#every time you pop up on my dash I wanna grab you

[starrspice]

*points at you* you're cool

It is YOU who is in fact cool

[robolvrr]

iron throne. ✧✷✯

starscream x gn! human reader

two souls collide. starscream treats you in ways you should hate.

warnings: explicit. degradation. dom/sub dynamics.

you don't know how you keep ending up in this position.

this uncomfortable, delicious and desperate position. you are a speck in the universe. a nudge and ghostly apparition to beings that walk among your kind and loom over the world like gods.

you aren't anything to him. he claims that plenty.

so again - just why are you here?

"please, please-", a nasty gurgle of spit mixed to a whine, the pleas end when polished digits pinch your tongue. instead, you squeak, trying not to move as the confines of flexibility start to burn.

the other large, slender hand, metal and enclosed like an iron fist, grips the hair at your scalp. it exposes your throat in a disgusting way that makes every gulp visible.

it should not make your stomach flip, nor should the sneer proud on his handsome face.

"please what? please go faster? harder? stop altogether? i grow tired of your kind. as if any of your demands hold importance."

every word is a punch. a blow, internal, as he shoves the apparatus between his legs crudely into you. he has the option to lubricate, though chooses not to.

because he knows you're filthy. he knows your flesh, velvet holes do that all on their own and that you are always needy, even if it means some sting with the stretch.

still pinching the pink of your lolling tongue, he thinks he hears a muffled admittance of hatred. of course, that just means he goes a little deeper.

you shudder. he spits on you. it shouldn't feel good.

"you know, when my master takes over this shoddy rock. and our flags fly high in the skies - i will take you. you'll be mine. on my throne. in my lap, every morn, every evening. i used to wonder just what humanity could provide."

he's being awful. you know he's steadied his vocalizer, not giving the grunts, ragged huffs and downright out of character whines because you messed up earlier. you are missing out on how he begs when you really rile him up.

the moment he lets both of his servos grapple your body, you practically sob.

"s-starscream! please, please, i wanna. please tell me i'm still yours. i promise to not misbehave!"

he watches you like a hawk. your predatory bird. your shining demon in chrome and crimson.

does his spark stutter? surely not. instead, he smacks your behind hard that the bruise blooms swiftly. a yowl forces sniveling shrieks to sputter.

in a way, this is therapeutic for him. he despises organics, even though he likes to see the flighty beings cascade and dip in sunsets, sit in the silence of caverns where his pedes don't sink and get dirt on his plating.

lazily, starscream regards the dulcet mewl of his designation. of course. always clawing for attention.

like looking in a mirror.

so, he indulged. his spike finds a spot you've never played with and you keen, beautiful pearls of tears smearing down your cheeks.

intrigued, he uses his handle on your hips to use your entire weight to slam down on him, leaving you breathless and drooling.

disgusting. disgusting, disgusting, oh he should kill you now. squeeze you until you pop.

you'd beg for it too. degenerate.

"say it."

thoughts jump around, fumbling for the right response. it's impossible. he's glaring, hot and brutal. he won't let your nasty hands grab at his chassis. his wings are marvelous.

he tastes your sweat.

"lord. lord starscream. i.. i am yours, my liege."

"h... again."

"i'myours! all.. guh, ah, ahhnnn, yours! my liege! i'm gonna.. so close—"

he doesn't stop. he goes rougher and you know you'll be dizzy, passed out by the time he releases.

it won't be any time soon. not with how he bares his teeth, ready to tear you apart.

robolvrr 2024.

winkwonk. very hornee thoughts on the dash.

[ghstzzn]

saints. ━━ jung wooyoung

pairing(s): jung wooyoung x fem!reader (a dash of san x reader.)

genre: SMUT! MDNI! angst (if you squint)

synopsis: addicted to the sweet taste of hatred, you let wooyoung use you over and over again— even after fucking his best friend. 1.6k words.

warnings/general tags: smut (mdni.), angst like if u squint fr, unprotected sex, mean dom!wooyoung, cum eating (?) rough sex, kind of degradation?, name calling (he calls her a whore twice but one is not in a sexy way), ass smacking, overstim, none really for san except f!rec oral, honestly his scene wasn’t all that intense, it was for plot, they are toxic, not a lot of plot just needed dom wooyoung, he sends pics of u both to san ;) (lmk if that needs an actual tag???)

note: needed to put out a cute little nasty smut to distract everyone from my evil plans!! i wanted to do a threesome (we know how much i fw those) but i got way too into the solo wooyoung smut so 😭 sorry!!!!! // also i tried a new thing in my writing with the sudden scene changes idk if i fw it tho!!

You weren’t going to lie to anyone– you knew exactly how you got here.

With San, the best friend of your ex-boyfriend (some would even call them platonic soulmates), in between your legs, lapping up your juices and praising you as if you were a goddess.

Yet, you weren’t anything close to a god. Not a saint, an angel– you were nothing. Wooyoung’s top priority was making sure you got that through your pretty little head during every screaming match that ended with you fucking the souls out of each other. You would feel guilty for San, but you can’t.

Because he knows.

Sans bruising grip on your thighs tells you everything you need to know. He pushes your legs further apart as he sits up, your release smeared across his lips. You stare at him, breathing heavily as you recover from your orgasm.

“Ride me?”

And with that, you’re whimpering as you force your body upright to ride him. San grips your hips, assisting just enough to help your hips roll against him, his cock hitting that sweet spot so deliciously.

If there were a badge specifically for fucking your best friends ex girlfriend; San would wear it with honor.

Your phone dings repeatedly, enough to snap you out of your fucked out state. You lift your arm to reach for your phone but San is quick to grab your wrist, and within a second you’re placed on your back again as he sets a pace that has you seeing stars.

And it always ends the same.

San is wiping your cum stained thighs, massaging your hips as he does so. You both giggle and tease each other as you dress yourselves.

“See you soon?”

“Get home quickly! It’s cold.”

“Drive safe, baby.”

“Text me when you get home!”

Such domestic, comforting statements that could have anyone’s heart fluttering. Phrases that would surely allude to you being in a relationship with the man who leaves your dorm multiple times a week during the night.

You smile to yourself as you watch your ex-boyfriend's best friend walk towards the elevator, closing your door softly once he enters.

Sitting criss cross on your bed, you grab your phone, checking through your notifications. You pause when Wooyoung's contact pops up; multiple missed calls and over ten messages sent to you.

do not answer him, girl:

are you up? y/n answer the phone please. i just wanna see you. baby? are u studying? can i help? baby come on u read all my messages

you:

don't call me baby, wooyoung

wooyoung: where are u? let me pick u up?

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You know you shouldn’t. It never ends well for either of you, and your heart physically hurts when you see him or hear about him.

So you do exactly what you shouldn’t do.

━━━━━━━━━

Your eyes flutter open and you breathe in softly as you bury yourself deeper into Wooyoung's hold. You lift your head slightly to study your ex-boyfriend’s face.

It’s moments like this that delude you into thinking everything could change. That you and Wooyoung could work again— to be happy again. To be the couple you once were.

You held onto every ounce of hope you could, because you really did still love him. But at the same time, you held so much hatred for the man holding you in his arms as if he were yours. You didn’t sleep with him last night, he really did want to see you. And this only made it worse for you.

“You’re still here?” A groggy voice speaks up.

You scoff. “Of course I’m still here, Wooyoung.”

He yawns and removes his arms from you with haste, quickly sitting up and running his hands through his hair.

“Why?” You don’t reply to him. Why were you still there? Lingering around you ex-boyfriend pathetically— as if you hadn’t just fucked his best friend. What is wrong with you?

Wooyoung stands from the bed, rolling his shoulders back as he stretches and pops his neck, “You know, when I picked you up last night?”

“What about it?”

“Your room reeked of sex.” And with that he walks out of his room, mumbling something about you.

You roll your eyes and practically jump out of his bed, following him to the kitchen.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that?”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, Wooyoung.” You stomp in front of him. “Say it.”

“I just think it’s pathetic how you let another man fuck you yet ran straight to me after a few texts.” Wooyoung states, leaning against the counter.

A few texts?

You inhale deeply, “First of all, it’s none of your business who I’m fucking or not. Second, you practically begged me to come over— don’t act like a goddamn saint here”

“You look like a whore.”

“Good one.”

“Get out of my house, Y/N.”

Wooyoung pushes past you, ignoring your presence as he picks up any messes from the nights before.

“You can’t just-“ You run your hands over your face, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Wooyoung.”

He doesn’t respond, giving you a sign to keep going.

“What are we doing here? We are broken up for fucks sake. You sit here and start fights with me but a few days later you’re begging me to come over, Wooyoung, begging.”

He turns around, rolling his eyes directly at you. Your chest only boils with more anger at his childish antics.

“Is this a fucking joke to you? Do you think this is a game?”

“Yes! It’s hilarious, Y/N.” Wooyoung shouts in response, “it’s fucking hilarious that no matter what you’re doing in your life, you will always come back to me.”

“And I'm trying to tell you that you aren’t any better.”

Wooyoung chuckles, “Well aren’t we just perfect for each other then?”

You lean against the back of the couch as you watch him march around his house.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just work.. like try again.”

━━━━━━━━

“F-fuck, Wooyoung!”

You grip the back of his neck as he harshly thrusts into you. Your legs wrapped tightly around him as he fucked you into his mattress.

“Does he fuck you like this? Huh?” Wooyoung sits up, removing your hands from his neck and gripping your face with his own hand. “Answer me.”

“N-no, no, please!” You throw your head back at a particular thrust, clinging onto his forearms.

He groans as you clench around him, readjusting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“So pathetic— like I said.”

He pulls out, but before you could whine and whimper, he flips you over onto your hand and knees, smacking your ass before thrusting back into you.

Wooyoung groans and lets out breathy moans as he returns his brutal pace, muttering profanities and slight praises at you.

“Fuckk, taking me so good. Made for me to fuck you, right?” He smacks your ass again. “Should I record this? You look so- fuck.. You look so pretty. Gotta show him.”

You drop your face into the mattress, Wooyoungs words going in one ear out the other, too fucked out to pay attention.

“Whaddya think? Wanna let San see how good you’re taking my cock?”

Your eyes widen as you choke back a moan. Wooyoung chuckles from behind you, delivering another thrust that has you clenching and releasing around him.

“That make you cum?” He slows his thrusts down, but doesn’t stop once. “C’mon tell me— is he good? He fuck you like this, baby?”

Wooyoung starts to speed up again, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“Ah, pl- please, too much!”

“No, no, baby. Tell me everything.” He whines in your ear, mockingly. “Wanna hear how good my best friend fucks you.”

“N-not like you..” You whine.

Wooyoung lets out a low laugh, taking his fingers and wiping at the arousal and cum leaking down your thighs. He pulls you by your hair and taps his fingers at your mouth.

“He make you cum like this?” You submit once again and take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and lapping at your mixed juices on his fingers. He drops your hair and you catch yourself on the pillows.

“I'm sorry! I- "I'm sorry, ah, please!” You plead and beg with him as he thrusts into you at a brutal pace, tears lining your eyes.

“Awwe, you’re sorry? Wanna tell Sannie that you’re sorry too?” You almost miss the camera shutter click coming from his phone. “Should I send these to him? You look so pretty, my little whore.”

He tosses his phone to the side and grips your hips, tugging you back against him with every thrust. Wooyoung continued his pace as he chased his own high. You’re a trembling, crying mess as he finally cums inside of you, pulling out as he catches his breath.

Wooyoung rolls over to the side of you, running his hand through his sweaty hair and grabbing his phone with his other. He quickly taps away and throws it to the side again.

