#cause the last couple times i kept getting the wrong stitch count n doing the cables wrong (its such a dark black)

[kimoralov3]

Back Home to You

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

description: peter made a mistake letting you go. it takes traveling to another universe for him to do something about it

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, swearing, angst, fluff

word count: 2171

a/n: i wrote this all in one sitting after rewatching nwh so don't come at me for the quality. also tagging @arkofblake because i told her about this last night and she freaked

read it on ao3

“Peter? Where are you?” You asked as you walked into your shared apartment, putting away your coat and your purse. By the time you had gotten your shoes off, there was still no response. “Peter?”

“In the bathroom.” You heard his voice softly call. It sounded as if he was in pain, so you rushed to see what was happening.

Peter’s suit was halfway off, a large gash on his right side and smaller cuts and bruises littered around the rest of his body. He was currently attempting to stop the bleeding without much luck.

“Oh my god, Peter.” You mumbled as you walked over to him, grabbing the towel from him. You pressed it into the wound, causing him to wince in pain. “Sorry, sorry, this is the only way to stop the bleeding. What happened?”

“I was trying to stop Vulture and he got the better of me. It’s really not a big deal, I’ve had worse.” Peter says through clenched teeth. You roll your eyes at that, quickly peeking to see if the bleeding had stopped yet. It hadn’t. “What?”

“Nothing, Peter. I just— I’m tired of seeing you like this.” You say as you grab his hand and place it over the towel, making sure that Peter kept the right amount of pressure on it as you got the first aid supplies out.

“What do you mean? Seeing me like what?” He asks as he turns to face you. You ignore him, getting out the needle and thread, as well as the disinfectant. “Y/N, what do you mean by ‘seeing you like this’?”

“Peter, you have a fucking gash the size of Texas on your side. Don’t act dumb.” You snap as you remove the towel from his side, wiping the excess blood away. Peter groaned in pain again, flinching away.

“Y/N, I knew what I was getting into when I became Spider-Man. A couple rough days are nothing to me. I’ll be fine.” Peter says as he gently places a hand on your shoulder. You mumble something under your breath as you thread the needle, although Peter couldn’t understand what you said. “What?”

“Peter now is not the best time to have this conversation. Let’s just drop it.” You say dismissively as you get ready to stitch up Peter’s wound.

He rolls his eyes, deciding to let it go for now. Once you had gotten him stitched up and left, Peter was left to his thoughts as he showered off. What could you possibly be talking about? Yes, being Spider-Man was dangerous, but he knew that. You knew that, and you accepted it. At least, that’s what he had previously thought.

He got out of the shower a few minutes later, getting dressed, and heading into the living room to see you pacing back and forth. “Y/N? What’s going on?” 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Peter.” You whisper as you continue pacing. Peter gives you a confused look, stepping closer and placing his hands on your arms to stop you.

“Do what? What can’t you do anymore?” He whispers softly as he looks into your eyes, hands moving up to cup your cheeks.

“Us. I don’t think I can do this relationship anymore.” You say. In that moment Peter’s whole world crumbles. What had he done wrong? How had he made you unhappy?

You placed your hands over Peter’s, moving them off of you. “It’s not something you’ve done necessarily, it’s just… I’m not cut out for this anymore. I can’t stand to watch you come home like this every day. You’re not taking care of yourself properly, and I’m scared that—” You’re cut off by a burning feeling in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. You take a step back, wiping them away.

“Scared that what, Y/N?” Peter asked, tears forming in his eyes now. 

“I’m scared that you won’t come back, Peter. I’m scared that one day, I’m gonna come home and instead of you there’ll be police at my door, telling me that my boyfriend died fighting some giant fucking lizard, or a guy who has some high-tech suit that costs more than our whole apartment building! I want more for myself, but most importantly I want more for you. And I wish that I was the type of person to be selfish, and ask you to give up doing what you love. But I’m not. So I’m leaving. It’s better for the both of us.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Neither of you know what to say. Peter wants you to stay. He wants to tell you that he’ll do better, that he’ll be better for you. But he can’t. Because he knows what that means, and as much as he would like to think so, he’s not ready to stop putting his all into being Spider-Man. Even if it means losing you.

The silence is enough for you. You take a deep breath, moving past Peter to your bedroom to pack some clothes. You come back a few minutes later with a duffel bag and your purse. “If you change your mind, I’ll be staying with my sister.”

Those are the final words Peter hears from you before you leave the apartment. Before you leave him.

—

Peter never considered himself to be jealous— especially of other people’s relationships. But seeing how much Peter 1 and MJ cared for and trusted each other— it made him sick. Not because they didn’t fit together— it was almost as if they were made for each other. It was because it reminded him of you. Of what the two of you had before he went and fucked it all up.

The first few weeks after you left were hard for Peter. He’s ashamed to admit that he stopped being as kind as he was before. Quite a few of the villains he ran into left their encounters beaten within an inch of their lives. He stopped visiting May as much as he used to— which he really regretted because she had done nothing wrong and was honestly the only person he could’ve gone to about his troubles.

But he isolated himself because he thought that that was what was best. It wasn’t, he knew that now. After he finally realized that he was just proving your point, he started to better himself. He stopped being reckless, started thinking about why he was actually doing what he was doing.

By now he knew he was a much better man than he had ever been when he was with you. But it wasn’t enough, at least not in his mind. He’d almost texted and called you multiple times, even showed up on your doorstep a few times. But he could never bring himself to say or do what he needed.

For now, he was content with just checking in on you every once in a while. You had found an apartment about 15 minutes away from where the two of you used to live. You had decorated it nicely. That was always something you were good at, figuring out what looked good together.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter 2 asked, grabbing Peter’s attention. 

“Nothing.” He said quickly, prompting Peter 2 to give him a knowing look. “It’s just…seeing them together reminds me of someone.” He says with a little smile.

“Oh? Is this someone someone special?” Peter 2 asks as he takes off his saftey goggles. 

“She was—is. She is special to me.” Peter mumbles as he finishes writing the equation for the formula.

“Was? What happened?”

The question causes Peter to sigh. “I fucked up, really bad. She cared so deeply for me, and I took that for granted.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I think that’s one of the downsides of doing what we do, especially if you don’t have everything together. It’s usually the ones we love the most that end up getting hurt by our foolishness.”

Peter takes a moment to think on what was said. “Wow, that was really deep.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “So, how did you get the courage to try and win her back?”

“Honestly? I didn’t. I ran into her one day and everything just…came pouring out of me. If we hadn’t of run into each other, I honestly don’t think I’d ever have gotten the courage to talk to her again.” Peter 2 explained as he worked. Peter nodded, understanding what he meant.

He had a lot to think about when he got back home. 

—

When he had finally gotten back to his home—his universe— Peter had immediately collapsed on his bed. He had every intention of going to you that night, but it was extremely late, he was tired, and he had just fought off 5 different villains. The man needed his rest. 

That rest turned into 2 days, then 4, then a whole week, and he still hadn’t gone to speak with you. Again, he had fully intended to, but something was stopping him. He kept telling himself that he was going to do it the next day, but he knew deep down that that was a lie. 

It was late at night when he got the urge to see you again. This had become a normal occurrence over the past few years. On nights when it was pretty tame, he would sit on the fire escape of your apartment and make sure you were alright. Sure, it was a little strange but he didn’t particularly care.

Only this time, when he came to perch on your fire escape, you were sitting on your windowsill, a mug in your hands. “Hello, Peter.” You say with a soft smile as he lands.

He gives you an awkward smile, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn’t used to this feeling, especially when it came to you. “Hey.”

“You know, for a superhero, you’re not the most stealthy person in the world.” You say as you hand him the mug. “It’s tea, just the way you like it.”

“Thank you.” He says. He takes a sip, humming at the taste. He looks up at you behind the mug. “So, are you uh, are you upset that I’ve been spying on you?”

“No. I expected it.” You whisper with a giggle, leaning your head against the windowsill. Peter nods, not sure of what to say. He sets the mug down, running his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe that he was doing this.

“Look, Y/N, I am so sorry for how things ended 3 years ago. I hate that I hurt you, that I made you worry about me when I wasn’t even worried about myself. I took your words to heart and I got better. I stopped being impulsive and started being more calculated. And I so badly wanted to come to you, but I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk hurting you again.” He finishes, slightly out of breath. There was a moment where nothing but looks were exchanged. Finally, you got up and walked over to him. “What are you doing?” Peter asked softly as he looked down at you.

You don’t say anything, just smile and pull his face down so that your lips touch gently. He practically melts into the kiss, his arms finding their spot around your waist once again. He’s missed this. You’ve missed this. 

When you pull away from each other, it’s all smiles. Peter is grinning like a child on Christmas and you love it, reaching your hand up slightly to move his hair out of his face. 

“Does this mean that you forgive me?” He whispers. You chuckle at that, playfully rolling your eyes.

“You get a kiss like that and you’re questioning whether or not I forgive you?” You ask, causing Peter to throw his head back with laughter.

“What, I feel like it’s a fair question. Don’t leave me hanging.” He says as he playfully shakes the two of you. 

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Yes, Peter Parker. I forgive you.”

This causes the smile on Peter’s face to grow even wider. He leans down, giving you another kiss. You lean up into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“I love you, Y/N. And I promise that I will never, never hurt you again. And if I do, I give you full permission to beat my ass and never look back.” He says once the two of you pull away.

“I don’t think that I’ll need to do that, but thank you for that.” You say with a smile. Peter and you share another laugh, before you turn and look inside your apartment. “It’s a little chilly out here, why don’t we head back inside?”

Peter hums, allowing you to pull him into the warmth of your apartment. He was glad to have a sense of normalcy back in his life.

[typheus]

The light in my room sucks but heres what I've been up to

[shadowsinger11]

John Wayne

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Christmas lights and stunning dresses are enough to spark a desire for a winter romance. But could you have possibly gotten the wrong idea?

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: I might've listened too much to Cigarettes After Sex while writing and this is totally not a song inspired fic, born purely as a result of my procrastination with other projects

Tag list: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @loony-loopy-lupinn @whiz-bangs78 @slytherinsunrise @starlightweasley @ickle-ronniekins @gcdric @vivianweasley @aprilsrant @idont-knowrn @thisismynerdyself @wonderful-writer @feetoffthetablee @minty-malfoy @vogueweasley @elf-punk @oh-for-merlins-sake @heart-of-tempered-steel @spilled-prose @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads @pastanest | message me to be added/removed! (if you're in bold, I couldn't tag you)

You were staring at the crowded dance floor.

Beautiful ladies were being spun around by their partners, gorgeous gowns twirling and swooshing with their every elegant move. Everything was perfect about them; from their smile which lit up the Great hall more than the sparkling white Christmas trees, to the way their wrist gracefully twisted around their lover's neck, eyes piercing into theirs. The music was playing, slow and melancholic, exactly as it had been playing for the last few hours, luring lovers and encouraging them to bare their souls in front of each other.

And so they danced, connected by fearful desire, united by hope and bonded by love.

It was a kind of magic no one could truly understand, mysterious and private as though you weren't meant to witness it that night. So when among the sea of couples lips met in a silent oath, your heart began to ache, pleading you to leave.

It should have been you. It should have been you the receiver of those loving glances, of those kisses which made your head dizzy and caused your knees to buckle, but it would've been no problem as you would've had the arms of your lover to keep you secure. Then, as you'd dare to look up through your lashes, gorgeous eyes would be already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. And you'd simply fall, letting the warm, velvety darkness envelope you.

You flinched from the slight chill, rethinking your choice of a sleeveless dress. The enthusiasm with which you had picked it months ago now seemed utterly ridiculous and foolish as you were sitting a good distance away from where you believed you'd have been dancing your heart out. But, as you took one last look at your surroundings, only to spot your lovestruck friends indulging in the presence of their partners, the comfort of your pajamas seemed far more tempting than the unreasonably expensive piece of fabric which didn't even matter to you anymore.

It was pitifully funny how things could change in the blink of an eye, in a single breath; how fast you had gone from blooming with excitement to wondering how you were foolish enough to contribute to your own heartbreak.

"How come I'm just finding out about this?" Fred exclaimed, chasing after you down the stairs of the Astronomy tower. "I bet I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for those Ravenclaws chatting back in class."

"You were gonna know eventually, what's the deal?"

"My point is, why didn't you tell me and I had to hear from someone else?"

A group Hufflepuffs gave you questioning looks as you practically ran past them, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process, "You're making a fuss about nothing, stop acting entitled to every piece of information in my life!"

"McLaggen? That git?" Fred yelled in frustration and disbelief; he didn't at all acknowledge the small crowd which had gathered to observe the scene, nor did he care in the first place. He stopped in his tracks, gripping the wooden railing tight, knuckles turning white and jaw tense. "You cannot be serious."

Shocked faces now turned to you, and you desperately wished you could use reducio on yourself. Instead, opposite to what your consciousness was screaming at you, you dug your feet into the floor and shot Fred a stern look over your shoulder, "We're not discussing this right now. Besides, what's in it for you anyway? You're going with Angelina."

Had you kept walking, you would have missed the way Fred's chest was heaving with shallow, rapid breaths, and his face was more maroon than you had ever seen. And you? You couldn't quite breathe yourself.

A week ago your untamed happiness brightened every room and hallway; classes seemed to fly by, exams were over and the Yule ball was right around the corner. Your heart was ringing with joy as you were so looking forward to forgetting your troubles for just one night. 

In the midst of shining Christmas decorations and beautiful dresses a dreamy, yet pretty bold idea had begun to form in your head, an idea which Ginny and Hermione encouraged with their support and affirmations. Deep down you had started to believe Fred Weasley took an interest in you, harboured feelings for you even, and your ever-present goofy banter which contained far more flirting than what would be acceptable between two best friends, only fed your imagination and raised your hopes up.

You were aware you were the only one on the receiving end of Fred's teasing jokes, cheesy pickup lines and lingering stares which had you staying up an extra hour in your bed at night. Even his siblings shared the same opinion - there was no way on Godric's sword that a person who clearly wanted to be around you as often as possible and got his hands on you every chance he could, wouldn't be at least a little bit interested in you.

That's why you nearly broke down when exactly a week ago in the hallway Ron casually mentioned his older brother had just asked out Angelina.

The ground was pulled beneath your feet, vanishing along with your oblivious hopes. The news stung sharply, leaving a sour taste in your mouth; never had you believed you’d spend the few days before the ball stitching up your heart, and you were willing to do just about anything to forget about your humiliation. So when McLaggen invited you with an obnoxiously flirty note in Charms class, you didn’t hesitate much.

You could feel a wave of tears burning your eyes as you looked up to where Fred was standing. His face and ears were still as red as they could get, and his chest was vibrating with every shaky breath he took. Fury had disappeared from his eyes long ago, replaced with concern, regret and hurt which you couldn't quite place.

He climbed down the few remaining stairs.

"He's obnoxious! And beyond what's good for you!" Fred stated, though his voice now lacked power and slightly trembled, loud enough just for you to hear. "You're setting yourself up for a pretty bad night."

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and finally turned around to fully face him, looking him up and down.

"Seems like I have a terrible taste in men then."

A second glass of firewhiskey did nothing to burn down the growing turmoil in your stomach. You tapped the edge of the empty glass with your fingers and smiled at your friends who were visibly exhausted from dancing to upbeat songs for quite awhile now, but enjoying their time far too much to take a break. You admired their spirit - just because you weren't feeling your best, it didn't mean your friends didn't have the right to have fun.

However, the inevitable sense of regret lingered in your bones, and you found it hard to not focus on how the ball had gone wrong for you, in more ways than you had originally thought.

Even without Fred as your date, there was still a chance you'd have a good time. McLaggen could undoubtedly make it awkward to be around, and with the fact that your heart had recently been sliced open, you weren't sure how much of his ridiculous antics you could take. But at least he was trying; if you put aside his overbearing ego, you could see genuine effort into creating something romantic for both of you. It was going to be okay. Not necessarily what you desired, but somehow okay.

And that last bit of hope vanished the second you caught your former date snogging your crush's date in an empty classroom merely an hour ago.

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the universe's bitter joke, but the tears on your face as you ran down the hallway in your beautiful dress were eloquent.

A bitter, bitter joke.

You couldn't take it anymore. The charming smiles, sultry glances and stolen kisses you had been observing for the past hour were too much. And when another slow song made an appearance, you rose to your feet and headed towards the tall doors of the exit. Perhaps sleep would be a decent ending to your horrendous night.

You had barely made it out of the Great hall when loud footsteps echoed on your right.

"Bloody hell, I've been looking for you!" Fred said through heavy breaths, having run all the way to you as it seemed. His ginger hair had escaped its slicked look long ago, now too messy to fix despite his numerous attempts to smooth it back. His suit was no better, slightly wrinkled and shirt open to the third button.

"Why have you?" you asked and folded your arms, feeling a bit chilly in the hallway.

"McLaggen. About him," Fred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry for having to say it, but I just saw him-"

"I know."

Fred frowned in confusion.

"You do?"

It was your turn to let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down at your feet, "Yes. A while ago."

Fred's features softened.

"I'm sorry."

You barely found it in you to respond with a weak smile, "It's alright. I guess I was right. I do have a terrible taste in men." Then you gave Fred a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry for Angelina too, it's horrible she did this to you."

Your friend allowed the ghost of a smirk to appear on his lips and he shoved hands into his pockets, "I'm not really affected by it in all honesty," he shrugged. "I'm rather angry about the fact that the prat thought he could pull off something like this and get away with it."

Fred's heart ached at the sight of your slumped figure and glossy eyes; he hated himself for having contributed to the failure of the event you were expecting with so much hope. He tilted his head to the side, attempting to meet your gaze.

"I'd gladly prank the crap outta the git until he doesn't even dare to show up to classes… But for now is there a way for me to make your night any less terrible, love?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the thought of McLaggen skipping classes out of sheer fear of Fred. But then your thoughts wandered to the way Angelina was practically straddling his lap, and you wondered if Fred had been doing the same all this time unbeknownst to you; if right after a flirty joke sent your way he'd go to an empty classroom and kiss Angelina with the passion you had just witnessed.

The image of Angelina's lips on Fred's caused you to become nauseous and you attempted to swallow down that lump again.

"No," you replied. "But please, tell me one thing. What was that entire tantrum for?"

Fred didn't really seem taken aback by your question, realizing you'd eventually bring it up. He furrowed a brow, carefully thinking of an answer, and wettened his lips.

“Perhaps it would be inappropriate of me to say it- selfish even, but the mere thought of you being in the embrace of someone, especially with that someone being a foul git, caused me to get unreasonably angry.” Guilt was seeping into his every word and he bitterly chuckled to himself. “Ironic, isn’t it? Attempting to spare you heartbreak by being the reason for it.”

He gently took your hand and looked into your eyes, remorse swimming in his own, "I had no right to treat you the way I did. I'm terribly sorry for being controlling and you absolutely do not have to forgive me. Just know that I truly regret my actions; I never intended to hurt you."

His words were a feather-light caress to your wounded heart and you shuddered. You couldn't stay mad at him. Reciprocated feelings or not, he was still your best friend and you wouldn't let that go.

"Apology accepted," you gave his hand a light squeeze and Fred beamed, the entire hallway lighting up with him. Dread released your chest of its merciless grasp and you could finally breathe. However, one question never ceased to haunt you. "But I just need to know…” you began, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, “...why were you so upset to begin with?"

Fred's shoulders immediately stiffened and he averted his gaze from you in an attempt to come up with a reasonable reply. His jaw was clenched, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I didn't want you to go with him." He stated simply. "Not when you could've easily gone with me instead."

You froze.

"What do you mean?” you asked timidly, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “What about Angelina?"

Fred only shook his head, fighting back a grin.

"Darling, Angelina was never the catch."

The air was knocked out of your lungs.

You could only stare at Fred wide-eyed, and though his expression was unreadable, maroon had begun to crawl its way up to his ears and cheeks again.

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this," Fred spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, a kiss that awakened the butterflies within you. "I was really too much of a wuss to confess to you and settled for this instead."

"I guess that makes us two," you smiled sincerely, perhaps for the first time that night. Fred returned your smile with a grin, and asked.

"How can I make up to you for this oh-so-awful mess?"

"Dance with me," you said without skipping a beat. "That's what you owe me at least. Let's finally do what we both wanted."

Fred's expression became serious as he intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you into the direction of the Great hall, from which music could still faintly be heard.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my love."

Most people had already gone to bed, leaving just a few couples and you to drench in enchanted serenity. Fred's arms around you felt like home as you both swayed to the soft rhythm of the song, one of the many to follow, but his racing heartbeat under your palm caused your own pulse to speed up as well. 

You looked up at your lover through your lashes, gorgeous eyes already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. There was an odd, enigmatic allure that Fred possessed, and even after years of knowing this man, it only caused you to fall further into the velvety hell you didn't wish to escape from. 

And when his lips collided with yours, they tasted sweeter than the forbidden fruit.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[mackenziebrooks]

Stay

Summary: the reader is a pro-hero who happens to show up at villain Bakugou’s doorstep severely injured from a villain attack. 

Pairing: Villain Katsuki Bakugou x reader 

Word count: 2248

Warnings: angst, slight cussing, talks about dying, emotional, slight possessive, 

A/N: Here is another Bakugou fic that I happened to create. Decide to make Bakugou a villain but have some deep love and protection for his significant other. This is a fic that I created but felt like it wasn’t any good, so I gave up on posting it. I hope it is good and you guys enjoy it. :)

———————————————————————

Running, it was all that you could do to get away from the villain attack that had just occurred. 

