mechanic/medic/pilot (y'know something like that) and Tech is constantly trying to outsmart the reader and is kinda rude to her. So I am requesting either that or Tech and reader are already together and Tech makes a comment that hurts the readers feelings but Tech doesn't understand why she's upset cause he was merely stating "factual evidence". Also can the reader be female or like no gender. I hope I did this right.

Time will tell

(Tech X F!Reader)

Oh yeah! Either way is good, but I prefer taking requests in DM’s. I’m originally from a different writing platform and I took requests directly in messages, but send in an ask like this is good too. I don’t mind either way. That goes for everyone else who doesn’t know how to send in a request!^^

I love the first one, and I have a little something for that

———

“And that’s… Tech” Hunter sounded disappointed as he seen his brother not only did not look up, but didn’t say anything as he introduced you to your new team, Tech just gave a small wave without looking up and walking off. “He’s a busy guy, I presume” you spoke, watching ‘Tech’ walk off and into their ship. “You’ll get use to him, he’s not all that bad. The worse he could do is fill your head with useless info for hours on end” Hunter explained while putting a hand between your shoulders, guiding you into the Marauder. Ok, so it might have been a bit small but at least you were off Kamino where everything was too sterile and creepy looking. You were all alone in your room after all, no one ever really came in but a few clones, Nala Se and Omega usually handled them all though.

You gave another look around, making sure you tried to memorize everything. “We have a mission in a few hours, so I suggest you grab what you need from your place” “oh, no. I’ve got all I need, I’m going to head back and tell Nala Se we’re leaving soon” you walked out, Hunter nodded in agreement. “Well, we’ll tell you when we’re ready” you nodded, walking away from the ship and back into Kamino to Nala Se

—

Tech had only ever heard your voice, and by the sound of it. He was already annoyed, since when was there ever another person who does exactly as he does? It was only him, but.. the thought of sharing ideas and thought with someone else ‘smart’ would be nice. But no, he wouldn’t take it. He had to see for himself, he was sure you were going to fail, and he surely wasn’t going to be pushed aside, especially for all he’s ever done for his brothers. You weren’t the one who upgrades their armor for them, you’re not the one who has a datapad much like he has, and you couldn’t possible know anything about mechanics. He’s never met anyone who knew as much as he did, and if he hasn’t within his life, then there’s probably no such thing as it.

—

He thoughts were cut short, when you sat in the co-pilot seat next to him. Only Echo sat there, maybe Hunter on some occasions, he still didn’t look, and he grew annoyed as you tried to tell him what to do. “Do you even know what planet we are on?” Tech asked, finally looking at you, “what does that have to do with this? You haven’t told me where we are and I’m stuck with you. So if you could just focus on the task at hand then maybe we could actually try and get along” you spoke, his eyes widen at your words, he didn’t want you to know anything. It may sound selfish, but he thought of it as a training, I guess you could say. How would you go about in a situation where you don’t know where you’re at, and what you’re doing? What is your next steps for an unexpected change of plans?

His gaze was still hard on you, how could you know something about flying? “Tech, if you don’t help them, Omega and Hera could be shot down” you sounded desperate, but he was the one in charge. He was the one flying, you weighed your options, you didn’t know what to do. He only sat there, observing you like it was his job. “Forgive me” you apologized to him as you pushed him out the seat and took over the wheel. “Hey” Tech called from the floor, standing up, but soon holding onto your seat as he seen what you were going to do. “Hang on Wrecker!” You warned the man in the back, you pushed the petal as Tech almost flew back and Wrecker yell from the back. You turned the ship around for Wrecker so he could take out the cannons.

Tech held on as your flying was not something he was expecting, once you had all of the turrets down and Wrecker finished off the clones on the ground, you stood up, grabbing your helmet and gun. Tech grabbed your arm before you ran out, “hey-” you spoke, “careful with my ship next time” he glared at you, but Wrecker broke the both of you up by running through his grasp on your arm. “Your ship Tech? Or all of ours? She did great!” Wrecker said, hitting you on your shoulder as he laughed and ran off. “Still, we got what needed to be done, I suggest we drop this.. this argument and actually help. And for your information, we’re al Ryloth” you ran after Wrecker, and Tech stood there. You were stubborn alright, but that doesn’t mean you were better than him. No, he won’t allow it

—

After Hera was reunited with her parents and uncle, you all took off. For their brother Crosshair was after them, maybe even you now since you were with the Batch. Taking a deep breath in, and letting it out, you continued to clean your helmet, a few new scratches, but nothing bad. “Y/n?” Omega asked you, coming up and holding your shoulder as she stood on one leg. “What’s wrong Omega?” You asked, looking at her leg, “I got a cut, and my legs hurting. Could you look at it for me?” She asked, sitting on the chair in front of you as she turned to meet your body. “Yeah, let me just grab my stuff, stay right there” you told her as you stood up, walking to grab your bag and come back. You pulled her pants up to her knee, seeing a small scrape on it, “hmm, you only scraped it, nothing too bad if we clean it. Glad you came right on time” you tried to lift her mood up. Looking like you did since she laughed and held Lula.

“This might sting a little, but it won’t hurt” you showed her the bottle, calming her down as she was worried what you had in hand. She gave a small nod, handing it back to you, you smiled and slowly poured the liquid over the cut. She winced, hugging Lula tighter as you grabbed a bacta pad and placed it over her knee. “Alright, that should be good. Come back later for another cleaning, I’ll remind you so don’t worry, and if the ache still continues after a few minutes. Tell me so I can give you some medicine, it might be from all the time you haven’t treated it, but be careful next time” you pulled her pants down, patting her lower leg as she set it down. “So you aren’t going to treat the ache she has?” Tech asked, datapad obviously in hand as he watched you, “Tech! She cleaned it up just now, I should be fine. I think it was just dirty” Omega spoke, Tech looked at her, the back at you, he walked over to another seat, making Omega face him as he turned the chair. “What are you doing?” Omega asked as Tech pulled her pants up again.

Taking the tape off and looking at her scrape, he almost nodded in approval, but stopped himself. “Oh come on, I’m not going just throw a bacta pad on there and say I’m done” you told him, “still, you could have left out an important part” he spoke, Omega watched, “and just because you’re a medic, doesn’t mean you know it all” he harshly said, you wanted to just leave, everyone’s been nice except for Tech, “yeah? Well just because your name is ‘Tech’ doesn’t mean you’re actually a technician. You can multitask yet I haven’t spoken one word about your work” you spoke up, gathering your things and leaving. Omega watched as it all unfolded before her, “that was a bit rude Tech, maybe try and be nice, she’s new. You’re probably making her feel bad” Omega defended you

Tech took his helmet off, watching you walk off and disappear down the hall. “Maybe we only needed one, medic aboard. That was only a small scratch Omega, anyone could treat that” he stood up, “maybe you think we only need one medic, but I think differently. You should respect her more, I came to her because you were busy making repairs, and I’m glad to have let you work while she wasn’t busy. She even helped us back on Ryloth” it wasn’t new that Omega put yet another one of her brothers in place. She was right, you did save them, and treat her. He bet, if she would have went to Wrecker, he would have only plugged it up with trash and dirt then throw a bandaid on it.

Omega walked out the cockpit, Lula in her hands as Tech was left alone. So what you knew how to fly and treat a small wound, anyone could do that… anyone who knew what they were doing. And he was intrigued at how much you knew and what you’ve done.

—

Everyone sat in their seat, you sat behind Echo as he sat in the co-pilot chair. Your hands gripping the pen as you worked an equation out on a piece of paper. Tech heard you whisper quite loudly the numbers, so he worked it out in his head as he watched the stars go by while in hyperspace. “205” he said, you looked up, sighing in annoyance and putting on a fake smile, “thanks Tech, I’m sure me working it out and trying a different way of solving this problem was to easy for you. What a pity, me working with pen and paper as you have a datapad? What was I thinking?” You scoffed out, Echo laughed a bit at your bite back. Tech turned to you, “what do you mean ‘a different way’?” He asked, you threw the paper at him as he caught it then glaring at you for doing so.

His eyes scanned over the numbers, this wasn’t right. None of this was, “give me the pen” he spoke, you looked at him, “what for?” “Just give me the pen” he demanded as you shook your head no. Echo was curious to see what you both were arguing about, his head peaked over the paper and was met with messy writings and scrambled numbers. “How can you read that thing?” You heard Echos disbelief in his voice, “here, I’ll explain it” you reassured him as you clicked the pen. Tech watched as you began to explain what this new trick was. He was fascinated, he found himself looking up your arm until he watched your face as you spoke about something that actually interested you… interested him.

He continued to hold the board with the paper on it for you while you worked it out, circling the answer. He wasn’t sure why, but when you turned to Echo to talk about it, he was quite jealous. Echo wouldn’t understand, but Tech did, why didn’t you argue with him about it. He hesitantly tapped two fingers on your shoulder, you turned and faced him, “perhaps, we could further discuss what you put into motion here? I could teach you some new things as well” he offered, Echo had seen his frail to finally try and get closer to you. He stood up, “excuse me” he walked off, giving you and Tech the time together. “Not sure, I feel like you’re only going to insult me further while thinking you’re smarter, you also offered me something. Don’t know if I should take it that you want something or you hit your head” you crossed your arms, looking at him. “I assure you, I have something’s I would like to share” he lightly laughed.

You thought about it, “fine, but if anything” you threatened him, “there no need to get hostile with me now Y/n, I want to see just how much you know” he leaned back into his seat, arms and legs crossed as he eyed you down. But if anything did happen, the Batch was on board. You sat in the seat Echo sat in before, questioning your choice on agreeing.

—

It seems Tech had underestimated you to soon, you we’re definitely smarter than he had thought. Was there actually someone just like him? Someone who he could rely on and wouldn’t have to explain too, mainly going into details. But you, oh you… you just gave him this feeling. He didn’t want you to leave the seat when you both sat, it was interesting seeing how you knew some things he didn’t. You both shared theories and facts about unusual things people would have probably brushed off and thought was annoying or just plain boring. He found himself moving ever so closer to you when you both started getting into.. deeper matters. What you did on Kamino versus what he does for the galaxy with his brothers. You told him how you wanted to get off the planet and explore while he suggested he explores all the time.

That was until you both found each other, knees touching while you both leaned forward. It was wrong, you abruptly stood up, “I’m sorry Tech, I shouldn’t have” you fixed your armor and set out. Just what happened there?

He didn’t have feelings for you, if he did. It’d most likely be jealousy and anger, for he didn’t want to be replaced for someone they had just met. He was their brother, you can’t just remove them from their life. Now you were off somewhere in the ship, probably have already forgotten about him. But his thoughts were stuck on you, was he too mean to you? Now that whenever he got close, you either brushed him off or you walked away. But what if he wasn’t, would you two have been closer? Together perhaps? It was like talking to himself, actually finding interest in the conversation. Feelings were never in his area of expertise, so he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what he was feeling at the moment. He was sure to keep an eye on it and write down anything he feels on his datapad, maybe even do some research.

—

“Y/n!” “Coming!” You replied to Echo as he yelled for your assistance. Walking down the hall to to Echo kneeling before the console trying to fix whatever he was trying to. “Yeah?” You asked, “I need..” he trailed off, trying to get the control panel fixed. “Oh! I’ve done this plenty of times back on Kamino for the clones’ ship when they got back” you spoke while kneeling next to him, undoing the wires as he looked at you, “what are you doing?” “Relax, you can’t just keep the control panel like this, you have to make sure it clean, this this part” you pointed to the corner of the panel as there was dirt inside, “that’s blocking this part, from entering. So brush this aside, and put it back. Now you’re going to want to make sure all the wires and whatnot are still good. Some could burn out and that could ruin the whole thing, and then you’d have to replace it all. But other times, it just needs a little cleaning” you walked him through it, telling him what goes where and how to clean the board without ruining it, while still making it easy for him to understand without using the big confusing words

He nodded, understanding, “Tech would never say anything like this. He does all the repairs like this, the only time he needs help is when he needs tools or for us to hold something” “Ah, I see. I’m sure he means well. I never had anyone to talk to about this and it feels good to finally share some knowledge” you told him to screw the panel back on. He stood up, offering you his hand and helping you up. “Thanks” “no problem, you learn something new everyday” Echo laughed at your joke, giving you a pat on the shoulder and walking off. You kneeled back down picking up the tools and gathering them into a bag. Another pair of hands helped you, as you looked up, you noticed he had no thigh armor. Tech.

“Thank you Tech, you didn’t have to-” you were pushed on your back as Tech was on top of you. You groaned at the pushed, opening your eyes to see Tech giving you a kiss. Your senses finally returning as you felt the harsh action, making your lips hurt. He softened the kiss, making you now blush as you laid there under him. He pulled back, “T-Tech?” You let out the breath you held in, “Y/n. I’m so sorry about before” your brow furrowed in confusion. “What for?” “All those words, bringing you down. It’s wrong now and it was wrong then, but how could I have not appreciated your actions before?” He questioned himself as you now remembered all those things he said and what he did to try and put you down.

“I can’t let someone, so good and loving leave. I’ve seen the way you treat Omega and my brothers when I’m not there too, you’re smart and beautiful. Yet you’re ready for battle when you’re thrown into it. I’ve been thinking, about my feelings, and… and us” your eyes widen at the last part. About, you? Him? Together? You haven’t thought about it, maybe once but that was when you both were talking that night in the cockpit, he was rude and unforgiving when you were introduced and given a task, always saying he knew and could do better than you. And that your tactics were sloppier than his, and to be frank, he didn’t mean that. It was his feelings he was confused about, “Tech.. I actually don’t know what to do. While you say you’ve thought of us, I haven’t, maybe once but that was wrong. We could never work out” you confessed, his gloved hand on the side of your head as he stroked a few hairs out of your face.

He sighed, thinking. This time it was his heart speaking, not his brain, this has nothing to do with what he normally did. So he had to wing it. “Tell me. What do I need to do to show you, how much I appreciate and want you by my side? Tell me what’s making you feel uncomfortable about us and how I can help. I’m willing to give this a chance if you are” he sounded desperate, the first time you’ve heard him like this. But you had to think on it, he was just as smart, maybe even smarter, he was blunt which made you not have to worry about his opinions on others and how you feel. And he was strong, both mentally and physically. You’ve never met someone as close knowing and interesting like you.

“I.. I’m willing to give this a chance as well” your hand came up to his hair, then pulling him down for another loving kiss. All those problems and feelings he couldn’t explain and work out, have now blown away. If seemed like being close to you felt like ecstasy, your aura felt so welcoming and warm. His lips ghosted over yours before coming down for another. This new found feeling was something he could get use to, yours lips felt so soft against his, your fingertips slightly trailed along his jawline and cupped his cheek. “We, better get up before someone sees us” you suggested, he nodded. A quick kiss on the side of your mouth was given before he got up. Pulling you along. He wanted to see where this relationship would take him.