You slowly sit up, reaching over the bed to grab a shirt before Wooyoung stops you and tells you to wait. He comes back quickly and cleans you up just enough for you to rest without feeling like a puddle of body fluids, he leaves the room just as his phone lights up.

Suddenly you remember his remarks that he made as he pounded into you.

He knows about San.

You quickly grab your phone, seeing Sans's name pop up in Wooyoung notifications. You click the message without even thinking twice, gasping softly as you see a few photos of Wooyoung taking you from behind, covered in sweat and arousal.

You would get frustrated or embarrassed with the entire situation— considering your ex found out you were sleeping with his best friend. Especially right before seeing him. But San’s response only sent shivers down your body as your face started to heat up and your thighs clenched together.

taglist: @yourlocaljonghoe @304files (i know i dont have anything stating, but feel free to comment or send an ask for any taglists!)

(leaving his message up to ur sexy imaginations bc im gen thinking abt a woosan x reader next)

[darkhymns-fic]

Switching shifts (wip)

Husk rapped his knuckles on Alastor’s door, which finally made it give up on its intended purpose and fell flat on the ground with a giant thud.

“Welcome home!” Niffty popped right out from between the sofa cushions, lint and quarters clutched in both hands. “Oops, hehe. Sorry. I'm so used to the boss making an entrance.” She blinked, staring at him with interest. “Ooo, whatcha got there?”

“Chicken noodle soup,” Husk said through a mouthful. He brought the bowl to his mouth to take one last big slurp, sighing in satisfaction after. Then he tossed it to the side to have it land in the kitchen sink. “So is he up yet?”

“Nope! He’s still sleeping and muttering under his breath!” Niffty clutched more lint in her hands. “I’m gonna leave all of these underneath his pillow.”

Husk wasn’t even sure if this was a thing that Alastor would like, but he wasn’t about to protest. The room was still fairly neat, if the floors looked a little too polished from Niffty’s obsessive cleaning. But the bookshelves had also been repaired, even if the books were placed haphazardly, and the grotesque animal skulls were back serving as assortments of centerpieces over the mantle.

He saw that even Alastor’s chair had been repaired–or as well as it could be. It looked like Niffty had gotten every piece together and arranged it like a puzzle, threading it all together with stitches so that it resembled a monstrous version of an armchair, with stuffing still coming out of the leather, and the seat cushion embedded with sharp wood pieces like it was some sort of torture device.

“Oh yeah, I fixed it!” Niffty proclaimed once she saw where Husk looked. “Good as new! Just don’t ever sit on it, I had to use roach parts to glue some stuff together.”

“Geez, Niff, ya didn’t have to go all out,” he said. She must have worked on it all morning, even if it was functionally useless. “You just had to watch the guy.”

“I did! I watched him all morning!” She smiled very wide, the pupil in her eye shrinking to a miniscule dot. “I watched him sleep…I watched him dream…”

Husk waited, but Niffty just stared out into the distance, her gaze clouded with nostalgia. “Uh–”

“But that got very boring, so I did some extra cleaning! I vacuumed and dusted, got the laundry started, hand scrubbed the toilet and and only fell in it once, and am now going to go to the market to get my dear Sir’s favorite venison to put in the oven. That means I’m a keeper, right?” She breathed a little hard, then rushed over to Husk to grab at his arms and shake them. “Right?! Right?!”

“Y-yes, you are! Any guy would be lucky to have ya.” Husk never ventured just what exactly entailed Niffty’s past, but he’d known a few housewives in his living days who…got into their role a bit too much. “If you wanna go shopping now, I can take over babysitting duties. And nothing happened at all?”

“Nothing!” Niffty nodded vigorously. “He screamed a few times in his sleep, but that’s normal.”

“Ugh, I know…” He scratched his head, looking toward the half-open bedroom door. He ignored the trepidation in his chest, the soft discomfort that had gone hand in hand in his life so often. 

So before he could go back on his word, he twirled around Niffty in his arms, taking her hand delicately in his as she giggled from the motion. Some quick steps over the carpet and the various bug traps he now saw spread around, another little twirl to distract Niffty and…

The girl was now standing out in the hallway, blankly staring at Husk who grinned down at her. Realization took hold about a few seconds later.

“Aw, you danced me out of the room!” She folded her arms, pouting. “You’re too good at that.”

“When I’m good, I’m good. ‘Sides, you wanted to go shopping anyway. So hurry and get a move on.” He gave a short wave, stepping over the broken door. “We’ll fix this later, or whatever.”

“Oh yeah, I have a chore!” Niffty bounced on her tiptoes, then quickly made a mad dash down the hallway. “Chooooores!”

It was only when he couldn’t hear her excited yelling anymore that Husk let his grin fall. He gave another look around Alastor’s room, the writing table to the back wall, and the phonograph off in the corner, both somehow having escaped last night’s carnage. He didn’t see the open vintage he and Alastor had shared before, probably broken to hell, or drunk dry by whoever held his boss’ leash.

It was routine for Husk to head for the bedroom.

[cassi-pokeblogging-hub]

Pokepark - Shout out a Pokemon IRL blog you really like!

ill do you one better i have A LOT to shout out lol. its very hard to like articulate ALL my thoughts in just like one paragraph cause i dont wanna drop a masive ESSAY for each blog so ill try to keep it brief but do check all of them out if you havent yet!!

@lovenpeace-pkmn - anthea and concordia are,, surprisingly forgotten about pkmn characters so finding out there was a blog for them a few months back was like. insane for me. i love the blogrunners characterization and its just generally a fun blog to scroll through and interact with on occasion!

@thatfailedpokemontrainer - sprite an interesting critter fr. theres something wrong with them and i love it. every once in a while something goes down on the blog and im just in the discord chat with friends like omg look at whats happening on tumblr RIGHT NOW!!! also as a dedenne best pikaclone TRUTHER i am obligated to promite this blog lol

@battle-subway-ghost - is also a really fun blog that im always like GUYS LOOK AT WHATS HAPPENING OVER THERE!!! honestly i could probably link ALL the blogs linked to this one and thatfailedpokemontrainer but i dont wanna decimate a buncha peoples notifs with me @ ing them all on the same post lmao. but like. something up with paris fr and his relationships with other characters are so fun to read. also i love rattatas so any blog about characters that give love to the rats get a good grade in my book

@wingsofachampion - tropius is such a fun character and bench plays her so well!! pokemon like tropius are sososo underrated compared to a lot of the like. anthro/more humanoid pokemon and pokemon that are just cats or dogs so seeing one about one of these more underrated pokemon so good to me. bench (blogrunner) also has a ton of fun pmd lore that builds off the canon stuff on this blog and a few of their other blogs so if you love pmdstuff you should REALLY check them out

@psn-stalling - i could list A LOT of the bbablr blogs because theyre all some degree of something up with that guy fr but atlas is one of the first blogs that popped up on my dash p often and is what got me to check out a ton of the bba blogs. atlas and his relationships to other characters are so fun to me and tbh atlas is just a fascinating character in general. top ten guys of all time i hope he beefs with even more of his classmates in the future

@viridian-rat - OKAY SO. TURT (the blogrunner) IS MY FIRNED SO PERHAPS THIS MAY BE CHEATING BUT RAT IS SO SOSO SOMETHING TO ME. 12 YEAR OLD OF ALL TIME. turt plays rat like an actual 12 year old and its so refreshing because a lot of people DO NOT KNOW HOW CHILDREN ACT AND ITS INSANE. also turts been putting so much effort into a whole ass animation for this blog thats almost done so you guys have to follow the blog before it comes out so you'll see it.

@harteofthehart-ayyy - harte is another character on pkmn irl thats a guy of all time fr. fascinated by him and everything that is revealed about him. whatevers going on with him and his roommate has captivated me. this is also another blog where i REALLY like the art thats posted on occasion, and i just find it funny to follow. also its just a REALLY fun blog to interact with. like some blogs are just awkward to reply to because theres like way too little to actually grab onto but harte's mod is really good at giving you stuff to actually reply to

theres sosososo many more blogs but some are just escaping my mind rn or i dont know how to like properly articulate anything than this blog good. id like @ my entire following list rn if i could but i do not think people would be happy with the amount of notifs

[hockeyboysimagines]

Can i please have Matthew/Hallie for 5. “What do you mean the cars broken?” And 13. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Worried/Protective Matthew is always my favorite 🥰🥰

This was so cute and so fun! Thanks Nonny 🤍🤍🤍

“Can you explain to me why we’re driving and not flying?” Hallie asked from the passenger seat of the Audi.

“Because we’re taking a road trip and that’s more fun.”

It was a pouring.

Not just rain showering pouring, but actual buckets of rain were being dumped down so hard it was getting difficult to see. There was hardly any cars on the road as they made their way to a weekend getaway, just the two of them. He needed a break from Calgary and couldn’t wait to spend some time together just them, which was something he could never get enough of.

She glanced out the front window at the sky, a swirling mix of grey and blue and frowned.

“This weather sucks. Hopefully you didn’t have any outdoor activities planned for this weekend.”

“If I’m being honest I wasn’t really planning on us leaving the bed let alone outdoor stuff.”

Her mouth fell open and her face got red “Matthew!”

“Oh don’t Matthew me. We have three days of undisturbed free time. No hockey, no friends showing up unannounced, no stalkers.” He said with a smile.

She rolled her eyes “Ha Ha very funny. I guess it’ll be nice to spend some time together just us.”

“Preferably with minimal or no clothing on.” He glanced at her sideways “Just throwing that out there.”

She opened her mouth to respond but the car gave a large lurch and then a loud squeal.

“What the hell-“ the oil light pinged on the dash, blinking at him.

“Oh come on.” He moaned, steering the car to the side of the road as it sputtered and stalled.

“What’s wrong?”

“The car is broken.”

“What do you mean the cars broken?” Hallie asked leaning over to see the blinking light.

“I mean we have no oil. No oil no drive. Fuck.” He shook his head and popped the hood.

“Where are you going? You don’t know anything about cars. And I don’t really think this is the kind of place you wanna stop and get out at.” She trailed off looking around.

It was true. The rain and fog made the area they were in look like a scene from a horror film. It was poorly lit and desolate, with nothing to be seen for miles.

“What are you scared?”

“Hey I’m not the one who’s gonna get murdered. This scene happens in every horror movie ever made, and if you get out, their going to make one about you in 5 years.”

He stared at her for a full 5 seconds before he shook his head “You've been watching too much true crime.”

The rain had slowed a little now as he hoisted the hood up and ducked underneath it. Hallie was right, he didn’t know anything about cars, but in an effort to see if maybe things were wrong, he checked the oil.

It wasn’t.

With a sigh he pulled out his phone to call AAA and came around the side of the car to open Hallie’s door.

“Hey Hal I’m gonna call-“

But she wasn’t there.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he looked at her empty seat.

“Hallie? Hallie!-“ he whipped around in alarm as she jumped out from behind the hood and screamed.

“Jesus fuck!” He yelled grabbing at his heart. It was pounding out of his chest and he let out a long breath as she started laughing maniacally.

“Ahhhhhh I got you!” She said grinning as she pulled her hood up and walked past him to get in the car.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He grumbled as he got back in, pulling the door shut and frowning at her.

“Oh come on it was funny.” She said still giggling.

“Yeah it would have been if you hadn’t had an actual stalker.”

“Okay okay.” she said rolling her eyes “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“How sorry?”

“Do you want me to tell you or show you?”

He looked at the ceiling in thought “How about both?”

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him but stopped just short of his mouth and looked at him “Does your team know you scream like a girl?”

“That’s it. I’ll show you a scream.”