The attack had separated you from the rest of the pro-heroes that were called to handle the situation. You fought as hard as you could till you couldn’t anymore. Villains were still continuing to join the fight, wanting to get rid of any pro-heroes that were left. Without getting noticed, you took shelter to try and find help. You spoke into your wrist communicator, asking “Deku? Shouto? Can anyone hear me?”, and all you could hear was just static. Meaning your communication with those two was no longer in session.

You yelled “ Damn it!”, then winced after expressing your emotions. Since you were very injured. You remove yourself from your hiding spot and bolt down the alley. Hoping to find some help along the way. Slowly your pace started to die down and you couldn’t run anymore. All you could do was walk, with pain increasing on every step. Blood gushed from your arm and the side of your head. Your body ached from the cuts and bruises it received from the fight. Hell, you didn’t know half the injuries you received, since you were in a panic state. All you wanted was to find someone or somewhere to feel safe. 

It started to rain and made your night even worse. Looking around, you tried to figure out your surroundings. You saw the street sign and instantly walked down the dark street to the third house on the left. It may look like a house, but it was secretly a lair. A lair for a villain that you knew all too well. Carefully, you made sure that no one was following you. No heroes and no villains. The villain you were going to see, strictly forbidden it. Because he wanted to be kept secret from the world.

You made it up to the steps and knocked on the door slowly. Hoping that he was home and that he wasn't out somewhere causing trouble. Hope he wasn’t the one that caused the attack and your injuries. The door slowly opened and a person came into view, but it wasn’t who you wanted to see. It was the next person in line. It was Eijirou Kirishima. 

Kirishima blinked a couple of times and spoke “ Y/N? What are you doing here?!?” He was completely horrified by how you looked. He may look bad with his scars, but this was not even close to his. You were standing here shaking and wet from the rain. Your hero suit was torn but still kept your lady parts hidden. Blood covered your entire body. This was a massacre.

You stood there trembling and asked “ W-w-where is Bakugou?”, pressing your hand into the deep cut upon your arm. Trying to keep yourself from not losing any more blood. 

Kirishima replied “ He’s out looking for you. Once he knew it was your crew and you. He admittedly went out. He took Denki and Sero with him’’. Kirishima opened the door more so that you could get into the house. As you made your way into the house, you slowly started to sway a little bit. From the blood loss and from being cold. On the next step you took, you were heading for the floor. Kirishima acted quickly and caught you, then he yelled '’ Mina!! Help!! Please It’s Y/N!!!” 

Mina rushed in and was just as horrified as Kirishima was. Mina picked you up as Kirishima said “ Get her to the infirmary room and hurry!! We can’t lose her!!’’ Mina didn’t reply back to him and she did what she was told to do. She rushed you to the infirmary room and started getting to work. She hooked you up to an oxygen tank and got all the fluids that you needed.

Since becoming a villain, Mina started to learn everything there was to know about being a doctor. Someone with brains in this group needed to get the gang back up on their feet when they got injured. Mina worked and worked on you as hard as she could, your heart rate would go so low that she would tell you “ Come on Y/N! Do not give up on me now! I need you to stay with me, please. Stay for the sake of Bakugou please!” Even with you being passed out, his name would always help you gain some strength to hold on more.

Kirishima paced back and forth, waiting for Bakugou and the other two to return home. Kirishima didn’t want to be the one to tell him the news, but he was the closest friend to Bakugou. The door opened up and it was slammed shut. Meaning, the blonde was home. Bakugou walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. Denki and Sero walked away with their heads down, they couldn’t find you. 

Bakugou ran his hands through his hair, he was trying so hard to not let his frustrations out. Though he was so close to doing it. He couldn’t find his girl and he searched everywhere that he could think of. Bakugou said “ God damn it! Where the hell is she!”, as he screamed up at the ceiling. Kirishima bit his lip and wanted to tell his leader to calm down. Since Mina was operating on you, and she needed the house to be quiet.

Kirishima asked “ You couldn’t locate her with her tracker?’’, looking over at his friend. Bakugou replied “ No I couldn’t! Somehow it malfunctioned while she was fighting. Because it only shows her last location. I couldn’t even find the stupid nerd or that damn half and half bastard”. Bakugou knew you would never leave the sights of Deku or Todoroki, so he knew that this attack was big. He needed to find you and find you soon.

Kirishima could not keep the secret to himself anymore, he had to tell Bakugou that you were here. Before he could, Bakugou stood up and headed for the door once again. Kirishima asked “ Where the hell are you going now?”, Bakugou said, “ I’m going to go look again. I do not care if I get caught by Deku and Icy-hot. I’m going to find my girl”. Bakugou put a foot out the door just as Kirishima grabbed his arm.

Kirishima spoke, “ Wait! Bakugou you need to go look in the infirmary first”. Bakugo jerked his arm from his red-headed friend and turned around. He said, “ Why should I? Just tell Mina to fix herself and whoever up. Then those low lives can get the fuck out of my house”. Kirishima bawled his fits up and looked down. Kirishima spoke softly “ It isn’t Mina and it isn’t some low life”. Kirishima slowly raised his head up with tears filling up his eyes, then said “ It’s Y/N Bakugou”.

Bakugou stood there in complete silence, just staring up at his shark tooth comrade. Bakugou didn’t even give Kirishima time to explain anything. Bakugou raced towards the infirmary, only wanting to see you. Once he got there, the note on the door said “ Medical personnel in operation”. Bakugou screamed, “ No no no!!! Alien let me fucking in!! Please!!”. He slid down the wall and put himself in the fetal position. 

Kirishima had followed Bakugou and stopped. Kirishima bent down to a knee and tried to help calm his friend down. Bakugou the entire time had tears streaming down his face, but he wasn’t going to lift his face up. Bakugou wasn’t the type to let out his emotions. He always kept them bottled up to himself, he didn’t always tell you what was wrong. He knew he needed to let these out. For the sake of your life. Bakugou said, “ Y/N, stay please. Please stay with me. I can’t lose you”.

It didn’t take long and the door opened up. Mina walked out and looked over at the two boys. Kirishima and Bakugo both looked up at her. Bakugou wiped his face and stood up quickly. He grabbed her shoulders and asked, “ Do not tell me she is fucking gone! Tell me she is still here!!”. Kirishima gently pulled Bakugou off and said “Easy buddy easy”. Bakugou did some breathing and tried to keep it together. Mina knew he was going to be in this state and she spoke “ Yes Bakugou, Y/N is still here but, she barely made it”. 

Bakugou pushed past Mina and walked into the room. You were sleeping peacefully and finally were safe. Bakugou slowly made his way over and took your hand into his. He placed kisses onto your forehead and leaned his head against yours. Bakugo spoke through his break down “ I’m so sorry y/n. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to keep you safe”, placing more kisses on your forehead. 

Bakugou sat in the chair next to your bed and asked “ What are her injuries raccoon eyes?” He may have let them see his face and tears earlier, but he wasn’t going to take his eyes off of you. Mina grabbed the clipboard and spoke, “ She has stitches in her right inner forearm, some in the side of her head. Cracked and bruised ribs on both sides. A sprained ankle. Bruising and cuts all over her body. Plus blood loss”. Bakugou winced at hearing all of the injuries that you had suffered. It was going to be a long recovery for you.

Mina spoke, “ I took the tracker out of her left wrist so that we could fix it”. Bakugou nodded and knew that he needed to tell you about the tracker that he had put in you. He knew you may be mad at him for it, but he didn’t care. Was it possessive of him to do it? Bakugou would say yes it was. Because he wanted to always make sure that you were safe and sound. That no one else was making his girl theirs. If they were, it was going to be hell to pay. 

Mina walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. Bakugou sat there and just stared at you. He was trying his best not to have another breakdown. Because he knew he had to be the strong one till you were able to regain your strength back. 

You coughed and slowly opened your eyes, you spoke “ K- Katsuki?”. Bakugou's eyes went wide and he quickly squeezed your hand. He even started to smooth your hair back, while saying “ Yeah it’s me princess. I’m here. You’re safe now”. He didn’t care that you called him by his first name, he was just glad that he was able to hear your sweet voice. You raised your hand and placed it on his cheek. You felt your villain boyfriend’s tears hit your hand. You spoke “ I’m- i'm sorry” while letting your own tears fall. Bakugou kissed your lips and said, “ Don’t be sorry my little hero, it wasn’t your fault. Please get some rest. I’ll be back okay? I’ll see if we can move you into our room”. 

You grabbed his arm and shook your head. You spoke “Please don’t go. Please do not leave me alone!”, with more tears streaming. Bakugou looked into your eyes and saw the absolute fear that they had. He knew what had happened must have put a huge impact on you. Bakugou spoke “ Princess I have…..”, but he didn’t finish his sentence. 

You turn away and face the other side of the room. You said, “ Right...because you have to”. Bakugou swallowed his pride and let a breath out. His anger wanted to be unleashed but not right now. Bakugou spoke to himself “ Not now Katsuki. Not when she is in a state like this”. Bakugou slowly climbed into the hospital bed with you and held you close. Not enough to hurt you. You turned over and cuddled up to him as he stroked your hair. Bakugou spoke, “ I’m not going to leave you, you asked me not to so I will stay. I’m not going to let you out of my sight princess”. 

Bakugo slowly pulled his phone out and sent a group text to the gang. The text said, “ I’m going to be out of commission for a while. My duties are to care of Y/n, that’s what I am going to do. If you need me just text. If it is more serious then come get me. I’m not leaving Y/n’s side”. He put his phone back in his pocket and started to hum softly. He hoped that it would help you calm down some. Bakugou said, “ It will all be okay princess, I’m going to take care of you. You're going to stay here and live a beautiful life with me. I love you so much Y/N”. 

[darling-i-read-it]

Takiawase

2x04

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, jail, dead bodies, cancer, nightmares 

Author’s Note: This one is particularly depressing but it’s my favorite of the season so far. I think it’s really letting some dynamics fall into place and I really hope y’all like it!

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary : When a body is discovered in a meadow, the cranial cavity appears to have been turned into a beehive; Beverly secretly consults with Will on the mural killer case.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll​  @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​

(not my gif) 

You stood in Hannibal’s kitchen. The front door opened but you didn’t look up. You were eating some leftovers, nothing too big because you could still barely keep food down knowing what you did. It had only been a couple of days but you were still scared to go back home. You had been living at Hannibal’s despite your best wishes.

“How are the dogs?” you asked as Hannibal walked in.

“Fed well. Missing their parents.” You nodded.

“I think I’ll go back tonight,” you admitted. You looked up and ate the last piece of the leftovers off your fork. 

“You’re dressed,” he observed. 

“I’m going to see Will.” Hannibal gave you a look but you ignored it, putting the plate and fork into the dishwasher. You walked around the counter and grabbed your keys.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. He heard about the judge, clearly,” Hannibal argued.

“I haven’t been to see him in a few days. I miss him,” you said simply. You were trying to stay in a neutral voice so as to not alarm Hannibal. You wanted desperately to see Will and you were going to do all you could to get there even if it meant fighting the only person who has been keeping you grounded the past few days. 

“Come over for dinner then.” You gave him a narrow look.

“I shouldn't.” 

“You’re just going to eat microwave noodles. I insist.” You walked to the door. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“And Y/N?” You turned around, holding the door open.

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t tell him.” 

You didn’t show him your face as you shut the door behind you. 

-

Chilton stopped you before you came up the stairs. You gave him a look but he gave you an even more alarming one. Your heart lurched. Did he know? He couldn’t know. But did he?

“Yeah?” you said, voice barely audible. 

“Will is doing therapy with me,” he started. Your worry for yourself was quickly diminished by the worry you often had for Will. 

“He’s what?” 

“I’m only telling you because he’s probably going to tell you. And so you know that I’m doing what I think is right and Will signed waivers.” You scoffed. 

“May I see my boyfriend now?” 

Chilton let you pass and you walked down the hallway. The worry seeped right back into your heart. The worry that your hands had murdered somebody. That the past few nights you had woken up screaming and had to sleep next to Hannibal so that you could get a good night's sleep. 

You walked up to the cell and Will stood up immediately. 

“You’ve been gone a couple days.” You nodded and swallowed hard.

“And you are letting Chilton run tests now are you?” Your voice easily slipped into ‘protect Will’ mode. Perhaps it was the only mode you knew at this point. He gestured for you to sit on the white line and you did so. He sat on the ground just behind the bars. 

“I remembered more things,” he said. “Hannibal was causing me to have seizures. I got Beverly to look for details in the murders. I’m now mostly convinced that Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper.” 

You took a deep breath. 

“That all?” you asked, laughing darkly. You felt a stab of guilt. “Hannibal was inducing seizures on you while I was in the next room?” 

“Don’t think about it like that,” he muttered. “It was what you thought was best.” You shook your head.

“So what do you want me to do about this whole thing?” 

Your voice was piercing and Will was surprised. That was the first time that he really noticed you in a while. Of course he noticed you, he had talked to you but he felt like at that moment he hadn’t considered how hard this had to be on you. The jail thing, the finding out your boyfriend could be a murderer thing. 

And for that one moment Will knew you well again. And he saw right through you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You shook your head but you really desperately wanted to run over to him and hug him and fall asleep beside him. Your heart was aching. 

“Nothing,” you said but you both knew it wasn’t convincing even to people who didn’t know you as well as Will did. You shook your head. “I can’t tell you,” you whispered. Tears pricked at your eyes and you regretted coming. 

“Yes you can.” 

You pointed above your head.

“Chilton would know.”

He looked up at the hidden audio recorders and Will had never hated jail more than in that moment. 

“I’m sorry.” You shrugged.

“I’ll be okay.”

You both knew that was a lie.

-

You stared down at the body of the judge. His eyes were open but his body was dead. It was dead dead. You were trying to scream but nothing was coming out. You backed up, staring at the blackness around the body that became more disfigured as you stared at it. 

When you looked above it you gasped and scattered back into the darkness. Hannibal turned around and moved aside, revealing Will hanging on antlers, impaled by them. You let out a loud sob and moved forward to grab him, help him down but his body was already limp. Your attempts to scream only got more desperate. 

You woke up with a start. Tears were streaming down your face and you were finally able to let out a long scream that woke up all of the dogs. You looked around, feeling the bed for someone you knew wasn’t there. You were alone in the house. 

The noodles you had eaten for dinner sat on Will’s side of the bed, half eaten. Your shirt was sweaty, sticking to your body desperately. You kept crying. You cried for the fact that you missed Will, that you were in this bed alone. For a minute you let yourself wallow in the sadness that had engulfed your life. 

The dogs came to you but they really just wanted to eat your noodles. You got up and, still crying, got into the car.

-

You knocked on Hannibal’s door at 2 in the morning. He answered quickly. 

Your eyes were still puffy and you looked exhausted. Hannibal wrapped the robe around him tighter when he saw you, clearly worried.

“Nightmare?” he questioned. You nodded and just like that the tears came again. It didn’t matter that this man had mutilated a body you killed. It didn’t matter that Will was so sure that Hannibal was the man framing him. It didn’t matter that you were pretty sure Hannibal was the man framing Will for murder. It didn’t even matter that by default he would have killed so many people in the past. 

You hugged him and he hugged you and you felt safe to cry. 

“Come, there’s still plenty of hours in the night to sleep,” he whispered. You nodded and followed him into his bedroom where you both laid down. Hannibal Lecter held you in his arms as you cried yourself to sleep for another night.

-

You walked into the morgue. Bags under your eyes were deep and it was hard to ignore them with the makeup but you were hoping that no one would notice. Beverly stood in the morgue where you figured she would be and you walked up to her swiftly. 

She looked up, taking off her goggles and surprised to see you.

“Can I help you?” she asked. You shrugged. 

“Not sure.” 

“Let me give it a go. I’m surprised Jack let you in by the way.”

“He didn’t but my connection to Hannibal let me through security,” you admitted. She nodded and crossed her arms.

“Will told you to look for some things in the body in the color palette. Did you find anything?” She nodded.

“Actually, yes I did. But I’m not sure I should tell you, you’re not exactly authorized.” 

“Neither is Will.” She nodded, shrugging.

“You do have a point there. The stitches holding the killer to his masterpiece were hiding stitches. The killer took his kidney.” You raised an eyebrow and nodded. 

“Like the Ripper.” 

“You’re sounding like your boyfriend there Y/N.” You nodded slowly.

“I guess we’re always otherwise aligned.” 

-

You walked into the hospital. The air was stale and you felt gross but you had to see someone you trusted and you at least trusted Hannibal to be Hannibal. You saw Jack Crawford step outside of Bellas hospital room and you walked up to him. 

At the sight of you he closed his eyes.

“I can’t handle you right now,” he muttered. You shook your head.

“I’m not here to fight you,” you promised. You looked in the hotel room where his wife lay dying. Hannibal was talking to her quietly. “In fact, I’m sorry,” you muttered weakly. He nodded.

“Truce?” 

“Only for today Crawford.” 

He nodded and you nodded back at him and you both felt for each other. Two people who’s other half was meeting a demise that didn’t look good. Granted, Jack clearly had it worse. At least Will would live in prison. 

Hannibal walked outside and you grabbed his arm. Jack went inside the room.

“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked.

“No,” you admitted.

“You’re sounding more and more like Will every day.” You hit his arm and both of you glanced in the room where Jack sat by Bella’s bed.

“Makes you appreciate what you have doesn’t it?” you whispered. “That and the dreams.”

“Where did you go today?” Hannibal asked.

“I went to see Bev. Will told me some stuff I wanted to get backed up.” He nodded. 

“Chilton is no longer letting me treat Will. But you knew that already,” he said quietly. 

“I didn’t know exactly that. Maybe it’s for the best. Especially if he still thinks that you killed all those people,” you muttered.

“Do you think I killed all those people?” You shrugged.

“I don’t know what I think anymore.” 

-

Will was having a hard time knowing there was something you couldn’t tell him but still talking to you. It was clearly weighing on you as much as it was weighing on him. 

“Hannibal ate the liver,” he whispered. You didn’t even have the heart to raise an eyebrow. All you could do was think about how tired you were.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you remember that day that Hannibal came to the house with the breakfast food?” he questioned. You shrugged and nodded a little bit. You picked at the white paint you were sitting on top of.

“Yeah sure. Wasn’t that the day you-”

“Yeah.” 

“What about it?” Will took a deep breath.

“The breakfast he gave us…” he started and then it dawned on you. Your face showed some actual reaction this time. 

“Oh my God.” He nodded. Your mind flashed with every dinner you had at Hannibal’s. Every time he had brought you lunch from his place. “Oh my God,” you said again and felt your stomach convulse. 

Not only were you a murderer but you were also a cannibal? 

You put your head in your hands and felt the sleep deprived tears rise up. 

“Come here,” Will whispered. You looked up and gestured to the white line. “When has that ever stopped you?” he asked. You nodded and wiped your eyes and scooted over to the bars. You put your hands on the bars and pressed your head against it. 

He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes.

“I killed the judge,” you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. He pulled back and looked at you, surprised. But as Will looked at you he didn’t see a murderer all he could see was his girlfriend. His girlfriend looked more broken than he had ever seen her. 

He moved forward again.

“Did you put him up like that?” Will asked. You shook your head.

“No.” 

And it went without saying that Hannibal had. Will grabbed your hand tightly and he had never been so happy to touch your skin. 

And you cried. 

You just cried.

2x05

[spiider-girl]

DEW DROPS || Peter Parker

Series Summary: Caitlin Wilson's entire life comes crumbling down when one night mysterious people come to her house and cause a disaster, claiming her mother's life in the process.

Her mother's last words were to get somewhere safe and the only place she could think of was Peter Parker's house.

Now wound up in this strange and dangerous path, Caitlin must uncover what really happened that night and who those people were.

Series Pairing: Peter Parker x OC

Word Count: 1.6k

Taglist: @aurora-cycle-unofficial

A/N: I sometimes forget I have to post every week. I do remember this fic though and I've written many chapters, well 5 to be exact. So you're good for a while.

T/W: angst, fighting, emotional and verbal triggers

Part 4: Birds Of A Feather

One could always look forward to the coffee shop right outside Caitlin's house. All four of them had disposable cups in their hands, warm in the eerie cold surrounding the hidden room.

"Had you known your mom was Wilson - Nightingale?" Peter asked and she shook her head.

"I think it's her underground name."

"Shut up Ned." Michelle looked at Caitlin with surprise. She hadn't expected her to act this way, so rude.

"My mom could be alive." She half whispered. "She could be alive and she would be expecting me to find her. Oh god Pete what if she's alive. I need to find my mom." Caitlin rambled.

"Kate I really think we should involve the police here. We're way out of our leagues." Michelle commented.

"No!" She immediately reverted, "she asked me for one thing, and if I can't even keep that, fat lot of good I'm doing."

Ned kept his hand on her back and looked at her. "Kate we don't have an option. The police will have better resources than we do."

Peter seemed to be awfully quiet and Caitlin noticed it.

"What are you thinking Pete?" She asked.

He stared at his phone.

"I, I have to go. It's important." Nobody said anything as he left.

A flame would shy away with hair so red, eyes so green a forest would bow to them. Mary Jane Watson had what one might refer to as a wave of confidence no one might compete with.

So where was Mary Jane and most importantly, what tied her to Caitlin?