He was excited to have you by his side now, he knew you two could take on anything. The thought of having someone just like him by his side put a warm feeling in his stomach, someone he could protect along with his brothers. Maybe the jealousy before was telling him something, maybe you both were destined to be together since you both could agree that you’ve never met anyone like the other. And he was glad to have someone to return to every time he came back from a mission, or having you on a mission with him in general. He already had hundreds of reasons why he fell in love with you, and if that’s just the beginning, he wondered what being with you forever would he like. Only time will tell

———

I hope you enjoyed, again! If you ever want to send it a request, I take it in DM’s for those who want to stay anonymous, but others can also go to my ask box. Either way is fine, I don’t mind!^^

#tech the bad batch #star wars #star wars tcw #the bad batch #tbb #tech bad batch #Star wars the bad batch #tech x reader #oneshot #requested

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

Note

I hope you are having a great day.

I wanted to tell you that I love the way you write and how you show the personality of your characters in so few words.

Also if you have time, for the Bad Things Happend Bingo, could I ask for a Soup for the Sick? (Maybe a villain whumpee)

Thank you for the ask! And especially thank you for that lovely message attached to it, it means a lot!

Soup for the sick... here you go, I hope you enjoy! I did, I had lots of fun writing this one.

Personalized Caretaker

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: drug abuse mention, feverish whumpee, talk of medications, mean caretaker, delirium, fever, pills (tylenol)

... there may be more so tell me if there is so I can list them.

Civilian wished that she didn't live in the most heavily super-powered city in the world.

Yes world.

Villains and heroes all running around like teenagers, not caring for the lives of innocent civilians... or the heroes were meant to, Civilian started to think that the whole "we will protect you" was all phony propaganda aimed to get the city to fund their organization.

But the daily bombings and increasing death toll was not the issue with the city. It wasn't even the large mass of heroes and villains. It was only one.

One.

Of all the heroic figures and devilish snakes, there was only one that ticked Civilian off.

Villain.

And not because he was the King of Monologues. No, it was because the bastard made Civilian his own personal caretaker.

Was she asked to tend to his very needs? No.

Was she hired? Paid? No, but she should be getting a salary for the tedious work of stitching wounds and feeding his greedy stomach. The bandage bills were adding up and Civilian's meager wage was completely wiped out from having to buy a pack every day.

She was an inch away from going on a rage and robbing every bank in the city.

No, she wasn't. She just happened to live on 489 Deertree Avenue, where six months ago the murderous villain decided to collapse unconscious on her doorstep to bleed out like it was no problem.

Like it was a leisure, a recreational activity. Probably to him, waking up in a warm bed, doped up on painkillers with the sickening sweet smell of caramel candles burning around him, it was.

But not to Civilian. She had to manually help the injured individual drink water, get dressed, and even use the bathroom.

UGGGHHHH!

The man had millions of henchmen, billions of wannabe minions at his beck and call.

But he just so happened to have a crush on the red door of 489 Deertree Avenue.

But it was a bad case of unrequited love of the highest order, so no hope of a romantic candlelit date at the most expensive restaurant in the most famous city in the world.

Dairy Queen.

The pure hilarity of that fact. Even the Avenger Tower did not hold nearly as many powered or high-tech individuals as the city and the most fanciest restaurant was a chain fastfood restaurant at the corner of main street.

Civilian clenched the towel she was holding. As much as the stupidity of the city got on her nerves, it was very unpatriotic of her to go on and embarrass the area even more.

Civilian was scrubbing the mirror in the bathroom. The walls of the whole room were stained in the most disgusting brown and red from all the grime and blood radiating off a singular person's- not even the owner of the house- body.

Those would never go away unless Civilian paid for someone to come and mega-wash the bathroom. Not that she had any money to invest in such a delightful gift, her bank account was too busy supporting the prescribed pain medications. Like, Civilian was probably on the watchlist for utter bankruptcy and for being a possible candidate for drug addiction.

Who needs two whole containers of opioids and a canteen of valium every three months?

Not a normal civilian washing floors at Walmart, that's for sure.

But then again, Civilian was far from normal. She worked as a personalized savior during her freetime.

Civilian clenched her teeth and took a deep breath in. Her ward hasn't made his grand appearance in over a week. She actually had time to relax, make some popcorn and actually decompress. It was like vacation, peaceful, tranquil and full of serenity, free of any-

Knock, knock, knock.

Civilian's moment of bliss was unceremoniously ended by the all too familiar beat of a fist on wood.

"You have my permission to make out with the door Villain! You don't need to ask anymore!"

Civilian hoped Villain was coherent enough to internalize that as an invitation to bleed on her couch.

Just so she could have one more moment. One more moment of her coveted break.

Cough.

Civilian's head perked up. That was new. She never, ever heard Villain cough in a sickly manner- she never let him get bad enough to get sick, or he didn't permit himself to wait around until infection and fever set in.

She set down the towel, worry settling into her bones like it always did- not that she liked the heart dropping feelings and nauseating pit in her stomach each and everytime Mr. Needy had blood on him. Or everyday that he didn't show up for a bandaid, or a "kiss-it-better".

Yes, the pure humiliation when her delirious patient painfully begged her to kiss his knee better. Like, the puny scrape on his leg was by far the least severe wound on his bloodstained body, but of course, Civilian complied and gave him a little peck on his Olaf bandaid.

Civilian ripped open the door and the scene in front of her chased away those obnoxious memories.

Villain collapsed into her arms, head lolling pathetically against her shoulder. His forehead felt like it was doused with gasoline and then lit by a torch five times over. Civilian's shocked arms involuntarily wrapped around his equally scorching body. Yes, it was not a conscious act. Not in a million years would Civilian muster up the compassion to actually comfort the villain more than the deed of "saving his life" called for.

No, no Civilian hated Villain. Completely and totally loathed each and every cell on his body.

But she dragged him into the house and shut- more like slammed- the door anyways because she couldn't let him die, it would be like murder's sidekick.

Especially since Villain trusted her. Oh how he trusted her. Trusted her to bathe him, to feed him, to give him medicine, but most importantly not to kill him. With all the horrors he committed, a swift knife to the throat would be more than justified. In fact, Civilian would likely be commemorated for such bravery.

Public approval, fame... all a deliciously yummy cake.

Not worth it. Too many calories.

Civilian sunk to the ground and put Villain's upper body in her lap. He nestled into her, pressing his cheek deep into her side with a small, contented smile on his pale face.

"Don't drool on me," Civilian snapped, jostling Villain who woke up. Before he had the chance to get his bearings, Civilian spoke up again, "Are you hurt?"

The villain stared at her for a while before breaking into desperate tears, shaking his head.

What the heck?

"Stop crying or I will punch you," Civilian threatened, but she rubbed Villain's back soothingly.

"Dying," Villain sobbed.

"You are not dying, buddy, you have a cold."

"No, I'm dying," Villain asserted. Civilian rolled her eyes. Did he have to be so dramatic?

"I don't think a cold will kill you. Stop acting like the world is ending now, or I will throw you in the trash."

Villain whimpered and pulled himself closer, still crying.

He really was sick. So sick to the point of being delirously delusional.

"You don't need to be a Disney princess," Civilian said, still rubbing the villain's back. Villain's cries turned into sobs and then into wails.

Okay this was getting out of hand. Civilian stood up and dragged Villain's body over to the couch. She marveled in her strength for a while. When Villain first made his appearance in her otherwise boring life, she was as skinny as a twig. Now? This girl was a freaking hulk, baby.

Okay stop that, Civilian chastised herself, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She laid Villain on the beige colored couch and rested his wet head against a pillow that was metaphorically marked with his name.

Now that the villain was completely stretched out, Civilian- to her relief- found that he was not bleeding, therefore, she didn't have to waste her precious supply of gauze and bandages tonight.

But he still was very, very sick. His face was a gray mask of pale complexion, his hair snarled and matted in sweat. His lips were tinged blue as unfocused eyes gazed around the room, landing on the TV.

"You want to watch something?" Civilian asked, though the question was more than unnecessary. Villain always watched a movie as he dozed off, warm and comforted by the mound of blankets strewn over him.

But still, like a habit, he nodded weakly each and every time. Civilian smiled, the tiniest of grins, and connected the tablet to the television. When the screen popped up with the classic Amazon Prime Video layout, Civilian asked what movie.

"Boss Baby," Villain mumbled, lips hardly moving.

"You want to watch a movie with baby superheroes? Why don't we watch Toy Story or something?"

Or something a bit more adult-ish.

"Mhm," Villain groaned, eyes slipping shut. "Baby superheroes."

Now it was Civilian's turn to groan, loud and exaggerated. But, still he was her unwelcome guest so she had to please his obnoxiously childish wants.

Like how old was he? Five?

Civilian put in the movie and sat down next to Villain, putting his legs on her lap. She tapped lazily at his jeans as the opening credits showed. Leaning her head back, Civilian allowed her gaze to drift away from the stupid fat-faced animated figures and to Villain.

He was nearly asleep.

Civilian shifted her weight and rested against her arm to watch him. Even sick, she had to admit, the evil and annoying villain was shockingly handsome.

What was she thinking?!

Pushing Villain's feet away, Civilian stood up and aggressively shoved her palm to his forehead. It was buzzing with heat.

"You are paying for the bill," Civilian growled and went to go get some tylenol.

Upon returning to the sickly man's sweaty side, Civilian thrusted the pills into his mouth and washed them down with water. She didn't even give him a chance to wake up fully, the motion was instinctual. He swallowed on reflex.

Next, Civilian cussed herself for this, she cupped his cheek. Villain sunk into her palm, chewing silently, and continued to sleep.

When Villain first visited, Civilian couldn't get over how touch starved the poor guy was. It was to the point of absolute fear of touch. He would shiver before violently flinching away, glaring daggers.

He still didn't allow hugs or a highfive when he was in his right mind- not that Civilian saw him fully conscious ever apart from a couple times.

"Hungry?" Civilian mumbled, more to herself than anyone.

Still, Civilian placed Villain's head back onto the pillow and went into the kitchen to make some soup.

Chicken noodle soup with rice... her specialty. Chicken breast and rich seasoning, even one's dampened taste buds could taste the utter deliciousness of the watery broth.

Then the rice. Sometimes when Villain was on the mend, she would add some wild rice or lentils to the dish. Spooning some basic white rice into the bottom of the bowl, Civilian tapped her foot aimlessly.

The kettle on the stove whistled, Civilian pushed it off the heat and added the seasoning and celery. The savory scent wafted into her nose earning itself a tiny smile from Civilian.

Once the soup was done, she presented it to the still sleeping villain. His mouth hung open, desperate for air that his clogged nostrils couldn't deliver.

Dang. Poor guy was really ill.

Civilian sat next to Villain, so close that she could feel the rise of his chest. She shoved his face upwards. Villain blinked his eyes open and settled his gaze on Civilian's annoyed, but worried, face.

"Ghm," he moaned, rumbled in the back of his throat in a fatigued manner. "Cow hopping."

"Shut up," Civilian scolded and helped Villain to a seating position. He complied, but had no strength left to actually hold the stance.

So Civilian was forced to lay him against her chest and feed him by giving him a big old bear hug. Spoon after spoon went to his mouth until Civilian was just dumping it into his mouth without any natural swallowing reflex.

She took a wet rag and cleaned his face before laying him back onto the couch. Civilian smiled and tenderly touched his eyebrow.

Why did she have to care about him so much?

#bad things happen bingo #villain whumpee #civilian caretaker #villain x civilian #civilian #writing #sick villain #sick whumpee #delirious whumpee

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years ago

Text

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Word count: 2K

Warnings: bullet wounds, hospital, swearing.

Oh darling, please believe me

I’ll never do you no harm…

The music reverberated through the whole floor. You danced around, and Bucky was the only one that joined you, if not a little shyly. Tony sat on the couch flipping through some news and sighed as he asked you to change to a better music.

“Nothing is better than The Beatles, Stark”, you said in between laughs, and Bucky flipped you in the air. His strength almost matched Loki’s, and you weren’t afraid of him dropping you to the floor.

Believe me when I tell you,

I’ll never do you no harm.

“Uh, I beg to differ”, he raised an eyebrow, still with his eyes on his current research. “By the way, are you coming to the next mission?”.

“I’ll ask Loki. I told him he could join me”.

“Well?”, he inquired, pointing with his head at the door from your room. You didn’t know if you wanted to say it out loud. The common room had not only Tony, but also Bucky, Steve and Clint. You sighed. "He's sleeping".

"Liar. You wouldn't be here".

“Okay. He’s out now”.

“Where? It’s four in the morning”, he laughed, and then dropped his news to look at you with concern, realizing. “Oh”.

“No, it’s not… it’s not what you think. He goes on walks to keep his mind busy”, you lied.

“Sure. At four in the morning”.

Oh darling, if you leave me,

I’ll never make it alone.

“Yes, we don’t question his ways, okay? He’s been feeling bad”, you defended him, and turned the music higher. With a hand gesture, you invited Steve to dance with you. He chuckled and accepted it.

Truth was, you had no idea where Loki was now. He kissed you goodnight when he thought you were asleep, muttered something along the lines of I’m sorry, I’ll get this fixed, and left around midnight. He should have been in bed by now, and you couldn’t call him or check on him in any way. Not without compromising the secretism, anyway.

And you were upset. You were so, so upset, because you’ve had fights about this for the past week, and still he thought it best to just do as he pleased when you were supposedly asleep. You were so, so upset. But concerned at best, because he never told you what his plan was about. He had no regard for his safety. He could be getting injured, at best. He could be getting killed under the hands of the Mad Titan or whoever huge predecessor of Layfey that would be guarding the throne. He could be getting hurt and killed and in pain and he blocked you out so you could do nothing about it.

So you danced. You drank coffee to keep you awake until he came home, and moved your hips to the rhythm of the music. Trying to forget the matter for a while.

Believe me when I beg you,

Don’t ever leave me alone.

“Hey”, called Thor, walking in with the pillow marks on his face. “Turn down that thing, it’s too late”, he asked. “Oh, you’re here. Where is my brother? Sleeping?”.

“On a long and weird walk”, said Clint without looking away from Steve’s awful dance moves. He was getting ready to pull off his phone and become famous on tiktok. You spinned under Steve’s old-fashioned steps.

“Walk? At these hours?”, he laughed. “My brother doesn’t do that”.

“Yes, he does”, you said nonchalantly, trying to hide your unease. Maybe you should’ve stayed in your room. That way, your loneliness in the late night wouldn’t be too evident.

You had grabbed Loki by the wrist before he left. He knew he didn’t leave you sleeping—you asked him to stay. You told him there was nothing he could do about it anymore. He murmured he could and he would, and the mere thought of being able to fix it all kept him up at night anyway, so he might as well go and get it.