[lizzie-is-here]

acta, non verba

tfatws- part v

summary: in which the falcon and the winter soldier become captain america and the white wolf.

wordcount: 5.1k

warnings: cussing, violence, death (karli), sam’s speech hitting too close to home, fluff, john walker

a/n: this officially marks a break in acta, non verba. i’ll still write some headcanons and short stories, but until phase four fleshes out some more, i don’t wanna risk writing in something that doesn’t hold up to somewhat-canon later. the good news is i have short stories planned for hawkeye, nwh, and maybe moon knight to add to acta, non verba, so we’ll see where it takes us. hope u enjoy, love u 🤍

series masterlist

When you and Bucky returned to New York, you were ready for a few more days of relaxation. The matchmakers had been quick to tell every fucking Avenger they had contact with, but they’d been polite enough to not harass you too much.

Amidst the chaos, you had caught up on sleep and your favorite TV shows, also being able to organize your room for the first time in months. You were alright with having an even longer break. However, your hopes were quickly dashed.

You and Bucky were both relaxing on your balcony, a fluffy blanket tucked around your shoulders as you laid on top of him. You were talking about future missions, discussing a low-threat mob that had popped up recently.

“Their cover is, like, a moving company,” you explained, trying to recall the name. “It was hella stupid. Oh… What was it… Oh!” You snapped as the name came to mind. “‘Trust-A-Bro’!”

“‘Trust-A-Bro?”

“Yeah. It’s really bad.”

And then police sirens rang out, shortly followed by the whirs of helicopter blades and the telltale spotlights that told you all you needed to know. You sighed, resting your head on Bucky’s chest.

“Damn. I was kind of ready to do nothing,” you complained as you retreated inside. You grabbed the gold chain that held your suit, clipping it on as the super-soldier began tugging on the layers of tactical gear he wore.

“It’s never that simple, is it?” he added, watching curiously as you grabbed a spare grappling hook and clasped it around his vibranium arm. “What’s this?”

You opened your balcony door again, standing atop the chair and placing one foot on the railing.

“Doll?” he asked, hands out to catch you.

“The street’s too crowded and there’s gonna be roadblocks set up. We’re going in from above.”

“Above? What-“ He sighed in realization. “Oh, oh no.”

You laughed, pulling him up to where you stood. “Yes, Jamie. C’mon, if I can do it, you can too.”

He eyed the drop. His breath wavered as he threw a nervous grin at you. “Kiss for good luck?” You obliged, pecking him on the lips before you pushed yourself backward, flipping once in a free fall before shooting your hook at a nearby roof.

The wire stretched enough to prevent whiplash, and you ran along the side of the building until you were able to boost yourself onto the roof. You landed in a crouch, calling Sam.

“You seeing this?” you asked, sending him the news.

“I’m already on my way,” he responded. “Tell Barnes thanks for the gift.”

You watched as said man hyped himself up, adjusting the grappling hook. “Thank him yourself.”

You hung up, watching as Bucky followed your path, albeit with a bit less grace and a bit more flailing.

He landed beside you with a thud, groaning as the grappling hook retracted with a snap.

“How do you do that?” he panted, slowly standing up.

“Practice. C’mon, hon. We’ve got a few blocks to go.”

From there, you mainly leaped from roof to roof, following the flashing red and blue lights to the GRC meeting. As you stood above the building, waving at a passing helicopter.

“Ready for the fun part?” you asked, embedding the hook into the roof. Before he could answer, you jumped from the edge, running down the glass building to land softly on the ground. The hook came rushing down with a flick of your hand, clicking into place.

A loud scream caused you to look up.

The ex-Winter Soldier came zooming down, trying to brush the panic off of his face as a few officers and guards glanced over.

“You owe me,” he grumbled, making his way through the crowd as you followed, smiling at his misfortune.

“I’m almost there,” Sam said over the comms.

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked. You nodded as you passed security, their stances relaxing when they recognized the two Avengers.

“Karli’s gotta be close. Keep your eyes open.”

“Well, it could be anybody,” you warned.

“Sergeant Barnes. Agent (L/N),” an officer acknowledged, stepping aside to let you both pass.

“And by the way, I called in some backup.”

“Excuse me, sir. Are you supposed to be here?” A man in a beanie approached. You raised your eyebrow.

“Sharon,” you greeted. She tapped the side of her face, deactivating the digital prosthesis and tugging off the hat. Bucky stared in horror. You supposed it may have reminded him of the Red Skull.

“It’s me,” she admitted.

“Sharon, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t a fugitive. “Relax. No one’s looking for me here.”

“Do I hear Sharon?”

“Unfortunately.” You smacked the soldier’s arm.

She ignored him. “Hey, Sam. I thought I’d get the band back together.”

“Thank you. You’re risking a lot coming here.”

“I hear pardons aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, anyway.”

“Depends on the therapist,” Bucky quipped. You grinned, turning to watch more police circle the building.

“You just don’t like Raynor,” you corrected. He nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“They’ll move on the building soon. Be ready.” You nodded as something zoomed past overhead, most likely Sam. The red alarm lights continued to flash from the building, the menacing glow coating the area.

The three of you began to move towards the entrance as screams echoed from an upper floor. You watched as Sam busted through the glass, new suit on and shield in hand.

“You guys, what’s going on on your end?” he asked.

“Nothing. All quiet,” Bucky responded.

Sharon scanned the area. “No one’s moving toward the building.”

“Karli’s not coming in. She’s trying to force everybody out. It’s a misdirect. We gotta keep everybody inside.”

You shoved the glass doors open, wincing as the red light invaded your senses. You passed through a metal detector, which beeped as soon as Sharon made it through. Thankfully, your vibranium tech didn’t activate metal detectors.

“You guys are gonna have to do something. Don’t let ‘em out of the building,” Sam shouted over comms.

“Here’s one,” Bucky said, pointing to a mustachioed man. “We’ll get evac. C’mon.” He gestured for you to follow him and you unfolded a staff, storming through the building as you both scanned for any officials. One woman approached, a phone in her hand.

“Mr. Barnes. Ms. (L/N). It’s Karli.” The fact that this random woman was a Flag Smasher was mildly alarming, but the ex-Winter Soldier took the phone anyway, holding it between you two so you could hear as well.

“Karli?” he asked.

“Aren’t you tired of fighting for the wrong side, Mr. Barnes?”

He scoffed as you both rushed down a flight of stairs. “I’ve done this before, kid. I know how it ends.”

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t survive this. I’m fighting for something bigger than myself. And with all the bodies you both have collected, have you ever been able to say the same?” Maybe at one point, her words would have hurt. But now, she just seemed naive.

“You don’t think we ever fought for something bigger than ourselves? That’s all I tried to do. And I failed twice.” You frowned, filing away the comment to later pester him about. “You think your cause justifies all this death, but in the end, the nightmares won’t go away. You’re gonna remember all the ones you killed. Trust us.”

“Don’t do this, Karli,” you warned her. “Don’t go down this path.”

“If that’s how you both feel, you should sit this one out.”

“Come on, you know I ain’t gonna do that,” the super-soldier responded. When she spoke again, her tone was harsh.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you took my call. You’ve been a big help.” With that, she hung up. A distraction.

“Damn it!” he snapped, pocketing the phone. You both sprinted down corridors, eventually finding two motorcycles.

“Seriously, you two, you had one job,” Sharon sighed in disappointment.

You ignored her as Bucky snapped, “You worry about your guy.” The two of you sped off, quickly adjusting to the bikes. It wasn’t nearly as intuitive as your own, but it would do. You made it out of the parking garage and slipped between a roadblock, Sam and Sharon conversing the whole while.

“Bucky! (Y/N)!” Sam yelled, probably about to request your help with the hostages in the helicopter. You rolled your eyes. “Which one of us flies again, Sam? Oh, yeah, not us.” As you turned a sharp corner, you spotted the armored vehicles just as the Flag Smashers threw out the police and took control of the cars.

Muttering curses under your breath, you exchanged an annoyed glance with Bucky before speeding up, straight at the concrete barriers. You braked at the last moment, hurtling over the edge and directly into one of the rebels. One sent a kick to your shoulder as Karli jumped from the car she was in.

As you and Barnes tag-teamed a soldier, another began to pour a container of gasoline on one of the vehicles, lighting it with a tiny spark. People began to scream as ten-foot flames licked up the side of the car. You slammed the staff against the Flag Smasher’s head, effectively knocking him out.

“Hold on!” Bucky yelled, beginning to work on the door as you tried the windows, smashing against them but only creating a hairline fracture. You yelled in frustration as Bucky struggled with the door, looking around to stop Karli when a voice echoed down the street.

“Morgenthau!” John Walker, back and with what appeared to be a knockoff shield fit for a knockoff Cap. It was haphazardly welded together and seemed to be more of a showpiece than an actual weapon. “Let’s finish this.”

“I didn’t mean to kill your friend,” she said. “I don’t wanna hurt people that don’t matter.”

“You don’t think Lamar’s life mattered?” Walker boomed. He was deranged, but he was distracting her as you tried to help Bucky by using your vibranium staff as a crowbar.

“Not to my fight. I just want the people on that truck.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why’d you light it on fire you fucking prick?” you yelled, grunting as you strained against the lock mechanism on the doors of the vehicle. They began to fight, leaving you feeling helpless. Bucky punched at the device, eventually managing to damage it enough to expose the wiring.

You gasped, charging up the Black Widow gauntlet on your wrist. You aimed the glowing weapon at the lock. “Back up, Barnes.” You fired it, and the red electricity crackled through the tech, allowing the lock to fall from the truck. With a shout, Bucky wrenched the door open and you both began to help the hostages down from the suffocating metal box.

“Thank you for saving us,” one man gasped. You smiled as the ex-Winter Soldier stared, as if in disbelief that he’d just been thanked.

“You’re welcome,” he said to no one. With a chuckle, you pointed towards where Walker was going up against multiple Flag Smashers.

“I guess we have to help him,” he grumbled to which you nodded. He ran forward just as one was winding back a parking meter, fully ready to knock Walker’s head from his shoulders. As Bucky went up against one, you took on Karli, who had swiped up the meter and was now swinging it at you. You unsheathed your sword, parrying her enhanced blows with the strength of vibranium.

Bucky slammed a chain against her before receiving a kick to the chest, sending him flying backward and off a ledge.

“Bucky!” you yelled, racing after him and not really thinking about anything other than the fact that you just watched one of your best friends and first crush in years plummet from an unknown height. Without another thought, you cast your grappling hook into concrete and leaped down, landing softly an embarrassingly short amount of time later. The drop was 50 feet at the most, and Bucky Barnes had survived a 200-foot freefall from a plane a few days earlier.

So maybe you weren’t thinking straight. But before you could even defend your not-really-logic logic, another Flag Smasher came jumping down, a giant metal beam in his hands and ready to give you one whopping concussion. Bucky caught the beam with his metal arm, wincing from the strain. Over comms, Sam yelled to someone else something about, “Boy, you just earned this ass-whooping!” You couldn’t help but think he was right.

You readied a baton and swiped at the offender, catching his neck with one particularly wide strike. He convulsed, the red sparks shooting through his muscle and probably permanently damaging his nerves.

“Suck my dick,” you spat, tilting your head when he rolled over with a groan. A well-placed taser shock put him back into the dirt.

Bucky stared at you, eyes wide and still in a bit of shock that you jumped after him with little-to-no hesitation. “That was really hot,” he muttered. You smiled, helping him stand.

“Yeah?” you asked, leaning forward with a smirk. Just as he was about to pull you towards him, Sam’s voice blared through your earpiece at an unnecessarily high volume.

“Would you two stop flirting in my ear?” You grumbled.