Peyton had been working on finding Mary Jane for the better half of day now. He hadn't found much on Michelle and Ned. Stella seemed to be just as normal, which was far too peculiar. Peter however, had a past, dead parents, dead uncle, perfect student. He also seemed to be closest to Caitlin until last year. What happened last year? Did this give him motive to target the Wilson family?

He knew he had to approach the brown haired boy without anybody finding out. Which would be difficult since finding him alone was proving to be difficult and whenever he was, Peyton had no idea where he'd vanish.

Peyton scanned his notes, figuring out what to do. He blankly stared for a while then frustratedly threw away the notebook.

"Peytato what's wrong?" Bree entered, her blue eyes looking at the torn pages as she picked them up.

Peyton masked a smile immediately and turned to her, "Bree, everything's fine, why would you think something's wrong?"

"I'm not a kid, you know," Peyton chuckled, "I understand when you're sad or when you're angry."

He took her on his lap and ruffled her hair, "do you now?" She nodded enthusiastically, "Okay then, how about we make me a sandwich to cheer me up?"

Brianna jumped off and ran out the door giggling.

Peyton looked at his notebook once again, checked the screen of his computer and walked towards the kitchen.

To May's surprise, she found herself skimming medical records. She had never done this before and wasn't planning on doing it again either.

Among thousands of records she tried searching for Caitlin's. She had visited the hospital a couple of times; stitches, high fevers, broken hands, there should be some record.

Nothing.

May Parker found nothing on Caitlin no matter how many times she looked. She too let out a frustrated sigh.

Webbing hung low from a tree. A man was tied upside down at its end. He kept struggling but to no avail. Web fluid also stuck to his mouth, preventing him from screaming.

"What do you know about Stella Wilson?" Spider-Man demanded. The man struggled further, his brown hair falling off of his face. "Tell me!"

The man gave him a ridiculed look and shifted his eyes to his mouth.

"Oh yes, sorry." Peter stumbled forward, hastily removing the webbing off his face. He grumbled, making his voice heavier again.

"Never met Deadpool before," the man laughed, "had they told me he was a little boy I would have never believed them. Oh well, I was wrong."

"It's Spider-Man."

"Okay then Spider-Boy, why is the web slinger of New York looking for The Nightingale? Did he get along with the wrong crowd?" He mocked.

"Why do they call her The Nightingale? Who is she?" Peter ignored the remarks he was spouting and tried concentrating on what he was here for.

"What do you know of the Nightingale? Not many call her by her real name."

"I ask the questions sir, so answer them please."

Peter jumped to a nearby tree, hanging from its branch, waiting for the man revert.

"What do you know of the Nightingale?" He repeated.

"The nightingale is a songbird, specifically singing melodies of love I believe-"

"Not the bird," he struggled a bit, and then seemed to hesitate bringing out the words. "Stella, what do you know about her and why do you want to know about her. I hope you didn't get into some messed up shit superboy-"

"It's Spider-Boy, Man, it's Spider-Man." He swore internally. "What I know want with her is for me to know."

The man rolled his eyes. He lifted his head a little, or atleast tried to. Gravity wasn't exactly on his side. "Fine. The Nightingale is known for- oh wait what do I get for it."

Peter kicked stones in frustration.

"What do you want?"

"I've got some stuff in my bag, I take it with me."

"Nice try sir, why would I do that?"

"Just look."

Peter scuffled through the bag to find a bunch of toys. From remote control cars to dolls.

"You're stealing toys from kids. That's not very nice, you know. Children cry a lot."

"No it's not ethical?"

"Yes, that too. You shouldn't steal from children, it's not ethical and why would you anyways?"

"I didn't steal them from kids. I stole them for kids." His face was very much red now. The blood boiling up to his head. "Can you, could you let me down please. I'll tell you everything, keep me tied up I don't care. My children need those toys and well this whole hanging upside down thing is giving me a headache."

Spider-Man stumbled forward, cutting the rope loose as the man dropped down heavily.

"Oops sorry." He stepped forward. "I mean, tell me everything you know." He stopped for a second, helping the man up. "I'm sure your children will love these toys."

His feet were still tied and his hands were uncomfortably hung behind him.

"Thanks kid. Okay, The Nightingale isn't one you should mess with-"

"You've said that in many different ways you know, tell me something else."

"Let me finish. She is ruthless, doesn't care what loss one has to face in order to achieve her goals. All that matters to her is she herself." That sounded nothing like the Stella Wilson Peter had grown to know. Caitlin's mother to him, was kind, loving and couldn't bear to kill even a bug. "She leads the Watch. It's an underground group-"

"A mob you mean."

"Yes," he rolled his eyes, "a mob. She's got many killed, but as far as I've heard, she has never held a weapon against anyone. She has connections everywhere, even inside the avengers tower." Peter's eyes widened, not that the man could see. "She has power and money, so nobody wants to mess with her. Those who do, however, things do not end well for them. I've seen gangs burn to nothing. I don't know how she does or where you can find her, but this is all I know about her."

"Thank you sir." Peter nodded and cut the bindings. "You know, getting a job is much better than stealing and working with mobs. You've got kids, be there for them as a good example."

He nodded, not really agreeing with him. "Listen kid, whatever you've gotten yourself into, get out of it fast. Be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, don't get involved in this."

Peter didn't reply as the man walked away, out sight. When he was sure nobody was around he took his mask off.

His hands wiped his face, he sighed and sat down, scouting on the floor. How was he going to tell this to Caitlin without her asking further questions of where he found this information?

Before he could where the mask again he felt someone walk behind him.

"You're Peter Parker." He half whispered.

In front him stood a man no taller than Peter himself. He was wearing a blue shirt that complimented his silver eyes and his hair were hastily set.

"No I'm not, you've got the wrong guy." He said and quickly wore his mask.

"I'm not stupid. I've been looking for you Mr. Parker, I suppose this get up answers my 'where do you vanish to' questions."

"What do you mean?" Peter stood defeated. He was not having a good day.

"I'm looking for Caitlin Wilson. I believe she was a friend of yours. Would you be okay if we could perhaps exchange information. I think we both are looking for whomsoever destroyed the Wilson residence."

"And you are?"

"Peyton Cain." Spider-Man needed all the help he could get, so he webbed the blond up and pulled him towards himself. He shot another web, this one sticking itself to a distant building, and they both swung towards it, him enjoying the cold air and Peyton screaming.

Peter had noticed it, he noticed it a long time back, the moment Caitlin was telling her story. She was lying, and she was damn good at it.

I love feedback. Taglist is open, just personal message me or send in an ask.

Part 5

[moral-turpitudes]

Hi Katelyn! How are you doing? :) can I ask you for angsty oneshot with Michael Gray and prompts 2. "if you touch her again it will be the end of you" and 3. "I could take a thousands bullets and none of them would hurt as much as seeing you like this. Its killing me.". Can I ask for something really angsty and emotional? Just struggling with pms and having drama queen mode:ON . Loads of love! :)

Hi love! I’m doing alright, thanks for asking! :) 

Here is some angsty shit to help you feel better as I too am a drama queen.

Revenge:

Trigger Warnings: ANGST, Dash of fluff, Mentions or slight descriptions of abusive/violent behavior, Trauma, Fighting, Blood, Slight Gore? Just your standard Peaky shit tbh. 

Word Count: 2,002 

Characters: Michael Gray x Reader

Summary: A shortcut gone wrong leaves Y/n in the hands of a rival gang member. After escaping, she warns the blinders of what happened causing Michael to exact his revenge.

Requested by: anon

Your breath hitched in your throat as you ran through the dimly lit streets of Small Heath, away from the alley you had just escaped from. Your feet numbing as they grew cold from the damp ground. With weak legs and trembling arms, you flung open the doors to the shop not caring who was there and went straight to the washroom. There you found yourself wincing as you inspected the bruises forming on your skin where the mans hand had closed around your arm too tightly, and the cut that stood out along your cheek where his blade had been. 

You shook as sobs came over you as you thought back to what happened. All you were trying to do was take a short cut to work as Tommy had called you in due to some drama with a gang in town, but it ended up taking you longer due to the man you crossed paths with. He blocked you from the main street, following your movements when you tried to walk to the side of him. When he got closer, you managed to hit him, grabbing the gun in your purse shakily as you made out his tall silhouette in the dark alley. You aimed it at him as he lunged forward grabbing your wrist and releasing the gun from your hand with a loud thud. His hand gripping yours so tight that you thought he’d break it. Before you could kick him or try to hurt him anymore, he pushed you towards the wall, making you face towards him as he pulled out a blade, waving it as you screamed. Unfortunately, it was a busy night as they were muffled by the cars and people milling about. 

“I”ll cut you if you scream again. Don’t make me hurt that pretty face of yours y/n.” He said, you could see his face as the moon illuminated his skin, a tattoo of a cross on his neck. You remembered in the meeting with your husband Michael, that he was one of the men Tommy was looking for in relation to the gang that was after Tommy’s guns and god knows what. 

“How do you know my name?” You asked faintly.

“Any friend of Tommy is an enemy of mine...and I know all my enemies names. Tell Tommy this is a surprise for him. Tell him I know where he is and that he’ll have to try harder to take us down next time.” He said before slicing your cheek, the cut deep enough that you were sure it would leave a scar. As he let you go, he laughed as you cried and held your cheek, blood running down and into your hand at a fast pace. You stood partly in shock as you saw him run north, towards the old factory where previous deals had been made by Tommy. 

And so here you were, nursing the gash in your face as your skin paled in complexion. 

“Y/n! Sweetheart are you okay?” Michael asked, knocking on the door. The taste of blood and the salt of your tears mixing in your mouth as you spoke. 

“N-no. No I’m not please help!” You yelled through the thick wooden door.

Not a second later he came in, seeing blood all along the sink, your dress, your face, and your hands.

He immediately crouched down next to you on the floor as you pulled him to you crying until you felt you couldn’t anymore. After you composed yourself, you pushed him back as you winced at your cut. He quickly got up and went to Tommy’s office to grab a bottle of whiskey, everyone eyeing him as he strode in with your blood on him.

He was fixated on you so much so that he didn’t hear Tommy’s questions about what happened or Polly’s responses, he just closed the door behind him and tended to you. “My god Y/n what happened aye? Did you get into it with someone?” He said dabbing the whiskey soaked cloth on your face gently. You just sat there in a stupor almost as the alcohol burned your cut, still processing everything, still remembering his face and his tattoo. 

“Please honey. I need to know what happened.” He said before taking your wrist in his, making you wince as he accidentally grabbed the area that was bruised. He immediately let go as he saw it and you could see his eyes turn dark with anger. 

“God damn it Y/n! Who the fuck hurt you?! Just talk to me!” He said yelling and throwing the towel down in defeat. He sat there holding you on the ground, waiting for you to speak.

“Y/n...listen to me, I could take a thousand bullets and none of them would hurt as much as seeing you like this. It’s killing me...please tell me what happened...” He said bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it, your wedding ring sparkling as he examined your hand mindlessly. 

You sighed and wiped the tears from your eyes and looked up at him and spoke, your voice raspy from screaming.

“I took the alleyway to get here quicker since Tommy called...and before I could get out of there...a man with a cross tattooed on his neck stopped me. Michael... he grabbed my wrist so hard I dropped my gun and he pushed me to the wall and cut me. He-he said this was a surprise for Tommy, that he knows where he is and that if he wants to take him down then he’s going to have to try harder.” You said, pausing a bit while you regained your composure.

“Michael...I’m thinking he cut me...to send a message. I know from these meetings he’s dangerous and - Michael!” You started to say, before he got up and quickly stormed off towards Tommy’s office. You slowly got up to look at your face, the cut looking better now that the excess blood was washed away, but you were sure you needed stitches. 

You walked with the bloodied cloth in your hand and sat next to Polly. She looked at you concerned as she examined your cheek.

“We’re going to get that bastard. Michael told me to get you to the hospital. You’ll need stitches.” She said grabbing her bag.

“Before we go I need to tell them where the man went, I was in shock and fortunately stood there long enough to see where he ran off to I think...” You said. Polly nodded and waited for you to finish up in Tommy’s office.

You walked straight in, not knocking as time was of the essence. Michael was yelling at Tommy as he stood there nodding along, the gears turning in his head at what move to make next as he kept a stone-faced expression as always.

“Michael...” You said, your voice still hoarse. The guys turned around and Michael stopped yelling once you said his name, looking at you with concern.

“I-I saw where he went Tommy. He took off down the street towards that old factory where you all did business last time. I swear he may be there.” You said looking into his ocean eyes.

“Alright. Thank you for the tip. Boys c’mon we have business to take care of.” He said before putting his cigarette out. He walked past you, leaving just you and Michael in the room. 

“Please, for the love of god be careful.” You said hugging him.

“I will love, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can okay?” He said.

“Okay.” You said pecking him on the lips before he took off out the door with the rest of them. You sighed and walked to Polly who was putting her coat on. Your stomach tied in knots as you made your way to her car. Not knowing if you’d see Michael coming in as a visitor or a patient. 

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

At the factory, the smell of smoke filled the air as a group of men sat around a burning pile of scrap metal. They each had cross tattoo’s on their necks and laughed as they talked about plans and various deals. Tommy was the first to show up, with Arthur and John flanking him, guns in hand as they walked over to the nearest people and shot them point blank. Tommy looked at the rounds in his gun and called out into the night. “You wanted to surprise me aye? You chose the wrong fucking way. Come out before I take out more of your men!”

A man quickly ran out from a nearby room of the old factory and stormed right towards Michael as two others shot at Tommy and the others. They ducked down and avoided getting hit and were soon wrestling with the men, trying to disarm them in the process. Michael recognized the man who went for him due to Tommy’s briefing at the meeting earlier and saw he had some fresh blood on his shirt, knowing that was the man who attacked his wife.

The man got to Michael and swung at him, hitting his face a couple of times, leaving a soon-to-be black eye in its wake, along with a couple of gashes from the rings on the mans finger. Luckily, before the guy could cause too much damage, he caught the mans arm and bent it harshly causing it to crack. The man quickly crumpled to the floor in pain and Michael got on top of him and punched him in the face before pulling his cap off. He slashed the guys face deeply, ruining his eye and cutting half a smile on one side enough to tear through his cheek.

The man screamed as Michael did so, as Tommy, Arthur, and John gradually gained control of the other men and shot them.

With an angry look in his eye, Michael threw his cap on the ground and grabbed the mans throat, squeezing until the mans good eye was bloodshot.

“If you touch her again, that will be the end of you.” He said as the man nodded desperately, gasping for air before Michael’s grip tightened, causing him to go unconscious. 

After the fight, Tommy let Michael go to the hospital where you were sitting in an exam room just having finished getting stitches on your face. Michael walked in carefully, his eye swollen and face bloodied with scratches as he came over to you. He still had an angry look on his face but it faded once he held you in his arms. 

“How are you doing?” He asked, kissing you lightly.

“I’m okay. Doctor said I’ll heal fine apart from a small scar.” You said sadly, hoping he wouldn’t see you as less than because of a small scar. 

“Don’t mind that. You look beautiful and I’d rather you have a little scar than be off dead somewhere love.” He said pulling you close to his chest.

You laughed a bit as you wrapped your arms around him, finally relaxing for once that night.

“Did you kill him?” You asked.

“No, I don’t think so. But Tommy and the boys killed the rest of his men. He’ll be sleeping with one eye open from now on, and maybe waking with one too.” He smirking down at you. 

“You cut him in the eye?” You asked picturing what happened and shivering at the thought.

“Yeah, and half a bloody smile. He won’t prowl anymore streets unless he wants to terrify all of Small Heath.” He said. 

As you both conversed further, the doctor came in to let you know you could go home, eyeing Michael suspiciously as he still looked pretty beat up. He disregarded her concern and smugly smiled at her, nodding as he helped you out, and into the car. You both went straight home per Polly’s orders where you relaxed the night away, remaining thankful for him and his crazy blinder cousins.

[hopeamarsu]

Hurt

Flip Zimmerman x female reader

Word count 1,538

Warnings: Mention of hospital, stitches, needles and bodily injury (nothing is really described in detail, but they are there). Slightly murderous and feral Flip. 

A/N: So, I had to have some minor cosmetic surgery last week because of an irregular mole and currently have some annoying stitches on my body. I guess you could say that this piece is inspired by those four little buggers and the process of waiting for the day when they come out. When I started rolling this idea in my head, I could only picture Flip, so I’m dipping my toe into writing Flip, hopefully it’ll turn out alright. 

“Colorado Springs Police Department, Zimmerman.”

“Flip... Please do not freak out, but...”

Flip Zimmerman sat up in rapt attention on his desk chair as he registered your timid voice. A voice that was laced with a hint of hurt and something else he couldn’t quite place. You normally didn’t call him during the day, both of you had busy jobs and he knew that as a school teacher you had even less time than him to take a break during the day. If you were calling him, something had to have gone wrong.

“Baby girl, what happened?”

“...I’m in the hospital.”

A million things went across his mind as he waited for you to speak, to explain more, to ease his mind. Had something happened at work? Were you hurt? Was someone else hurt? One of the kids you taught? Did someone touch you without permission? Who he had to hunt down if they had hurt you?

“It’s really not a big deal, just four stitches and that’s only because the doctor doesn’t want it to scar...”

All of his blood rushed in his ears as he reached behind him to grab his jacket from the backrest. You were hurt, bad enough that a doctor had decided to poke needles at you and you were saying it wasn’t a big thing? No, no way in hell.

“Y/N. What. Hospital.” Flip basically barked out, the receiver giving out a crackle, in danger of snapping in two, as he held it so tightly in his hand. He could feel Ron and Jimmy turning to watch him in surprise at his tone and words, but he couldn’t care less in the moment.

“St. Agnes, near the school. But, Flip, honey, it’s not a big...”

“Do not move. I’m coming to get you.”

The receiver went flying as large cowboy boots stormed across the room, taking the phone with it. Ron, sitting closest to Flip’s station, could hear the faint voice calling for Flip from the phone as he looked at the retreating flannel covered back, eyes wide.

*

You were sitting on one of the waiting room chairs as Flip walked inside. Well, walking was a kind term for the sound of thunderous stomping that you could hear before you saw him. You watched him make a sweep across the room before he settled on you. A few seconds later the mountain of a man dropped down on his knees before you and worried eyes found yours.

“Baby girl, what...” His voice broke and eyebrows pinched together as he kept sweeping his eyes across your features and hands trailed over your body. You smoothed his cheek and smiled, hoping to alleviate the worry on his handsome face. You buried another hand to his hair, scraching lightly at his scalp in a way that always soothed him. 

“It’s nothing bad, Flip. I promise you.” You tried to input as much of calmness into your voice as you could, to make him understand that you were alright. Your Flip was a protective one, you didn’t need him going off the rails with what you were about to reveal. “Just a small accident that happened at the school. There is nothing to worry about, trust me.”

He took a couple of breaths through his nose, hoping silently that he could light a cigarette here. He really needed the nicotine right about now, his chain-smoking on the ride over a proof of that. 

“Tell me. Please.” The words were still a little choked as they were whispered. As far as he could feel and see, you were in one piece, no blood or missing limbs. You looked pretty much the same as that morning when he had left you at the gates and kissed you goodbye, promising to pick you up after the school was over. But he knew that it was only an illusion. One that would shatter as soon as you spoke.

“Well... Joshua and Michael were fighting again during art class. They had their hands on some clay carving knifes and as I went to stop them, one of them accidentally stabbed me.”

Stabbed you? With a knife? And you claimed you were alright? How in the name of everything that was holy were those boys still breathing? He could feel his blood boiling again, a nervous tick on his knuckles. His nostrils flared in anger. 

“Honey, I need you to calm down. I am fine, I promise. The nurse at the school looked me over, but told that it was better if I came here instead. The doctor decided that I would need some stitches, just to make sure that the area does not get infected and so that it doesn’t scar. At least not badly.”

There was a possibility that you would get a scar from all of this? That was it, Flip was going to kill the boys responsible for hurting you. Ron could help him dispose of the bodies and Jimmy could run interference. There was a nice stone quarry outside of the city they could use for the job, nobody would be the wiser. 

“Where?” He ground out, your hands the only thing that kept him from bolting to his truck and going hunting for those responsible. 

You gestured at your chest and Flips eyes widened. That bastard kid had stabbed your tits? Oh, they were going six feet under. He must have flashed murderous anger in his eyes one too many times as the next thing he realized was that you had placed both of your hands to his cheeks and forced him to look you into the eyes.

“Flip. It was an accident. You cannot plan to murder anyone. I am fine. I promise. This is only a precaution.”

“I’m not planning to murder anyone.” He didn’t care that he sounded like a petulant kid at that moment. He wanted to hurt them for hurting you, but if you didn’t allow him to kill, he could do other things to them to make sure nothing like this happened ever again. “Can I...”

“No, absolutely not. Flip, they are seven years old, I do not want you giving them nightmares either. They are scared enough as it is.”

Fine. He held out his hands as to surrender to your will. But then he turned his attention back to your body, wanting to rip the cardigan off you so that he could see your skin. Make sure that you had been given all the care you needed and he could sooth his worrying mind that all was going to be okay.

“Show me.” 

If the doctor had done a sloppy job, Flip could settle for him as well. The idea of it all sickened him. That someone had poked a needle into your perfect skin, threaded it back together, leaving ugly black strings in there to tighten the skin for days to come. That had to have caused you discomfort, to make you even more uncomfortable and he wanted someone to pay for it. He would gladly burn the world at your feet to easy any pain you had, physical or otherwise. 