You told him if he loved you he would stay. He told you he was doing this because he loved you. He told you it was the —only— way to keep both of you safe and together. You thought he was wrong, and that thought remained there, eating your brains alive, while you tried to dance it out. A knot in your throat kept you from talking any further.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and cried.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and died.

“Where is Loki?”, asked Thor once again, coming out of his room when the sun had already setted widely on the sky. No rain, a clear day, perfect for flying. The mission would start in the next three hours, and you were still waiting.

“Look, I really need to get a confirmation on whether I’m having you on the mission or not”, said Tony, losing his patience. “He’ll come back at some point, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’s a God on Earth. What would happen? He’d get mugged and stab the damn robber?”, he joked, and you pretended to laugh.

“You’re right. I’m going, count me in”.

Where was he, now?

Something was for sure, he was away.

And a week had passed. A whole week with its seven days, and you've received no notice whatsoever of your lover.

Thor seemed to know, yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He said it wasn't his place. He said he didn't know what Loki was thinking about. He said he didn't want to misinterpret his messages. He said a lot of things and none of them were comforting. None of them fulfilled your need to know —where is he, is he well, is he traveling, is he locked up, is he dead, is he with someone else, is he ever coming back, is he even trying to communicate—what's going on?

In the quinjet, you looked down the window. Bucky and Thor were in front of you, and Tony by your side, explaining the steps of the next mission. You weren't listening much. Just nodded. You knew those things never went as planned —having plans would usually get worse outcomes, from your experience. Plans wouldn't work.

You had one small plan; climb a mountain. You were going to a marvelous place, and you always wanted to climb them. It was completely possible you could get a few hours off, if not half a day to go and get it. You'd maybe convince your teammates.

Whatever you could do to keep your mind away from Loki's suicidal mission, whatever that may be.

"Buckle up, fellas", said Tony, getting into his suit already. "There's fighting to get through right now. We'll have to do the brainy part after".

And just like that, Thor with Mjölnir in hand, Bucky ripping off his sleeve and you getting your boots adjusted, jumped off the quinjet and landed on soft grass.

There weren't many people you had to fight. They were just very strong. You held your grip to Tony's suit as he flew with you all around the forest.

The rest… you might know how it goes. As it always does. You’re too reckless—words from everyone on the team, all the time—and you jumped off too quickly to catch Bucky’s bullet.

“Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?”, yelled Bucky as he approached you. He applied pressure on the bullet wound and you gasped for your dear air as you felt a little dizzier and dizzier.

“You were about to get shot!”, you justified.

“I’m a supersoldier, you fucking idiot”.

“Do I look like I make rational decisions on the run?”.

“Here, as you lay on the floor bleeding out from an unnecessary bullet wound that would’ve been a fucking scratch on me? Yeah, no shit, you make great decisions on the run”.

“I thought you were shy to talk”.

“No, I just keep my mouth shut because people aren’t so stupid for me to talk back to them, but you just…”.

“Agh!”, you contorted in pain and then James decided to stop bitching about how you saved him from the hit—when he so clearly wanted to get shot instead—why would he care so much? “Could you… take me to the quinjet? There’s gotta be like a first aid kit in there or something”.

“What? You gonna put a bandaid over the bullet and call it a day? Come on, I’m taking you to the medbay”.

“No way, Buck. They’ll get me to a hospital for the day and won’t let me participate on the mission. Come on, just patch me up a little and don’t say anything”.

James rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No”.

He took you to the medbay, and, as you predicted, you spent the night in the hospital. The whole night, and woke up the next morning in that same goddamn white bed with white sheets, surrounded by white walls and white everything. Except a dusted friend, who had been holding your hand the whole time.

Bucky, scratched from head to toe and very clearly lacking a shower and a good night of sleep, didn’t let go of your hand even when you woke up. And damn you who were only thinking about how that should be Loki by your side.

“Hey, morning sleepy head”.

“What are you doing here? You should be on the mission”, you reproached him with a smile. “Not here, being a good friend and all”.

“I wanted a day off work”.

You laughed. He seemed too tired to even move.

“Thanks”, you sighed, and looking out of the window, heard the door opening and Tony Stark walking in. “Oh, sorry boss”.

“Call me boss again and you’re fired”, he said, sitting on the foot of your bed. “You reckless, irresponsible idiot. You should be fired for this alone. You’re a danger to the team and especially to yourself”.

“Come on. I defended a member of the team”.

“You jumped in front of a supersoldier about to get a fucking mosquito bite out of a bullet, that's what you fucking did”.

“The spirit is what counts, after all?”, you tried, and he laughed shortly, only to come back with a meaner expression.

“Hell no”.

“At least I can go back to work today, right?”, you tried. Tony just laughed—that bastard. Fucking asshole. And where was Thor? Was he with his brother? No that he’d say anything.

Wow. Painkillers made you bitchy.

“We’re both taking the day to get you recovered, and Stark and Thor will handle the mission. Tomorrow you get back if you’re well rested and in enough shape, alright?”, explained Bucky with a softness that almost made you vomit. He was sugarcoating it—surrounding it with nice-sounding words and a soft-spoken voice.

“No way I came all the way here to not do shit and let you do all of the things I’m supposed to do”.

“We could climb that mountain you wanted to”, he tried, and then you were out of words. You thought about it for a few seconds.

“Okay”.

“Are you crazy? They’s got stitches. They can’t make efforts. Bed rest”, fought Tony. Bucky winked at you.

“That’s why I’m going with them. I’m gonna make sure they don’t get any worse, alright?”.

“Make sure they gets better”.

“Consider it done, chief”.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove, @theonewiththenerds )

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

More Than Allies

Prompt: If you ever consider writing for the Sweetheart AU again (it's completely ok if not) I'd love love love to see a time where Frisk was the one to comfort Sans by being their pure, adorable self; there's just something lovely to me about the thought of Frisk realising Sans is sad and knowing exactly how to help him - anon

DISCLAIMER: This is part of a Flowerfell!AU I've got on my Ao3. I'm not posting the rest of them on here because that would take too much time and I ain't about to clog up y'all's dashes with that shit. SO imma link to this work AND the series on Ao3 so y'all know where this fits

Read THIS on Ao3

Sweetheart series

Warnings: this is a flowerfell!au, where Frisk has flowers growing out of them, so slight warning for body horror but nothing graphic

Pairings: all gen

Word Count: 1650

Patching up wounds is one thing. So is keeping someone alive.

But making them happy?

Whoever invented the concept of snow seriously needed their head dunked in a bucket of the stuff. For at least a day. When they could deal with having cold shit shoved into places it shouldn’t be shoved for hours on end, then they could say that they made a good decision.

Sans continues to grumble to himself as he trudges back through Snowdin. Grillby’s place isn’t inconspicuous enough right now, seeing as he just spent most of the night there looking after the child.

“…you better be keeping ‘em alive in there,” Sans mutters, turning the corner to make it to the edge of the town, “or else i swear, grillbz…”

He doesn’t bother finishing the threat. He knows the fire monster would burn the entire fucking town to the ground before letting harm come to someone under his protection. Hell, Sans has seen that explosive rage once or twice. He’s not very keen on seeing it again, especially not if he’s on the wrong side of it.

As he walks, his hand finds its way into his pocket, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the bandaid wrappers.

Shit.

He swerves around one of the icebergs—flipping off the wolf as he did so, he received a threatening snarl for his troubles—and hustles down the path in the bottom of Waterfall. The mushrooms blink innocently as he tromps down the path, finally making it to Temmie Village.

One of the Temmies looks up at him and snarls.

“yeah, yeah,” Sans grumbles, “i just got business with the shop. keep your temmie flakes in order.”

Luckily the Temmies still seem to hate the red glow of his eye. The rest of them part easily as he strides into the shop. The cardboard box hiding the real shop front is still soggy and mold-eaten, much like the Temmie behind it. It glowers at him as he pulls out the payment.

“wouldn’t kill you to keep it a little less decrepit.” He glances around at the artfully arranged trophies on the walls. “though it might make it harder to excuse not cleaning your shit.”

The Temmie just glares at him. Sans shrugs, the absence of the child cold at his side.

“just sayin’.”

The Temmie grumbles something Sans doesn’t understand as it puts the package on the counter. Sans nods and turns to go, thanks forgone. He’d paid. And the Temmies tended to get word after dark anyway, so he’s better off just hurrying back to the child.

‘Child.’ Yeesh, he sounds so fucking formal.

Well, Sans thinks as he scrambles into the cave and restocks the first-aid kit, death does have a way of making things sound really fucking formal.

The kid could’ve died.

Yeah, yeah, he fucking knows, they’ve died too many fucking times already. The flowers aren’t going away any time soon and they’re hurting. But that’s different. It’s different watching them die.

Sans growls as he forces one of the long gauze strips into the plastic box. The hinges wheeze and groan in protest as he finally jams the thing shut again and stuffs it under his coat. He’s been away too long. He’s out of practice.

Not at killing motherfuckers, no, he’s got that down pat. But caring.

Shit, is he even doing this right? The kid’s practically glued to his side day in and day out, partially at his bidding but mostly because the kid just decided his hoodie is perfect to cling to. It’s no different than that damn stick they won’t fucking leave behind. It’s like another limb or something.

…and he would be lying if he said the kid didn’t feel like another limb too.

Sans grits his teeth as he makes it to the shortcut chamber. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps out a quick message.

me: package in tow

hothead: Too many customers wait for 22h00

Sans sighs and slumps back down. There are just not enough hours in the goddamn day, apparently. He’s got a bone to pick with whoever invented time keeping the way it is too. Seriously. Sometimes it really got under his non-existent skin.

“time is fake,” he grumbles to himself, hand going to his pocket again, “so fake.”

He has to stifle a wince when the expected tug on his sleeve doesn’t come.

When did he get so fucking attached?

…okay, listen, when a kid growing fucking flowers out of them decides they’re your friend now, they’re your friend now. Sans doesn’t make the fucking rules, he just follows them.

That doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing.

The kid seems to remember what happens when they die. They always come back looking a little different—more flowers—but they seem to know what’s going on. Of course, that doesn’t mean Sans always knows what’s going on, but he knows enough to recognize the way they seem a little more sure of themselves. Which is good; that means they won’t be walking defenseless into any big shit storm, but that also means that if he fucks up, they’ll remember.

That’s the part he’s worried about.

He’s been doing okay…hasn’t he? He remembers they like Echo Flowers, they like the quiet burble of Waterfall, he always keeps an extra blanket at his Sentry stations, he keeps them the fuck away from his brother, and they…they like his voice.

He talks to them when he can. They seem to like being able to hold onto him—which, okay, he gets. He can’t imagine not being able to see anything, much less be a kid and have to rely completely on someone who might just kill you.

Unbidden, a bone forms in his hand. He growls and puts it away.

No. Never.

A buzz from his pocket startles him out of his thoughts. Grillby informs him he’s good to come over and he doesn’t waste another second before teleporting straight to the fire monster’s backdoor.

“Good,” Grillby mutters, already striding upstairs, “they’re almost awake.”

“any changes in their condition?”

“They’re almost healed. They’ll make a full recovery. Well…” Grillby trails off as he sits back down in the chair. “Except for…”

Grillby doesn’t need to finish. Sans’s SOUL clenches as he looks at the kid lying on the couch. They look so…so…

…fragile.

The flowers haven’t grown anymore, at least not that he can see. As he watches, a few of the petals catch the very edge of Grillby’s flames and the purple light makes them look almost white.

“how long’ve they been asleep now,” he mutters, “twelve hours?”

“Nearly.”

Sans mutters a curse and scratches the back of his skull. If they don’t wake up soon…

No sooner does the thought cross his mind—and get swatted away with the force of a blaster—the kid starts to shift on the couch.

“easy, sweetheart,” he says, worry growing in the pit of his chest as he watches them shift, “hey, kid. kid.”

“They’re having a nightmare?”

Sans bites back another curse and rushes forward. “hey, hey, sweetheart, it’s alright, i’m here.”

As soon as he gets closer, his chest starts to glow a soft white. Grillby stifles a noise of surprise as the kid reaches up for him, wrapping their hands around the lapels of his hoodie and pulling. Sans eases himself down onto the floor next to the couch and lets them bury their face in the fluffy lining of the hood.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” he rumbles, his hand coming up to steady them, “it’s okay, nothing’s gonna hurt you, ’s just me and grillbz here, we ain’t going anywhere.”

There’s a soft sigh against his clavicle and then clumsy signs appear in front of his sockets.

“you want me to talk to you, sweetheart?” A little nod. “uh, okay. there’s a, uh, a new cave in waterfall we should check out.”

Their little hands settle in his hoodie as he murmurs to them, their head starting to loll against his shoulder. He hears Grillby stand up and come over as well, hushing the kid’s confusion with a quick explanation that it’s okay, they won’t be hurt, Grillby just needs to check their wound.

The kid just tugs on their sleeve. They butt their head lightly against Sans’s and slowly reach out.

“what, you wanna hold my hand, kid?” Fingers twine with his. “okay, then.”

Grillby chuckles over his shoulder only for it to choke off when the kid grabs for his hand too.

Sans laughs. “guess you’re stuck now too.”

“…worse fates I can imagine.”

There’s another little tug on his SOUL. He frowns, looking back at the kid’s face, only to see their head aimed at the spot on his chest where his SOUL would appear. Then they lean forward and—

“Wow,” Grillby chuckles again, “you’re in this bad.”

Sans, cheeks still warm and bright red from the kiss pressed to his forehead, just stares. The kid seems to be satisfied with the light mortification they’ve just caused. Nodding proudly to themselves, they settle back on the couch. One hand firmly in Sans’s, one hand in Grillby’s. Without being prompted, Sans cards his free hand through their hair, smiling as they let out a hushed sigh, head flopping back onto the pillow.

“They trust you,” Grillby says, something like awe in his voice, “they really trust you.”

“…seems so.”

And yet, even though Sans will readily admit he has no idea what he’s doing still, he wouldn’t give it up for all the hot dogs in the multiverse.

#undertale #underfell #flowerfell #dragonbabbles #fic

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thorne93 · 4 years ago

Text

Long Lost Love (Part 7)

Prompt: Clint just lost everything. He turns to you – an old friend and an old flame – for comfort. Can you keep your old feelings at bay? Can he?

Word Count: 2532

Warnings: The Snap, grief, loss, mentions of abuse throughout series, angst will be the best friend in this fic

Note: This was written after IW, but before Endgame - so I have my own take on how certain things happened. Couldn’t have done this without @arrow-guy @carryonmyswansong @like-a-bag-of-potatoes (my amazing betttaa!) @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Aesthetic by @dontshootmespence

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

After some time, you two decided to go to the city for a break from the farm life. Things were pretty stable on the farm and you could afford one or two days in the city. You fed the animals a little bit earlier than normal, then drove into Manhattan. You took him to some old haunts you’d mentioned and got food at joints that were still open.