“I thought you wanted me to do something about it, Sammy,” you lilted, listening as Walker continued to scream at whatever he was fighting. With the amount of anger issues in that man, you wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to fight a wall.

Sam stammered incredulously. “Yeah. ‘Do something about it.’ Not get saucy in my goddamn ear.”

“I know you did not just say ‘saucy’ to me in that context,” you growled, about to berate him when one of the armored vehicles crashed onto the metal scaffolding above you, breaking several beams and bending some others. It teetered on the edge, and you and Bucky both stared up at it, watching the steel beams strain under the weight.

Oddly, Bucky wasn’t trying to move out from under the car. His movements were calculated. as if he was placing himself exactly where the truck would fall.

“I’m not about to let you catch a truck,” you hissed, not taking your eyes off of said car.

“I can’t just let them fall,” he countered.

You scoffed. “So you’re just gonna catch a military vehicle filled with people?”

Then, the car edged backward, and the battered shield that Walker had made fell into the sand. So he was the one tugging it back. Maybe he wasn’t too bad.

And then he, Karli, and another Flag Smasher careened through the scaffolding, and the car began to fall again. Of course. You tried to usher them from under the kill zone, but soon found that there was no need. A flash of red, white, and blue shot past.

Sam Wilson was pushing the truck up, his new suit donned and shield strapped to his back. This was the first time you were properly seeing it, and damn it looked good. Shuri truly had a gift.

Three small drones deployed from his pack, helping him push the truck to safety. You turned to Bucky as he helped Walker. “You got him new Redwings?”

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah.” You grabbed his hand. “You are adorable.”

“Shut up and watch Sam,” he grumbled with a blush, but the smile on his face told you that he appreciated the affectionate words. You nodded, not pressing the subject.

Cheers erupted as Sam moved the truck to safety.

Of course, Karli had to throw a section of rebar at you. Bucky caught it, and you both glared at her.

“C’mon,” you sighed, shrugging. “You ruined the moment. There was a moment happening and you just-” You flung a hand at her, sighing disappointedly. When she tried to advance again, Sam threw the shield, knocking her back. She yanked off her mask, eyeing Sam as if he’d stabbed her.

“You of all people bought into that bullshit?” she asked.

He didn’t budge. “I’m trying something different. Maybe you should do the same.”

A distant explosion distracted you before smoke bombs exploded at your feet with a hiss. Grey haze coated the area, but Sam began to lead you, Bucky, and Walker through a nearby maze of halls.

“Hey, Sharon. We’re underground,” Bucky mumbled into comms, trying to keep the separated member of your party up to date. “We entered the tunnel on William. Heading south.”

“Looks like they split up. Here.” Walker ran in one direction before Sam even finished, and you and Bucky followed.

“We got it,” you said to Sam, trailing the rogue Captain. You ran ahead of them, letting the two boys search rooms as you found a way out. When you had made your way through most of the building with no sign of the remaining Flag Smashers, you snapped, turning around.

“Buck. You still have that lady’s phone, right?” He nodded. “It has the Flag Smasher app. Put up a false signal.” You exited the building and waited patiently,

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Walker asked. You tsked, pausing for a brief moment. “Just wait. In three… two… one.” You pointed just as three sets of footsteps began to echo down the hallway. Walker stepped out in front of them.

“‘Mercy bears richer fruit than strict justice,’” he quoted smugly. Bucky held up the phone. “It’s a great app.” The police surrounded the rebels, and you finally began to relax knowing that the hardest part of your job was finished.

“Lincon? Really?” Bucky asked Walker as soon as you all were out of earshot.

“Great man. Great quote.”

You made a disbelieving sound. “Not when you say it.”

———————————————————————

You sat in the open doors of an ambulance, Bucky next to you as you leaned against him. There was still a lot of panic, with people shuffling about and trying to recover from the events of the past hour, but your little hiding spot was relatively peaceful.

After snatching an ice pack from a paramedic, you and the super-soldier had taken turns passing it back and forth, with him usually letting you have it for longer. You had also taken the opportunity to clean up a cut on his temple, and now only a small bruise and smear of dried blood remained.

“Just as my side was almost healed up,” you complained, pressing the ice pack against the muscle that seemed to have been sore for the past few weeks.

He rubbed your shoulder. “We’ll get an actual break here soon, doll. Get you back up and running.”

Just as you were going to respond, Sam flew down, cradling a dead Karli Morgenthau in his arms. You jumped up from the ambulance, leaning against it for support.

He laid her body on a stretcher, and Walker came to join you and Bucky by the ambulance. Reporters surrounded Sam instantly.

“What happened to the Flag Smashers?”

“When did the government make you Captain America?”

“Is it still Falcon?”

“Or is it Captain Falcon?”

He stepped past all of them stopping briefly to speak to a woman. Many of the government officials thanked him, mentioning various details about the Flag Smashers and discussing the GRC vote. Then, Sam’s voice carried over the crowd.

“Stop calling them terrorists,” he requested.

“What else would we call them?” a man asked.

Sam’s face radiated “y’all are fucking stupid” without him saying a word. “Your peacekeeping troops carrying weapons are forcing millions of people into settlements around the world, right? What do you think those people are gonna call you? These labels, ‘terrorist’, ‘refugee’, ‘thug’, they’re often used to get around the question, why?”

“Those settlements that happened five years ago, do you think it is fair for governments to have to support them?” one woman asked.

“Yes.” His answer came with no hesitation.

“And the people who reappeared only to find someone else living in their family home, they just end up homeless? Look, I get it. But you have no idea how complicated this situation is.” Your eyes widened at his abrasive words.

“The fuck does this bitch think he is?” you mumbled to Bucky, who shrugged.

“You know what? You’re right. And that’s a good thing. We finally have a common struggle now. Think about that. For once, all the people who’ve been begging, and I mean, literally begging for you to feel how hard any given day is… Now you know.”

“How did it feel to be helpless? Now if you could remember what it was like to be helpless and face a force so powerful it could erase half the planet, you would know that you’re about to have the exact same impact. This isn’t about easy decisions, Senator.”

“You don’t understand,” the old man insisted.

Sam scoffed. “I’m a Black man carrying the stars and stripes. What don’t I understand? Every time I pick this thing up, I know there are millions of people who are gonna hate me for it. Even now, here, I feel it. The stares, the judgment. And there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

“Yet, I’m still here. No super serum, no blond hair, or blue eyes. The only power I have is that I believe we can do better. We can’t demand that people step up if we don’t meet them halfway. Look, you control the banks. Shit, you can move borders! You can knock down a forest with an email, you can feed a million people with a phone call.”

“But the question is, who’s in the room when you make those decisions? Is it the people you’re gonna impact? Or is it just more people like you? I mean, this girl died trying to stop you, and no one has stopped for a second to ask why. You’ve gotta do better, Senator. You’ve gotta step up. Because if you don’t, the next Karli will. And you don’t wanna see 2.0.”

“People believed in her cause so much that they helped her defy the strongest governments in the world. Why do you think that is? Look, you people have just as much power as an insane god or a misguided teenager. The question you have to ask yourself is, ‘How are you going to use it?’”

And with that, he stepped away, Despite the soreness all over your body, you waved excitedly over to him. “You did so good!” you congratulated. He gave a polite nod to Walker before moving over to Bucky.

“Sorry, I was, uh, I was texting and so, all I heard was, um, ‘a Black guy in the stars and stripes.’” You swatted at his arm, causing him to chuckle lightly. “Nice job, Cap.”

Sam thanked him. As you three made your way away from the paparazzi, you saw a familiar figure dressing her wounds.

“Sharon,” you greeted. She looked up briefly before shielding her face from the slew of cameras nearby.

“You’re blocking my light,” she commented.

“We gotta get you to a hospital,” Sam said, eyeing the gunshot wound that was still oozing blood. Bucky made a snarky comment about her not listening as she and Sam spoke.

“Uh, Cap?” A paramedic approached and Sharon ducked, hiding her identity.

“I think he’s talking to you,” she joked. “Look, I’m sorry for how things ended down there. For what it’s worth, suit looks good on you.” And just like that, she was gone.

Bucky took your hand in his. “Ready to go home?” You nodded, lightly squeezing his hand in your own. You bid farewell to Sam, beginning the short walk home.

“I didn’t forget my promise,” the new Captain called out. Bucky only gave him a nod.

You walked a few blocks before speaking. “It’s alarming that I came out of this mess being mildly okay with both Zemo and Walker,” you said, contemplating what that meant for you morally.

“There’s been weirder things to happen.”

“What, like us being idiots and Sam, Nat, and Steve actually being helpful?”

Bucky bent down to press a kiss to your lips. “Exactly.”

———————————————————————

“Is this outfit too much?”

Nat, Yelena, and Steve and sat on your bed, surrounded by other outfits you’d tossed around.

“Hon, you need to stop worrying about your outfit. You’re gonna be on a plane, and then on a dock in Louisiana. It’s not the goddamn Met Gala,” Nat groaned, flopping back into your bed. They’d all stopped by the tower for a visit (read: to harass you and Bucky) and were planning on decorating a room for the younger Black Widow.

Steve had ranted for an hour straight about John Walker and the government, pacing until you physically stopped him. He called Sam to congratulate him, saying he cheered through the whole speech.

“Fuck, that reminds me. We need to figure out who’s attending that gala next year.”

Yelena perked up. “I can go to the Met Gala?” You nodded, turning in the mirror and scrunching your nose at the silky blouse. “Yeah, at least a few of us go every year.” She immediately got on her phone, searching for matching outfits for her and her dog, Fanny, who was laying next to her. You didn’t have the heart to tell her pets weren’t allowed at the gala, but honestly, she’d probably get away with it.

With a huff, you tugged off the top and threw it on a chair. “It’s too much. I’m gonna wear a tank top.”

Steve threw a top at you. “It’s fall.”

“I don’t give a shit. It’s Louisiana.”

Once you changed and were slightly more content with your clothing choice, you put on jewelry and shouldered your bag. A knock sounded from your door.

“Hey,” you called. Bucky peeked in, eyes widening when he saw the three superheroes sprawled around your room. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“(Y/N) needed help. We are help,” Yelena explained breezily. “Ooh, Natasha, look at this dog bowtie.” Nat leaned over, humming in approval at whatever picture she was showing her.

“Doll? You ready?” You nodded, taking Bucky’s hand as your three friends made kissing noises behind you. You rolled your eyes, playfully flipping them off before leaving Avengers Tower, making your way to the airport thanks to your maybe-too-fast driving.

Tony’s jet was always comfortable, with drinks stored away in a fridge and the seats somehow always comfortable. You piloted the plane for a short while before allowing FRIDAY to take over, engaging autopilot and turning on the TV.

“I’m glad he invited us down,” you said, settling onto the arm of the chair where Bucky sat. He nodded, resting his head against your side.

“I’m glad you’re coming with me. I’m glad you’re here.” You ran a head through his hair, relaxing as the rising sun shone through the plane window.

“Me too.”

———————————————————————

“I honestly don’t think he’ll notice.”

“You dropped the cake, Jamie. It’s kinda hard to miss.”

Bucky held the very demolished cake in his hands, mild panic taking over. “Um… it’s fine. It’ll be fine. We just don’t say anything about it.” You nodded.

“Say anything about what?” you asked jokingly, winking at him as you both got out of another rental car. Sam’s friends and family had decided to throw a cookout on the pier, and the sweet smells of southern cooking filled the air as you passed a few grills.

AJ and Cass came sprinting at Bucky, who proceeded to air fight them as you took the battered cake, slipping it onto a nearby picnic table and hoping no one noticed its state. You glanced to both sides before scooting away.