“I’ll show you once we are home. I promise. But I need you here with me now.” You kissed him then, wanting to feel those velvet lips move against yours, make you forget the afternoon completely. Despite what you’d told Flip, you had been slightly shaken by the experience and the pain that was still ebbing from the needlework. And you knew that he would provide comfort for you, make all this go away. 

Flip was a full-body kisser so it was no wonder that once your lips touched his, he wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you to his lap, right there on the hospital waiting room floor. Hands danced across your back, slipping lower to grip your bottom. Flip desperately wanted to slip his hands under you skirt, he needed to feel your skin on his skin. 

There was almost a feral need coarsing through his veins. He wanted to run away with you on his arms, tuck you under him on a bed with silk sheets, where nothing could hurt you. To place kisses everywhere on your naked body, taste the salt of your skin with his tongue, bring you to the edge and to heaven, time and time again. Make it all go away, leaving nothing but pleasure behind.  

But before he could act on those desires, before the kiss could get too heated (a reccuring thing with Flip and those sinful lips of his) you pulled away. You pressed small kisses to his lips as you grounded both of you back to reality. “There is one thing...” Another kiss “...I still need to tell you.”

Flip quirked an eyebrow at this. What more could there be?

“So, there are some rules we need to abide to while I’m healing. No heavy lifting and nothing can poke the wound. Also, I cannot go swimming in the next ten days and a day after they do come out. And... I can’t sweat heavily or jostle the wound. That means sex is out.”

“Fuck.”

His week just went from bad to worse.

Tagging as requested @aloneandsleepless​ 😉

[moonstruckholland]

Can We Go Back To Bed? (t.h)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 2,497

Warnings: angst, fluff if you squint, flashbacks

A/N: this was supposed to come out a couple of months ago 😅 but here she is, the first one shot of my Cosmic Soul series! Shout out to @fangirlwithasweettooth and @hollandsamor for being amazing and reading this over for me! I really hope y'all like it 💕

Tom had never felt as far from you as he did lying next to you tonight.

Lying next to you was honestly a bit of an overstatement. With the way you were laying, there was enough space between you to fit a whole other person on the bed. You were curled up on your side, so close to the edge, Tom was worried with one wrong move you’d just roll onto the floor. He considered reaching out, moving next you, but for the first time since you started dating he was truly scared of being rejected, of the pain he knew he'd feel if you pulled away from him.

He wanted nothing more than to touch you, kiss you, anything. He just wanted to feel close to you. Instead he quietly got up, careful not to wake you as he made his way out the room, the whole night replaying in his head.

Everything was off from the moment he walked through the door.

“Princess? I'm home!"

Flowers in hand, he walked through the apartment, looking for you. He heard a door open and a soft, “Tom?” come from the bathroom as he set his luggage down in your bedroom.

“I’m here, baby.”

You poked your head out of the doorway, hair wet and matted, a towel wrapped around your body, “Tom! Hi!”

He had expected you to run up to him and jump into his arms, like you always did before.

Instead, you casually walked over, kissing his cheek as if he hadn't been gone for months, "You didn't tell me you were coming home!"

He hadn't thought much about in the moment, but now, he could tell something was just wrong.

He knew something would be different, that was the price that came with being gone for months at a time. But not with you.

You'd always been a constant for Tom, giving him a wonderful sense of security he lacked in his hectic life. He knew no matter he could count on coming home to your warm and loving embrace.

Or at least he did.

The rest of the night had been just as weird as when he came in. You had your normal movie marathon like you did every time Tom came home, but this time around that feeling that you were out of reach was in the back of Tom's head.

You were too far, barely touching him, and you sure as hell didn't say a word to him. The normal joking around was gone, replaced with silence despite the sounds of the movie surrounding the both of you.

You had asked him questions every once in a while, about his flight, if he was tired or hungry. If he hadn't been paying too much attention, he would've thought it was just you being your normal, caring self, but it was too polite, like he was just someone visiting.

He couldn't stop dwelling on it no matter how hard he tried and that's how he found himself walking around the apartment, coming to realize it just as different as you were.

It was all little things and maybe if he didn't feel the need to look so closely, he probably never would've noticed, but he couldn't help it now.

There were flowers everywhere, fake ones in pretty vases all around because the real ones made you sad when they inevitably died. Tom could almost picture how excited you must've been setting up each vase and how long it probably took you to decide where to put them because you were such a perfectionist.

The blankets and pillows on the couch were different too, cute little sayings stitched into each one, and Tom wondered when you'd gotten then. You used to always tell him when you got new things. When was the last time you'd mentioned going to Hobby Lobby or Target?

What stuck out to Tom the most were the pictures you had. Some of the old pictures of the two of you were replaced with people he'd never seen before, he assumed co-workers, though he couldn't recall you telling him about anyone in the photos with you.

He felt a pang of guilt. How much had he missed?

He finally came across a familiar picture, one Harrison had taken of the two of you when you weren't looking the day you moved into this apartment together. You and Tom were smiling goofily at each other, pulling out things from a box on the floor.

Tom couldn't help smiling as he thought back to that day, to how happy you were.

"Tommy, baby, you have to be careful carrying that box. It has all our plates and I don't think you're gonna want to eat off a napkin." You warned him as you watched him carry the heavy box on his own, despite you and Haz both offering to help.

"I'll be careful, princess, I promise," he said confidently before somehow tripping over his own feet and hitting the wall, the plates clattering loudly

Tom looked back to see you rolling your eyes as if you knew he would do exactly that. He quickly put the box down on the floor, finding the box cutter on the kitchen counter and opening it up to make sure he hadn't broken anything.

He let out a sigh of relief before yelling out, "They're all okay!"

You shook your head at him, but Tom could see a smile on your face as you tried not to laugh.

You approached him, mumbling something about putting the plates away before Tom could break them.

Harrison was behind you, carrying a box without any complications, "It's not too late for me to take him back, y/n."

"I might just take you up on that, Haz."

"Hey!" Tom pouted, "You don't mean that do you, baby?"

You wrapped your arms around him, standing up on your tippy toes to plant a big kiss on his cheek, "Never, honey, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He put a hand on your waist, pressing a kiss to your lips before saying, "Good thing you're stuck with me then."

You were about to say something when you were rudely off by Haz throwing a napkin at you, "Oi, you two, come help me unpack your things please."

You pulled away from Tom, your laughter filling the room as you went to help. Tom watched, a warmth filling him as he thought about how lucky he was to be living this with you.

'What happened?’ He wondered with a sigh, the fond memories fading, leaving him with an achy feeling in his chest as he plopped down on the couch.

The sound of the bedroom door opening startled him, pulling him out of thoughts completely.

“Baby?” You shuffled over to him sleepily, eyes squinting at the bright light, “What are you doing up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

You nodded, taking a seat beside him, laying your head on the soft cushion.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

Tommy. It was a nickname he had grown to love over the years.

“My Tommy,” you’d always say, usually right caressing his face fondly or pressing your lips to his.

He hadn’t realized just how much he missed hearing it or how long it’d been since the last time it came from your lips.

He didn't answer your question, looking down at his fingers. What was he supposed to say? "Hey, babe, I feel like our relationship is falling apart and I was wondering if you felt the same?"

No, he absolutely couldn't say that, but he couldn't just not say anything at all.

You gently touched his face, grabbing his drifting attention once more, "Baby, talk me. What's going on?"

He debated with his thoughts for a moment longer, before finally deciding to work up the courage to speak what was on his mind.

"I miss you."

You gave him a little smile, "I'm right here, silly."

"Are you?"

One question and Tom started to wonder if he should've kept his mouth shut, the hurt and confusion that immediately came over your face causing his heart to ache more than he thought was possible.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y/n, you're sitting right in front me and I still feel like you're a million miles away."

You were speechless, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

"I, um, I don't know what you mean," you stammered out quickly, clearly lying.

Of course you knew what he meant, how could you not? A feeling of remorse flooded your body, you knew you'd been a bit distant, but you didn't know it'd been this bad or noticable.

It'd been so long since you really got to talk to Tom, both of you swamped with work and social lives, your paths barely crossed anymore. Before you knew it, your once amazing relationship, full of great communication, had been reduced to superficial and empty conversations.

"You don't? So nothing feels different between us right now?"

"I don't know what to say, Tom," you sat up, as if to get a better look at him, but you didn't meet his eyes, "Yes, something's different. Did you expect everything to be exactly the way you left it months ago?"

"No, I just," he ran his fingers through his hair, and you could tell he was choosing his words carefully, "I wish you cared more."

'Fuck,' it was like being punched in the gut. Tom meant the absolute world to you and for him to think you didn't care? It broke your heart.

"I care, Tom," you practically whispered, your voice full of sadness.

He didn't say a word, nodding instead, as if he wasn't convinced.

You sat in silence, for what felt like forever, just staring at everywhere but each other before Tom finally said something.

"Do you remember when you, Haz, Z, and I would get super drunk and stay up all night playing Mario Kart?"

You smiled, for a second you could almost imagine the four of you sitting on the couch, yelling and laughing, having the time of your lives, "As if I could ever forget, even drunk I could kick all of your asses.”

"That’s because you would always cheat!"

"I would not!"

Tom jokingly rolled his eyes, and for a moment the tension was gone. You were back to normal, all of your fears and worries ceased to exist. It was like you’d gone back to a time where things were simpler.

The illusion came crashing down the second you softly and very sadly said, "I miss those days."

Tom almost wanted to agree with you, to continue to remicine the past with you and go back to the feeling of ease the two of you had just seconds ago. Instead he asked, "What are we going to do?"

You didn't meet his eyes, "I don't know."

“I think I should stop working for a while, take some time off.”

For a moment, a part of you considered what that would mean. Tom would be home more often, you could actually see him, spend time with him. That was the same part of you that wanted to beg him to stay every time he had to leave. It was begging you to encourage him, telling you it’d be the perfect opportunity to rekindle your relationship.

Another part of you knew better though. It’d be selfish to ask Tom to flush all his hard work down the drain for you. You weren’t worth his career.

“No, absolutely not,” letting the latter side fuel you, “Babe, you can’t just stop working.”

“Why not?”

"You've worked so hard, I’m not going to let you throw that away for me."

'I'm not worth it,' is what your mind was practically yelling at him. You truly believed you weren't. You were just one person, how could you compare to the years of work and effort he'd put into his career?

"Do you love me?"

The question almost caught you off guard, of course you loved him, a lack of love for the man standing in front of you was definitely not the problem.

"More than anything."

"Then, please, angel, let me do this."

Tom had a look in eyes, one full of determination and you knew he had already made up his mind, but you couldn't help feeling like you had to convince him otherwise.

"Acting is your dream, Tom."

“No, you and I,” he motioned between the two of you, tears starting to well up in his eyes, “together. That’s my dream.”

"I don't want to lose you."

"Hey," you grabbed his face gently, using your thumbs to caress his face soothingly, wiping his tears away, "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not ready, baby, I'm not,” he choked on a sob, heavy tears falling freely down his face now.

You didn't say anything, you just wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight against your chest. You hoped your actions spoke the words you wanted to speak, but didn’t know how. You loved Tom more than anything and seeing him hurting, seeing your relationship fail first hand was killing you.

You started crying as the full extent of the situation finally hit you. Your relationship was failing. It was failing and you didn’t know what to do or how to fix it.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like there was something heavy, crushing you. You were glad to have Tom there, his presence the only comfort you had at the moment.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that in each other’s arms, your sobs eventually turning to soft cries before stopping all together, finally letting you catch your breath.

Tom untangled himself from you, his puffy eyes meeting yours, "Can we go back to bed?"

"Of course, Tommy."

You wiped the remaining tears off his face, then the ones on your own, before grabbing his hand and gently leading him back to your room, back to your bed, back to where he belonged.

You climbed in right after him, immediately settling into your designated spot in his arms, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. It was almost normal.

Silence engulfed you immediately, leaving only the sound of your soft breaths and the loud rain outside.

There was so much you wanted to say, but you were scared. Everything was falling apart right in front of your eyes and the thought of admitting it terrified you. Almost as much as the thought of losing Tom all together.

But you knew that if you didn’t speak up now, there might not be another opportunity to. There might not be a relationship left to save.

So, you worked up the courage to lace your fingers through his, holding onto him tightly because in some ways your life did depend on it and you whispered, "I'm not ready to wake up either."

Tagging: @fangirlwithasweettooth @bravest-at-heart @constellatinq @hoe-forharry @devildisguiseasangel @ravenclawmarvel @hollandsamor @cosmicholland @fairytaleparker @hollandsosterfield @now-imagine @officiallyunofficialperson @stealth-spiderr @xxxxdelenaxxxx @its-the-aerieljeane @petersstarcadet @babebenhardy @antoouu @lovinnholland @kxrtwxgner @sleepybesson @brookeelee98 @awkwardfangirl2014 @nedthegay @petersmparker @parkeroffline @snjms02 @the-queen-procrastinator @tomhollandsumbrella @spideyosterfield @thollandx @styles-balor4eva @80sthottie @marvelobsessedteenager @marshyrebelcloud @sixwyrxstuff @tomshufflepuff @jillanaholland @itscaminow @howdyherron @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @undiadeestos

[fangirlyah]

✦ just an arrangement - Draco Malfoy x Reader (part 1)

summary: the return to the school year with the dark mark is hard enough, but now they must fulfill a more intimate request or they expect a happily ever after with an old death eater.

warnings: none

word count: 1,950

a/n: i’m pretty excited about this so i hope u like it. if u wanna be part of my (still non-existent) tag list for this fic, just tell me :)

a starry night full of light illuminated the sky.  very different from the humor y/n was holding. 

she saw herself in the mirror, immersed in constant pain, both physical and emotional. her arm, freshly marked by the dark lord, felt almost on fire, stitches and burns that were almost impossible to hold. thanks to her childhood surrounded by darkness due to the alliances of her families, she herself already knew how to create her own healing potions that sootheed her wounds for at least a while.  

she was only sixteen, but had a higher weight on her back than any teenager. she was not the only one, her classmate, draco malfoy, had and was suffering a life very similar to hers.  but he wasn't very good at hiding it, his thinner body and marked dark circles revealed his stress. but y/n was always a better actress, no one had ever seen the bruises on her arms, nor had she been seen decaying. on the contrary she was known for being one of the sweetest and most positive people with every hogwarts student. thing that put his hair on end, ‘how could she be so calm with everything that was going on?’ she knew a war was coming but he always saw her smiling sweetly at every person who crossed her path. how many times had he smiled that sixth year of hogwarts? maybe not one. 

but as he noticed her big white smiles, she noticed the lack of his. she knew what he was going through, his task was very complicated and terrifying, y/n had been lucky enough to be out of the instant murder of her own headmaster, but she had to be in charge of repairing the vanishing cabinet. 

they were not friends or anything close to the word, they were acquaintanced despite the number of encounters they had during the months, due to the similar connection of their parents. both only children, completely alone on their way to giving their full life to who-must-not-be-named. y/n did not want to be alone, since she was a child, she had tried to approach the blonde and become his friend, but he did not acknowledge receipt. 

"hello, draco! my house elf made pumpkin pie, would you like a piece?" a small y/n took small leaps in her freshly ironed dark blue dress.

"I'd rather die than try something of yours," an eleven-year-old draco disgustingly expressed to the girl who was just looking for his sympathy. 

a sympathy that, despite the passage of the years, she had never found. y/n had stopped trying, had stopped fraternizing with draco in the fourth year, when she had slightly begun to develop a crush on him. and she was, and is, smart enough to know that if her hormonal heart kept hearing his wretched words, she would have an almost irreparable broken heart. but it didn't work, because even though he ignored her, she couldn't get him out of her mind. and seeing him at least twice a month at her home, dressed in his pristine suit and his fine hair combed did not help. 

"y/n since when is your roasted chicken more important than good gossip?" millicent spoke with her mouth full of crushed potatoes, spitting slightly. 

"since always, millie" y/n was not at a time in her life where an adolescent gossip filled all her senses. 

"you're very boring... so, it turns out ginevra weasley is in love with potter!" 

"I'm not at all surprised, weirdos like weirdos" pansy parkinson, despite the years that elapsed, did not seem to forget her hatred of gryffindor and everything related to it, especially the golden trio and its own close ones. 

it was a Friday night and despite the icy weather and sun falling much earlier, the great hall was full of students enjoying their dinners. at the slytherin table there were most students, but there wasn't any sign of draco malfoy... but she spoke very quickly. 

"get up" a big, cold hand, adorned with silver rings and emeralds that stood out on his pale skin, grabbed y/n by the arm and pulled her with intent to lift her out of the seat. 

"sorry?" she looked up to see the blonde with a serious countenance, staring at her. 

"hey, we're talking you can't take her that way!" spoke one of her friends but it was too late, y/n was already standing on draco’s side, who kept holding her arm tightly. 

"shut your mouth, bulstrode" and with that, draco began to walk quickly without looking back, which she thanked as he would not see her in a hurry and almost stepping on her own feet. 

arriving on the seventh floor, finally, a large door suddenly appeared on a white wall, capturing the complete attention of y/n. draco did not hesitate and submerged them both inside the unknown room which turned out to be too small for its immense door. 

'the room of requirement' thought y/n immediately, but why did it appear before them? she wondered. 

it was the first time y/n and draco had crossed word for at least five months, since the first time they both attended a death eaters meeting as official members. she still remembers how her body trembled and as his did too, but the firm hand of lucius on his back almost held him in his place. she also recalls that their seats were facing each other, and that she saw him swallow heavily when, after the meeting, he saw the girl accidentally shed a salty tear. 

"may I ask you what we are doing here?" y/n’s voice sounded shy and calm despite having draco in front of her swinging from one place to the other, regardless of the small space. he did not speak and it had been more than five minutes that they were inside the room and the idea of leaving had crossed y/n’s thoughts, but she knew what he was going through, so she decided to wait. 

"you're my girlfriend now..." draco's body stood violently in front of her, leaving a reasonable distance. he didn't look her in the eye, but she knew he was serious.

"what the-... what?" 

"we have to be together, the dark lord wants it so" 

"since when?..." the confusion took over her body, even though her heart was screaming, 'your crush is telling you to be together, shut up and accept!' but it wasn't that simple. 

"in less than six months we will both be seventeen, your parents and mine were married at that age, and they were all already death eaters..."

"it's our turn" y/n thought out loud.

"we must not marry, just... be together...as a couple or we'll be paired with other death eater who's at least fifteen years older and I think we both know that's not a reasonable choice"

"I understand..." it was something they should do sooner or later, then they could split up and submit to some other arranged marriage. but at the moment they were both the best choice of the other. "let's do it" 

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

the idea of pretending to be a couple began to really settle in y/n’s head a week of the event, when draco rested his hands on her shoulders unexpectedly on a sunday for breakfast time. she wanted to bewitch herself when she felt the butterflies she hated so much flowering. those butterflies provoked by him, which she had sworn to bury years ago and which she had clearly failed to achieve. 

her friends’ faces were transformed to the sudden change in the attitude of the prince of slytherin. they all noticed that they both slipped away from classes and most social situations over the weeks. but, they would never have assumed they were going away to be together, they were right. they used to escape because of the tasks indicated by who-must-not-be-named or because the terror and darkness had suddenly consumed them. 

then the weeks passed and their interactions increased, because they had to increase if they wanted to make it believable. 

the arrangement had begun in august and by that month, their only contact was some rubbing of hands in potions or small glances in the great hall, which however minuscule they were, they both knew that they should be noticed. 

"you're doing it wrong!-emm...I think you're putting more ingredients than the necessary, y/n" sometimes she wanted her fake boyfriend to be a better actor, his voice changes were notorious, but at least that day they were lucky to be sitting with crabbe and goyle so none of them noticed his weird voice changes, and if they did, they wouldn't have the braveness to ask. 

"I've made this potion multiple times, draco. to make it perfect a few drops of agrippa are never too much" the blonde’s ears were still surprised to hear his name, his actual name and not malfoy, come out of y/n’s mouth. despite his attitude towards her, which had not changed since the age of eleven, she continued to treat him delicately. 

"you've done this multiple times? this is the first time we are learning potions to close wounds" the last thing he wanted was to make the cute girl uncomfortable, it wouldn't show a good image for their relationship.

"I'm only curious when it comes to potions" but y/n answered with immediate discomfort, much to the chagrin of draco. 

by september, their hands were already united from class to class and their bodies were sitting together in the great hall for almost every meal, all of this causing a lot of whispers.

"your hand is sweaty" whispered draco in his ear, as they traversed long meadows to hagrid’s hut.

"sorry... is that everyone is looking at us and it's making me nervous" she wasn't used to being the center of attention, unlike him. 

"just... focus on me" draco gave a squeeze to her hand, making y/n think that, finally, the boy had given in to acting cordial in their false relationship. but his phrase wasn't over, "you must do well, I won't let you ruin this."

with that said, y/n focused her thoughts on draco. how he was holding her hand, how she had imagined this so many times and how he seemed unbothered by it. but he wasn't feeling like that.

it was only in october that they first had a meeting alone, only the two of them, with no audience present. 

y/n was on a sofa, very close to a large window pointing to the big forests surrounding hogwarts, in the common room. it was the early hours of the morning so the sun was orange painting the sky as if it were its own canvas, lighting everything around it, including y/n. her hard-covered book was on her lap and she moved it so gently that it seemed that her fingers floated. for draco's eyes it was something new. with semi-swollen eyes, a morning voice but perfectly clothed, he watched her from the other side of the place. he didn't think she was a morning person, so when he received the letter and decided to be the first to come down for breakfast as he couldn't fall asleep again, the last thing he thought was he was going to find her there. with her legs contracted towards her and her bright hair braided in a shedding way, was the first thing draco saw that morning. and for a moment, he thanked merlin for waking up so early. 