At one point, you took him to the Central Park Zoo. It was open, but only half the animals were there and it didn’t have any of the flair it usually did. They weren’t running any shows or specials or anything spectacular. It was mainly a self-guided tour to any animal enclosure that wasn’t roped off.

You stopped at one point outside the lion exhibit and as you were watching the animals lie there, you were reminded of your time as a lion tamer.

“I used to come here to remind me of you, us, in the circus,” you stated casually.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? It seems like it’d be something you’d want to forget, considering we were treated so shittily.” He muttered the last part with disdain.

You shrugged in response. “What can I say? I’m sentimental. I was grasping at anything to tie me back to you.” You turned towards him, hoping he’d get the message.

He reached up to your face, his hand resting on the side of your cheek. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“I should show you my whole circus collection,” you said suddenly, thinking he’d like it.

“Circus collection? What’s that?” he asked, chuckling, amused.

“It’s all the little mementos and keepsakes I kept over the years. I didn’t want to forget about our time together. I know those years were probably the worst of our lives, and I’d never want to go back to them, but they were also the best years. Just you and me against the world.”

He nodded. “Yeah, they were some of the best years,” he agreed with a smile. Before you knew it, he leaned down and began kissing you softly, tenderly, but swiftly enough to not draw attention to yourselves. You sighed with happiness when the kiss ended, even though you could kiss him for hours and not get tired of it. He hooked his arm around your waist and you rested your head on his shoulder while you two enjoyed the lions some more.

---------------------------

It was the middle of the night one night when you were awakened by the sound of loud yelling, and moaning. The sound was that of wailing, the only sound one hears when someone’s being hurt.

You barely had your eyes open as you slipped on your house shoes and ran to the source of the noise - Clint’s bedroom.

“No, no… Don’t take them. No!” he shouted. There were tears on cheeks. You kneeled on the bed and started to shake him awake.

“Clint, Clint!”

He didn’t stir at first. He just kept thrashing from side to side, saying no, shaking his head. You decided to shake a bit harder, calling his name a little louder.

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at you.

“Y/N?” he said.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here. You’re having a nightmare,” you informed softly. You lowered yourself to sit down beside him while he laid there.

He opened his eyes wide before rubbing his knuckles into them, trying to wipe the tears and sleep from them. “Jesus,” he said, shaking his head.

“That bad?” you asked gently.

“Yeah… It was about the kids…” He shook his head, trying to get through the statement without crying. “I had a nightmare that Thanos took them.”

All you could do was nod before sinking down to lie beside him on top of the covers.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could offer him.

“Not your fault,” he said easily.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep again,” you suggested.

He was silent, and you took it as a quiet agreement at your offer. The two of you lied there, staring at the ceiling, it was illuminated by the overly bright full moon. All you could hear was nature, the sound of the A/C every now and then, and each other’s breathing.

Thoughts began to spin in your head, thoughts that often crossed your mind through the day. The thoughts and questions that scared you. The questions you weren’t sure you wanted an answer to. The thoughts that you were terrified to say aloud.

You didn’t want to… but you had to. You had to know. This… whatever this was, you had to know it was real, that it meant something to him, that you weren’t just a stand in for his vanished wife and kids. That you weren’t just a bandaid on a gunshot wound.

After a long time in the silence, you finally opened your mouth to speak. “So, uh, not that I’m complaining but… what… is this? Where is it going?” you asked. Your mouth was dry as your heart hammered nearly out of your chest. Just by asking this, you could very well be putting everything on the line that you'd ever wanted, ever hoped and dreamed and prayed for. But you had to know. You couldn't just blindly be with this man, no matter how deeply or how long you’d loved him.

It didn’t take him too long to respond when he finally answered, ““It’s going where I wanted it to go years ago.”

“Which is?” you pressed. You needed verbal confirmation on all of this.

“Permanently. I want us together. I mean, I can’t speak for you, but I’m pretty happy with calling you mine, calling ‘us’ a thing. How about you?”

“Well… I want to be sure that I’m not just… that I’m not a stand in for the real thing,” you said, toying with your fingers, your voice getting shaky as you got more nervous.

He could see and sense your jitters. He reached over, not looking at you as he put his hand on yours hands, a comforting motion to you. “You’re not. That’s the last thing you are.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret this or grow out of it or realize it’s not what you wanted. I just don’t want to be some sort of distraction.”

“That’s not what this is at all. You make me happy. I want you here. I want to be with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Y/N…” He rolled over to face you and you turned your head on the pillow to face him. “I love you. You know that, right? That I’ve loved you since we were kids,” he emphatically said.

You smiled at him, happy tears forming. “I thought you’d let me go. I thought you’d moved on. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

He shook his head. “No, things just got… complicated, but no, I have always wanted you, don’t ever confuse that. You are no one’s stand in. You are you and I love you.” He cupped your neck before stretching forward to plant a firm kiss to your lips, assuaging your fears.

You smiled at him, feeling that familiar warmth fill you up again. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good. Then it’s settled,” he said emphatically. ”We’re back together.”

Those three words sent your soul soaring. You never knew you’d feel such happiness in your life, and while you were feeling guilty for being thrilled in a man’s bed who had a vanished family, you’d put your whole romantic life on hold for this moment. It wasn’t ideal or anywhere near perfect, but you loved this man. If this was how it had to happen, then, this was how it had to happen.

“Officially,” you confirmed with an affectionate smile.

He got a giddy grin on his face suddenly. “Shit, does this mean I’ll have to remember this date for anniversaries?” he asked and you took a pillow and hit his stomach hard while laughing. He laughed in response and also curled up in pain before turning to you and kissing you tenderly.

The two of you embraced for a long time before you two broke apart and he requested, “Stay the night with me? In here?”

You nodded and got up to get under the covers, taking your shoes off. You slipped into bed with him and the two of you held each other all night long, basking in the loving glow of each other.

-----------------------------

Three more years passed blissfully between you two. The same routine carried on as you two worked the farm and you spent three days in the city at your practice. You eventually sold your apartment though and only rented a hotel when you went into the city or just slept on the cot in your office.

Clint and you got closer as time went on and before you knew it, you were like a real, normal couple. You made breakfast for each other, met for dinner, went on dates. He missed his family and you were sure to respect any time he brought any of them up and you never took down any of their photos. It wasn’t your place and you weren’t trying to erase their presence or memories, you were just trying to build your own.

The two of you spent nights on the couch watching TV, or picnics in the fields, or board game nights when you had the time. Clint even taught you archery and while you weren’t anywhere skilled as him, you were pretty good. You tried to get the Avengers together a few times every year, and sometimes it worked out, other times it didn’t. But it was still nice when they did.

You and Nat became best friends quickly and she never held it against you for anything between you and Clint. After explaining your side of things one night, she fully understood the situation from both sides and appreciated it. She loved that you two had made it back to each other. She could easily see why you two wanted to be together and how much you loved and cared for each other.

It was everything you’d ever wanted. You had a family. You had Clint. You had your career. You were helping society while having your own slice of heaven.

Everything was perfect.

Until Nat showed up one day unannounced with a troubled look on her face. She looked as though she had horrible news for you, but there was something else there, an undercurrent of… light in her expression.

You immediately knew why she looked torn.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greeted with a smile as she walked up and hugged you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” you questioned, even though you knew the answer.

“Uh, is Clint around?” she wondered, side-stepping your inquiry.

“Yeah, he should be out back. Come on inside, I’ll go get him,” you said. You opened the screen door to let her in. She stood in the living room before you jogged out back to grab him. He smiled hearing his friend was here and followed you back inside. The two hugged before you all sat down. You offered her something to drink but she declined.

“So… uh, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it,” she said, smiling with that familiar twinkle in her eye. “We might have a way to get everyone back.”

Clint stilled at your side on the couch. He seemed to be in shock, so you spoke for him.

“Everyone? Like everyone, everyone?” you clarified.

“Yep. Long story short, Scott Lang, a guy we fought with in Germany, may have an obscure way to travel through time. Steve and Bruce are already working on the kinks but… it’s looking really promising. But we need everyone if this is going to work.”

You looked to Clint. This was good. It was complicated for sure, but it was good. He regretted not helping so much before, you figured he’d jump at this chance.

“Can you give us a sec, Nat?” he requested.

“Sure thing.” Nat looked between you two before standing. “I’ll be right outside.”

Both of you nodded and she excused herself. Clint stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

“Holy shit. A shot to get everyone back, a chance....” He started walking, pacing, his nervous habit.

You stood too.

“It’s all you need, right?” you said, trying to be supportive.

“Yeah. It’s a hell of a lot more than what we had,” he agreed.

“Then you have to do it,” you urged, stepping forward and putting your hands on his plaid covered chest.

He put his hands on your back, staring into your eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

“I know that,” you said, giving him a soft smile. “Go. Go save the world.”

He smiled at you, holding back some sweet tears. Both of you knew what this meant if he succeeded, but right now, that didn’t matter. You would have to put aside your selfish needs and wants for the greater good. Everything else would have to wait.

He kissed you earnestly before saying, “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? We’ll sort everything out later.”

You nodded. He slowly let go of you and looked at you one last time before joining Nat. She gave you a nod and a sympathetic smile before they took off and you were all alone on the porch.

------------------------

Clint had been gone four days now, and you hadn’t heard anything from anyone. You were worried, of course, you had no idea what any of this time travel entailed. You didn't know where Clint would be going or what he’d be doing, how long he would be there.

So, in order to keep your spirits up and your mind off the worst possible scenarios, you kept up with your routine. You had a small breakfast each morning, and then did the solo work on the farm that you could do.

You were working in the barn with the radio going, playing music as you worked. You sang along when you knew the words until suddenly, there was a commotion on the radio. You frowned and stood up, listening to the broadcast intensely.

“People are reappearing everywhere. It’s beautiful and chaotic,” the voice said in somewhat of a panic.

Your eyes grew wide as a torrent of emotion washed over you. Joy, worry, excitement, hope, sadness slammed into you, leaving you breathless. Your heart began hammering in your chest and as you looked around, you saw it. Cows were suddenly in the field that had been nearly bare. More chickens began clucking, more horses appeared. Your heart felt full and bright and warm, and then suddenly you remembered -- Laura, the kids.

You dropped your tools and took off running towards the house. You ran up the porch, wrenching open the screen door and there stood a brunette woman with her back to you. She turned around and you recognized the face from all the many photos around the house.

Laura.

She was back.

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

Forever Tag:

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#long lost love #clint barton x reader #clint barton fic #clint barton #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye fic

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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so one time i got bit by a brown recluse which is one of the only types of spider in my area that's actually dangerous and at first i didn't know what had happened to me, only that it was nasty. the swelling wasn't going down and the wound started to get ugly. i don't want to like get into the details because that's gross but it got to the point 2 weeks later that i was worried enough to go to the doctor, which i hate doing.

i am not afraid of spiders but other people are so i'd been covering it with this big ole square bandage (i needed more landscape coverage than a simple bandaid) and sat in the university medical waiting room, kicking my heels and playing BOTW. the nurse who admitted me was like, oh, we have got to get Tom to cover this one. she wrote spider bite under my ticket.

i waited in the near-empty building for like an hour and then nurse tom shows up in spiderman scrubs, out of breath. "sorry," he says, "i saw - your slip - and I had," he heaves in a breath, "to run home and. get. these scrubs. i literally. ran. felt like a job. for. spiderman."

i laugh. he puts his hands on his knees, thumbs-ups at me. fishes a pamphlet out from under his clipboard that basically says spiders can be scary but you don't need to be scared, there's very few dangerous spiders in new england. "honestly," he wheezes, "we probably don't need to get you into an exam room. just..." he waves his hand at the pamphlet, "read that."

i look down at my arm. then back at him in his scrubs. and then down at my arm. i like that he made an effort to make a joke, but now it does not feel like a good joke, because they are mistaking my calm for a lack of injury. "can i. like. at least show you the bite?"

he gives me kind of a weird look, which is fair, but then says. "if. i mean, if you have to."

i peel the bandage off. his face goes green.

"oh," he says.

"yeah, man."

"a... spider bit you?" his voice is high and tight and trembling. he backs up a few steps.

"i think a brown recluse," i offer. "i know it's nasty, sorry."

"excuse me for a moment." he looks over to the administering nurse on the other side of the small room. "i need to find someone else to take care of you."

the administering nurse smiles over to us with a degree of pleasure that is almost salivating. for a moment, like a window opening, i am briefly aware of what must be a psychic message floating amongst the in-between. her jaguar teeth all say this is like a party for me and i know exactly what i'm doing.

"oh no, tom," she says, grinning. "i gave her to you specifically."

#this is a real thing that happened #i then waited in an exam room for another hour until a doctor was similarly dismissive until he saw it #and then just gave me antibacterial cream which didn't help the swelling lol #it went away on its own like 4 weeks later #but that's like not the fun part of this story #i was just like. suddenly in the middle of someone else's work drama and GIRL #btw found this extremely funny #edit in the tags: oh ! i thought they were native to NE !!! ???? omg #i mean a real doctor really saw the wound and said ''brown recluse'' so i assumed he was right i never googled it #i lived on a mattress on the floor in a house of people who were always travelling #so like i guess it could have been ANY spider???#omg.....#the way this rocked my whole world

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mysterioh · 5 years ago

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The Ignorant Beauty & The Beast of New York - Ch. 18

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: You love biology. The study of life excites you. But you hate people. Especially the ones that like to stick their nose in your business. Too bad the King of Brooklyn didn’t get the memo.

WARNINGS: Light Depictions of Gore. Mentions of Child Abuse.

MASTERLIST

An Eye for an Eye

You hiss at first contact with the alcohol wipe against your chin.

“It’s deeper than it looks,” Steve stated, gently dabbing at the dried blood.

“Can you not press on it so hard?”

“I gotta clean it, babe, or it’ll get worse,” he replies, his motions growing faster.

“But it hurts,” you whine.

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately. “What are you two or twenty-two?”

“Don’t sass me, Rogers,” you warn him with a lovely pout.

He chuckles in reply. “I wouldn’t even dare.”

He throws the stained wipe into the trash bin and begins searching through the box of bandaids for a size suitable to cover the wound.

Your eyes fall onto the newspaper, left on his desk in a hurry, and frowned.

“They’ve painted me as if I’m some whore,” you said. “Like I’m your mistress or something.”

Steve stops his searching and frowns. “You know that’s not true,” he shakes his head.

“I know,” you mumbled, “but the rest of the world doesn’t know that.”

He lifts your chin with his hand. “Hey, don’t worry, alright? I’ll fix this,” he assures. “Everything’s gonna be fine and as time passes it’ll pass as well.”

You smile with a nod, believing in him.

“Quentin called,” you told him.

Steve groans audibly, ripping the band-aid open.

“He says, he’s going to break your pretty nose if he ever sees you again,” you informed him with a smug grin.

He shakes his head in amusement. “Is my nose really that pretty?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I think it’s kinda cute.”