“Buck! (Y/N)!” Sam ran over to hug you both, introducing you to his friends. All the while, the brunet super-soldier stayed close by you, either holding your hand or resting a hand on your back. You stayed equally close, as if separating was some impossible feat.

However, you were forced to split off when Sam tugged Bucky away to entertain some of the kids. As you made your way around the party, you grabbed a lemonade, sipping the perfectly mixed beverage as you watched two kids hang off of his metal arm, with him not even breaking a sweat as he spoke to Sarah and some of her friends.

“I would’ve moved in with Sam after the whole Thanos deal, but he’s just so bad at sharing,” you heard him say. Sarah nodded, beginning a story about the Captain and how he couldn’t share cereal boxes.

You walked up, smiling as one of the kids waved to you. “He’s still like that. Has to have his Cookie Crunch all to himself.”

“Don’t hate on the Cookie Crunch, (L/N),” Sam warned, approaching with a beer in his hand. “That trashed cake yours?” he asked, gesturing vaguely to the dessert table.

“What trashed cake?” you asked innocently, shrugging. Bucky exchanged a glance with you, and you both burst into a fit of laughter.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I knew it. You two are ridiculous; where’d this come from? The gas station?”

“Um,” you stammered, eventually pointing at him with a snap of your fingers. “Yeah, actually. Spot-on.”

“It’s probably infected with, like, twelve different diseases,” he grumbled.

Bucky scoffed as the other kid jumped down from his arm. “Cake is cake.”

“My thoughts exactly.” You smiled. He bent down, pressing a kiss to your lips. Sam complained, disgusted, but you shut out his protests. A man shouting that the food was ready interrupted his groans.

After dinner was served and everyone had eaten, Bucky pulled you to the side, fiddling nervously with his vibranium hand. It whirred, something you’d come to learn to mean that he was either frustrated, worried, or anxious. The vibranium prosthetic seemed to be honed in on his emotions.

“What’s up?” you asked, taking his hands in yours.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he reassured, running his thumbs over your hands. “I just… I wanted to ask you properly. I know dating’s changed a lot since the ‘40s, but I know the basics.”

“And I was wondering if you’d be my girlfriend? Like, officially?”

You smiled, nodding instantly and jumping up to hug him. “Yes, yes of course. I’d really like that,” you whispered into the crook of his neck. He gently pulled away, breaths still shaking.

“Is it too much to say… you know?”

A grin passed over your face briefly before you feigned confusion. “Hmm, I don’t know. You’ll have to tell me what it is.”

Bucky laughed under his breath, gently pressing a palm to the side of your face. He leaned in, your foreheads grazing as you made eye contact.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[henry-and-the-seven-lords]

Okay, so I’ve read several Obey me boys react to a sick MC hc’s/fic but normally MC has a simple cold or fever and after watching the episodes “Suds” from Spongebob, I decided why not amplify that shit? :D (It’s more of a crack, angst, and fluff)

I’d like to request head cannons of the Brothers reacting to a sick!MC BUT they are gravely ill; I’m talking sunken eyes, raspy voice, vomiting after every meal, hella frail, and they just look like walking death. To make matters even scarier, MC’s eye or arm would fall off while they’re trying to calm the panicking bois.

MC: I’m fine, it was just a cough ☺️ *eye falls out* Don’t worry about that 🙂 *puts eye back in*

What makes it hurt even more is that MC’s been overworking themselves with RAD, helping the brothers, and trying to survive the Devildom to not even worry about their health. Literally demons that would ignore/threaten MC became concerned for the new human. It doesn’t help that MC just wants to help others so damn bad. If the illness strains their legs to the point of them being unable to walk, that’s not gonna stop them from physically pulling themselves to where the brothers are to help them, noodle legs and all.

MC:*is on Death’s doorstep but hears the Brothers talk about a problem in the kitchen*

Lucifer: Beel, don’t eat the jar of you can’t open it-*damn near chokes on his tongue when he sees MC dragging their body to the boys and they look even worse than usual*

MC: I can help :D

I’m messed up for such an idea and I understand if you don’t wanna do it or don’t feel comfy with it. Something about seeing these bois become hella protective and worried for MC makes my heart happy 😭

No, I would love to do it, but MC puts her eye back!? Is she a zombie? (Maybe that is a different headcannon/AU for a different day...)

I looked up the Suds (disease) forum on the spongebob wiki and it said it was the cold with extra symptoms. So MC has an extreme cold! One that makes their eyes pop out and their arms fall off... with a dash of "I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms, at night I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep."

I am stuck on how to make this a headcannon set, so these are going to blurbs of little interactions the brothers have had with a gravely ill!MC

This was really fun to write and kind of what I needed to day. I hope you enjoy this and let me know if this isn't right so I can fix it!

TW: Mentions broken bones, falling out eyes, and pulling off arms

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Brothers Reactions to a Gravely ill MC

💙 Lucifer and Beel ❤-

Lucifer has been going around the House most of the morning taking care of his Brothers in MC's stead. MC woke up with a terrible pounding in their head and he knew that they just needed to rest by how pale their skin was. Yet it was difficult for him to manage his brothers without them. Especially when it came to Beel and his appetite.

"Beel please do not eat the entire jar of peanut butter."

"But it is faster..."

"No it isn't, you just think it is-"

Lucifer stops his scolding as he hears smacking coming from the hallway. Both brothers look toward each other before slowly approaching the doorway.

There, pulling themselves by their hands across the dirty floor is MC. Their legs are twisted in a painful way behind them.

Immediately the pair run over with Beel picking them up in his arms and Lucifer inspecting their legs confusedly.

"MC, how did you do this?" Beels voice is lace with concern.

"Oh. I rolled off my bed and they ended up like that. I wanted to come and see how you were doing!" A smile fills their face as they stare at the two perplexed demons.

"Is there a way to fix something like this?" Lucifer face is filled with confusion.

"Oh yeah! Beel, set me down in the chair." The two brothers then watch as MC snaps their kneecaps back into place before beginning to giggle and swing their legs.

"See! All better! They are still a little too weak for me to walk though."

The two glance at each other completely disturbed.

Lucifer swallows the lump in his throat and eventually speaks up, "I didn't know human illnesses were so... brutal."

💚 Satan, Levi 🧡 and Belphie 💜 -

Satan, Levi, and Belphie were given some very important jobs. They were told to feed the sick human, give them medicine, and make them sleep. They were also supposed to help the human stay comfortable so there wouldn't be any incidents like this morning.

"Let me fix your pillow, MC" Satan reaches around gently fluffing it while they lean forward.

"You guys are so sweet, but you really don't have to do this. I am fine! Seriously!"

"I'm not so sure about that..." Levi as WI concern as he hold up a spoonful of soup to MC's mouth.

MC opens their mouth and hums in satisfaction as they taste it.

"Lucifer said there were some... complications... this morning and you need to be watched over. So we are here if you need anything." Belphie's voice is soft sleep as he speaks. His head rests on MC's lap as they card their fingers through his hair.

"Whatever you- Achoo!" As MC sneezes their hands cup in front of their face. When they remove them their eyeball sits in their hands.

The shock of the sneeze wakes Belphie and he sits up.

"AHHHH" Levi jumps back dropping the soup on the ground.

"What are you screaming about Levia-" Satan looks to Levi to see him pointing at MC's hands when he looks down he sees their eye staring back at him and he pales.

"Ugh, I got hair on it again." MC begins to pull off a hair as Belphie finishes rubbing his eyes and sees for himself what the commotion is about.

"Oh no. MC, I don't think this is normal." Belphie's voice is soft as he looks to MC's face.

"No, it's fine. See." MC then proceeds to pop their eye back in and the three watch in horror as it spins around until the iris is facing forward once again. All the while MC is smiling.

"This can't be a normal human disease." Levi says as he holds himself back from vomiting.

💛 Mammon and Asmo 💖 -

Asmo had offered to take care of all of MC's hygiene needs while they got better. He had thought it would be some good alone time with them. Sadly, he was interrupted when Mammon had insisted on helping bathe MC. Now MC sits in a warm bubble bath and Mammon and Asmo sit on the rim of the tub helping scrub MC arm and hair respectively.

"You both are so sweet for doing this. I would have been fine taking a shower after I got better." MC smiles quickly at Mammon and then up towards Asmo.

"Well I couldn't have you sitting in your own filth! Even though you look amazing all the time, a nice bath can relax your aching bone and make you feel better." Asmo has a chipper tone as he grabs some water from the bathtub to rinse out the shampoo.

"Yeah. Besides I couldn't have Asmo here doing it by himself. I didn't want him takin' advantage of ya in this state." Mammon grumbled as he gently tugged on MC's arm while scrubbing.

"I would never take advantage of them, Mammon. I am not some scumbag like you." Asmo's voice got louder as he began to scrub harder.

"I ain't no scumbag! Tell him MC!" As he speaks he tugs a little harder and the pair he a tear as MC's arm comes off at the shoulder. MC winces at the sound.

"Mammon, what did you do to my precious MC!?" Asmo clings to MC's head trying to pull them as far away from Mammon as possible.

"Nothing! I wasn't pulling that hard! Was I MC? I thought I was being gentle?!" Mammon's voice is frantic as he still holds MC's arm.

MC snatches the arm back before saying, "Calm down. Both of you. It's fine."

With a loud popping sound MC pushes their shoulder back into place. They sigh in relief and swing their arm to make sure the limb still works.

"There we go. You don't know how cold your shoulder bone gets without an arm attached to it."

MC then ducks their head below the water rinsing the rest of the shampoo out. While the two demons sit there completely dazed.

So that is what Lucifer tried to warn them about.

[istherewifiinhell]

well in response to nothing in particular

A. a violence. a violence has been done onto my person. wehh, wuhhhhahb. adjfj habuhhabbahbb bwah. [paces. lays one the ground several times. hides under my desk. abuses my posture helping pillow. goes to draw some difficult anatomy for the length of one marianas trench astoria] coughing fit. it is. it is. wound fucking wednesday. oh my god. weh. wuhhh. you. drew megops. u drew ur first ever transformers……… for. (points)🥺 BUH. ES… warring leaders horny violence grappling…. phugh (tries to picture it with their personalities. gets dizzy) THE, your GRASP of all these shappessss. in 3d space….. his BACKKKKK. oh my god. Oh my god???? LEG GRAB…. leg placement………. [has to get up and takes a candy and freezy pop break] how u got megs arm there is UNREAL. im so so insane with all these fucking details u drew and got them so so. FORMS. tangible adjghbjd touchably. real. optimus' HAND. and all the GUTS STUFF. guh. RENDERING. thatssss so so so beautiful painted cell esk. gorgeous gorgeous metals and glowy lit car paint. LIGHT from theirrr eyesssss gwah. and IM so inlove with a vaired line weight so CHUNKY. its soooo COOOOOL

I HAVE GOT. to commend u on the. nasty viscousness of megs gut punch move here. ITS SO. its so fucking perfect hed be gloating so so meanly. GUH. wuh. hghhhh. god. god. to see these two specifically doing the desperate scrambling in the dirt nasty fight. bwha.

im so. im so insane. on the AMOUNT OF STUFF. youve been doing. joelle dropping hints hes gonna KILL ME. by making my dash full of things that KILL ME. (which yes OFC. in turn. made me wanna draw related. things.) AND THE REFERENCINGS TO A MYSTERIOUS ART PIECE.