"it's time to go" was the only thing the blonde seemed to say, when he approached the couch where she was. y/n just turned around to see him. she knew exactly what he meant. 

[sweet-barnes]

Snake Eyes - part twelve

Pairing: mob!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: death and injuries

Summary: ‘Snake eyes’ meaning the worst possible result;  a complete lack of success. Getting caught up between two of the biggest mobs in the city was not how you expected your night to go, and falling for a mob boss can only end in disaster.

A/N: it’s finally happening!! (you’ll know what i mean when you get to the end ;) ) i’m so excited!

Snake Eyes Masterlist

Part 11

You hadn’t left your apartment since you were dropped off by Natasha a week away. All your newly bought possessions from Bucky’s were still in cardboard boxes in the hallway. You didn’t even want to look inside them, nevermind tidy the contents of them away. 

Natasha had visited a couple of times, staying in the evenings for a movie and a takeaway, never once commenting on the boxes littering the hallway but you noticed her eyeing them a few times. She never mentioned Bucky and you didn’t want to bring him up either, but you wished she would say something. At least let you know how he is.

You hadn’t heard from him either. It wasn’t like you expected him to come running straight back to you. You didn’t know what you expected from him, if you were completely honest.

The look of hurt lingering behind his eyes when he told you to leave kept flashing in your mind whenever you closed your eyes. You couldn’t shake it, and to know that you caused it made your heart ache even more.

Since returning home, no calls had been made to your friends or family, not any form of contact. Every time the thought came into your mind, it was battered away by the fact that you were on the wrong side of two mob bosses. You didn’t think either of them would hesitate to use your loved ones against you as payback. You had wronged both of them enough to deserve it.

A sharp knock at the door brought you out of your daze and your feet padded softly on the wooden flooring as you walked over to greet whoever was there. Without looking to see who was on the other side, you swung the door open and was surprised to see a group of familiar faces.

Nat, Steve, Sam and Tony all stood in front of your door, a goofy grin plastered on all of their face’s apart from Tony’s. It was nice to see nothing had changed with them.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he stated before making his own way into the apartment, walking straight passed you and to the alcohol cupboard in your kitchen. How did he know where the hell to go? Everyone else wandered in as you were still staring in Tony’s direction. 

“Come on, Y/N, we need to talk,” Natasha called from her newly settled place on the sofa. You quickly made your way over to her, everyone making themselves comfy in your living room. It seemed a lot smaller with all these large men taking up the space, it just seemed cozy when it was only you and Nat.

“Why are you all here?” You questioned quietly, feeling uneasy at their sudden presence. You’d happily welcome Natasha but no one else had come to visit you since you left. 

“Have you heard the news?” The question came from Sam and you simply shook your head. “Rumlow’s body was found in the river outside of the city, he was a few days gone by the time they fished him out.” An unknown feeling hit you in a wave. Something that felt like relief but not entirely that.

“His gunshot wounds had been stitched up, but they found fresh stab wounds all over, and it looked like he had been beat up as well,” Sam carried on and as the new information filtered into your head, you suddenly felt sick. 

“Just a minute,” you managed to mumble out before rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door, leaving the Commandos on their own.

“I know you said she looked bad, but I didn’t think she’d be like this,” Steve mumbled, glancing in the direction you had ran off. There were muffled sounds of you throwing up from behind the door. “I told you she’s not coping well, I have no idea what to do and it’s not like Bucky’s been around to help.” 

When they’d walked in, they found you still in the same clothes that you were in when Natasha had come to visit 3 days earlier. Your hair didn’t look brushed as it was thrown in a bun on your head.

Tony stood up and wandered over to the window, “are we telling her he’s gone missing? Wouldn’t that just make her worse?” A gasp sounded from behind him and he twisted to see a fake shocked look plastered all over Sam’s face. “Was that some compassion? Empathy? Any kind of feelings at all coming from Tony Stark?” 

“Hey, I have plenty of empathy thank you, just not for idiots like you,” they started bickering between themselves, Steve rolling his eyes and falling deeper into the sofa. You walked out of the bathroom, drained after emptying the dinner you had had earlier, to the commotion of noise. 

You caught Natasha’s eye and she just smirked as you came to settle in the middle of the room. “Okay boys, calm yourselves, no fighting in my house” they instantly stopped at your presence and you made your way back to your place next to Natasha, who had started giggling at the scene. 

“Thank you for coming to tell me guys, you didn’t have to and I know Bucky probably isn’t happy with you guys for even talking to me, so it means a lot,” you didn’t notice the shared glances around the room at the mention of Bucky.

Truth be told, Bucky had disappeared without a trace the night he had told you to leave. He didn’t even say a word to Steve, who he usually confided in with everything that went on in his life. The worry between the Commandos had built up but there was no way for them to track him down. He’d left his phone in his office draw.

When the news broke that Rumlow had been found floating in the river, the mob’s suspicions rose that it was Bucky’s doing but when he still hadn’t returned home a few nights later, confusion set in. That’s when they decided to come and see you. To break the news and see if you knew anything they didn’t.

They didn’t want to just come right out and ask if Bucky had been visiting, but they knew you would have mentioned it to at least Natasha in the time they were there. You were just as clueless as they were. 

“Do you guys want to stay for a movie?” You offered, feeling confident in their presence. It felt like you had got a little bit of your family back, you felt safer with just their existence in your life. Plus, you needed something to take your mind off the news you had just received. As much as it lifted a weight from your heart, you needed to distract yourself from that mental image. You knew it would haunt you in your sleep tonight.

Thankfully, the group agreed, having nothing important that evening to see to. They were happy to have you back in some way or another, Steve and Sam hadn’t realised how much they had missed you until they had seen your face again. 

They had been burying themselves in work, trying to find Bucky, and then trying to find a way to convince him to let you come back to safety once they had finally found him. When Rumlow was still alive, they knew you were never truly safe, and they were just glad Natasha had been keeping an eye on you whenever Bucky didn’t have an assignment for her, but they never thought that was enough.

Some of that unease had been lifted with the news but they still wanted you back. The place hadn’t felt the same without your warm presence there. So the evening was spent watching a Disney film that everyone chose, and Tony complaining the whole way through that he was ‘too old for this shit’ but was often found singing along under his breath which he was constantly teased for.

You finally felt at peace, and when everyone had left, you didn’t get that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of being alone. 

It was just passed 10 when you had shut the door, saying your goodbyes and you were definitely ready to get into bed. After only seeing a Natasha a couple of times throughout the week and no one else, having a group of rowdy mobsters in your small apartment really wore you out.

You found comfort in the soft sheets, snuggling into them like you would in Bucky’s mansion, somehow forgetting you were in your own bedroom. Your eyes were just shutting and you could feel yourself falling into sleep when stumbling footsteps from down the hall caused your eyes to snap open once again. 

You waited a second, holding your breath to hear for the sound again and when you heard a hiss and a thud, your heart rate shot up. You felt your hands shaking as you pulled back the covers and tip toed out of bed and towards the door.

You twisted the handle and slowly pulled the door open, cursing silently when it creaked loudly. You had told your mother you would get it fixed the last time she had come round and now you really wished you had gone through with it. The sounds from down the hall stopped and it felt like you were having a stand off with a ghost.

You didn’t know what move to make but your feet made that decision for you. You always thought in a fight or flight situation you would definitely run, but the last month has taught you a lot about yourself, and being stronger than you thought you were was definitely one of those things. 

You were suddenly at the end of the hall, staring at the dark lumbering figure that was in your kitchen, right by the knife set that was placed on top of the counter. Of course the intruder had to be there, just typical.

You watched some more as they turned in your direction to face you and took a few steps closer. You felt yourself retreating slightly but not enough to block your view of the shadow. The streetlight filtering in through your open blinds caught the side of their face and there was a glint of blue you recognised instantly. 

“Bucky?” Your voice was barely above a whisper but the figure heard it. His body tensed and straightened. You stepped out from behind the corner and flicked on the light switch, coming face to face with a disheveled looking Bucky.

Bruises and cuts littered his face. He had a black eye that was shining with how fresh it was and you saw the drop of blood sliding down his chin from slit on his lip. You took in a small gasp. The only time you had seen Bucky in anything but a suit was when he was in his pyjama bottoms, and you didn’t even recall that very well after the trauma.

He had a heavy looking, worn leather jacket on him, his muscles filling it out perfectly. A black zip up hoodie underneath and a t-shirt with a band you had never heard of under all that. His dark wash jeans had rips along them, and you couldn’t tell whether they were made like that or from the fight he had clearly been in. 

His heavy breathing was prominent in the silent room and as you walked closer to him, he seemed to back away. “Bucky, what are you doing here?” Worry was written all over your face as you tried to reach out to him. 

“Y/N, I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry,” his words were breathy and you could tell instantly that he had taken quite a beating. “No Bucky, are you okay?” 

You were now standing in front of him and the smell of alcohol emanating from him was so strong you felt your nose scrunch up slightly at it. “You don’t deserve this, Y/N.” The broken way in which he said your name caused an ache in your heart and all you wanted to do was wrap him up in your arms and never let go.

It didn’t matter that he wanted you gone just a week before, your heart would always care for him and you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t look after him in every opportunity you got. It was the least he deserved in the harsh world he was wrapped up in. 

You softly grabbed his hand in yours, this time he didn’t back away from you and he allowed you to lead him to the living room and into the cushion filled armchair. His large figure took up the whole seat, making it look smaller than it actually was and you couldn’t help but think how cute he would look sat there on a cold Sunday afternoon, a blanket over his lap, reading his favourite book.

Your thoughts arrived back in the present quickly and you silently made your way to the bathroom to get your first aid kit and a clean cloth to clean up Bucky’s face. You had no idea what you were doing, but you could at least try if he was willing to let you.

You settled yourself down in front of him on your knees, bringing the damp cloth up to the now drying blood on his face and lightly dabbed it away. The whole process was silent. Every time you looked into his eyes, they were clouded over and it was like he was refusing to look at you. 

You left him to his own thoughts. He came to you for a reason and he would share that whenever he was ready, all you needed to do was look after him the way he looked after you. 

You were wiping the antiseptic wipe over the cut on his lip when he hissed at the stinging. You muttered an apology under your breath and was about to go back to cleaning around it when a sturdy hand grabbed your wrist and pushed it away. You were met with piercing blue eyes as you looked up. 

“They know it was me.” Your eyebrows furrowed together as you tried to search Bucky’s eyes for an explanation of what he had said but there was none. You shifted your hands so you were holding his gently in yours, your thumb instinctively sweeping over his bruised knuckles. 

“What do you mean, Buck? What have you done?” Your voice was a whisper. Bucky shook his head, “Rumlow, that was me,” at the mention of his name everything settled into place. It made sense but you didn’t want to believe it. “Who knows, Buck?” You were trying to be as gentle as you can, “HYDRA?” 

Bucky’s eyes closed at the mention of them but you saw the small nod he gave. “How do you know?” Despite your mind being so fuzzy with the news, you were trying to keep as calm as possible for Bucky, he didn’t need you panicking right now.

“I don’t know, they just know,” his voice was rough as it came out. “I’d say they’d tell the police but they’ve got too much shit of their own to worry about, it would just be easier to kill me.” The thought he put into your head didn’t sit well and you gripped his hand harder than you meant to. 

“No Bucky, we’ll help you, your family will help you and protect you, no one is going to get to you,” you said sternly, trying to meet his eyes as he gazed down at your joined hands. He let out a deep breath, “I got into a fight today, I got drunk and provoked a fight because I just wanted to feel something, I’ve been numb since I dealt with Rumlow.”

You body yearned to comfort him but you knew you couldn’t do anything. “Shall I call the guys? They can come and get you and take you back home, you’ll be safe there.” As much as you wanted him to stay with you so you could look after him, you knew he needed to be around his men.

“No Y/N, I’m sorry, I want to see you before I go,” Bucky met your eyes then and you couldn’t look away. “Go where?” You asked. “I’m leaving, I know you think I’m a good man but when my father was alive, I was anything but that.”

You weren’t too sure of what was happening now. You had only heard snippets of his childhood, but nothing to do with his parents. He carried on anyway. “He made me do things to turn me into a man, it only broke me, and I’ve been trying to repay my sins ever since the Commandos became mine, I can’t do it anymore so I need to leave.”

You wanted to argue with him but you knew it wasn’t the right time, so you let the quiet of the room take over. “Do you want food?” You didn’t know what else to say and even though you had just eaten during the movie, you weren’t going to deny Bucky that need.

“Can we have that takeaway again?” You giggled at his sheepish look and simply nodded, standing up to grab the house phone to order. Just as you stepped away from Bucky you felt the air shift as he stood up quickly behind you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

You looked up to ask what was wrong and his face was suddenly in front of yours and you didn’t have time to process what was happening before his soft lips were against your own. Your eyes fell shut instinctively and you felt like you had sunk into the floor at the warm feeling that was bubbling inside of you.

You tried to be as gentle as you could, not wanting to irritate his cut anymore but Bucky seemed needy as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer. His lips moved against yours in the most natural way and it wasn’t long before you felt his hot tongue slide across your lips. 

At that moment, Bucky seemed to remember himself and pulled away, his eyes frantically searching yours but you smiled softly, causing his racing heart to slow down once again. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore?” You tried to chuckle afterwards but it just made you seem even more sad and Bucky hated that he made you think that was the case.

“I made a mistake, and I’ve regretted it since the moment you left, could you ever forgive me?” his voice was soft as he spoke but you could sense the sadness that fell in his words, that didn’t stop you from trying to lift his spirits however. “I guess I’ll have to think about it, James.” With that you giggled and wandered off into the kitchen, leaving Bucky staring at your retreating figure.

Part 13

[thebluenoteblog]

Selfish

Summary: While your relationship with Tyler started out amazing, it didn’t stay that way.

Player: Tyler Seguin

Word Count: 3.1k

Requested: can you write something based on “selfish” by madison beer on any player 🥺

*Inspired by Madison Beer’s Selfish*

Boy, you're such a lost cause

Now your name is crossed off

How you gonna fix this?

You can't even fix yourself

You sat on the couch with your suitcase packed at your feet as you waited for Tyler to get home. You owed him that. You would show him the respect that he hadn’t shown you in over a year. You wouldn’t let him come home from New York to an empty house and all of your stuff missing.

You’d been moving your things out of the house you shared gradually and into your sisters’ home over the course of his roadie. All that remained was in the suitcase sitting at your feet. You pulled out your phone and checked the time. He should be home soon.

This would be hard. You loved Tyler, you really did. You just couldn’t put yourself through this anymore. You couldn’t put yourself through the pain of loving someone who- keys turned in the lock and three heads popped up off the couch before running to greet him.

You stayed where you were, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead at a framed picture of the two of you. It was taken just six months after you had started dating while you were on vacation in the Bahamas. You could hear Tyler greeting the dogs, talking to them in the excited way that he always did. “Did mommy feed you guys? Why am I asking you? You’ll lie to me, so you get more.”

He came around the corner into the living room and froze when he saw you sitting on the couch. “Babe, what are you doing up?”

You blinked back tears as you placed your hands on your knees and pushed yourself up. “I wanted to be here when you got home.”

“What are you talking about, you’re always here when I-,” his eyes drifted to the suitcase at your feet. “(Y/N), what’s going on?”

You didn’t meet his eyes, instead you kept your gaze locked on the picture. Remembering happier times. Simpler times. “I’m leaving, Tyler.”

“Like you’re spending the night at your sister’s house?” he asked, shaking his head, but you knew that he knew that wasn’t what was happening. You could hear the rising panic in his voice.

You shook your head slowly feeling nausea build in your throat. “I’m leaving you.”

He was walked around the couch and came to a stop in front of you, blocking your view of the picture, the only thing keeping you together. “You-,” he stopped and shook his head then brought his hands up to your face and forced you to look at him. “You can’t leave me.”

“I can, and I am,” you said quietly, and your voice cracked as you looked into his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever.

He was still shaking his head, eyes watery as he said, “Why? What did I do? How can I fix it?”

You let your eyes fall closed and with all of the strength you had, you gripped his hands and pulled them off your face, placing them at his sides. “You can’t fix this, Tyler. I’ve given you to many chances already.”

It was almost two years

That I chose to spend here

All alone on New Year's

Thinkin' "What the hell?"

Four months earlier

“Happy new year!” a chorus rang out, and all-around you couples rang in the new year together, kissing with smiles on their faces. This was the second year in a row that you were celebrating alone. Though Tyler had been out of town the year before, he was in town this year. He’d had a game earlier that night and had decided that he would rather stay at a bar closer to the rink with the boys than try to make it to the party with you.

You weren’t happy about his choice, but you weren’t surprised either. When his text came through you’d been tempted to respond with ‘guess I’ll be kissing someone else at midnight’ but you had refrained. Instead you just responded with ‘K’ and slid your phone into your purse, then went about your night. You downed a few more drinks, waited for the ball to drop, then when you were nice and drunk you called for an Uber.

You arrived home to an empty house, again, not surprised. You stripped out of your clothes and into your pajamas. Into bed you crawled, head still spinning from the tequila shots you’d thrown back with your friends.

Tyler slipped into bed behind you some time later and wrapped his arms around you, pressing his body against yours and his lips against the back of your neck. You were only halfway awake, but you could still register in your sleepy, halfway intoxicated mind, the hard on pressing into the small of your back.

You pressed your eyes closed tightly and for a moment pretended to be asleep. Then you opened them and rolled over, giving in. You gave in because you realized how thankful you were that he hadn’t gone home with someone else that night.

I don't wanna break your thread and needle

Tryna stitch you, but I can't, I refuse

Three Months Earlier

It was another night in the middle of a home stretch that you were spending alone. Tyler was somewhere in town. Somewhere out with the boys. Probably drunk. Probably making a fool of himself. You were here, cuddled up with the dogs in a bed alone.

You weren’t quite sure what to do anymore but you knew that this wasn’t working. You knew you couldn’t keep going like this. When you started dating, you thought you would be the one to change him. The one to fix him, so to say.

The longer this went on… the more nights you spent alone while he actively made the choice not to be with you… the more your trust in him faded… the more you lost sight of the man you’d fallen in love with… well, the more you realized that fixing him wasn’t your responsibility.

You heard the door open downstairs and you glanced at the clock. It was 1:30 am. Work was going to be a blast tomorrow. You buried your face in Gerry’s fur and pretended to be asleep. Pretended that you hadn’t been waiting up for him just like you did every night. He stumbled into the room, completely wasted. He knocked something off the dresser and mumbled, “Shit.”

You heard him stripping out of his clothes. “Boys, off.”

You clutched Gerry tighter, not allowing him to leave. Labs being the intuitive creatures that they are, he picked up on your distress and stayed by your side. He lifted his head and stared at Tyler. Tyler pointed at the dog bed in the corner of the room that he had bought for them when you’d moved in. They still ended up on the bed most nights, but it was worth a try. “Gerry, off.”

Again, you tightened your arms around him. Gerry loved you, but Tyler was his owner. Tyler had trained him. He was more likely to listen to him. This time, Tyler noticed your movement. “(Y/N), are you awake? Let Gerry get off the bed.”

You shook your head still leaving your face in his fur.

Tyler grumbled and yanked back the covers, “Whatever, I guess I won’t touch you at all tonight because there’s a sixty-pound dog between us.” You felt the bed dip as he laid down and faced away from you. You looked up from Gerry’s fur to focus on his back.

Why were you spending so much of your life trying to fix someone who didn’t want to be fixed?

I bet you thought you gave me real love

But we spent it all in nightclubs

All you ever wanna do is lie

Two Months Earlier

Another night, another party. Tyler pushed a drink into your hand and you took it, forcing a smile onto your face. “Babe isn’t this place awesome?” he asked.

No. No this place wasn’t awesome. Okay, it was cool. Or it would have been if it wasn’t the fourth time you’d been to a nightclub this month. You weren’t a party person. You were twenty-six years old. You were ready to get married, start a family and how did your boyfriend want to spend every waking moment you had together?

Drunk or with you bent over a piece of furniture.

It wasn’t a healthy relationship. You weren’t in the same place. You didn’t want the same things anymore. “It’s cool, Tyler.” You said, taking the drink from him and bringing it to your lips.

He nodded and turned to look around the room. You followed his gaze and were met with a very top-heavy brunette with long legs and a short skirt. You huffed and rolled your eyes, taking another drink.

“What’s wrong?” Tyler asked, slowly shifting his gaze back to you.

You shook your head, “Nothing Tyler.”

“Something is wrong,” he argued, turning to face you, dropping his drink down by his side and taking a step closer so you could hear him easier over the noise.

You realized that for the first time, you were annoyed with him for standing this close to you. You didn’t take a step back though, you just stared at his eyebrows as you said, “It isn’t a big deal. Nothing worth fighting over.”

He shook his head at you, “Just tell me what I did (Y/N).”

“Maybe that girl over there in her underwear can tell you,” you responded, nodding your head toward the woman he had been watching.

Tyler rolled his eyes, “Oh, come on. You know I wasn’t looking at her.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, “And how do I know that?”