“I’ll make sure to never run into him again,” he pledges, aligning the bandage with the cut on your jaw. “Still don’t get why he hates me so much.”

“I think it has something to do with stealing away his best friend.”

He shrugs his arms smugly. “Not my fault, he should’ve done a better job at keeping watch. Did he really think I was gonna let a girl as pretty as her slip out of my fingers?”

You punch him lightly on the chest. “You flatter me, really.”

His chuckles fill the air as he presses his palms to either side of your seat on his desk and leans in close. “It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he crooned.

You fall shy by his words, but not shy enough to not return his affection with a sweet kiss on the lips. You part from him and it leaves him hungry for more. He cups the side of your face in his hand and pulls you closer for another kiss. He stops when he hears his phone ring.

He pulls it out of his pocket to find a message from Natasha.

Found something. You know where to find me.

Steve’s jaw tightens as he slips the phone back into his pocket. He gives you an easy smile then a kiss.

“I’ve gotta go,” he grabs his jacket off the chair by the fire.

“Where are you going?” you asked, getting off his desk.

“Nowhere, just some unfinished business,” he puts his jacket on while making his way to the front door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Before he leaves he turns to you and takes your hands in his.

“I want you to stay here until I figure things out. Do me a favor and try to relax?” he suggests, “It’s been a long day. Watch a movie and empty my fridge if you’d like.”

You laugh at his words. “You act like I won’t do that already.”

He opens the door behind him. “I’ll see you later.”

Just before he leaves, you reach up and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Be safe.”

It was dusk by the time Steve reached the warehouse in the Bronx. Parking his car, he walks out to find Natasha waiting for him at the door.

She gives him her signature smirk and a wave as he walks up to her.

"How is Y/N?" she asks, entering the desolate building.

"She's fine,” Steve informs. "Just a bit tired."

Nat shoots a devilish grin in his direction. "I see you two have been getting along rather nicely,” she teases, "compared to before that is."

"I don't know, maybe it has something to do with her being my girlfriend now?" he retorts with a playful lilt to his voice.

Nat shrugs indifferently and shakes her head. "Still don't know how you managed to do it,” she cackled. "Personally, I find you unappealing,” she deadpans, opening the door to a room. "but hey? There's someone for everyone. Am I right?"

Steve sighs deeply as he enters. "Some days you can be such a jerk."

The room is sparse with nothing more than a single light hanging from the ceiling and a man tied to a chair in the center. He twists and turns in his chair, shouting incoherent words that were muffled by the duct tape plastered along his lips.

She chortles at his remark. "I feel like you wanted to use a much stronger word."

Steve smirks at the sight before him then turns to Natasha with a dashing smile.

"I'm a gentleman, Natasha, and I treat women with respect."

She rolls her eyes. "As charming as ever, Rogers,” she replies, yanking the tape of the man’s mouth mercilessly. His face stretches in pain from the sudden burn on his skin.

"YOU ASSHOLES HAD ME TIED UP IN A WAREHOUSE FOR FIVE HOURS,” Pietro shouts at the two.

Steve laughs heartily before taking his jacket off.

Natasha brings her hands together. “Now that we’re all here. I suggest we get started,” she proposes, her skin glowing with excitement. This was her favorite part of being in the mob.

"Ladies first,” Steve motions towards her and then to Pietro.

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Natasha,” she introduces herself to Pietro.

"I know who you are,” he snarls at her. He looks up at Steve fearlessly. "You're the kingpin."

"My friend and I would like to talk to you about your crimes against the Brooklyn Mob,” Natasha states.

Pietro looks at them as if they’re crazy. He whips his head back and forth between the two like a mad man.

"Crimes? Against the Brooklyn Mob? You've gotta be fucking joking me!” he shouts "Let me go! I did nothing wrong!" He shakes violently in his chair.

The two ignore his cries and continue.

"Number One: Defamation of Character,” Natasha states.

"I hope you've realized this but my "mistress" isn't a mistress,” Steve informs Pietro, rolling up his sleeves so he doesn’t get them dirty. He looks down at Pietro and his jaw tightens at the sight of him. He feels like ripping the boy’s head off.

Pietro gulps involuntarily at his words. He knows he’s not going to get out of this one. His eyes boldly meet Steve’s but fall quickly. “She's my girlfriend and a top student at Columbia. So your garbage publication can be rather damaging for her future,” he jeers.

"I didn't write the article!" Pietro explains. "I just gave the information!"

"To who?" Steve takes a step closer to him.

"I don't know who he was,” he shakes his head. "I met him at some bar. I swear. I didn’t do anything,” he rambles frantically.

"I want a name, now,” Steve grits.

"I don't remember his name,” Pietro repeats harshly.

Steve’s fist connects with Pietro's jaw. He groans from the pain. Without a warning, Steve punches him again, this time in the center of his face, then another at his left.

Blood pools inside of Pietro’s mouth as he sees stars in his vision.

"Stop!” he groans, “I think–I think it was Strucker,” he wails. "He's this bald guy with a scar on his face. I didn't know he would blow it up like this."

Steve turns to Natasha and asks her a question with his eyes.

You know who he’s talking about?

She shakes her head then continues.

"Two: Obstruction of Privacy."

"You had the gall to take pictures of us and spread them all over the city,” Steve barked, slamming his fist straight into his nose.

The sharp sound of cracking bone bounces off the walls of the room. The only one that winces is Pietro himself. His head drops forward and he takes painfully heavy breaths, his mind spinning from all the blows.

“Three: Exploitation."

Steve holds his chin and yanks him forward harshly. Pietro whimpers in his grasp. Blood drips from the corner of his busted lip. Splotches of purple and blue cover his once clear pale skin.

"You used my girl for a bit of extra cash,” Steve growls at him. “You put her on the map for everyone to see. How does it feel knowing you’ve put an innocent woman in danger?”

Pietro looks at the kingpin through half-lidded eyes. His lips form a weak smile and it only pisses Steve off more. “Did you really think you could keep her hidden forever?” he drawls, “If I didn’t do it, someone else would.”

Steve pushes him back. “And now that you have, I think you deserve retribution for your services.”

Nat takes a step forward. She takes his bruised face into her hand and turns it left to right, examining Steve’s work. She stands straight and makes her edict. "After being found guilty by the representative of the mob, I allow Mr. Rogers to do with you as he pleases."

Steve smiles wickedly. He kicks Pietro’s chair and it hits the wall, keeping him at a slant.

"Wait! Stop!” He fights against his restraints as Steve hovers over him. “I'm sorry!"

"You know what they say,” Steve said, tongue dripping with venom, eyes red like a demon’s.

“An eye for an eye."

Steve shuffles quietly in the garage, toeing off his shoes, he enters the house and heads straight for the laundry room.

He takes off his bloodied shirt, throws it in the hamper, and grabs a fresh one from the closet of the room. Pulling it on, he exits the room and glides along the marble tiles of the manor.

He follows the sounds of low murmurs and flashing lights of the television coming from the living room. The image he finds is more than endearing. You’re snuggled deep into the couch with Lucky digging into your side and a blanket over the both of you.

Steve walks over, mindful to keep his movements quiet. He turns off the television then lifts the blanket gently. Lucky jolts quickly, growling lowly at the dark figured man.

Steve chuckled quietly, calming the dog down. “Shh, Lucky, it’s just me,” he scratches the fur around his chin. The puppy yips quietly and jumps off the couch. “Good boy.”

Steve slid his arms underneath you and took you into his arms. Lucky follows closely behind him as he walks out of the room and up the stairs. Moonlight streams through the grand windows that run along the curve of the grand staircase, casting a nightly shade onto your sleeping form.

He walks into one of the many spare rooms and tries to lift the blankets to put you in. “Sorry for manhandling you,” he whispers while gently placing you on the bed. Lucky hops onto the bed from the other side and takes his spot next to you.

“What about me?” Steve whined.

Lucky simply shimmies closer to you, making Steve grunt indignantly.

“Some “man’s best friend” you are.”

Your footsteps grow heavy with every step up the stairs towards the house. Reciting a silent prayer, you open the squeaking front door and walk inside.

Your lips curl into a grin when you find the living room empty. You tiptoe your way up the stairs to your room.

“Where have you been?”

A gruff, mean voice comes from behind you, making you stop in your tracks. You turn around slowly, heartbeat steadily increasing.

Your father stands at the end of the stairs. A can of beer in one hand with the other holding onto the banister. His hair was messy, his flannel shirt unbuttoned to show his white undershirt underneath. Paint stained his washed-out blue jeans along with his boots. He lifts a brow at you, expecting an answer.

“I-I missed the bus today,” you explained. “So I had to walk.”

“Bullshit,” he growls.“You’re lying to me, aren’t you? You think you can fool me?” he barks, throwing the can away.

Your eyes shut tight at the sound of the metal rattling against the floor.

“I’m telling the truth,” you insisted, body shaking under his icy gaze. He pulls you down the steps roughly by the arm. You almost slip by the way he tugs on your arm.

“You were with that boy again, weren’t you?” he asked, slamming you against the wall.

“I wasn’t,” you shake your head, eyes plagued with fear.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?” he scolded.

“But he’s my friend,” you whimper under him.

“You don’t need friends,” he hurls. The thick smell of cheap beer lingers in his mouth. “You don’t need anyone.” His grip on your wrist grows tighter.

You tug at his hand over yours, tears brimming at the edge of your eyes. “Please stop,” you choke out, “It hurts.”

He takes your face into his hand and brings it close to his. “Listen here, you little bitch, when I tell you to come home on time. I mean on time,” he spat, “If I ever find you late again or with that boy, I will not be nice.”

Your jaw tightens to keep yourself from screaming as tears start to stream down your cheeks. Your eyes part from his and catch the opened front door, tempting you to make a risky decision. You weren’t bold enough to retaliate against him. But with freedom only a few feet away, you had to take a chance.

You bite the hand holding your face making him curse in pain and dash towards the door. Only to be pulled back by your backpack.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he barks, veins popping out of his skin. “You think you can get away?” he turns you around and shakes you violently. His face was red and all up in yours. “You can try running away all you want, but in the end, you’re coming right back to me,” he grits, emphasizing each word. “No matter where you go, I will find you!”

You jolt quickly in bed, heaving deep breaths. You rub your face with your hands and sit still, trying to take even breaths to calm the rapid beat of your heart.

It was just a dream.

He’s gone.

He’s not coming back.

A soft whimper rises from your left and you turn to find Lucky by your side You smile at him and cup his face into your hands. “I’m fine, buddy.” You slip out of the bed and motion him to follow you.

“Let’s go find, Stevie,” you whisper, opening the door and walking into the hall. Your footsteps are soft, careful to not make the floorboards creak. They don’t do that in this house and even if they did no one would yell at you for it, but habits are hard to forget.

You open the door to Steve’s room slowly, hoping it wouldn’t wake him. Tiptoeing your way over to his sleeping form, you gently tap his arm.

"Steve," you whisper, shaking his arm. "Steve?"

His eyes flutter open. "Huh?” he whispers groggily, propping himself up with his elbow. “Y/N, is everything all right?"

You tug and twist the end of your shirt, completely red. "Is it okay, if I sleep with you?" you asked, "I-I don't want to be alone right now. It’s just this house is too big and—”

"I don’t mind." he smiles with sleepy eyes.

You smile before running over to the other side of the bed and getting under the covers. You scoot over to him, closer than he was expecting, and snuggle deep into his side. A light blush forms on his cheeks and he’s thankful that the room is dark. You take his free arm and wrap it around yourself.

"Good night," you mumble against his shoulder.

He chuckles, getting himself comfortable, lips brushing against your forehead. "Sweet dreams,” he wishes before pressing a soft kiss to your head.

The rest of your dreams that night were far sweeter than most others.

TAGLIST (CLOSED): @ashwarren32 @rootcrop @siriusement @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha @calwitch @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @voltage-my2dlove @booktease21 @rinkashirikitateku @harleyscheekheart @allegra-writes @iced-capsicle @eliza5616 @bookgirlunicorn @murdermornings @fckdeusername @illbethethundertoyourlightning @kaetastic @windshieldlaughjin @mccrps @undiadeestos

#steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #mobster steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve rogers x you #mob au #mafia steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve

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cozytruecrimeaddict · 4 years ago

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I Think I Need Help (Hotch x OC) pt 2

Alright, so 2 parts in one night, going to try for 3 in a bit. But, this one comes with some MAJOR warnings. So check those out down below. But seriously, I hope that if this finds you, you enjoy it. I’m really enjoying writing again so much so that I really didn’t have fun on the hike me and my parents took earlier because I was wrapped up in writing this.

oh and this part as spoilers for 02x11 (this episode just really stuck with me and kind of fits with where I was thinking of taking this story)

so our lovely warnings: normal CM violence, rape, sexual assault, self harm and possible suicide

I however would like to add on that the self harm goes into minor detail.

A few weeks passed by in a blur. I hadn’t been thinking about anything. I went to work, came home, read parts of my book to relax, and repeated the cycle. Nothing of note really happened until we came across a case that Reid literally bumped into.

He was coming into work and he ran into a kid who sounded kind of suspicious and then ran off after all but confessing to killing a prostitute.

Reid brought in a rough sketch from while he was coming in and then got confirmation of a murder from the local PD.

“Seems we’re not busy enough for Reid over here, just going out and bringing cases to us” I smiled at him. He smiled back, while everyone else laughed a little bit.

After the confirmation, we got to work.

The victim was a woman who was working as a prostitute. We went to see the coroner to get more information on the victim.

When checking out the body, she had the word ‘HELP’ carved into her stomach.

I flinched back, seeing the wounds. Who.. who could have done that. She was just trying to make money. She didn’t deserve this.

I felt my heart stop, my breathing hitch. Gideon glanced up on me and Reid took a step closer.

“You okay?” Gideon asked?

I nodded, scared my voice would betray me. I tried to regain control of my breathing.

Hotch chose that moment to walk in. He looked at me and nodded.

“I came as soon as I got your message. What do we have here?”

I wish I went with Derek and Emily. I should have went with them. Why didn’t I think. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID.

I watched as the conversation wrapped up and we got back in our cars to head back to the BAU. Every breath felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it. Why am I here? Why me?

I felt something tap my hand, that was fidgeting with the edge of my cardigan. I looked up and saw Spencer.

Breathe.

He mouthed.

I tried to take a deep breath, but it felt impossible. I kept trying, but we got back to the BAU by then. I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying anything to get my breathing under control again. All I feel is hot, like the room is closing in on me. I removed my cardigan. Pacing around the bathroom, I tried. I really tried to control my breathing to calm the wave of anxiety. As I passed the mirror, one thing caught my eye. The edge of a scar along my wrist. One that I wish I could say I had from working here, catching a bad guy. One that ended my addiction all those years ago. One that caused something to feel so good, that I could easily use to calm down now.