I DID. laugh my ass off when u rb' the tfs in The DRESS art meme. that i see like 12 times a day. I HOPE. YOU GET TO ACHIEVE YOUR DREAM ALSO

GOD. the linework is so. beloved. appreciated thankful to see it CAUSE REALLY THO. so many fucking details. thats crazy….. WGAH. T_T fr fr. seeing people drawing tfs LIKE OH. theres. an art in itself of simplifying these beasts. IM GLAD. IT WAS MEDITATIVE/.. IM GLAD. uuuu had fun…. guh. drawing megopppppppp.

U HAVE. indeed just listed a bunch of es megs features that make me start barking like a dog yea. his BUILD and hisss face. no yeah. unreal. THE hip skirts/black panels are indeed a design element that makes me go crazzyyyy in every iteration they are present in. FUN FACT. really high end toys have waist elements like that, hinge to maximize leg articulation. a fact i am. normal about. OPPIES wipers are a boon to humourists and perverts the world over. really.

JHBHJB no no fr. the art of tf blocking is like. well. u cant fucking see any of that. incredible. most beautifully noticeable in shows when they fuck it up (characters looking places that they cant see past their own MASSIVE STUFF FILLED bodies. or crowd shots gone awry)

THIS IS. very very VEYRVERYVERY kind. truly truly ALWAYS so so inspired in various ways by u and ur blogging and various JUST. ways of being in this world. to have fun and just. work with the things one may have going on. kfjsdnkjfd WHICH. if i think of the ways u have been kind in that regard on this post ALSO. GUH.

apropos of aaaabsolutely nothing happy EST wound fucking wednesday. this post is just for that one reader

[ID: rendered robots franchise fanart of oppie and megs (the recent cartoon for kids iteration of them) stradding each other mid-wrestle. they both show wear and tear. megs, scowling, is punching op's grille-abdomen, warping the metal, other hand gripping his shoulder to pull him down into the hit and falling backwards a bit with the momentum himself. oppie, frowning deepy or grimacing, has one hand gripping megs' thigh and the other on one of his shoulder spikes to keep him from being able to maneuver or escape. he reels back with the punch but still rests stably on splayed-out knees, one slid under megs, adding to megs' unbalance and making him kick out his own leg that oppie straddles.]

pre-canon war stuffs........................ that can at least exist in my mind palace of Not Really Knowing Jack Shit

ONE good turn deserves another i would say...... meaning a big trip thru the lb tab collecting a folder of relevant unconscionable violence vibes i didnt even get to use all of*/push as far as i could have. and then a lot of time doing chain-licking meditations on big blocky 3d shapes. and then a lot of time wrestling with that one csp 3d model pose set. WELL. when i saw what u were sketching the other day i lost my fucking mind trying not to say anything kjsdfg so hopefully good sign this will be received well o7 <22

*my dreams of putting tfs in clothes was not an appropriate venture for first times drawing tfs. YET

+ just the lines bc good lord i drew so many details on Those Things. looking at other ppls art styles. i didnt even have to do that i dont even need to feel bad abt the bits that broke my spacial understanding no one is doing 1:1 replicas. but it was kind of nicely meditative to whittle away at actually i enjoyed it

[ID: same pic, colors and shading removed to show oppies lineart was a bright blue and megs' a bright orange]

things i gained a heightened appreciation for in this venture: the way that megs' pelvis design elements look like he has a jacket tied around his waist. CUTE. his BIIIIIG fucking boots i didnt get to show off. his faaaaaaaace chiseling. oppies 1:1 accuracy little windshield wipers. difference in frame between them (most of the robots seem to have narrow waists but i like that i can accurately draw megs still a little Built there. fun!) the joiiiiinnnnntt articulation logic on these guys is so neat kudos to. franchise full of robot designers that are extra incentivized to make them at least somewhat real-world workable.

+ honorable mention: THEYRE SO WIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE. taking up the entire 4:3 frame space in episodes. throwing out half the oversketch notes i took of the csp models bc they simply did not matter and would not be visible underneath both of these guys blocking each other kjghsdf

anyways. to say. HAPPY TO BLOG AT THE SAME TIME AS YOUUUUUUUUUU and heres to another year of getting to know the most delightful wonderful realm of things and ways to get weird with things thru it vicariously and firsthand. dearly beloved blogging bestie who i hope has a nice day ^_^!!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Heart-Shaped Box💟9/End

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), forced pregnancy, some violence, intimidation, some elements untagged for sake of plot.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister Series: Get Your Fix

Summary: You accept a job as an au pair, but not all is as it seems.

Note: Finally finishing this one up. Sorry it took me ages but I’m doing my best to go back and wrap up whatever I can.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Bucky pulled out of you as he held your head down, bouncing the bed beneath you as he pushed himself onto his back. You panted as your sweat dampened the sheet beneath you and he leaked between your thighs. You winced as you rolled onto your side and slowly sat up. 

He had you whining loud enough that you had no doubt your guests heard it all. It only seemed to encourage his partner-in-crime as you soon heard a similar scene on the other side of the wall. You were sickened by that noise and stood warily as you cupped your hand over your cunt and scooped up his cum before it could drip onto the floor.

“I told you to keep it down,” he snickered and sat up, his muscled back to you as he stretched his arms above him, “get the shower started, I’ll be in shortly. You girls have a lot of work to do today.”

You grumbled and dragged your feet to the attached bathroom. The low buzz of the pipes filled the silence and you stepped under the steamy water. The moment of calm broke sharply as Bucky appeared from the other side of the curtain and stepped in behind you. He had you clean him with a lathered loofah and you bore it only for the eventuality of time away from him.

The other woman meant you wouldn’t be trapped with just him. It was little help or hope but it was better than your former solitary torture.

You dressed in black dress with daisies and made yourself look like his perfect housewife. You couldn’t hold the smile and make him believe it all the way but he wouldn’t anyway. He flicked your chin and clicked his tongue.

“Mmm, you’re getting there,” he mused as he dropped his hand and reached around to slap your ass, “better go get breakfast on. I’ll check in on our guests.” He squeezed and winked, “be a good girl.”

Those words made your insides curdled but you swallowed your disgust and nodded, “yes, sir.”

He stepped out behind you and watched you go down the hall to the stairs and you heard him knock on the door as you descended. You went to the kitchen and pulled out the frying pan and the coconut oil. You lined up the ingredients for crepes on the counter and took two bananas from the yellow bunch. Your mother used to make the oversweet delicacy and you needed a reminder that you were still that girl.

You stopped as you searched for something to keep the crepes warm after you assembled them, a lid that could fit over the plate or something akin to it. The lower cupboards you rarely opened. Bucky left the cleaning supplies on the counter with your chore list every day and you never bothered to look for anything else.

You stopped and stared at the drain cleaner and the can of toxic oven spray. Well, that wouldn’t be subtle enough, would it? They’d smell either of those a mile away. Anything under the counter would be easily discovered but it did give you an idea.

You closed the wooden door and went back to your task. You heard the voices in the next room and the scrape of the chairs on the floor. Steve’s girl appeared in the doorway, rubbing her stomach as her face contorted.

“Smells sweet,” she said as you simmered the bananas with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a little butter, “almost too sweet.”

“Morning sickness?” you asked innocently.

“All the time sickness,” she sighed, “anything I can help with?”

“Do you know how to make crepes?” you asked as you whisked the batter.

“Not really,” she shrugged, “but I can learn.”

“It’s easy. Takes less than a minute,” you waved her over and tested the temperature of the pan with a flick of water, “so you wanna put just a little batter in…” you ladled in a careful dollop and lifted the pan, “you spread it like this,” you tilted it so the batter spread all around, “you just use the spatula a little on the edges to make sure they don’t stick and you flip.”

It was like second nature and she nodded quietly as she watched. The crepe cooked quickly and you threw it onto a plate and put the pan back to the burner.

“You think you can handle that?” you covered the plate with the lid of a pat to keep it warm. “Then we put some of the bananas and wrap them, bit of cream on top and some icing sugar…”

“You like to cook?” she wondered as she added batter to the hot pan.

“Not particularly, but my mother taught me,” you shrugged, “she can cook anything.”

“Oh,” she flipped the crepe and glanced at the door, “I suppose… it keeps him happy.”

“He’s never happy,” you murmured and cleared your throat, “so, you must be excited to move in!”

“I guess,” she slid the crepe onto the plate as you lifted the foggy lid, “you know how it is.”

You smiled and she tilted her head as she squinted at you. You went to the drawer where there was a box of blank recipe cards and continued speaking as you fished out a pencil from another.

“It’s always nice to get settled,” you said as you wrote, ‘they can hear us’.

“I suppose, nice to be in one place,” she replied stiffly as her features relaxed.

‘I have a plan,’ you wrote and raised your voice just slightly, “oh, you know, we didn’t even get you a housewarming gift. I’ll have to remind James.”

You went to the burner and held out the card under the coil until it caught. You threw it into the sink and watched it burn and curl. You ran water over it as it turned to ash and washed it away. You nudged the bowl towards her and leaned on the counter, “need help with that?”

“No,” she said as she started again, “I’m getting the hang of it.”

💟

You looked around the front room of the house next door. Steve’s girl opened one of the stacked boxes. For once, the men were gone and you could just enjoy their absence. 

Bucky agreed that a gift was in order and Steve had mentioned wanting to explore their new hometown. You tried not to seem eager but even the small walk across the lawns enlivened you. How long had it been since you’d been outside?

You started with the pictures. You left the frames in a stack as she assured you Steve would put the nails in and hang them. Then you moved onto the kitchenware and you kept her from lifting the heavy box of dishes. She seemed to forget about her condition and the reminder made her frown.

You stood behind the counter and set the dishes in the cupboards one at a time, the plates clacking one on top of each other. She watched from the other side as she arranged the silverware in the plastic tray.

“Can you do me a favour?” you asked as you kept on.

“What?” she asked as she dropped a butter knife with the rest.

“I know they’ve locked us in but can you check the garage door? Can we get in there?” you asked evenly.

“What?” she blinked and pushed herself straight, “even if we can, they won’t have been stupid enough--”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I know we can’t get out that way either. It’s the same at our house. Everything is bolted up tight.” You assured her, “just go and check while I get these sorted.”

She left you and you snapped shut the door and finished with the utensils. You slid the tray into the drawer as she returned, rubbing her stomach.

“Yeah, we can get in but it’s mostly empty,” she said, “so…”

“Mostly empty?”

“Yeah, just the car--”

“The car,” you rounded the counter and curled two fingers for her to follow you.

You headed for the plain white door that led to the garage. You hopped down the steps as she remained at the top and watched you tentatively. You went to the car as she crossed her arms.

“He took the keys,” she said.

You tried the handle and the door opened. “I know,” you said as you put a knee in the front seat and peered into the back. Nothing. 

You felt around under the dash and found the lever for the trunk. You pulled it and it popped. You shut the door and went around the back of the car. You felt around the spare tire and your hand felt something plastic. You grabbed the handle of the half-filled jug and pulled it out.

“Hey,” you held up the bright blue anti-freeze, “do you wanna cook dinner here tonight? A housewarming dinner?”

Her brows knitted and she gave a long blink. Her lips parted then curved.

“You can’t mean--” she let out a scoff.

“It’s sweet. Hopefully they won’t notice if I add enough sugar to the cake,” you breathed, “we can’t let them settle. This is our chance.”

“I don’t-- I don’t know. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’re still in the same boat,” you turned your free hand out, “that man has drugged me for months. I think it’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine.”

She swallowed and looked down at her stomach. She inhaled and cradled her bump. “It can’t get worse than this, can it?”

💟

You spent the day unpacking, the distraction not much of one as you thought of the bottle you hid at the back of the cupboard. By the time the men returned, you were ready to move onto the second floor. 

Bucky offered a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and basket of expensive macarons as your gift to your new neighbours. He forced a kiss from you before he let you follow Steve’s girl upstairs.