He sighed, like you were the one who had done something wrong. “I only ever look at you baby. You’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I need.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to take his words and hold them in your heart and use them to fix the parts of your relationship that were broken. You couldn’t do that though, because you knew just as well as he did that they were a lie.

So, you just nodded your head and turned your attention back to your drink, chugged it, then looked back at him and said, “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to go get another.”

He watched you walk away feeling as though he was missing some very important piece of a puzzle.

Baby, who you tryna run from

Me or all your problems?

You know you will never solve 'em

You don't even know yourself

One Month Earlier

You slid the last of Tyler’s untouched portion of the dinner into the refrigerator with your head hung and a frown etched into your face. You turned to the sink and began scrubbing the dishes, the water hot enough to scald your hands. You didn’t look up when you heard the door open. You didn’t acknowledge him when he walked into the kitchen and up behind you, pressing his chest against your back.

“How was your day baby?” He asked.

You frowned, blinking back tears, angry, frustrated, pissed off, because you had put so much time and effort into this meal and he knew you were cooking it. Then he just didn’t come home? Then he acted like everything was fine? He could see you scrubbing a pile of pots and pans. Even if he had forgotten, even his tiny little pea brain had to remember upon walking into the kitchen and receiving the silent treatment from someone angrily scrubbing cookware.

“What’s going on?” He tried again, pulling your hair back in his hand and he noticed the first tear on your cheek. He grabbed at your hands, “Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You pushed him off, “Tyler, just answer me one question. Can you do that?”

He looked about as confused as you had ever seen him, but he nodded his head and said, “Okay.”

“What are you running from?”

His eyebrows slammed together, and you reached your hand next to you to shut off the faucet. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking what you’re running from? Are you running from me? Am I just not enough for you? Or are you trying to run from your own problems.”

He stuttered for a moment, trying to find an answer, but couldn’t come up with one.

“Well, figure it out. Figure it out fast, Tyler.” You walked past him, you didn’t stomp or slam into his shoulder. You didn’t scream on your way out or slam the door when you got to the bedroom.

To Tyler, that was the scariest part of all.

But it's not possible

Plus I'm not responsible

For your self-made obstacles

Put my heart in the hospital

One Week Earlier

You sat on the bed, head in your hands as you cried. You finally let yourself break down. This was the last time that you would cry over Tyler Seguin. You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t be his babysitter and his girlfriend and the person that was always shoved aside no matter how much you did for him.

It took an entire month of him not calling you during a single away game, of him going out and getting plastered every night, of you taking care of the dogs and the house while he lived like he was still single for you to realize the most important thing. You were not responsible for him. If he crashed and burned because you walked away, that was his own fault. Maybe he would do better without you. Maybe you were his problem.

He was definitely yours.

You had put so much into this relationship over the past two years. This was how it was going to end. You were going to pack all of your bags and move out while he was gone. It was cowardly, but it was the bravest thing you’d ever done.

You let yourself cry for a long time. Longer than you should have, but you were mourning. You were mourning the loss of a relationship that hadn’t ended yet. Finally, you pulled yourself out of bed and began packing your things. You had a lot to do in the next week.

Shouldn't love you but I couldn't help it

Had a feeling that you never felt it

I always knew that you were too damn selfish

Don't know why I looked the other way

I wanted you to change yeah

I shouldn't love you but I couldn't help it

I always knew that you were too damn selfish

Six Months Later

Tyler turned the street corner and he swore his heart stopped. It had been six months since he’d seen or heard from you. He’d called you so many times that you had eventually broken down and changed your phone number. You had blocked him on social media. You had cut him out of your life like he was nothing. Like the best two years of his life had meant nothing to you.

But there you were, standing outside a coffee shop holding the leash of a dog, a yellow lab puppy. Your hair was blowing in the wind as you crouched down to pet the dog who sat perfectly still and licked at your arm.

He knew you didn’t want to see him. He knew that after the way things had gone, you probably hated him. He could feel it every time he called you and you sent him to voicemail. Every time he texted you and you never responded. He knew it the first time he tried to stalk your Instagram and nothing came up under your username.

Still though, he needed you to know. He needed you to know that he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since the day you walked out his door. He needed you to know that he was sober and he hadn’t been sleeping around or hanging out in nightclubs. He needed you to know that he could change.

Never once had he been running from you. He was running from himself.

He had nothing left to run from.

He wasn’t scared anymore.

He was ready.

He was ready to get married and have a family.

He could picture the look on your face when he asked you to marry him. He could imagine you in the perfect dress, walking down the aisle toward him. He could see you nine months pregnant, stubborn as ever and insisting upon coming to his games to cheer him on. He could imagine how beautiful you would look with his baby in your arms.

He didn’t want that with anyone else. He didn’t think he was capable of wanting that with anyone else.

He took two steps toward you, watching as you stood back up. Your hair fanning out in the wind. The sun danced on your skin. You turned halfway toward the door and the most beautiful smile graced your face. It made his heart skip. God, he’d missed that smile.

Then his stride faltered. He froze in his tracks and someone almost bumped into him from behind. Just ahead of him, a man had come out of the coffee shop with two coffees in his hand. Tyler recognized one as your go to order. He handed it to you and you took it. You placed a hand on his shoulder and stood up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. He wrapped an arm around your back and held you to him for a moment to long before letting you pull away.

You slapped his chest playfully and then took a sip of your iced coffee. He wrapped his arm around your waist and held out his hand for you, you still had the straw in your mouth as you handed him the puppy’s leash. He pressed a kiss to your temple and you started walking toward Tyler.

He panicked. He ducked his head and turned, crossing to the other side of the street before you could see him. He walked the rest of the way to meet the guys in a haze. Head in the clouds. It was a miracle he didn’t wonder into traffic. When he made it to the restaurant, he stared through the window at his friends gathered around a table, laughing and joking.

He couldn’t do it.

Not now.

He turned and began the walk back to his car.

[biles-bilinski-24]

Say What You’re Thinking

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Word Count: 2,322

Warnings: blood, mention of guns, mentions of drugs, death, surgery, fluffy lil ending

Summary: reader often goes out on missions with peter and the team but tonight she wanted to go out on her own. it doesn’t end well and she finds herself wanting to be honest about her feelings for peter.

Notes: this is my first mcu fic!! woohoo!!! i hope you guys like it. it is a bit sad but it has a sweet ending and i enjoyed writing it. thanks for all your support and let me know if you want to be tagged in future mcu posts :) by the way, if you see the name charlie in there, i apologize. i had that as the character name but i didn’t really like it so changed it to reader. i tried to make sure i didn’t leave any in but i’m sorry if i did.

Bang! 

I stumbled backward and my back hit the wall of one of the buildings outlining the dark alley. Everything seemed to go quiet other than a ringing in my ears and the faint sound of footsteps moving away from me. I looked down at my stomach to see dark, crimson blood quickly soaking through my shirt. I pressed my hands over the bullet wound and closed my eyes, sliding down the wall until I was sitting. I started to hear clearly again, picking up the end of someone’s conversation, “...please hurry Mr. Stark!” Somebody landed next to me as if they’d jumped off of something. I blinked my eyes open slowly and found Peter crouched at my side.

“No no no no no no,” he was muttering.

“Hi, Pete,” I whispered.

I gave him a weak smile. He looked me up and down and he must’ve been able to see where I got shot ‘cause he focused on one spot.

“Hey, I don’t know how bad it is but it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna be fine, I promise. Mr. Stark is coming and he’ll be able to fix you up,” Peter tried to convince me.

“We both know he’s not gonna get here in time.”

My breathing was slowly getting shallower and my eyelids felt heavier every time I blinked. 

“Don’t say that. You’ll be okay.”

I just gently shook my head.

“Can I see?” he asked.

I moved my blood-soaked hands from my wound so he could see it. He went wide-eyed and he ran a hand through his hair. I saw his eyes fill with tears.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” I lied to him. 

“I know that’s a lie, Y/N. You’re gonna make it, okay? You just need to stay awake.”

“I’m not gonna last much longer.”

He tried to hold back his tears, or at least that’s what it seemed like ‘cause he was chewing on the inside of his cheek like he does when he gets upset.

“I need you to do something for me.”

He nodded.

“Tell Morgan hi for me every day. Don’t forget. And say goodbye to Steve, Nat, Bruce, the whole team. And...tell Tony I’m sorry I ate the last cheeseburger.”

We both laughed.

“Just tell them thanks for everything,” I continued. “Make sure Ned and MJ know I’ll miss them every day.”

“No, no, you’re gonna tell them yourself. I’m not gonna let you die,” I saw tears finally fall down his cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Pete. It’s okay. I’m not scared.”

Every breath was choppy and it felt like I wasn’t getting any air in no matter how hard I tried. I knew I didn’t have much time. Every part of my body suddenly felt so light, like I was floating, and I realized what was happening. 

“I gotta go now,” I told him.

Peter shook his head and grabbed onto my hand, I could tell he wasn’t ready to let me go.

“I love you Pete, s-so much. I’ll always be with you. Just...never f-,” I took a heavy breath, “forget me, okay?” I squeezed his hand so tight, and in that moment I didn’t want to go either. He just looked so sad all I wanted to do was tell him everything was gonna be okay, but I couldn’t. 

“Please don’t leave me, Y/N, please,” he cried.

“I’m sorry,” I noticed two people walk into the alley but I couldn’t tell who they were. 

They called out our names but as I tried to turn to see who it was, my eyes closed and I was gone. 

When I opened my eyes I wasn’t in the alley anymore. I was in some sort of operation room. It seemed like I was looking at the room from above it, which was really weird. I looked down and saw a girl on the table. The doctors looked like they were trying to take something out of her stomach. One of the doctors kinda looked like Bruce. It was only seconds later that I realized it was Bruce, and that the girl was me, laying in one of the surgery rooms at Avengers Tower. You can imagine that at this point I was really confused because how could I be watching myself having surgery? Someone pointed to the machines next to me, and I saw that I had almost no pulse. The doctors became more and more urgent with their actions. I tried to focus on what Bruce was doing but then the room started to go dark and I think I fainted or something. 

It felt like it had been hours when I finally woke up. I wasn’t in the operating room anymore. It only took a few seconds for me to figure out I was in my room at the tower. I carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed and started to stand up. I was surprised at the amount of strength I had considering what had happened. I reached for where my wound was as I gradually remembered everything that happened. Then it hit me: I died. Or at least I think I died. I’m pretty sure I died. Unless it was all just a dream. So I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up high enough to see where the wound was. I saw a scar but I still wasn’t sure. I ran my fingers across the stitches and they felt real. I put my shirt back down and took a step towards the door. At that same moment, the door opened, revealing a wide-eyed Peter.

“Hey, Pete,” I said quietly. 

He stared at me for a second before pulling me into a hug. I held on so tight, I never wanted to let go. I was afraid that if I did he would disappear. We eventually let go of each other and I noticed a couple people behind Peter.

“Tony! Steve!” I shouted and practically jumped on them trying to hug them. 

Tony laughed, “Good to have you back, kid.”

“We really missed you,” said Steve.

I smiled back at them and sat down on my bed. Peter sat next to me and put his arm around me. 

“Okay, okay. So what actually happened because I swear I died and now I’m magically alive again? Was I ever actually dead?” I asked them. 

Tony and Steve shared a look before Tony spoke up.

“Well, you kinda did die. Steve and I found you two in the alley but we were too late. You barely had a pulse but I still wanted to try to save you so we brought you back here to the tower and fixed you up. To answer your question, yes, technically you were dead for a little bit.”

“Wow, that’s…”

“Insane?” Peter finished for me.

“Yeah, insane.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Steve added. 

I let out a small laugh as he smiled. I didn’t say anything for a while.

“You okay, kid?” Tony asked. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just trying to wrap my head around it, you know?” I replied.

“Alright, well we’ll give you some space. There’s probably something I should be doing right now so I’ll go figure out whatever that is,” said Tony.

“I should go tell Nat about you. She’s been so down since you got hurt so I think this’ll cheer her up,” Steve said.

I sent them a smile as they left my room. 

“Do you want me to go too?” Peter asked me, getting up.

“Could you stay? I don’t really wanna be alone.”

He sat back down with a smile and tightened his arm around me. I laid my head on his shoulder and stared at a picture of me and Morgan that sat on my dresser.

“Did you guys tell Morgan anything?” I asked him.

He shook his head, “No, not really. We weren’t sure if you were gonna make it but we didn’t wanna get her hopes up. She really loves you, you know.”

I smiled and said, “Yeah, she loves me 3000. You’re more in the 800 to 1000 range.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep. But it’s not like it’s a competition or anything.”

“Oh, no, never.”

We both laughed. It was silent for a while as I thought about everything that happened. I was curious as to how Peter knew where I was. It’s not like I have a suit with a tracker or anything. I guess maybe he saw me when he was patrolling and just kept an eye on me. I don’t know how he does it. He always seems to know when something’s wrong. It’s not even just that, he always knows how to solve the problem. And don’t even get me started on school, he’s a genius. I swear he should’ve graduated by now. 

Peter’s been my best friend since I first saw him at the tower. We had gone to the same school all our lives but we never really talked, though I’m not sure why. I’ve been living at Avengers Tower since I was a kid. You see, my parents kinda sucked (they were druggies) and Tony somehow knew about my powers. So when things went south and I was supposed to be moved into a foster home, Tony took me in. I’ve been with him and Pepper ever since. Anyway, when Tony first brought Peter to the tower, you could see how much Pete loved it. His eyes would light up every time he saw something he’d never seen before, which happened a lot. He bumped into me on his way to the elevator and he was obviously really confused. He didn’t know I lived with Tony ‘cause I never really told anyone.

I didn’t have many friends before Peter. I guess I was afraid to open up to people but with Peter it was just different. I’ve always known I could trust him. Maybe it’s because he’s like me, but there’s always been this unspoken agreement to keep each other’s secrets no matter what. I started hanging out with him more. Then I got to know Ned and MJ, and the four of us have been close ever since. I think we had only been friends for a few months when I realized I loved him. I think it was homecoming actually. I saw Peter with Liz and I felt sort of jealous. Obviously I never told him, he wouldn’t feel the same way and I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship. I’ve been suppressing the feelings ever since, hiding them so that no one knows. I do a pretty good job at it, but somehow Morgan figured it out. Of all people, Morgan was the one who saw it first. She told Pepper about it and I begged Pepper not to say anything. She agreed to keep it quiet. It’s a good thing she didn’t tell Tony ‘cause Tony can’t keep his mouth shut about anything. 

“What do I do now?” I asked out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?” Peter said.

“This whole dying thing has made me realize how much I haven’t done and said. There are things I need to say to people that I can’t just not say,” I stood up and started pacing around the room. “The problem is, the things I need to say are gonna change everything. I’m scared they might ruin friendships. I’d never want that but I can’t just keep them in. I can’t die with regrets, Pete, not again.”

He came and stood in front of me, stopping my pacing, “Hey, look at me. You dying was the worst thing that ever happened to me and I’m not gonna let it happen again, okay? And nothing you say could ever ruin our friendship. You’ll always have me.” 

“You don’t know that, Pete. It’s just...you guys mean the world to me and I don’t know how I’d survive without you. I don’t even wanna think about it,” I couldn’t look at him.

I felt tears stinging my eyes but I didn’t wanna let them fall.

“I feel the same way, Y/N/N. Before I met everyone here my life was boring and sad. But when I got here everything changed. I think I’d go crazy if I lost you guys.”

I could sense his eyes on me but I stayed staring at the wood floor. Peter took my hand in his and gave it two squeezes, which was our signal that we were there for each other. I squeezed back, but I knew that if I looked at him I would fall apart. I didn’t know how much longer I could handle this.

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked.

“I’m scared,” I replied shortly.

“Of what?”

“I’m scared that I’ll ruin everything we have.”

“What? How could you do that? It’s just me.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

“Oh,” he sounded disappointed as he let go of my hand.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I-” I paused and took a breath. “I’m in love with you, Pete.”

He didn’t say a thing, but his eyes widened as he took a step away from me.

“And of course you don’t feel the same way. Ugh, this is exactly what I was afraid of, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I just made a dumb mista-”

Peter cut me off by pressing his lips to mine. His hands cupped my cheeks while I realized what was happening. When it finally occurred to me that the boy I’ve been in love with for years was kissing me, I kissed him back. When we pulled away I looked up into his dark brown eyes and I smiled bigger than I’ve ever smiled before. We both let out a small laugh and if I’m being honest, it was the happiest I’ve felt my whole life.

[harryandmolly]

tequila sunrise

A/N: part 3/3! clearly the Senorita video fucked me right up

summary: Shawn and Catalina deal with the aftermath of their night together

warnings: Language, NSFW in a big way holy cow (unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it), my perfect dream switch!Shawn

WC: 6k, truly what on earth

----------

Catalina’s favorite nights at Plucky’s are the quiet ones. They don’t come around often, but when they do, they’re something special.

Quiet is relative, of course. Plucky’s is usually a madhouse, so when there isn’t a constant line at the bar, and when you can sort of tell the music they’re playing over the din, that’s quiet enough to count in Catalina’s book.

Tonight, though, it’s really, really quiet. They don’t even have the speakers on full blast -- they don’t need to. The thunderstorm has kept most of the newcomers away, and some of the regulars.

Not all of them.

Shawn and company sit sentry at the tables by the door, as always. They’re the first to know if trouble’s on its way in or out. That’s the way Bonnie likes it. Catalina knows she can’t complain, even if she’d rather not see his stupid pretty face again.

He’s stopped staring at her. It took him a lot of effort and another few weeks of recovery time after their last romp, but he’s managing it. It’s not easy, especially on such a quiet night. He can hear her laughing with the girls at the bar, chanting “chug! Chug!” and pouring shots into their mouths.

She doesn’t look like she’s missed him one bit. All he’s done for 26 days is miss her. Yes, he misses her so much he’s counting the days.

He’s hunched over a beer, nursing it slowly. He’ll switch to bourbon soon if he can wrangle one of his buddies into going to grab it for him. He’s too chicken shit to see what she’d do if he walked anywhere near her bar.

He’d rather sit in the corner and imagine it -- he pictures her launching a shot glass at his head or shooting him with the fountain sprayer. Sometimes, when he’s really, truly fucked, he imagines that she’d drag him into a stellar kiss again. He misses kissing her most of all.

A chorus of raucous laughter from the table behind them knocks him from his self-pitying reverie. Connor next to him rolls his eyes. The jokers at the next table arrived about half an hour after they did and they’ve been hitting the drinks hard ever since. It’s not a cardinal offense at Plucky’s, of all places, but it’s a quiet night and these douchelords are being obnoxious.

“... no, not the redhead. Idiot. The dark-haired one with the rack.”

Shawn perks up again and frowns, listening. Connor and the rest of his guys heard it, too. They’ve fallen quiet, listening in.

“... Couple weeks ago. Tightest cunt I’ve ever had. Was fucking begging for me.”

Shawn tenses. He glances over at the man speaking and catches the eye of the moron that grabbed at Catalina’s dress that night. Shawn gives him a withering glance, one that clearly reads ‘knock it off.’ But the problem is, the loser has an audience. He brought his buddies along and they all want to hear about his (totally fictional) conquest of Catalina.

Shawn looks around. His friends are already looking poised to square up. Shawn backs them off, quietly insisting they ignore it. Bonnie begs them to ignore rowdy assholes unless they’re being violent or especially disruptive. These guys may be gross, but they’re not causing problems yet.

But he can’t just turn his ears off. In fact, they grow pinker and pinker as the guy rambles on, getting into details so dirty and vivid Shawn half believes it was real. He chances a glance up at Catalina, watches her flash a proud grin at a girl in a 21st birthday crown as she squeals through a shot of Fireball.

How can he even think to talk about her like that? It’s unfathomable. Talking about anyone in the manner this guy is going on in is disgusting. Shawn shifts uncomfortably, shaking his head.

“And then I threw her up against the bar and--”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Shawn barks, springing out of his seat. His nostrils flare. His jaw closes in a tight line. His friends look him over, assessing his mood, and stand. This isn’t going to just end quietly.

The loser stands too, followed by his other loser friends. He’s smirking like a jerk. Shawn wants to wipe his face across Catalina’s bar.

“Look, it’s pretty boy,” the idiot mocks, making his buddies laugh, “Are you her little bitch boy? She got you on a leash?”

Shawn rolls his eyes. “I’m doing you a favor, asshole. If she hears you talking about her like that, she’s gonna have you on a fucking leash.”

Shawn’s friends chuckle in agreement and look over at Catalina, who has taken note of the confrontation, keeping an eye on them as she continues pouring drinks to distract her customers. She knows very well if the morons think they have more of an audience, they’ll be harder to shut up.

Shawn turns, ready to sit back down. His shoulders are tense. They have been for weeks, yet again. His body is like a coil, scrunched tighter every day.

It was only a matter of time before the snap.

“Anyway, it was good pussy. For a nasty fuckin’ bartender.”

Snap.

Shawn’s chair clatters when he stands so fast he knocks it over. Before his friends can temper him, he launches himself at the mouthy guy, decking him hard across the jaw. The only reason it didn’t knock him out clean was because one of his friends got an arm around Shawn’s to slow his swing. The damage is done, though -- blood pours from the guy’s mouth. His friends descend, several of them locking themselves around Shawn’s arms so the mouthy guy can get some hits in before Shawn’s friends can drag him off. He gets in a couple good punches, one that splits Shawn’s eyebrow, the rest investing in damage that will result in another black eye to match the one that finally fully faded a week ago.