10 years though. It’s been 10 years since I stopped. I was graduating high school early. I was picked on. Daily. From my belongings being thrown away, to having someone break into my locker and leave a noose hanging from one of the hooks.

I didn’t think. I was trying to make a list of positives. What I was taught when I was 13 after being released from the hospital. But before I could finish my hands had already gone into my bag and pulled out my makeup bag. At the bottom of the makeup bag was a small pair of scissors. I. Didn’t. Think. I just…. did. I opened the scissors, and pressed the blade onto my skin. And I… stopped. I felt my heart beating in my ear. I didn’t think. thump. thump. thump. You don’t have to do this Sam. Pressure, pain, release. Pressure, pain, release. Pressure, pain, release.

3 times. All through the scar that ran down my left forearm. Little horizontal lines, slowly bubbling with blood. I could breathe again. I was okay. I will be okay. One time. I needed to get out of my head just this once. That was all I needed.

I ran cold water over my arm, washing the blood off as it appeared. I grabbed a few stray bandaids and placed them gently on the cuts.

I hid my arm as I went back to my desk, grabbing a blue sweatshirt I had in my bag underneath.

I looked up as Derek gave me a strange look.

“Sam, come on.” He spoke up as I put my sweater on. “We got the kid Reid saw. Bringing him in now. Let's set up for an interview.

I sat in, quiet, as Reid tried to understand why this kid sought him out. What had happened. Did he kill that girl, carve her up, begging for help? Or did he try to find help on his own?

We finished our interview, deciding to hold the kid overnight for a psych eval. We recommended his mom get him a lawyer.

After deciding to focus our efforts to find another possible suspect, Hotch dismissed us shortly after. He’s been extra stressed since the start of this investigation and I really wonder why.

“Want to do something tonight?” JJ asked, coming up to my desk.

“Thanks, but I’m not really in the mood. Maybe another night?” I smiled at her.

“Sure.” She walked away. I saw Derek watching me again.

“Derek, I’m sure you know what my ass looks like by now. Whats up?”

“Walk with me?”

“I guess.”

Outside, Derek sat on my Honda Accord, looking out over the city.

“I feel like I should be checking in on you. You went through something most of us couldn’t completely understand. I wish I could have gotten to you sooner. It’s like, we came in and you were just gone. We didn’t know. Though, knowing you, I’m sure you put up a hell of a fight.”

“Derek…”

“I guess, what I just wanted to say is, talk to me. You’ve been distant from all of us. We’re a team, and I know right when you needed us most we failed you. I’m worried about you, Sam. You got a lot of fight in you and a serious amount of potential and skill for someone so young. I don’t want to see it wasted.”

“Thanks, Derek. But, I think I’m going to head home. I appreciate everything you’re saying, but I’m just tired. I’m fine, I promise. I trust all of you and I know you guys have my back.” I moved towards the drivers door, getting in and starting the car. Derek placed his hand by my window, so I rolled it down and he leaned in.

“We love you, Sam, don’t forget that.” He backed off and went to his own car.

That night, laying in bed, the feeling came back. My head was swimming with thoughts of what happened to me. Of his body pressed against mine. Trying to fight back. No Derek, I didn’t put up a hell of a fight, I just gave up. Pressure, pain, release. Help. No, not again. I promised. Pressure, pain, release. I shouldn’t. I don’t want to. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Whats the point? Pressure,pain,release. Pressure,pain,release. Pressurepainrelease.

Until there’s nothing but

black.

I woke up next morning with 8 voicemails. 1 from Reid, 1 from JJ, 1 from Gideon, and 5 from Hotch.

Oh no.

I look around on my bed and see my arm left a nice puddle. The clock flashing 1:00pm on my bedside table. I pick up the phone, calling Hotch back.

It only rings once.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Aaron, I promise.”

“Do you need me to come and get you? You’re never late.”

“No, I’m fine. Let me just shower and change and I’ll be in.”

“Sam…”

“Seriously, I haven’t really been sleeping the best. My neighbors decided to have band practice pretty late. I guess last night it just finally caught up to me.”

“Do you want to take the day off?”

“No” I said a little too quickly. I can’t not work. I need to work. The distraction helps.

“Sam, if you want to come to work, I’d rather you not drive if you haven’t been sleeping. Just get ready. I’ll be by in half an hour.”

“Aaron you….” Don’t have to. But he already hung up.

Shit.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #Aaron hotch x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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canumoveurseatup-no · 6 years ago

Text

Fortress

summary: he doesn’t get in your brain, he doesn’t fill up the spaces. you don’t whisper his name now that you’ve built a fortress.

word count: not sure? but there won’t be a keep reading tab bc i am on mobile.

pairings: peter Parker x black!reader, father!rhodey x black!reader

warnings: it moves fast, angst hoe, bad boyfriend (peter even though i feel like he wouldn’t be one), running away from your problems trope.

a/n: inspired by fortress by lennon stella. please reblog and comment, it’s 2019- support your fandom authors :)

————

“Let it out, sweetheart,”

You never cried over a boy. A fucking boy. Never had anything moved you like this and it shook your spirit and didn’t sit well with you.

“I hate him,” nose stuffed, lips dry from the salt in your tears, you could only imagined how bad you looked.

It’s not like he cheated, he was just a shit boyfriend then had the nerve to hit you with “it’s not you, it’s me” bullshit.

You had no idea why he even called it a relationship- it was an unrequited love. But he thrived having someone finally pine after him, he was addicted to your sadness and it’s taken this long for you to see that?

———

“Stark!!” You stormed into the compound in search to give him an earful about how much of an ass his verbally adopted son has been.

“Uh oh,” he muttered and turned around but not before sighing to himself and praying for the Lord to give him strength, “Y/N!!,”

You were seething, finger trembling as you pointed at him, “Don’t you Y/N me!!,”

“What did he do now?”

What didn’t he do? He completely blew you off in front of your friends just to hang out with MJ and Ned as if he hadn’t been the entire week. You’ve only been seeing him at school and Avenger related tasks.

You explained everything to Tony but it’s not like Tony could do anything. What could he do? Give peter a wag of the finger and a time out? That’s not how it works.

You sigh and realized this was going to fix nothing, so you stormed out and went straight to your room to sit and think what could be done.

———

Did he even care at all? He could have called it off a long time ago to avoid all of this but it probably gets him off to see you still double texting and sliding up on his stories to reply just for him to leave you on read.

It wasn’t until he hadn’t texted you all day or even talked to you in school that you decided to build those walls up all over again and move on. It might be ridiculous to let a simple boy get to you like this but something has to be done.

“Dad, I think I want to go to that all girl’s boarding school,”

Sitting with your hand in his, you felt him squeeze it in reassurance. He proposed that idea a while ago, knowing the horrors of public schools.

“Y/N I don’t think you should be letting him run you off like this,”

“It’s not me running away. It’s self care,”

A simple bandaid on a gunshot wound.

“If you’re sure... I’ll call in the morning”

———

All those quiet nights Peter spent on you had you thinking he meant it when he was really talking out the side of his neck, making you think he was deep while he talked about something he supposedly wanted.

But it was really what you wanted, and he knew that... he knew exactly what to say and because of that you kept letting him take you.

“I can’t believe after crushing so hard for so long you’re finally mine,” you whispered, head lying on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. He was so good at lying to you that you couldn’t even hear a skip when he lied.

“I care so much about us and where we end up. Thank you for letting me in,” every time he kissed the side of your head your cheeks would heat up and every nerve in your body would tingle.

The show he put on was always so believable, he deserved a standing ovation now.

“Tony says he’s proud I chose a good one. I can see what he means. You mean so much to me”

Did he ever feel the way you did at all?

———

No one knew you were leaving, they didn’t need to. Rhodey arranged the plans and as bad as it hurt to see some fucking idiot run his daughter off, you said this is what you needed and who was he to argue with that? You were old enough to make your own decisions.

Everyone threw a conniption when they were informed of your absence weeks later when it came time for another battle and it was all hands on deck and someone finally had the courage to ask where’d you’d been.

“Well where’d she go? Rhodes?” Natasha frowns and stares at the man who wasn’t reacting like everyone else.

Peter didn’t miss the way he cut his eyes to him before shaking his head.

“She’s fine, that’s all that matters”

“Bullshit!,” Tony guffaws

“Y/N wouldn’t just leave,” Peter pipes up.

“Oh what do you know?,”

Peter looked across the table at Rhodey and didn’t have much to say then. Peter then realized he never knew you at all. You were just someone who showed him the attention he was starved for.

He became an Icarus and had flown too close to the sun.

Running out of the room to dial your phone and only getting a dial tone.

You cut your losses, knowing you’d never be the same after this. You hated feelings, you hated crushes, because someone always gets... crushed, and not in a good way.

Peter tried calling he doesn’t know how many times until he tried the compound phone itself. The caller ID came up on your phone as “home #2” but you knew it was probably him.

You ignore it. That’s be the best. You were thriving. You made friends- your friends were your own- you didn’t have to share his, you didn’t have to worry about mutual friends.

This was for the best.

———

Ned and MJ were doing their best to calm Peter down but did he really have a right to be upset? He didn’t give a fuck about where you guys ended up nd everyone could see that, even if he said he did.

He just saw it too late.

“I hate to break it to you Peter but... I don’t think this is fixable,” MJ shrugs, “She’s come to me about her feelings multiple times and I’ve tried talking to you about it for her but you just won’t listen... she built those walls back up. Her heart isn’t on her sleeve anymore it’s surrounded by a fortress now,”

Peter didn’t want to hear that. He looked to Ned for help but all his best friend could do was frown and look away, knowing the truth of where you stood.

“How could I let this happen? How did I let it get this bad?,”

“You got off on finally having someone, especially someone as sweet as her. I don’t know what it is with the male species but you all are so attention hungry that you forget to take yourself off your own mind for even a millisecond to see the damage your self centered tendencies have caused,”

MJ was not the one to sugar coat it. Sure as Peter’s friends that didn’t do much to help because they did always hang out even if you and Pete had plans.

“A sweet girl like her can only get her heart broken once before she’s never the same again,”

———

Break was here that fast? Were you ready to go back? Were you ready to see everyone? Ready to see him?

Months have passed and he’s tried calling from different numbers, leaving 9 minute voicemails and long ass text messages. You applauded yourself for the self restraint.

You were better than that. You are better than what you were receiving.

“You know he’s going to be there? I can get you a room at a hotel if you want to avoid it,” Rhodey was good to finally have you home for a good month. Visiting you every weekend didn’t do justice for your bond as father and daughter.

“I’ll be fine. He doesn’t move me”

You’ve told yourself that enough to the point where you believed it without a doubt and that’s why you could walk in the doors of the compound and greet everyone without batting an eye at him.

His breath hitched at the sight of you. You were glowing- you were smiling- something he didn’t see much before you left.

Your eyes were already red from lack of sleep and worrying yourself. Skin always dull from pushing yourself to seem put together. He now sees how fake and pitiful your smiles were before. Seeing you now was how you first were when you two started “dating”- it should have never gotten to that stage of no light.

“We missed you, kid,” Clint picks you up and twirls you around.

“I missed you all too,”

“It’s late, but let’s get you settled in and you can tell me all about life where you’ve been,” Natasha took your bags.

Being in your old room was refreshing. Everything was the same and nothing was moved not even. A centimeter. Nat let you clean up in your own space before you called her back.

Hearing a knock on your door, you expected it to happen.

“Peter,”

You didn’t even have to turn to look to know it was him.

“Y/N,”

You were placing clothes in your dresser when he stood awkwardly at the door.

“How you been?,”

“That’s not why you’re here. Now is it?,” no point in beating around the bush right?

“Why’d you leave?”

“Why’d you turn a lover into a savage,” spinning on the heals of your feet you shoot a question right back and found it amusing how he looked like a fish in water trying to thin of an answer.

“All the words you don’t say speak the loudest, Peter,”

“I never meant to be so bad. I- I let it get to my head that I finally had someone who liked me and while I didn’t feel that was at first, I was getting there-,”

“You can’t force yourself to like someone, Peter,”

He knew that. But he feels that way now- but at what cost? it’s too late and he knows that.

“You said you gave a fuck about us but you didn’t and now I see that and that’s fine,”

He went to speak but you stopped him. He had more than enough time to realize his lack of effort before it got this far.

“You don’t get in my brain, you don’t fill up the spaces. My brain is finally void of any thought of you and it’s honestly exhilarating!!,”

You’ve thought about this moment for months. Rehearsing what you’d say until everything was scrapped now and you found the right words.

“I can finally see things that used to remind me of you and not whisper your name. You can stand right there and probably get on your knees begging for me back but I still wouldn’t let you in now!,”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have been better,”

Yeah- he should have been. Maybe this will be a lesson for him to do better, to be better.

“Tell me,” you step closer and look him in his eyes, “Did you ever feel the way I did at all? Before it even got to this point?,”

He couldn’t even maintain eye contact- that was all the answer you needed

“Get out,”

“Wait, Y/N just listen-,”

“You don’t get my attention anymore!!,” voice booming over his, you stormed passed him and opened your door wide, “Now get out!,”

He still hesitated and you stomped your foot in frustration, now he wanted to stay and be around you? Now that you didn’t want him... how rom-com of him.

“Now!!,”

Your shout was like a jolt of electricity in him that got in to move quickly. You slam your door behind him and catch your breath. Breathing slowly to calm down. That needed to happen. Now you feel like you can finally move on, you said your piece, getting any last words off your mind and feelings off your chest.

Now that you’ve built a fortress, you’ll never be the same. He never felt the way you did at all.

——————

This was probably bad? But I finally had inspiration to write so I hope this is enough. It’s 3 am and I needed to write this before I couldn’t.

Please reblog and comment!!

tags: @vozit @yournonlocalpoc @babybubastis @blackreaders-assemble @retroxvailles @mokacoconut @marvclheaux @dumbchick @warmchick @spideys-wife @xye-weirdo @m00nlightdelights @micki-smiles @veryhellshdia @never-enough-time-for-sleep @here-for-your-bullshit @valynsia @valkyriesnymph @chonisberonica @valentinevirgo @crawlingnightmares @hisxblackxqueen

#black!reader #avengers x reader #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #black mcu imagines #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel x reader #poc!reader #poc reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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chillmichelle · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Nights

Shawn and Y/N are best friends in love with each other, so why does he keep being with other girls?

Word count: 4.8K

Angst & Fluff

November, 2012

“Don’t worry, Y/N, i’ll be fine.” Shawn has a little too much gel in his hair as he places his headphones in his ears, one after the other. There are small pimples scattering across his forehead, and his braces make his words seem a little slurred, but he confidently (Although Y/N can tell he’s nervous enough to practically shit his pants) stands in front of the movie theater, waiting for Jess to show up.