You sat in the bedroom and heard the men ascend shortly after. You peeked in on them as you opened the linen closet to shove in the spare sheets. They were hammering together a crib. You knocked lightly on the doorframe as you watched them.

“Huh, what’s going on?” Bucky looked up from the directions.

“Um, we were just… thinking, we could have dinner here tonight? A little housewarmer? I could grab some ingredients from ours--”

“Give me a list, I’ll grab it,” Bucky puffed as he bent to help hold the rail in place for Steve, “that sound okay?”

“Fine by me,” Steve smiled, “it’ll be nice to have our feet on solid ground.”

You left them and returned to your only ally as she sat on the bed and stared at a packet of pills. She crushed it in her grasp and huffed. She flicked away tears with her knuckles. She tossed them over her shoulder.

“He kept them,” she snarled, “it’s like he’s mocking me.”

“What?” you neared her and sat carefully beside her.

“I never… I worked with him, you know? He brought me these drinks and I didn’t realise he was dosing them. The stuff, it made me itchy… it made me so hot and I just needed anything. I hopped on him I was so desperate and-- I told him to stay away. I realised what he’d done and I told him to leave me alone and you know what he did,” she crossed her arms over her stomach.

“No, I--” you touched her elbow.

“He broke into my apartment and replaced my pills. And he didn’t leave me alone,” she spat, “he did this all and he still has the goddamn pills like they’re some sort of trophy.”

She hung her head and grunted in frustration. You leaned against her and put your arm over her shoulders. She let you and the tension drained from her body.

“Even if we get out…” she whispered, “I’ll always have this piece of him.”

She pressed her palms to her stomach and you frowned. There was nothing you could do or say. You’d been lucky so far, even if it only fed your suffering. You didn’t have another life to worry about.

“We don’t have to if--”

“I want to,” she hissed lowly, “I want him dead.”

💟

Usually, you tasted the icing and licked the spoon. Not that night. The blue shade of the frosting was anything but suspicious as you spread it over the fluffy cake. It was a perfect disguise. You topped it with blueberries to add to the theme and dusted on a few coloured sprinkles. You stood back and admired your work as the smell of garlic filled the kitchen.

“I know it’s not much,” Steve’s girl said as she stirred the sauce, “but it’s what I can manage.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you said as you took the meatballs of the burner and tested the spaghetti, “noodles are perfect.”

You strained the pasta and helped pour the meatballs into the sauce. You mixed it up and poured it into a large glass dish and the noodles into another. You brought them out to the table and called the men to dinner before you fetched the wine, both alcoholic and not.

Steve’s girl sat as you poured a glass for each of you and the men sat. You set the bottle down and nestled in next to Bucky as he served himself. When the plates were full, the other woman nudged Steve and whispered in his ear.

He cleared his throat and stood, “um, I know it’s just us but I guess I should say thank you for all the help and we’re excited to be neighbours… can’t wait for the kids to be running around these halls together.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his glass, “hopefully…” he muttered doubtfully and looked at you, “that better be what she’s having,” he nodded to your glass.

You held it out for him to sniff and he gave you a sour look. He tutted and sat back to twirl noodles around his fork as he set aside his glass. You took a sip of the gutless wine and speared a meatball on your tines. You chewed and looked at Steve’s girl. She let Steve rub her thigh under the table and forced a smile.

She was playing it well and you felt as if you would fall apart. You felt as if Bucky would see right through you the minute you walked in with the cake. What would he do then? Steve couldn’t hurt his girl, she had the baby, but you, Bucky could replace you still. Maybe that was for the best but it didn’t mean you weren’t scared shitless.

You cleared the plates and retreated to the kitchen. Just you. You’d gone over it, you didn’t want them to catch on. You didn’t get too close with them around, you acted like strangers, you really were after all.

You sliced the cake into careful portions and came out with two plates at a time. You put them in front of each chair and sat. As you did, Steve’s girl covered her mouth and gagged. She pushed herself up unsteadily.

“Honey?” Steve asked as he rubbed her lower back.

“It’s the baby I--” she gulped sickeningly, “I gotta--”

She rushed out and Steve gave a look, “nausea. It’s been like this for weeks.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay,” you stood, “go ahead and start without us.”

You went down the hall and as you neared the bathroom, Steve’s girl opened the door and pulled you inside. She looked genuinely sick and you smelled vomit on her breath. She turned and rinsed her mouth and shuddered. 

“I didn’t actually feel sick until I got in here,” she wiped her face with the hand cloth, “when I realised--”

“Everything’s in the trunk,” you assured her, “once they’re out, we get the keys and go.”

“How do we know--”

“Retch,” you hissed, “we wait until we’re sure.”

She gave an exaggerated hurl and you heard the clink of porcelain and silver and the drone of voices. You listened through the door as she watched you in the tight space of the half-bath.

“I’m thinking about getting her an… exam,” Bucky’s deep tone carried, “maybe she can’t…”

You let out the breath you were holding and closed your eyes. Just a little longer. 

When you heard a sudden lull, your eyes rounded and you turned the handle and let yourself out into the hall. She crept close behind as you peered through the open archway. Both men had their faces on their plates in the crumbs of vanilla cake and smears of blue icing.

“Let’s go,” you went to Steve and shoved your hand into his pocket, “shit, they’re not here.”

“Here!” she pulled her hand from his jacket hung on the rack, “you think they’re dead?”

You looked from one to the other and shakily felt along Steve’s neck. “Still a pulse. I think maybe… they’re only knocked out.”

“The serum,” she shook her head, “means we have to go quick.”

You hurried after her and followed her down into the garage. She climbed into the driver’s seat and moved it back as her stomach pressed to the wheel. You got in the other side as your body trembled with adrenaline. She hit the button attached to the keys and the door slowly raised behind her.

As she reversed, you felt a sudden shock around your neck and yiped. You’d forgotten entirely about the necklace. She stopped suddenly and watched you writhe in agony.

“Shit, shit,” you leaned forward until the shock stopped, “the necklace.”

“Fuck,” she reached for it and you batted her away.

“No, you’ll get zapped,” you gasped as you pulled on it desperately. It was too tight to get past your chin but too strong to snap. 

She took the keys out and tossed them in your lap. You lifted them and twisted the necklace around the house key but there was no give. You sobbed and dropped your hand.

“I can’t,” you looked at the bent key, “you gotta go without me.”

“What? No, I can’t--”

“You have a baby,” you said as tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, “go, please.” You dropped the keys on the dash and opened the door. “I can’t--”

“No, you have to come with me,” she begged.

“No, you have to go before they wake up,” you got out as you grasped your neck, the searing pain still hot on your flesh, “I’ll… I’ll survive. I have this far.”

“N--”

“Shut up!” you slammed the door and hit the hood, “go!”

She stared at you and her lip quivered. She gave you one last sad look and grabbed the keys. She sniffed as she gripped the wheel and backed out down the drive. 

You fell to your knees and sat back on your ass as you watched her drive away. You shook your head and held it in your hands as you sat behind the invisible wall of your prison.

The tires screamed at the end of the street and the noise of the engine faded into the distance. You laid on your back across the concrete and covered your face with your arm. At least you could live with knowing you got her out. Well, you couldn’t really say you’d be living. You’d be alive but little more than that. 

But you’d survive knowing that you kept one person from that pitiful fate. Even if it wasn’t you. Even if you knew that you would pay for it in the end. Even when those men woke up and found you laying in the garage, the sweet flavour of antifreeze on their tongues as the bile of their anger overflowed and drowned you. 

You couldn’t do anything but wait. If you were lucky, they might just kill you and that in itself would be freedom.

💟 💟 💟

END

[floatingonalowvibe]

chapter six, part two

The north pole. always bright, colorful, and full of energy.

the sleigh was being lowered into the stalls, and the smell of the workshop filled my nose. a smile grew on my face.

once we hit the floor, I was dashing out of the sleigh, bouncing up and down like an exited child.

I could hear the chatter of the elves as they worked, the sounds of hammers and drills whirring away.

I was walking through the entrance of the workshop, taking in the sights, it has been forever since I was here last, but it felt the same, the comforting smells and sounds filled my senses. A few familiar faces popped out at me, a few old friends.

“m/n!!”

The voice stopped my viewing of the workshop, as I turned my head to see who it was. The exited voice I heard belonged to none other than Judy, the one and only.

I quickly did a little gay boy run over to her, engulfing her into a hug.

She returned it with just as much energy as I put into mine, and maybe even putting in more.

“Oh my god.... it's been so long!!” I said, releasing the hug but holding her shoulders.

“It has, too long even!” she responded. We brought each other into another hug,

“Well, I hope you guys get to make up for lost time while m/n stays here." dad spoke from behind us, " I've got to go check on a few things, you and Judy go find Bernard, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you ." he finished with a wink, he was off, probably to his office.

Judy grabbed my hand, leading me towards where I believe to be the bakery. she walked with such a hurry, making me suspect she had to tell me something.

we entered the bakery, the smell and warmth filling my senses. the elves just got done with a batch of something cinnamon flavored, as the smell was strong.

"what do you need to tell me?" I asked as we stepped in her office, me closing the door behind her.

she turned around, a smile growing on her face. It was a mischievous smile, like she had a big silly secret to tell me.

"Ok but first I wanna tell you to not act weird when I tell you this, and don't tell anyone you heard this from me, ok?" she said.

I was more intrigued than ever at this moment, wanting to know what she had to say so bad. was it elf drama? was it something about my dad?

"well, spill the beans!" I said, moving closer to her, anticipation raising in me.

" well, " she started " Bernard has been going absolutely bonkers about you visiting, like he wont stop talking about you to me on our breaks! "

I felt my cheeks begin to redden at the thought of him talking about me, and even so him being exited to see me. a small weak smile started to form on my face, soon taking over it.

"Oh my snowflakes are you blushing??!!" I heard her exclaim.

I stopped all movement for a second, and I realised, I really was blushing. I was blushing over Bernard. Him.

I started stuttering, mentlally cursing myself for not being able to form words.

"hey, it's ok, he just been really stressed, and I bet you're the thing that's going to bring him out of his gloomy mood." she said, her voice soft and mother-like.

I nodded, not wanting to say anything.

Why in the world did I react that way? why did my face feel that hot? why couldn't I speak? why does the thought of Bernard, of all people, missing me make my head spin? do I like him?

No, I know I don't. Ive already told myself that having that type of relationship with Bernard is off the table, and besides, he's an elf! who's who knows how old! and I'm just an average 19 year old boy, freshly dropped out of college and always high. he would never lower his standards to be with someone like me.

a/n: so the new posting schedule will be about every 1-2 weeks. I am going to be starting another story (Eddie munson) soon so I might hyperfocus on that for a while and forget about this one for a few days. anyways drink some water.

[cat-induced-fever-dream]

Acquaintances

Pairing: Wanda x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Description: Wanda meets someone who doesn’t treat her like a villain, but she doesn’t know who you really are.

Notes: I promise it’s fluff and not a trap. Also sorry about my hiatus, I’m just super unmotivated to do anything. So here’s my feeble offering to try and get back into writing.

- - -

Wanda groaned at the sight of a man with a camera. All she wanted was to pop down to the shops, buy some paprika, but alas, even a shopping trip was gold for the paparazzi. Maybe if she hid behind an aisle he would leave. But she heard the door open behind her. Ducking quickly behind a stack of tuna cans, she scanned the rows for the precious package.

She knew she wasn’t the favourite of the public, and the guilt of what she’d done ate her alive every night, but she was sick of being blamed. All she did was try her best, but this was the kind of thanks she got.