Connor and Geoff wrestle the guy out the door while a couple other regulars come to aid the cause of kicking out the rest of the drunk losers.

“Fuckin’ idiot couldn’t even hit me unless his friends held my arms down!” Shawn growls after them as they skulk off.

He slumps into a chair, wincing as blood starts trickling into his eye from the slice in his brow. He reaches up to poke at it, but a set of soft fingers wrap around his, pushing them away.

“Don’t touch it,” Catalina murmurs from above him, her voice chilly, her eyes on the first aid bag she’s swinging onto the table. She nods at Brian to move out of her way.

She perches on the seat gingerly, holding some clean napkins up to the wound, dabbing carefully. He hisses, cringing away. She cups his other cheek to hold him steady. His protest stops immediately. The corner of her mouth lifts.

“The fuck is wrong with you? I never see you swing first.”

Shawn swallows and keeps his eyes down as she continues dabbing, swapping out the napkins for gauze with alcohol. Shawn winces again.

“Fuckin’ gross idiots, that’s all,” Shawn mutters.

Catalina nods thoughtfully. “Think one of them was the guy that grabbed at me a few weeks ago, yeah?”

He lifts his eyes to meet hers briefly. “Yeah.”

She smiles a little wider, patting antibiotic cream into the clean wound that she’s decided doesn’t need stitches.

“Don’t have to defend my honor, you know. It’s long gone.”

“Oh, I know,” Shawn murmurs, a chuckle in his voice, “Just doing my feminist duty to not let guys say shit like that about women.”

He looks up at her again. She forgot how big and brown and sweet his eyes can be. This time he keeps his eyes on her as she carefully applies the butterfly bandage, pressing as gently as she can with her fingers.

“Well, aren’t you just Prince Charming,” she murmurs, looking from his lips back up to those puppy brown eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His eyes fall to his lap.

Catalina takes a deep breath and nods at Brian, who nudges their other friends into making themselves scarce. Shawn and Catalina are alone at the table with the first aid kit.

“For what?” she asks, keeping her voice steady.

“For… making you cry last time.”

Not the answer she was expecting.

She squints at him. “You’re not sorry for leaving before I woke up the first night?”

Shawn looks startled. “I… thought you’d want me to.”

“Why?”

“Because… it was a one night thing,” he stammers, starting to get flustered. His chest heaves under his white tank and patterned suspenders.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Clearly it wasn’t or it wouldn’t have happened again.”

“Yeah… but… I--I mean…”

Catalina looks unimpressed. She stands and turns to walk back to the bar. Words bubble up in Shawn’s throat against his will.

“I didn’t want to stick around long enough for you to kick me out when we woke up,” he blurts, immediately looking mortified.

Catalina turns back. Her disinterest has shifted to concerned confusion.

“Why would I do that?”

Shawn closes his eyes, feeling his ruddy cheeks go pinker. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to give you the chance. I’ve been kicked out before. It’s not fucking fun.”

Catalina’s lips part. Her eyes unfocus. She’s having a mini epiphany.

From the beginning, she used Shawn like a toy. Their cat and mouse game was only supposed to be fun. She just didn’t want to make it easy for him. The excitement was in the challenge for them both, or so she thought. While she was quietly wondering if his interest would fade after they fucked the first time, he was worrying about the same thing.

He left first to save himself. He left first to see if she’d chase him.

“You wanted me to make the move,” she breathes, sinking back into the seat beside him.

Shawn doesn’t look up. The bar is closing, the last patrons have shuffled out. Bonnie is wiping down counters. Shawn’s friends give him a wave and watch curiously from outside as they climb onto their bikes and drive away.

Shawn lifts his eyes experimentally. She’s still looking off into the distance, putting pieces together in her pretty head. Finally, she looks back at him.

“When was the last time you felt really wanted?”

Shawn goes cold to his bones. He feels translucent -- he swears she can see every scrambled thought in his harried brain, can see the blood pumping double time in his veins. No hiding from her now.

“Uhm… I....” He trails off. He’s not sure that question needed a real answer, anyway.

Her fingers pluck some curls off his forehead, away from his cut. He looks up at her, into warmth and tenderness he’s seen snippets of in the months they’ve known each other. He’s never seen her look like this. She’s never looked so beautiful.

“Lina, I--”

She leans in and kisses him softly. It feels like a kiss from their first night together, like when she sat in his lap and rocked their hips and came, holding his arm around her stomach. He kisses back, tilting his head as she guides him, resting a hand on the outside of her thigh on her leather pants. She murmurs softly into his mouth. The vibration has him squeezing her leg and nibbling sweetly at her lower lip.

Catalina purrs, lifting herself into his lap without disconnecting their needy mouths. As Bonnie keeps her eyes mostly down, mopping up behind the counter, Shawn and Catalina explore in a way they haven’t yet. When Shawn releases a particularly sweet and overwhelmed groan at Catalina’s gentle hair tugging, Bonnie stifles a chuckle and decides the rest of the job can be done before opening tomorrow. She opts to leave out the back, locking up behind her.

Shawn sucks at Catalina’s tongue, sneaking his fingers up under her tank top like he’s never touched her before. It feels naughty. It feels good. It feels even better than before because he knows she wants him.

She wants him.

It feels real, like it’s not just for tonight, or not even just for sex. She might actually want--

“Shawn,” she coos, pulling apart enough from his lips to speak, “Want you to take me back to your place.”

Her fingers slip beneath his suspenders, teasing the skin under the thin shirt beneath. She plucks, letting the elastic snap back. His breathing comes up short.

“Want to show you just how much I want you, baby.”

Shawn huffs a soft breath, nodding eagerly. She plants another kiss on him and stands, tangling their fingers. They stay tangled while Catalina pushes in chairs, turns off lights and fishes her keys from her bag, laughing as Shawn holds his phone flashlight out for her. They lock up.

His bike is waiting for them. He climbs on first, handing her a helmet with a wink. She settles in behind him, this time much more comfortable snuggling up to his broad back in his soft leather jacket. The bike growls to life, stoking the fire in her lower abdomen. Her thighs clench around the machine as Shawn takes off down the street.

She knows why he ended up here all the time with his friends. He lives five minutes away. She raises her eyebrows at the quaint townhouse, not expecting his home to look quite so… domestic. He parks the bike right outside between a Honda and a Volvo and holds his hand out to her to help her off, sliding off his own helmet.

When she’s on her feet, she steps into his body that’s bleeding heat. She cups his cheek and runs her thumb gently along his bruising skin.

“We should get ice on this,” she murmurs. He turns his face, eyes fluttering as he plants a kiss on the inside of her palm.

“Later. Please, baby. It’s been so long. Need you.”

His thoughts are short and simple. She draws both hands up to secure around his neck, easing him down for another head swimmingly full, tender kiss. While her tongue swipes along his lower lip, she slides her hands down, taking hold of the suspenders in both hands, dragging him toward the door.

He stumbles along with her, sifting through his keys, grunting into her mouth as he struggles to find the one for his front door. She peels away from him with a giggle, allowing him to focus. He seizes the right key and thrusts the door open, letting her in first. He trails behind, turning on lights.

The house is small and simple, masculine and a little cold. She sets her purse and jacket down on the counter of his very clean kitchen. She plants her hands on the cool marble countertop and closes her eyes, feeling him edge up behind her with his hands on her hips.

Shawn goes silent. Every thought in his brain is muted, replaced with feeling her. He noses at her hair and slips his fingers up her sides curiously, allowing himself little tastes of her, though he craves more.

“Baby,” Catalina murmurs, her voice warm and steady and feeling like a shot of adrenaline through his body, “Need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” he pants immediately, almost before she finishes speaking. She smiles, chewing on her lower lip.

She turns in his arms, held between him and the counter. She takes hold of his suspenders again, watching the flush creep up his pretty neck.

“Need you to be good for me tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Shawn’s knees tremble. He leans harder into the counter and releases a choked breath. He nods, keeps nodding until she takes his head in her hands and gives him another perfect kiss.

Her hungry hands glide over her own body, pulling her tank up her pale stomach, separating their mouths only long enough to shed it behind her. Shawn starts to try to help with the buttons on her leather trousers but she plucks his fingers off with a smile against his mouth.

“Not gonna let me touch you, baby?” he whispers, his voice a little closer to a whine than he’d like. She hears it, reveling in it while she wriggles out of her pants herself, kicking them off after her boots and socks.

She replaces Shawn’s hands on her hips, wrapping her arms around him as she leads him toward the stairs.

“Haven’t touched me in weeks,” she points out between kisses, “And you seemed to be doing just fine.”

He groans into her mouth at her teasing. He knows what she wants. He’s not used to having to give it, but he’ll do it. He’ll give it for her.

“I wasn’t,” he pants, leaning into the vulnerability. 

His lips trail off down her jaw, letting her tug him upstairs to his bedroom, “I was fucking-- god, Lina, I’m miserable without you. I need you.”

Catalina wants to bathe in this feeling. She knows how good their first two times were. She relives them more often than she probably should. But this is honest and open and she can feel the way he means his words by the way his heart sprints in his firm chest. This time is going to be even better.

“You know you’re the only one that calls me that?” she whispers when they reach his spartan bedroom. She pushes the suspenders off his shoulders until they fall limp at his sides. She guides him to sit at the end of the bed, standing between his spread knees. His fingers twitch at his sides, wanting to touch.

“What, Lina?” he pants.

“Yeah. Everyone else calls me Cat.”

Shawn looks bewildered, like maybe he never noticed. “I can call you Cat if you want.”

“No,” she says, tilting his head back to rest in her hands, watching his eyes flutter, “I like that it’s just for us.”

Shawn squirms, his wet pink lips parting with the effort of his breath. He wants to touch her. He wants it so bad. The only thing he wants more is for her to give him whatever she wants. He fists his hands into the duvet on either side of him as she lowers herself into his lap.

“Did you think about me the last few weeks?” she hisses, rocking herself into place so she grinds against his hardening cock in his black jeans. He gives it back, using his hands against the mattress to match the rhythm of her perfect hips.

“Of course I did,” he chokes, “Always think about you, Leens.”

“When you’re touching yourself? When you’re alone and it’s dark and quiet and you need a release?”

Shawn’s eyes shut. “Baby, it was always you. Always.”

Catalina is flooded with it. She should get that word tattooed on her somewhere. Maybe somewhere sexy so only he knows it’s there. She gently eases him onto his back, lifting off his hips to pluck at the button of his pants. She notices the suspenders still lying around his hips. Her eyes flash.

“Shawn,” she coos, sliding up his body so their faces are level, “Baby, have you ever been tied up before?”

His glassy eyes clear up in an instant. He squirms again, swallowing hard.

“Fuck, not in… a long time.”

Catalina smirks. “Bet you’re usually the one doing the tying up.”

Shawn chuckles. It’s cocky and sexy and it makes Catalina wetter in her panties.

“Usually,” he replies.

Catalina ducks her head to whisper in his ear, “If you’re really good for me this time, we can try that next time.”

Shawn groans again, but it cuts into a squeak when Catalina drags at his earlobe with her sharp teeth.

She sits back and eyes him, her gaze raking over his long, lean body, still fully clothed, his dick straining beautifully in his jeans. She cups him, giving him a teasing squeeze that makes him flinch and huff a breath.

“Take your clothes off for me,” she commands, firm but affectionate, “Nice and slow.”

Shawn presses himself up on his hands and stands in front of her, reaching for the collar of his tank at the back of his neck. He lifts it slowly, revealing inch after inch of perfect, soft skin, warm brown chest hair and a trail leading into his pants. He tosses the shirt away, licking his lips.

“Mmm, you know exactly how hot you are, don’t you?” Catalina sighs. Shawn lifts an eyebrow.

“I don’t know about that,” he begins, tugging at the button of his jeans, dropping his zipper, “But I know exactly how hot you are for me.”

Catalina laughs, delighted. She leans back on her forearms, propping her feet up on the bed. She spreads her thighs just enough for him to notice she’s doing it, and it’s not just to get more comfortable as she watches him.

Shawn’s eyes fix on the wet spot on her panties. His exhale whistles through his nose. He tucks his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and pushes, slowly again per her request, watching her eyes get heavy lidded and her fingers grip the sheets like his were only moments before.

He drops his jeans around his ankles, kicking them off.

“These too?” he pants, pointing at his navy Calvins. She nods, breathing hard, which makes his dick twitch.

“Those too.”

Again, Shawn pulls at them slowly, his eyes locked on her when his leaking cock springs free to slap up against his lower abdomen. She licks her lips obscenely. A moan gets throttled in his tight throat.

Catalina sits up and beckons to him, spreading her legs so he can stand between her knees. She gathers him in by his hips, eyes roaming his body like she’s never seen it before. She likes what she sees. He can tell by the way she’s going pink all over. It makes him preen, flexing just a little under her touch.

“You’re perfect, every inch of you,” she whispers, her voice muffled against his skin as her lips brush his chest. Her sneaky fingers curve around his hips and sink into the cheeks of his ass, urging him even closer.

Shawn gasps, pushing his hands into his hair, “God, fuck, Lina. Fuck.”

She’s not shy about leaving marks. She bites and licks and sucks like he’s hers to do with what she wants. And, goddamnit, he is. He so is. It’s all he can do to keep his hands to himself. Pulling at his curls helps a little. But when he watches her perfect little tongue swirl around his nipple and suck it between her lips, his hands drop to her hair, hugging her close as he whines.

She releases his reddening, swollen skin from her rosy lips and smirks up at him, squeezing the palms still planted on his ass.

“Ok, baby, time for me to play.”

She slaps her flat palm against his ass lightly to watch his stomach tighten. He grunts, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere,” she purrs dangerously, “But let’s start with right here.”

She enjoys watching the shiver roll down his spine as she pats the bed. He gracefully lowers himself, head on the pillows, blinking down at her. Catalina frees the suspenders from his jeans and crawls up the bed, sitting over his chest as she lifts his willing arms over his head and binds them together, then to the headboard.

She sits back, looking over her work. His bulky arms are pinned up around his ears. His chest is heaving more quickly now as the reality of it hits him. His eyes are glazed. His cheeks are pink and patchy. He looks fucking delicious.

“Gonna sit on my face, honey? Let me taste that perfect pussy again?” he pants.

She hums. “Maybe if you’re lucky.”

“You mean maybe if you’re lucky.”

Her eyes skip from his hard nipples to the clear challenge on his face. She gasps a laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

“I know you remember,” he nearly growls, his voice low and scraping. She can feel it in her clit even though he’s not touching it.

“Bet you’ve been thinking about the way I pressed you up against your bar and made you come on my face. About how I hitched your leg up to keep you spread for me while you dripped on my tongue.”

He’s looking down at her through his lashes, his swollen lips wet and parted. It’s a dare. He’s playing with her just like she’s playing with him. For a second, Catalina feels like the one with the restraints around her wrists. And then she remembers she’s not.

He is.

“You’re a fucking tease, Mendes,” she chuckles, climbing off his stomach to sit beside him.

“Not teasing if I’m lying here totally willing,” he counters, “C’mon, honey. It would be so easy. Just take off those pretty panties and come sit on my face.”

Catalina’s jaw clenches. She looks up at his face. His grin falters.

“Turn over.”

Shawn’s face goes blank. He blinks at her. “What?”

Catalina remains firm, her face serene. “Turn over onto your stomach.”

Shawn opens his mouth as if to ask a question, but he thinks better of it. He fights to roll over with his hands bound, but the suspenders are long enough to allow him to twist until he’s flipped ass up.

“Tell me, baby,” she rasps, straddling his thighs, running her nose along the little curls at the back of his neck, “What would you do for me if I did sit on your face?”

Shawn’s massive shoulder blades come together as he inhales sharply. Catalina busies herself, waiting for his answer, by marking up his back the same way she did his chest. She starts on his shoulders, sweet wet lips tending to him after her teeth nip sharply.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, imagining what he’s going to look like when she’s done with him. Probably like he got mauled. How appropriate.

“I’d… fuck, I’d start nice and slow, honey. Miss you on my face so much. I’d take you in, tasting your sweet lips, feeling how warm and wet you are for me.”

Catalina groans encouragingly, sinking her teeth into an already inflamed mark at the top of his spine that makes him wince and grind into the bed.

“I’d let you rock against my face as I kiss you, letting you know I know how fucking lucky I am to have you, baby. Suck on your soft lips, massaging them with my tongue.”

“God, Shawn,” Catalina whines, sliding a flat palm down her stomach as she breathes wet and heavy against his left shoulder blade where a series of little bite marks are starting to purple. She presses her needy fingers against her pussy, soaked through her satin panties. The relief is good, but not enough.

“I know you like it when I flick your clit hard and fast to get you so fucking wet for me. But I’d do that nice and slow too, soft strokes from your entrance to your perfect little button of nerves. Hot and wet and slow until you’re begging for me, pulling my hair to get me to give you what you need.”

Catalina is panting hard, stroking her clit through her panties, hips rolling as she sucks hard at the center of his spine.

“I’d stiffen my tongue, moaning when I feel you dripping on my lips and cheeks. God, you’re so wet. You taste so good, so sweet. I’d want more. I’d slip my hot tongue between your lips and press into your entrance, thrusting in and out of you to feel you go even tighter for me. Can you feel it, baby? Can you feel me fucking you with my tongue?”

He’s onto her. Catalina doesn’t care. She nods eagerly for him to continue, whimpering into his abused skin, her hand moving faster against her wetness.

“You’re so wet we can both hear it. My hot breath is on your clit, my cheeks are wet from your thighs. You’re so close. Your clit is throbbing. You need me there again, don’t you, baby? Need me to play with your pretty clit to get you to come.”

Catalina moans again, the sound choked and soft. She shifts down, rolling her hips hard to meet the heel of her hand. She brushes the tip of her nose over the swell of his ass. With a deep breath, she bites down on his left cheek, grinning at his sharp gasp.

“Fuck! Fuck, Lina!” he cries, rolling his hips, fucking down against the mattress. She doesn’t let up, just follows her teeth with hungry lips and the occasional soothing of her tongue.

“More, Shawn,” she grunts before returning to her task. He shudders, nodding, eyes shut with his cheek on his pillow.

“Wanna hear you come for me. Wanna feel it all over me when you let go. I flatten my tongue against you, I know you need something to grind against to come hard. C’mon, baby. Give it to me. Fucking come on my face.”

Catalina’s shoulders pull, her back arching as she feels the hook. It drags her under, has her moaning and chanting his name into the firm flesh of his ass. Her hips buck wildly for several seconds. Shawn lives for each and every one, praising her as she drives through it, soothing her when she comes down.

When she does come down, lifting her head from his backside to see him smiling down at her, looking totally content even though she knows he’s beyond hard still, she hums, pressing a chaste kiss over the violet mark she left on his perfect ass.

“That’s gonna be a good one,” she giggles, tracing it with her fingertip. He shudders again, his eyelids fluttering.

Catalina peels herself away. She stands on shaky knees, shedding her soaked panties and her lace bra, dropping them on his floor while he watches.

“There’s no one on earth as beautiful as you,” he whispers, gazing at her almost hopelessly. She perches beside him, rubbing his back.

“I think you could give me a run for my money,” she replies, the corner of her mouth lifting. Shawn smiles, closing his eyes again.

“Can you turn back over for me, sweetheart?”

Shawn grunts as he flips himself back over. He has pillow marks on his cheek and his cock is harder, pinker, prettier than she’s ever seen one. She climbs over his thighs again, reaching between her legs to gather some wetness on her fingers. Shawn watches with bated breath until her fingers lift to his lips in offering. He accepts them with a grateful moan, sucking them into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue. Catalina smiles, using her other hand to stroke his cock, deciding he’s certainly earned some relief.

He’s the picture of sinful indulgence, lifting his hips to meet her strokes while he sucks needily on her fingers like they’re giving him life. He doesn’t want to let them go when she starts to pull them away. He nips at them teasingly, smirking at the reproachful look she gives him.

Catalina scoots her knees up, lifting to position the head of his throbbing cock at her entrance. Shawn watches, his chest quaking with his ragged breaths, waiting for it, for the perfect feeling he knows he could never get anywhere else. He’d wait forever for her.

“Please,” he urges, his head lolling back, “Lina.”

Catalina inhales, smiles shakily, and sinks down, taking him to the hilt.

Shawn hasn’t gotten so close to blowing his load too early since he was a fucking teenager. How is it better every time with her? How does she keep feeling better? He thought it was perfect the first time. Now, as he looks up at her, knowing she wants him, knowing she likes him, knowing he’s falling in love with her, he knows what perfect is.

She eases in, rolling her hips smoothly with a flick upward that has him shifting in and out of her as she rests in his lap.

“That’s… oh god, shit, Lina…”

She nods in agreement, breathless, thoughtless, with no goal other than to make him feel good. By the look on his face, she’s succeeding.

She shifts her weight into her hands on either side of his head, rocking down harder and a little faster. The noise is obscene. With every stroke up, she gasps a breath, reveling in the warm burn of the stretch. No one’s ever been so perfectly deep in her. No one’s ever felt so good. She knows it’s not just the sex -- it hasn’t been from the beginning. It’s him.

Shawn slides his feet up the bed to give him purchase to meet her hips. Their wet skin slaps and it’s the only thing louder than their synchronized breath. They’re staring at each other, memorizing, desperate to hold onto the feeling of such tantalizing closeness.

Catalina shifts, the angle of her hips meeting his allowing him to stroke her g-spot with every perfect roll. She snaps her eyes shut and gasps, slowing their rhythm, wringing out this feeling for all it’s worth.