“Well, I guess if you say so…” She trails off, still feeling uneasy about leaving her best friend there. Shawn had liked Jess since the sixth grade, and now he finally had a shot at actually dating her. He’d been so excited, the date being the only thing he’d talked about for the past few days. Y/N had helped him choose what outfit to wear, what movie to see, and shown him the basic principles of getting her to like him.

Drowning in his father’s cologne, Shawn stands at his tall height in front of the local movie theatre, eyes occasionally shifting to the automatic wristwatch on his right wrist. He nervously tilts back and forth on the pads of his feet, seeing that as the minutes roll by his mind fills with more possible reasons why she isn’t there.

Y/N, who he assumes trudged off a while ago, stands at the corner of the movie theatre, staring at her unknowing best friend who teeters more and more. Y/N counts the minutes as they tick by, and with every person who walks into the theatre (some of them apologetically staring at the cold, defeated boy out front) his expression deepens, frown drooping more and more.

The movie’s started at that point, Jess is 30 minutes past when he was supposed to meet her. He runs the dialogue Y/N’s been feeding him through his head.

“You look beautiful.”

“Don’t worry, i’ll pay.”

“I’m glad you came out tonight.”

His heart is shattered, the one girl he’s had his hopes up for since the 6th grade had finally given him a chance, and then when his hopes had gone up, she’d abandoned him and stood him up. Shawn takes a seat on the bench in front of the movie theatre, not caring if anyone sees him as he bows his head.

Y/N takes this as her chance, she walks out from where she’s been silently watching him from afar and walks to where he sits sadly on the bench. Shawn, who wants nothing more than to sit there and disappear, think’s she’s just another person walking by. But then he hears the footsteps stop right in front of him, and spots the snow boots he gifted her for her 14th birthday on her feet, and his head lifts to meet her eyes.

“Hey Curly, don’t sit here looking like a debby downer when there’s whole spiderman movie going on inside.” Y/N pulls her cold hand out of her pocket, using it to grab his fist as she tugs on it for him to stand up. He looks defeated, eyes swollen, and Y/N can tell he’s properly heartbroken from being stood up.

“Just because the night doesn’t turn out like you want it to, doesn’t mean it’s a shitty night. When I first met you, you were putting gum in my hair.” She tells him, ruffling his improperly gelled hair and tousling the messy waves.

Shawn smiles a little but, lips just barely perking upwards, but Y/N is happy nonetheless, and she pulls his hand, which has now unraveled from his fist, and leads the way into the movie theatre.

“Shawn if you don’t fucking get your flat ass back here right now, I swear to god I will rip every curly strand off of your head!”

Y/N climbs over the mess of sheets on her bed, stubby legs trying to run after him as he dips out into the hallway of her home. Her phone is gripped tightly in his hand and he laughs as he merely jogs, long legs still giving him the ability to be far ahead of her.

“You’ve been on this phone since I got here!” He says, sprinting down the wooden stairs to her home. As he makes his way into the kitchen, he hears little feet pad down the stairs behind him.

“That’s because it’s important!” She yells back, finally having caught up to him. They circle around the counter, Shawn turning on her phone and quickly entering in her password. She takes his distraction to quickly run towards him, hands reaching out to snatch the phone out of her hands. He immediately raises his arm up, his height giving him the advantage as Y/N stands on her tippy toes and tries to retrieve her precious device.

“Wow, who’s Grant?” Shawn asks, eyebrows going up and down as he scrolls through the conversation on her phone. Y/N’s cheeks immediately flush, knowing that their conversations weren’t necessarily the friendliest. She jumps up to grab her phone, and fails once more.

Shawn’s eyebrows stay furrowed as he reads through the messages. His heart tightens up a bit, stomach weirdly flipping inside of him as he reads the displays of affection exchanged between them. Playing it off subtly, he clears his throat and laughs, tickling her sides before handing the phone back to her.

He should be used to it by now, but he isn’t.

Shawn had been standing by Y/N for the past fifteen year of their lives. They’d been closer than any of their other friends, having more inside jokes and spending more time with each other than anyone else in their group had. Y/N remembered the time he suckered her into the school choir, despite her tone deaf voice, and laughed with him time to time about how the choir teacher made her stand in the corner of the stage and play the triangle so that her voice wouldn’t throw off the whole performance.

Growing up, it seemed as if they were inseparable. People always thought they were dating, and when they would both deny the accusations (which people never believed), the suspicion grew even more. After all, Shawn and Y/N were both attached by the hip all the time.

But when Shawn left for tour at 15, things changed a bit every time he came back home.

He was never really in Pickering for long, and neither was she anymore, now that she’d gone off to college. When he would visit every few months ( if it were up to him it would be more often), she’d hear different stories about him from other people, ones that she didn’t want to believe were true, but ones that she knew were.

Y/N wouldn’t necessarily say that she was in love with Shawn.

Of course, she loved him as a friend. She loved the little dimples that he had during his chubby phase in elementary school, and she loved the way that his eyes changed shades depending on his moods. She always knew how to read him, and when Shawn went missing for hours on end after getting into a fight with his family, she always knew to find him behind the sketchy Gas station in front of their old elementary school, a handful of quarters in his pocket as he stress chews packs of gum and writes song lyrics into his mind.

So why did she feel that way every time she heard another story of him coming back from tour, to hook up with another girl who wouldn’t have dared to be with him if he wasn’t who he was? Why did her stomach feel uneasy whenever an advertisement for a gossip magazine, with him hugging a supermodel who was dressed in his clothing, bother her so much?

Why did she coincidentally get drunk every time he stood her up when he came back home?

She wasn’t exactly sure. She loved him, but she didn’t want to be in love with him. She was well aware that there wasn’t any way that he felt the same way as she did.

So she drowned herself in other boys, ones that just happened to also have hazel eyes and a head of curly hair. Ones that happened to also enjoy John Mayer, and ones that also just happened to play guitar.

She wasn’t the proudest she could be at her choices, ut what choice did she have, really? He was a celebrity, no matter how much he felt like her best friend from home.

Tucking her phone back into the waistband of her sweats, Y/N shoots Shawn a glare, flipping him off before she turns around to grab a cookie from the small carton she’d purchased. The carton was almost empty, and she sighed knowing that she’d eventually have to go back to the grocery store.

“So, tell me about this Grant guy?” Shawn asks, leaning his elbows onto the kitchen counter and placing his chin in the palm of his hand as he awaits her answer like a giddy school girl. Y/N scoffs, tucking a cookie into her mouth before speaking with her mouth full.

“There’s really nothing to say. It’s just a fling, I don’t really want a relationship right now.” She shortly answers. Unless it’s with you, she thinks to herself, but mentally slaps herself in the face. Shawn nods, trying to hide the feeling of hurt flinch at him from her words.

I don’t really want a relationship right now.

Shawn was sure that he was in love with Y/N.

It had taken him a while to admit it to himself, but he had been in town one night, visiting their hometown and strolling through the streets of his neighborhood, and he had seen a small basketball hoop on the side of the walls of one of the homes.

He immediately thought back to their childhood. When Shawn was 9, his parents had gotten him a portable basketball goal for their large driveway. After a day of practicing (missing all of the shots) basketball one day, with Y/N cheering him on jokingly from the sidelines, he’d fallen and scraped his knee on the asphalt. Instead of going inside and giving him a proper bandaid, Y/N had taken a scrunchie off of her wrist, and placed it on top of the wound on Shawn’s knee.

He still had the scrunchie lying around somewhere in his bedroom.

There was a party going on that night, and Shawn remembered seeing various childhood friends getting drunk at the party that was a short 10 minute walk away from where he was. Then he recalled seeing the video of Y/N, drunkenly singing along to a song from the early 2000’s, her arms pulling someone’s neck closer to hers.

And it had bothered him.

A lot.

Shawn had noticed from then on the feeling he would get whenever she would mention anyone else. He tried to fight his feeling, tried to find love in other girls, tried to save his friendship by stopping his feelings for his best friend. But after a while he noticed how all the girls he’d be attracted to, would have traces of her with them.

That girl at the bar looks pretty, he would think.

Shit, she looks like Y/N.

Shawn knew that one of these days, he was bound to say at least something to her. That’s why he would sometimes cancel his plans with her, he was so afraid of slipping up and letting her know that he loved her in some way. And as much as he did love her, he knew that having any of her was better than having none of her at all.

So he swallowed her words about not wanting a relationship, mentally cursed out whoever this Grant guy was in his head, and stole a few of her cookies, stress eating his way through his problems.

Y/N’s sitting next to Shawn in the passenger seat of his jeep, her legs are dangling due to how high the seats are, and she watches the way his arms flex as he rolls the steering wheel with his wrists on the surface.

“Remember the monkey bars at that place?” Shawn points to the abandoned preschool, vines forming over the worn out concrete structures. It was where Shawn and Y/N had both met, growing up on the crappy equipment together.

“I’m pretty sure our entire grade got the flu from those bars.” Y/N laughs, remembering the time her and Shawn both got sick. She swears that it was him who sniffled first, but he always assured her it was her who gave it to him.

Their reminiscing is cut short when Shawn’s phone suddenly buzzes a number of times all at once. Multiple texts hit his phone and Y/N, without thinking, reaches down to grab it from where it’s connected to the aux.

“I’ll check it”

She expects to see a text from his mum, or his sister, maybe his friends about hanging out now that he’s back in town for the winter, but instead she’s met with an array of text messages from various other girls.

She sees some of the texts have attachments sent with them, vulgar words pressing at the conversations that he was apparently having. Y/N’s stomach feels a bit sick from the flirty nature of all of the messages, and she quietly puts his phone back down onto the console before closing her mouth and waiting for the tears welling at her eyes to dry away.

“Y/N, they’re just-”

“It’s none of my business, Shawn.” Her heart pokes against the frame of her ribcage, the small piece of hope that she had that maybe, just maybe he could like her back being shredded as she stares out through the foggy, iced up window of his car.

Shawn stands on her front porch, a small bundle of daisies in his hand as he nervously paces back and forth. His footsteps are quiet on the hardwood of her patio, and he presses on in his head what to say to her.

He hadn’t been this nervous since his first performance.

He finally gathers his thoughts together, hands lifting up in a loose fist to knock at her door, but before his knuckles can reach the door, the door swings open and in a panic, Shawn throws the daisies over the bush next to the porch.

“Shawn?” Y/N’s eyes are wide. She has a cute little blush to her cheeks, and Shawn wants nothing more than to lean forward and shower he soft skin in kisses. He refrains, though, and clears his throat as he replies.

Why was he so fucking nervous?

“Hey.” His voice cracks as he speaks, he feels embarrassed at the action, but is relieved when Y/N lets out a snort, laughing at his mistake.

“What are you doing here?” She asks him, fingers tapping against the back of her phone as she awaits an answer.

“Thought maybe you’d want to go to the movies or something?” He suggests. His eyebrows raise and he gives her a soft look, and she’s reminded of how he looked back in secondary school.

“I’d love to Shawn, but I can’t. I have plans tonight, maybe tomorrow?” His heart drops a little, but he keeps his composure. Before he can reply, a pair of headlights flashes it’s way behind the two of them, and Shawn snaps his neck backwards to see a sports car pulling into her driveway.

The door to the expensive looking car opens, and a tall boy (not as tall as Shawn, but still tall) steps out of the vehicle. He has a bundle of daisies in his hand, and Shawn immediately curses himself for panicking and throwing them behind the bush.

“Y/N? You ready to go?” His voice is deep, hair perfectly done in a messy neat kind of way and Shawn hates it because he looks like a good guy. A guy who could give her a good time, without having any phony articles written about him or fans hating on his girl. Y/N lets out a little smile, a dreamy one that Shawn would admire if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t the one causing it.

“Yeah! Get back in the car Grant, it’s chilly outside.”

Y/N looks up at Shawn, her eyebrows raising a bit, “I’ll see you, Shawn.”

“Yeah, t-tomorrow?” He stutters out and she merely nods before walking towards Grant’s car. He waits for her, opening the door of the car before closing it behind her, and pulling out the driveway. Shawn stays standing on her porch, daisies scattered across her lawn as his chest aches a little bit at watching her leave.

“Heard Shawn had quite the night with that instagram model who goes to Western.” Y/N munches on some complementary pretzels as Brian speaks loudly to his friends across from her. Shawn’s excused himself to go to the restroom, and right as he leaves the boys continue talking about his crazy adventures as a celebrity.

Her heart aches just a little bit, and to relieve the tension, she fills the rest of her body with beer and floury chips. Her mind is a bit gone and she refrains from any sort of conversation in fear of giving herself away.

“Gotta give the man some credit, he has good game.” Im laughs as he reaches forward to steal a pretzel from the bowl held in Y/N’s lap. She slaps his hand away and stuff two more down her lips.

“Can I get a fucking pretzel?” Ian playfully questions. Y/N shakes her head, mouth too full to give a response. When she swallows a bit later, she opens her mouth to speak again.

“Why do you all always insist on talking about Shawn’s love life instead of getting one of your own?” She digs, a bit pissed off at them. She knows it’s not at all their fault, but she can’t help her emotions getting the best of her.

“Jesus Y/N, what’s got you so worked up?” Brian spits back at her, actually sounding a bit defensive. Y/N reaches for another pretzel, but faces disappointment when she realizes the bowl is empty.

The truth is that Brian was right. She had no right to be upset, at all in fact. She wondered to herself. If she hadn’t gone out with Grant, and if she’d instead gone to a movie with Shawn, would he have not slept with someone else that night?

Y/N knows she shouldn’t be talking. But last night she had begrudgingly ended things with Grant. He was a nice guy, and she knew of it for sure, but he wasn’t Shawn. She was planning on spending more time with him, maybe seeing what they could be to see if she felt anything more than friendship towards him.

And then he’d slept with someone else.

Did that mean that he didn’t like her at all? Did it, perhaps, mean that she’d given up Grant for no real reason? She wanted to believe that she had made the right choice in ending things with him. After all, she knew she had all of these feelings for Shawn that she was unsure of.

But was she trying for nothing?

“Did you finally realize you’re head over heels in love with Shawn?” She hears Ian say, and she’s immediately snapped back into reality.

“What?” She quickly asks, head snapping over to look at Ian. He has a relaxed expression on his face, the alcohol clearly having taken the edge off of him as he leans against the booth with his body slouching off of it.

“Well you’re in love with him.” He tells her, expression scrunching up after he says it, “Aren’t you?”

Y/N gulps, she didn’t want anyone else to know, especially Shawns friends. But on another hand, they were also her friends.

The part that conflicts her the most is the fact that she doesn’t even know how she feels. Was she in love with Shawn? Maybe. She was definitely bothered by the idea of him being with someone who wasn’t her. He knew her better than most people did, and he’d always at east made an effort to talk to her whenever he was home.

But he was Shawn.

He travelled the world every other month, probably getting with tons of other pretty girls in the process. He wouldn’t have time for her, and he wouldn’t like her after all of the other amazing girls he had the ability to be with. Y/N knew there was no way her feelings were reciprocated.