“You getting lost down there?”

His voice is sharp and bright, poking through Catalina’s hazy cloud. She opens her eyes to see him grinning at her, a line of perfect white teeth sparkling, his eyes teasingly taunting.

“Wh--”

Before she can release any coherent thought, Shawn wriggles his hand, slipping from the bind of the suspender and freeing the other. Catalina’s mouth drops open. She wrinkles her brow and opens her mouth to protest, but Shawn wraps his arms around her and rolls them so she’s on her back, still gaping.

“You’re cute when you’re surprised,” Shawn hums, shifting onto his knees to pulse his cock even deeper.

“Shawn!” she croaks, spreading her legs wider to accommodate him as he takes over.

He’s not as controlled or subtle as Catalina was. He pounds in and out hard, restless, reckless as he chases after her orgasm. He’s single-minded, lifting her legs around his hips, using his grip on her for even more leverage. He’s holding her off the bed, watching her fall apart.

“Can’t hold on,” she squeaks, shaking her pretty head.

Shawn nods eagerly. “I know, princess. Time to let go. Fucking come, baby. Show me.”

Catalina’s eyes roll back. Her pussy pulses, fluttering around him, a warning before she falls. The squeeze of her around him, the way she screams as she bites down on his jaw, he swears it’s the most satisfied he’s ever felt. He fucks her through it, managing to hold himself off until she’s limp in his arms, blinking up at him lazily.

“Do something for me?” she whispers, but it’s a plea, not the start of a command.

Shawn nods, panting in her face.

“Kiss me when you come.”

Shawn’s face scrunches. His whole body aches with pleasure that makes his blood simmer. He reaches for her hand, linking their fingers. He looks at them, watches them intertwine when his rhythm fails. He looks back at her and sees her watching him. It’s all he needs to give in.

He drops his lips to hers, lets her drink in his rasping moans as he comes hard, his entire body spasming. She fists her free hand into his hair, steadying him against her, reminding him she’s close, as if he could forget. She takes him so well, rocking her hips to ease him from his peak, pressing kisses all over his face to let him breathe. He doesn’t want to breathe, he just wants her. He searches out her lips again, collapsing against her willing body, sighing into her mouth.

When at last he can stand the idea of releasing her lips, he shifts back, disconnecting their protesting bodies, cupping her face in his hand, the other still laced with hers.

They don’t speak again before they fall asleep. When he wakes up, she’s still there, twisting one of his curls around her finger, taking stock of the marks she left on him the night before. Neither of them even thinks about getting out of bed for hours.

---------

WOO that was a marathon and a sprint all in one. thanks for hanging on this crazy weekend, guys ✌🏻 if you feel so inclined, the link to buy me a Ko-fi is on my main page!

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte

[valkyriesryde]

Place Your Bets 3/9

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Money is on the line and the months are counting down so who will win in the bet to when Bucky and Y/N finally get together? And will they figure out what’s exactly going on

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and a wound

Word Count: 1,964

Masterlist

Series Masterlist - Previous - Next

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“You sure you’re alright? That’s a pretty big gash” Clint called after Y/N has she walked into the bathroom to the side of the hanger. The team had returned from a successful mission, minor scrapes and bruises, nothing serious. Apart from the deep cut along Y/N’s arm that she was now clutching with a rag to stop the bleeding.

“I’m fine! Just gotta clean it up” she called back before jogging into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her with her foot. She let out a huff before attempting to search for bandages or something to at least clean up the mess but it was difficult to do with only one partially free hand.

Bucky and Sam watched from their work stations in the hanger as the team returned, they saw Y/N and Clint’s exchange and Bucky watched her run off, not sure what exactly was wrong but concerned nonetheless. The others began unpacking and sorting out their own things as the two onlookers made their way over to lend a hand but before they could even say something Steve called out to the pair.

“Hey can you check on Y/N? She got cut and I don’t know how bad it is.” Bucky turned to Sam as he did the same. The three men seemed to be the sort of friends that were able to speak to one another with just a glance whenever the situation called for it. Often it was during a mission or battle, they were able to communicate in such a way that the rest of the team knew to just let them do their own thing, usually a stupid thing but their own nonetheless. At this point in time the unspoken conversation between Bucky and Sam, which lasted all of about five seconds, went something like this;

‘Was that to you or me?’ asked Bucky.

‘Pretty sure that was you mate,’ answered Sam.

‘Are you sure, why can’t you go?’ argued Bucky.

‘You’re better at medical stuff,’ replied Sam.

And with a pat on Bucky’s shoulder the conversation was over and the decision made. Steve, who saw the exchange and knew exactly what they were talking about, could only roll his eyes before he had to go back to check on the others.

So as Sam went to help Wanda Bucky jogged over to the bathroom at the side of the hanger and opened the door to find a very small looking Y/N sat on the floor next to the sink.

“Are you alright?” Y/N looked up at Bucky whose eyes were wide with fright at what she could only imagine was her looking like a hurt child. Which was pretty close actually, she sat curled into herself with a bloody rag pressed against her forearm. Her face was covered in dirt and dry blood, Bucky prayed it was someone else’s but it wasn’t clear. Between the dirt and blood were streaks of water as he noticed she was crying. But in Y/N’s defense, a slash to the forearm, much like a really deep paper cut, really hurts.

Bucky took in a deep breath before pulling her to her feet and then onto the counter on the other side of the sink. Y/N watched as he went through the mess of first aid supplies she had created and found what he needed to clean her up. He turned back towards her with a wet cloth in one hand and reached out for her arm before stopping himself and looking up to her hesitantly.

“I’m just going to clean it up” he spoke calmly and quietly as he reached for her injured arm. She nodded and pulled the rag back to reveal the cut that ran along the inside of her forearm. Bucky immediately went to work, it looks worse than it is, he kept telling himself. Gently he rubbed the damp cloth around the wound and then over it, causing a small hiss to come from Y/N. Bucky halted his movement, not wanting to do anything to hurt her.

“I’m okay” she wasn’t quite sure if it was to herself or Bucky but he nodded and continued cleaning and dressing the wound.

“It won’t need stitches but you’ll have to change the bandage a couple times to clean it.” He muttered as he finished and turned back to the sink, rinsing the cloth. Y/N rubbed a hand over her arm, it didn’t hurt as much anymore, she thought.

Bucky gripped the cloth in his hand, he did a once over again of Y/N, searching for any other sign of a cut or injury that might need his attention. He noticed the blood on the side of her face wasn’t her own and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. Bucky stumbled over his words and settled on just holding up the cloth, she nodded slightly, assuming he must think the blood on her face was her own.

He stepped between her legs, his hand rested next to her thigh on the counter, she tried not to notice his thumb brushed against her skin when she shifted and kept her eyes on Bucky’s face. Bucky reached up and gently rubbed the cloth over her forehead, cleaning the dry blood from above her brow. His sight was locked on where his hand was moving while hers watched his face scrunch and relax then scrunch again as he worked. Without thinking Bucky’s free hand moved to hold her cheek and shifted her to look slightly to the side so he could clean the last bit of blood from her cheek. Y/N closed her eyes as he did so, she wanted to remember exactly what his touch felt like, how gentle it was, how his thumb ran over her skin. She felt the cloth leave her face and opened her eyes, finding Bucky already looking at her.

The two lingered, Bucky tried to move further forward but was stopped by the edge of the counter, Y/N leaned into his hand, still resting against her cheek.

“Thank you” she whispered, “for helping me.”

“It’s no problem,” his eyes darted from hers to her lips and back again, “Steve said you might need help.”

“Steve sent you?” Y/N’s eyes widened slightly when Bucky mentioned Steve. He cleared his throat and stepped back, throwing the cloth into the sink and rubbing the back of his neck. Well I ruined that moment, he thought.

“Uhh yea, he wanted to make sure you were okay” Bucky preoccupied himself with cleaning the counter and putting away the first aid supplies. Y/N jumped from the counter and shifted from foot to foot behind him, not quite sure what had caused the sudden shift in the air.

“Oh well, that was nice of him.”

Bucky slowed his movement, it was nice of him, nice of Steve to be concerned about her, nice of Steve to send him to check on her. So nice of Steve.

“Uh yea, you should let him know you’re okay” Bucky turned around to look at her as she stepped back to the door nodding her head.

“Yes, yes I’ll make sure to thank him for sending you” Y/N spoke before walking out, leaving Bucky alone in the bathroom.

He leaned his back against the sink and tucked his hair behind his ears.

“Goddamn Steve!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Y/N sat on the couch in her room with a bowl of cereal in hand. She almost kissed Bucky. James Barnes almost kissed her. Did he? It seemed like that’s what he wanted to do. But why did he mention Steve then? Her mind kept racing about what had happened between her and Bucky earlier. Should she have kissed him? No, no way, there’s no way, she kept telling herself. If he wanted to kiss her he wouldn’t have brought up Steve. Her mind kept going, it moved from his words to the way he watched her, to his hand on her cheek. How gentle he was with her, so careful not to hurt her. She thought about his hand brushing against her thigh, him standing between her legs.

“Hey, you all good?” Wanda burst into the room startling Y/N in her seat.

“What? Yea fine, fine” she rushed out, placing bowl on the coffee table and straightening her shirt. Wanda paused in front of the couch giving Y/N a questionable look.

“Steve said you hurt your arm,” she said falling onto the couch “why are you blushing?”

Y/N sat up straighter and let out a nervous laugh. “Yea it’s okay, Bucky patched it up for me.” Wanda’s eyes almost jumped out of her head, an interaction between Bucky and Y/N?? Now that was a rarity.

“Now do tell.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Why are you sulking?” Steve fell into the stool next to Bucky at his work bench. Bucky had secluded himself amongst his bits and parts of a motorcycle that he happened to walk past while in his bad mood. The poor thing had been dragged onto the bench and taken apart in a matter of hours and now Bucky was in the process of viciously cleaning every nook and cranny.

“‘M not sulking” he grumbled not bothering to look up. “Did Y/N go and see you?” he eyed Steve and then moved straight back to his cleaning.

“Yup, she texted me when she got to her room” he nodded. Bucky perked up as Steve spoke, she just texted him?

“Why didn’t she go see you?” He asked turning to Steve who gave him a very confused look.

“Why would she do that?”

“What did she say?”

“What?”

“Just out of curiosity, what did she say in the text exactly?” Bucky asked, he thought Y/N liked Steve, but if she liked him then she would have gone and seen him to tell him she was okay…but she texted him.

“‘Stevie, I’m fine. Bucky said to let you know I’m okay, he patched me up. Thanks for sending him’ then that stupid smiley face she always uses.” Steve watched Bucky carefully as he went through what looked like the end of an existential crisis, which to be fair, that’s basically what it was. He started confused, dumbfounded even, she text him, they live in the same place and she text him. Then as he took in each word he opened his mouth slightly and furrowed his brows. One text, meant to tell Steve she was okay, and she mentioned him three times.

“Huh” a small smile came onto Bucky’s face. She texted him, and mentioned me, he thought.

“What’s going through that head?” Steve leaned onto the counter and eyed his friend, he wasn’t aware of what had happened between the two in that bathroom but his curiosity was growing, it seemed like something was going on but he wasn’t sure.

“Uh, nothing, ya know just seemed like she was eager to let you know she was alright.” Bucky mumbled along. Steve nodded slowly and let out a chuckle.

“You dumbass!” He leaned forward a smacked Bucky across the back of his head. Bucky immediately held his head and looked at Steve with wide eyes.

“What the fuck was that for!” He cried out. Steve continued to laugh at Bucky.

“You’re a dumbass!”

“Why!”

“Oh please!” Bucky looked at Steve waiting for an explanation who looked at him with a giant smirk smacked onto his face. “You thought Y/N had a thing for me didn’t you.” “Uh what - no - I - So what if I did! I think it’s a fair assumption!” Steve got up from his seat and started walking backwards out of the work area.

“Like I said,” he raised his hands out to the side, “a dumbass.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Previous - Next

[movedvalkyriesryde]

Place Your Bets 3/?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Money is on the line and the months are counting down so who will win in the bet to when Bucky and Y/N finally get together? And will they figure out what’s exactly going on

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and a wound

A/N: ohhhh we getting closer fam. I wasn’t overly excited about writing this part but I quite like how it turned out and i hope you do to!

Word Count: 1,964

Masterlist

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

this gif isn’t completely related except for at the end but i just think its hilarious

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“You sure you’re alright? That’s a pretty big gash” Clint called after Y/N has she walked into the bathroom to the side of the hanger. The team had returned from a successful mission, minor scrapes and bruises, nothing serious. Apart from the deep cut along Y/N’s arm that she was now clutching with a rag to stop the bleeding. 

“I’m fine! Just gotta clean it up” she called back before jogging into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her with her foot. She let out a huff before attempting to search for bandages or something to at least clean up the mess but it was difficult to do with only one partially free hand.

Bucky and Sam watched from their work stations in the hanger as the team returned, they saw Y/N and Clint’s exchange and Bucky watched her run off, not sure what exactly was wrong but concerned nonetheless. The others began unpacking and sorting out their own things as the two onlookers made their way over to lend a hand but before they could even say something Steve called out to the pair. 

“Hey can you check on Y/N? She got cut and I don’t know how bad it is.” Bucky turned to Sam as he did the same. The three men seemed to be the sort of friends that were able to speak to one another with just a glance whenever the situation called for it. Often it was during a mission or battle, they were able to communicate in such a way that the rest of the team knew to just let them do their own thing, usually a stupid thing but their own nonetheless. At this point in time the unspoken conversation between Bucky and Sam, which lasted all of about five seconds, went something like this;

‘Was that to you or me?’ asked Bucky.

‘Pretty sure that was you mate,’ answered Sam.

‘Are you sure, why can’t you go?’ argued Bucky.

‘You’re better at medical stuff,’ replied Sam.

And with a pat on Bucky’s shoulder the conversation was over and the decision made. Steve, who saw the exchange and knew exactly what they were talking about, could only roll his eyes before he had to go back to check on the others. 

So as Sam went to help Wanda Bucky jogged over to the bathroom at the side of the hanger and opened the door to find a very small looking Y/N sat on the floor next to the sink. 

“Are you alright?” Y/N looked up at Bucky whose eyes were wide with fright at what she could only imagine was her looking like a hurt child. Which was pretty close actually, she sat curled into herself with a bloody rag pressed against her forearm. Her face was covered in dirt and dry blood, Bucky prayed it was someone else’s but it wasn’t clear. Between the dirt and blood were streaks of water as he noticed she was crying. But in Y/N’s defense, a slash to the forearm, much like a really deep paper cut, really hurts. 

Bucky took in a deep breath before pulling her to her feet and then onto the counter on the other side of the sink. Y/N watched as he went through the mess of first aid supplies she had created and found what he needed to clean her up. He turned back towards her with a wet cloth in one hand and reached out for her arm before stopping himself and looking up to her hesitantly.

“I’m just going to clean it up” he spoke calmly and quietly as he reached for her injured arm. She nodded and pulled the rag back to reveal the cut that ran along the inside of her forearm. Bucky immediately went to work, it looks worse than it is, he kept telling himself. Gently he rubbed the damp cloth around the wound and then over it, causing a small hiss to come from Y/N. Bucky halted his movement, not wanting to do anything to hurt her. 

“I’m okay” she wasn’t quite sure if it was to herself or Bucky but he nodded and continued cleaning and dressing the wound.

“It won’t need stitches but you’ll have to change the bandage a couple times to clean it.” He muttered as he finished and turned back to the sink, rinsing the cloth. Y/N rubbed a hand over her arm, it didn’t hurt as much anymore, she thought. 

Bucky gripped the cloth in his hand, he did a once over again of Y/N, searching for any other sign of a cut or injury that might need his attention. He noticed the blood on the side of her face wasn’t her own and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. Bucky stumbled over his words and settled on just holding up the cloth, she nodded slightly, assuming he must think the blood on her face was her own. 

He stepped between her legs, his hand rested next to her thigh on the counter, she tried not to notice his thumb brushed against her skin when she shifted and kept her eyes on Bucky’s face. Bucky reached up and gently rubbed the cloth over her forehead, cleaning the dry blood from above her brow. His sight was locked on where his hand was moving while hers watched his face scrunch and relax then scrunch again as he worked. Without thinking Bucky’s free hand moved to hold her cheek and shifted her to look slightly to the side so he could clean the last bit of blood from her cheek. Y/N closed her eyes as he did so, she wanted to remember exactly what his touch felt like, how gentle it was, how his thumb ran over her skin. She felt the cloth leave her face and opened her eyes, finding Bucky already looking at her. 

The two lingered, Bucky tried to move further forward but was stopped by the edge of the counter, Y/N leaned into his hand, still resting against her cheek. 

“Thank you” she whispered, “for helping me.”

“It’s no problem,” his eyes darted from hers to her lips and back again, “Steve said you might need help.” 

“Steve sent you?” Y/N’s eyes widened slightly when Bucky mentioned Steve. He cleared his throat and stepped back, throwing the cloth into the sink and rubbing the back of his neck. Well I ruined that moment, he thought. 

“Uhh yea, he wanted to make sure you were okay” Bucky preoccupied himself with cleaning the counter and putting away the first aid supplies. Y/N jumped from the counter and shifted from foot to foot behind him, not quite sure what had caused the sudden shift in the air. 

“Oh well, that was nice of him.”

Bucky slowed his movement, it was nice of him, nice of Steve to be concerned about her, nice of Steve to send him to check on her. So nice of Steve. 

“Uh yea, you should let him know you’re okay” Bucky turned around to look at her as she stepped back to the door nodding her head. 

“Yes, yes I’ll make sure to thank him for sending you” Y/N spoke before walking out, leaving Bucky alone in the bathroom. 

He leaned his back against the sink and tucked his hair behind his ears.

“Goddamn Steve!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Y/N sat on the couch in her room with a bowl of cereal in hand. She almost kissed Bucky. James Barnes almost kissed her. Did he? It seemed like that’s what he wanted to do. But why did he mention Steve then? Her mind kept racing about what had happened between her and Bucky earlier. Should she have kissed him? No, no way, there’s no way, she kept telling herself. If he wanted to kiss her he wouldn’t have brought up Steve. Her mind kept going, it moved from his words to the way he watched her, to his hand on her cheek. How gentle he was with her, so careful not to hurt her. She thought about his hand brushing against her thigh, him standing between her legs. 

“Hey, you all good?” Wanda burst into the room startling Y/N in her seat. 

“What? Yea fine, fine” she rushed out, placing bowl on the coffee table and straightening her shirt. Wanda paused in front of the couch giving Y/N a questionable look.

“Steve said you hurt your arm,” she said falling onto the couch “why are you blushing?”

Y/N sat up straighter and let out a nervous laugh. “Yea it’s okay, Bucky patched it up for me.” Wanda’s eyes almost jumped out of her head, an interaction between Bucky and Y/N?? Now that was a rarity. 

“Now do tell.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Why are you sulking?” Steve fell into the stool next to Bucky at his work bench. Bucky had secluded himself amongst his bits and parts of a motorcycle that he happened to walk past while in his bad mood. The poor thing had been dragged onto the bench and taken apart in a matter of hours and now Bucky was in the process of viciously cleaning every nook and cranny. 

“‘M not sulking” he grumbled not bothering to look up. “Did Y/N go and see you?” he eyed Steve and then moved straight back to his cleaning.

“Yup, she texted me when she got to her room” he nodded. Bucky perked up as Steve spoke, she just texted him? 

“Why didn’t she go see you?” He asked turning to Steve who gave him a very confused look.

“Why would she do that?”

“What did she say?”

“What?”

“Just out of curiosity, what did she say in the text exactly?” Bucky asked, he thought Y/N liked Steve, but if she liked him then she would have gone and seen him to tell him she was okay...but she texted him.

“‘Stevie, I’m fine. Bucky said to let you know I’m okay, he patched me up. Thanks for sending him’ then that stupid smiley face she always uses.” Steve watched Bucky carefully as he went through what looked like the end of an existential crisis, which to be fair, that’s basically what it was. He started confused, dumbfounded even, she text him, they live in the same place and she text him. Then as he took in each word he opened his mouth slightly and furrowed his brows. One text, meant to tell Steve she was okay, and she mentioned him three times. 

“Huh” a small smile came onto Bucky’s face. She texted him, and mentioned me, he thought. 

“What’s going through that head?” Steve leaned onto the counter and eyed his friend, he wasn’t aware of what had happened between the two in that bathroom but his curiosity was growing, it seemed like something was going on but he wasn’t sure. 

“Uh, nothing, ya know just seemed like she was eager to let you know she was alright.” Bucky mumbled along. Steve nodded slowly and let out a chuckle.

“You dumbass!” He leaned forward a smacked Bucky across the back of his head. Bucky immediately held his head and looked at Steve with wide eyes.

“What the fuck was that for!” He cried out. Steve continued to laugh at Bucky.

“You’re a dumbass!”

“Why!”

“Oh please!” Bucky looked at Steve waiting for an explanation who looked at him with a giant smirk smacked onto his face. “You thought Y/N had a thing for me didn’t you.” “Uh what - no - I - So what if I did! I think it’s a fair assumption!” Steve got up from his seat and started walking backwards out of the work area. 

“Like I said,” he raised his hands out to the side, “a dumbass.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Taglist: @little-brown-foxx @ibookishqueen @jacelynenursalim @buckyos

and a big thank you for reading! Let me know what you think and requests are open!