So she blames the beer when she nods lightly, eyes staring down at the bar table as she accepts the fact that there’s no way he’d ever want someone like her, no matter how much she misses him when he’s not home.

“Pretty fucking obvious.” Brian remarks and she turns to glare at him, throwing a crumpled up wrapper from a plastic straw at his face before huffing and leaning down to take another sip of her beer.

“Just drop it, i’m sure that he wouldn’t want me anyways.” She grumbles, head ducking down uncomfortably. The boys shrug, and they change the subject to some recent hockey match their school had. Y/N debates leaving, and she boredly fiddles with the napkins on the table before she feels a quick tug on her hood.

“Can I have a word with you?” Shawn stands behind her, jaw clenched, and he looks a little bit angry from what she can see. Her head hurts a bit from processing the words, and she’s aware that he probably heard her entire conversation with the boys.

When she doesn’t respond, he grabs her hand and pulls her out of the booth, walking her to the counter of the bar where the bartender stands with a cleaning rag and an empty glass in his hand.

The stand silently, both obviously overwhelmed by the plethora of information. She stares at the prefilled bowls of pretzels behind the bar, and feels like asking for one. Instead, she lowers her head and remembers where she is: Standing in front of Shawn, having just admitted that she’s in love with him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice sounds strained, as if he’s trying to keep it quiet. Y/N doesn’t want to be in front of him, especially when he seems irritated and angry, but she swallows her fear and responds.

“Just, didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess.” She quietly responds, tucking her bottom lip into her teeth. The room feels suffocating and her arms begin to sweat.

“Y/N, you should’ve told me.” He sternly says, “You have no idea what this means.” His eyes close and he shakes his head, stoic expression on his face. He smells like cologne and Y/N wants to tuck her face into his neck and just hug him. She then remembers that she might’ve just ruined their entire friendship, and her imagination shuts off.

“It’s embarrassing.” She truthfully admits. It’s embarrassing to her, yes, because she knows there’s no way someone as successful and amazing as him could ever love her back. She knows she’s stupid for loving him, and it kills her that he seems angry at her feelings. She knows just how much she’s going to be devastated because she’s in love with him, and all he sees is red.

“It’s embarrassing to be in love with me?” His expression hardens even more, if it’s possible and Y/N nods her head.

“Y/N, i’ve been in love with you for-” He takes a deep breath, “The longest fucking time.”

Y/N doesn’t know how to feel. Her shoulders feel empty, mood lifting, and she knows she’s no longer sad. But now she feels a surge of hurt rush over her.

He was in love with her, but he still messed around with all of those girls?

Grant was the first boy Y/N had ever given a chance since Shawn had left for tour, since they were both 15. Y/N never got further than an awkward kiss with Grant, mostly because it felt wrong to do so when she knew she had feelings for someone else.

And here he was, a hundred models literally in his contact list as he tries to tell her he’s been in love with her all this time.

“You were in love with me?” She asks Shawn, her voice raising a bit as she no longer feels sad, “You were in love with me.” She repeats to herself, eyes darting into midair as she processes his words.

“Well then why did you talk to all those other girls?” She questions, wanting to clear things up before she’s sure that they have a solid chance. She sees Shawn gulp, a habit he has when he’s intimidated and her heart drops a bit because she knows he hasn’t changed.

“Shawn, you know how shitty I felt every time I would hear you got with another girl?” She bites at the skin of her lip, nibbling on the chapped skin, “You even cancelled on me sometimes just to hookup with other girls.”

Her lips curve downward. Shawn chokes, he thought that her reciprocating his feelings meant they would actually have a chance at being together, but he’d neglected all of his mistakes in his mental image of them together.

“That was-” He clears his throat, “A mistake.”

Y/N scoffs, “A mistake you made up until last night.”

Shawn knows it’s not supposed to be like this, they were supposed to be happy when they found out they loved each other. He’d been imagining this moment for months, yet now that it was here, it was so different. All because of his stupid decisions.

“Shawn just found out I love you.” She tells him, sadness lacing her voice, “But i’m just not sure if you love me back.”

Shawn wants to step forward, and lock his lips against hers. He wants to tell her he loves the way she sometimes snorts when she laughs, or how her hair tangles in the morning, or how he knows every single detail about her from the day her parents separated, to how she likes her eggs. He wants to show her the photo album on his phone of candid pictures he took, just admiring her. Wants to run his fingers down her skin like he’d always dreamt of doing.

“Of course I love you.” He defends himself harshly, “I’ve always loved you. It’s always been you!” He tries to tell her. She shakes her head, not believing any of her words, but why should she? He hadn’t given her a single reason to make her believe he was serious about her. He sometimes declines her calls on tour, and he’d slept with another girl just the night before.

“Shawn, give me your phone.” She asks him. He furrows his eyebrows, not knowing what she’s trying to do.

“What?”

“Give me your phone.” She tells him more urgently. He grabs the device out of his back pocket, handing it over to her quickly, and she taps in the password before pressing on the messages icon.

Scrolling through the texts and contacts, Y/N feels her heart sink deeper and deeper. Now she was definitely sure that there was no way he loved her. He had the audacity to exchange these - these words with all of these other girls just moments before he had told her he loved her, and how was she supposed to believe him?

Shawn feels disappointed in himself, because his careless actions may have just costed him the one thing he’s wanted. The one thing that money, or fame, or acclaim can’t buy him. Her.

She clicks his phone off, half heartedly paying it onto the wooden bar counter before shamefully looking down at her shoes. Shawn doesn’t know how to fix things, or if she’ll ever want to be with him.

“I love you, Shawn.” She tells him, and Shawn’s heart skips a few beats at her words alone, “I’m just not sure if you’re ready to love me.”

And when she walks past him, coat clutched to her chest as she stumbles out of the cozy bar, shawn can’t help but smile a bit to himself as he remembers that the night may not be shitty, just because it didn’t turn out like he hoped it would.

#shawn mendes #shawn #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb #blurbs #imagine #angst #fluff

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lettersfromthepandemic · 5 years ago

Text

Letter One - Of Pandemic Times; May 25th 2020

Dear Future Generations,

Chances are you are searching through our Digital archive to learn about the Pandemic of 2020 for a history report. I’ll bet your text books paint a perfectly hind-sighted picture of what truly happened on earth when Covid 19 swept across it.

From where I sit now, things are not so clear. It’s been two months since we’ve entered lockdown and the best we know is that a vaccine will bring this to and end. Realistically, it will be years before the world is safe to visit human beings again and the reality is that for many of us, it will never be the same.

My first letter is a long one. I thought of this while I was dancing in the rain after a thunderstorm. You see, no one walks outside when it rains. I found my freedom in the dripping of water from the clouds. My neighbors think I am nuts. But I laugh it off. The warm summer rain forces everyone inside and I can walk the streets in peace, barefoot and wet without coming across a soul.

I live in America, in a large city. This pandemic has been terrifying. For all the reasons I loved living here before this started; they are now the reasons it is scary. I’ve lost everything I love about being here. I’ve never questioned my choices of city living. Without all the culture, education and entertainment options open. With my industry completely shut down and without work - there is no reason for me to be here. Take that all away and Covid times have got me thinking of buying a house in a small town in the middle of nowhere and starting over.

There is no escape from people. We are packed in too tightly. The sidewalks are too small for walks without bumping into someone. There is no way to control your neighbor and everyone deals with the fear and preparations of keeping safe differently. There is no space to breathe without someone walking through it. A large part of the population won’t wear masks.

You’ll learn as you read different perspectives, how different the experience is for each person living through this time in history.

That’s exactly why I am writing to you today. I want you to know what the journalists, governments and history books won’t tell you. What the social media feeds will fail to demonstrate. I want you to know how it feels to be here. Now, in this time. In hopes that this message in a bottle finds you in a better world.

In America, it’s a politically divisive time. While it’s worth mentioning that I am a feminist that believes in social justice and equality. I can tell you that the fall out from our politics has divided us sharply. The last big fight for equal rights is happening as we evolve and the disenfranchised voice is becoming louder. Still, it is not fast enough. In my lifetime I went from reading and watching mostly cis, white, heterosexual male stories to seeing America begin to more fully represent its peoples. There are more women in Congress now than there ever was. We have a shot at seeing a female president in my life time.

This is no where near the representation we’d like to see, but it's a start. This movement has unearthed the underbelly of racist, sexist, privileged people who are rising up in opposition. They require sharp education, myself included, at reconciling and acknowledging privilege to undo the hurt of our beginnings. These peoples think they are starting to be “oppressed,’ as they become the minority. But they use that word and don’t understand what it means. It’s a time of reckoning for our countries beginnings. Progress has been too slow for the mistakes we made directly keeping down slaves, indigenous peoples and immigrants that didn’t come from a white European country. Colonization and the effects thereof are everlasting. Even hundreds of years later.

That tension feeds our media. They, the media, stoke the fires into great sweeping rage and dissension for the price of advertising dollars. Social media has allowed one to curate information that suits a point of view. There is no longer debate. Academics are pitted against “common sense.” Pick a side and draw a line in the sand. Choose your battle ground.

This backdrop, is the stage to which this pandemic is played out in America. The division is not helpful when in crisis we need unity. Our Covid numbers continue to rise sharply. American capitalism fails when the lower class can’t or won’t work. So they are putting us back to work, knowing that we will be sacrificing lives.

This truth is sharply debated by many but I believe history will show it to be true. We know this virus will spread easily until we have a vaccine and yet we are sending people back to work with bandaids on gaping wounds. We are scared. We are fighting over why a person should wear a mask. We are uncertain of our futures and we are watching our structures crumble underneath us.

That said, it’s been a hundred years since the last pandemic swept the earth. Our advances have allowed us to work from home and digitally connect. Technology, I have no doubt saves many lives.

I wonder what will save your life in the next hundred years. Studying history, it seems we have a new virus or plague that rotates through the populations within that time. You’d think we would have been better prepared. It will come to light that our government knew this risk was imminent. Perhaps you are writing your report on that very thing. We knew. We did nothing. I wish I could report to you that we prepared all we could but it is not the truth. We chose to ignore that risk and carry on. Our experts have been warning us for years. I live in a time where we question our experts and don’t believe them. All that enlightenment and learning and still, our people fight science.

Granted, planning for every scenario of apocalyptic doom would be impossible. But I believe us to be smart intelligent creatures capable of evolving ourselves and therefore think the greater of us. Most of us were busy building our lives distracted. We elected leaders to prepare and protect society. They did not. While blame is not useful to move forward. I hope that from where you sit, society feels more responsibility for each other. At this time in humanity, our populations are booming. Our “media,” only reports the bad stuff but the truth is we were, up until this point, living in the most peaceful time in human history. You wouldn’t know it by reading one of our newspapers. We haven’t evolved past our fascination with the darker parts of life on this rock. Blood, discord, disaster and fear sell advertising and products.

Even for all our faults, we are making progress as a species. Its a lovely optimism to adopt. But alas, I am also a realist. Our dark sides are ever present at work too.

The pandemic of 2020 has heightened our inequalities. They existed before this, but today they are even more present. In America, we are calling our essential workers “heroes.” In reality, they are only called that because we are sacrificing them to the virus for the “good of society.” Our food producers, housing and healthcare professions are under a great deal of strain.

Our meat production plants are currently struggling to operate as many factories and plants that have been in operation since this began are now having large parts of the population become sick. In America, our poverty stricken populations are often the ones on the front lines serving others and at the highest risk.

I can tell you that I feel powerless to stop this machine but I want to. I’d like to find ways to fight this injustice and demand better for our people. Before all this, I was lobbying for universal healthcare in our country and free college education for everyone. This pandemic has only confirmed the need to work together and provide for one another. Though we fight over what that looks like. I know in our hearts, we want to do better.

I’ve only spoken to three humans in person from a distance, once in 78 days. Everything else is digital. Currently, I have enough budget to have all my essentials delivered. That privilege affords me other luxuries too. I can control who I see and who I don’t. This control is something that I do not take for granted. Though quarantine is hard, I’m not forced to interact with others at the moment. I’ve adapted my work to this new reality and am working at every angle to keep dollars coming in the door.

Even so. Emotionally, we are a mess. It’s a wild ride of feelings from one moment to the next. The quiet safety of our homes lulls us into a dull reality. We limit our news. We limit reading about the virus. It has forced us to live more in the moment and focus on the tasks in front of us rather than too far ahead. With so much uncertainty, that has helped with the stress.

I recite these things to myself to soothe my weary soul: We are smart. We are capable. We have survived this before. We can solve our own issues. We can do better. We will do better. I am smart. I am capable. I have survived hard times. I can solve my own issues. I can do better. I will do better. It is my daily prayer. It doesn’t always help.

I wonder what life is like for others as I stare out my window every day. I miss the outside and bird watch more than I ever have. Digital life is helpful for survival but often feels empty. As excited as I get for interaction, I often close the laptop after a meeting and feel sad. This reality has me questioning everything.

I hope from your position in the future, we figured this out. That my faith is humans has merit. For now, it all feels so uncertain. The numbers are still climbing. While we have people recovering there are many that are suffering terribly.

I don’t understand why our country isn’t in mourning. Perhaps the numbers are too big to fathom. I cry almost every day reading the death tolls. The news hurts. I mourn each addition without knowing them but only for the few seconds I can allow before dusting myself off and getting back to my own work. I worry about the stacking of issues we’ve ignored as climate change heats us up. In a pandemic the natural disasters make life even harder and we are seeing that play out already. Floods, tornados, fires, storms and drought all adding up to challenge our lives. We too chose to ignore them.

I vote for reform on climate change at every chance I get. I’d like you to know that many of us are trying. We also know it’s a problem and that if we don’t invest in the future of our planet, that it will become your problem too. This issue hasn’t hit its match point. Too many people are still worried about day to day living. That keeps us from being able to plan ahead. A theme of our demise.

It’s the privileged who have the time and resources to work on prevention. These are the hearts and minds we need to work on changing. They are the hardest to change. Once a person has more than they need, I think the fear of loosing it forces them to ignore others. At least, that is how I summarize the issue.

Myself, I came from humble roots and spent many of my formative years in poverty. I understand what it means to have nothing. I also have the peace of knowing that even in my poverty, I had happiness. Perhaps this has kept me sane during the pandemic. Knowing I can survive.

As the summer heats us up in America, I worry what lies ahead. We are itching for a release and I fear Covid will spread faster come fall. I write to you in hope. That you are reading this from a place that is safe. Where we survived and we did it with less loss than the previous pandemic.

What follows will be a collection of letters. Stories. Tales from the times. It is all the more important to make sure that the voice of our past is human. In my time, the text books didn’t teach that. We send you this time capsule. Please learn what we didn’t. I trust you will.

#lettersfromthepandemic #pandemic2020 #2020 #2020timecapsule #dearfuturegenerations

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