She frowned a little when she saw the man round the corner. She steeled herself, not wanting the tears to spring to her eyes. Turning around to face him, she- There was a person talking to him. You had a shopping bag in your hand, so you must have been another customer. Dressed smartly with a blazer, but paired with jeans and sneakers, you looked friendly, but the cold look you gave the man said otherwise. You exchanged words quietly with the reporter, and he seemed to refuse you, turning back to look at her. Realising that this was the perfect stall to get out of the store, she resumed her search. Cumin, Ginger, Paprika! Quickly glancing back to see how long she had, she saw you hand the man a business card as he hurriedly shuffled away.

“Sorry about that,” you turned to her, looking genuinely apologetic.

“Why?” she asked, it coming out harsher than she meant for it to. “It wasn’t even your fault.”

You shrugged. “You don’t deserve it.”

Wanda frowned again at this. She didn’t even know you, but you helped her out, so the least she could do was be polite. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you smiled. The two of you started to walk towards to counter. More like she did and you kind of happened to as well. “What are you cooking with the paprika?”

Sliding the bag to the cashier, she turned to face you properly. “I was making a traditional Sokovian dish.”

“I’m a big fan of trying different cuisines,” you replied, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That sounds delicious.”

Wanda’s not really sure why you’re trying to make conversation, but you didn’t seem to have an agenda, so she indulged you with a response as the two of you walked out of the store. “It is, my mum always had the best recipe.”

“Ah well, my parents weren’t around much, so I can’t say the same,” you laughed, throwing your shopping in the back of what must have been your car.

Wanda hadn’t even realised she had walked with you to your car. That was embarrassing. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I should be going now,” backing away as quickly as she could without making a fool of herself.

“Wait,” you called, “do you need a lift back?”

“You’re a stranger.”

“Well I know your name is Wanda,” you grinned cheekily, opening the passenger door. “And my name is Y/N. Guess we’re not strangers anymore. So, what do you say? It’s the least I could do, with that man bothering you.”

She’s not sure what compelled her to agree, but she found herself sitting in a plush leather seat as you adjusted the rear view mirror. Tapping the dashboard screen, you pulled up a map to Avengers Tower and backed out of the parking lot.

You didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t make conversation, bopping your head gently to whatever pop song was on the radio. Instead she spent the time trying to figure out who you were and why you were being so nice. “It’s rude to stare, you know?” you winked at her.

Wanda felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Wha- No, sorry,” she mumbled. She’d done it again, made herself look dumb. You giggle, returning your eyes to the road. Trying not to stare at you this time, she observed the fancy watch adorning your wrist, and the sleek interior of the car. You must be a businesswoman of some sort, since this clearly wasn’t your average suburban car. But you were wearing jeans. Maybe a lower level employee than?

She sat there musing, until the door suddenly opened. “We’re here,” you smiled, gesturing at the grand tower that was now her home.

Why couldn’t she stop being so awkward? This was the third time. Unbuckling the seatbelt, she stumbled out, clutching the paprika to her chest. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Wanda.” And with a small wave, you hopped back into your car and drove off.

- - -

Heading straight to her room, Wanda abandoned her plans for paprikash. The whole interaction was quite frankly, baffling. No one was ever nice to her, except for the Avengers. But you clearly knew who she was, driving her back to the tower without an address. Tossing her jacket on her bed, she sighed. It’s not like she’d ever see you again. That’s when she noticed the card peeking out from the pocket. There was a phone number printed neatly on it, and a cursive scrawl underneath. “I am actually interested in the dish though. Could I have the name of it?”

She hadn’t exactly interacted with anyone else, so it must’ve been you. Running her thumb over the ink, she was hit with a renewed sense of energy. Grabbing the paprika, she dashed back down the stairs.

- - -

You’re spinning around in your office chair when your phone goes off. Clicking on the message, a small smile makes its way into your face.

Unknown Number: this is the dish i was talking about

Unknown Number: *image*

Unknown Number: it’s paprikash

- - -

“Hey Wanda,” Tony called, a carefully wrapped package in his arms, “this came for you.”

One look at the scarlet wrapping paper, and she knew who it was from. “Thanks Tony,” she said, grabbing it and running to her room.

Setting the package gently on her bed, she untied the ribbon and unfolded the wrapping paper. Nestled in the middle, a box of cookies.

She grinned to herself. Wanda’s been texting you for a couple of months now, and now she could really say that you’re not strangers. She knows that you can’t cook, but you can bake. You’re a businesswoman “of sorts” you say, and that you’re a pretty busy person. But regardless, you hang out with her, chilling in the local coffee shop, going shopping, even just a stroll around the park. She also knows that this happiness she gets when she sees you is definitely not platonic.

Opening the lid, the chocolate aroma wafts into her room. Her favourite of your baked goods. There’s a note tucked into the side of the box, and she delicately pulls it out. “Be my girlfriend?” she read, the handwriting obviously yours. Wait. Be my girlfriend? She sat there dumbly for a couple of seconds before it hit her. You’re asking her to be your girlfriend. Wanda scrambled for her phone, snapping a picture to send to you.

Y/N: those cookies look delicious, who sent them?

The witch rolled eyes at your antics, but played along.

Wanda: idk, but i just got asked out

Y/N: whoaaaa, did you say yes?

Wanda: yes you dumbass

Y/N: okay, under other circumstances that would’ve hurt, but i’m too excited to care right now <3

Wanda: ...

Wanda: did you try to bribe me with cookies?

Y/N: it worked, didn’t it?

Wanda: i can’t believe i actually like you

Y/N: honestly, me too

Y/N: sorry it’s a busy day, but you wanna come over for dinner?

Wanda: sounds good <3

Y/N: i’ll come pick you up, see you then girlfriend

She didn’t want bugs in her room, so Wanda grabbed the box to put in her kitchen cupboard. Balancing a cookie in her mouth, she was about to close the lid, when a hand pinched one. Eyes immediately glowing red, she locked onto Sam as he backed away, half eaten cookie and hands up in surrender.

“Do that again and I will give you nightmares.”

The Falcon whistled lowly. “Okay. Protective over cookies. Got it.”

“There’s cookies?” Bucky asked, strolling in.

“No.”

“Oh okay.”

- - -

The heroes were sprawled on the couches playing a game of UNO when Wanda came down the stairs.

“What are you doing with that hoodie?” Tony asked sharply.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows. “This.. hoodie?” she replied, tugging on the drawstrings of the soft item of company clothing she was wearing.

“Yes! That’s my enemy’s!”

She didn’t really want to get into whatever nonsense the genius was spouting again. “My friend lent it to me.”

“You have friends?” joked Sam.

Steve gave the man a warning look. “It’s good that you’re adjusting to life here.”

“I think the important question here,” Natasha said from her spot, “is where are you going?”

“Dinner,” she replied, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She tried to fight the silly smile that crept into her face whenever she thought about you, but she mustn’t have hid it well enough, since the red headed spy gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

I hate you, she projected.

Nat winked back.

“Based on the way Miss Maximoff keeps anxiously glancing at the door, there is likely to be someone waiting for her,” Vision piped up. “I have searched the Internet databases, and from what I have gathered, your casual outfit means that you are going with someone you are familiar with. The sharing of clothes is usually reserved for close friends or romantic partners only.”

Of course the android had to get involved.

“Your heart rate seems to be speeding up Miss Maximoff. Are you okay?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” Tony asked slowly, “do you have a boyfriend?”

That’s when all hell broke loose.

“Who is he?”

“Is he hot?”

“Where did you meet?”

“How did you even get a boyfriend?”

“Can we meet him?”

“What-“

“Okay,” she groaned. Well it was bound to happen eventually. She just wished she could’ve gotten even a few months without the teasing. “I have a girlfriend, yes she’s hot, yes I’m going to have dinner with her, and I’ll ask about meeting. I’m going to go now.” With that, she stepped into the elevator.

“Don’t think this conversation is over witchy,” called Tony, as the doors slid shut.

- - -

“Hey,” you smiled as she slid into the car. “What took you so long?”

“The Avengers found out.”

You chuckled at that. “What, did they interrogate you or something?”

“Something like that.” She paused. “They want to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“They’re my family, and they’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Cute,” you grinned, “but I don’t know about Tony.”

“Trust me, they’re a mess a lot of the time, but they’re good people.”

You checked through your phone. “I haven’t got anything on around lunch tomorrow. I can come by then, how does that sound?”

“So you’ll come?”

“Anything for my girlfriend.”

- - -

Her green eyes locked onto you amongst the bustle of suits in the lobby.

“Hey.”

You adjusted the grey fabric of your pantsuit. “Hey yourself.”

“Did you wear the suit to impress me?” Wanda asked, delicately tugging on your tie.

“Actually, I’ve got a meeting with the investors later. Gotta make an impression, you know?”

“Well consider me impressed,” she whispered against your ear.

Blushing, you allowed Wanda to lead you to the elevator.

- - -

Clint wasn’t sure what to expect with you. But if Wanda liked you, you were sure to be one of the good sorts. So maybe like a cute girl she met at the cafe or something. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting the confident girl dressed in a suit to step out of the elevator.

All of them were lined up in the common room and he’s pretty sure any normal person would have been intimidated by the sheer amount of Avengers in front of them, but you stepped up to them absolutely unfazed.

“Mr Rogers,” you offered your hand to shake, “a pleasure to meet you.”

Steve was expecting to have to take the lead with introductions, but here you seemed to be handling yourself fine. “Likewise.”

“Is Mr Stark here today?” you asked him.

“He’s a bit busy at the mo-“

Clattering and a string of curses interrupted him. And of course, the man himself stepped into the room, Iron Man debris in his wake.

“Tony,” Steve scolded.

“What? Did you think I’d miss meeting the girl who stole the heart of our cold antisocial emo?”

Wanda tossed a couch pillow at him, but he brushed it off.

“Tony Stark,” he declared.

You shook his hand politely. “I know who you are Mr Stark.”

“And you are...?”

“Y/N L/N.”

The genius might have been singed from his armour, but the moment that name fell from your lips, he yanked his hand away, as if he was burned.

“L/N. As in L/N Corporations?”

“That’s me.”

Abruptly he turned to Wanda. “Do you know who this is?” he hissed. “The greatest rival to Stark Industries. I thought you were introducing your girlfriend.”

You gave him a winning smile. “I am her girlfriend Mr Stark. And you may have made me your rival, but I can assure you that you are not mine.”

Sam snorted.

“What are you doing here then? Are you here to try and steal data? You can’t...”

You paid him no mind as you winked at Sam. Spotting the metal arm, your eyes widened. “You must be Bucky, right? Princess Shuri told me she’d been working on some vibranium projects. I’d love to take a closer look some other day if you don’t mind?”

“How do you know Shuri?” Stark spluttered.

“You think that she only talks to rich boys who need her help? Sorry to burst your bubble.”

Nat couldn’t help but smirk at this.

“Oh and I’ve actually been working on some prototype Widow Bites as a bit of a free time project,” you added. “If you’re interested, your opinion on usage would really help me to refine them.”

“Of course.”

“Traitor,” Tony glared.

It’s at this point your phone began to ring. Glancing down, you offered a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve really got to take this.” You turned to face the wall as your friendly tone turned professional.

The Avengers huddled together as your call went on.

“Is she using you for information?” Tony scowled.

Wanda scowled back. “She’s my girlfriend Stark. Not everything is about you.”

He looked as if he was going to say more, but Steve interrupted.

“Look Tony, she seemed like a perfectly lovely girl.”

“Yeah I like her,” added Sam. “She can keep your ego in check.”

“If Wanda likes her, I’m fine with it too.” Clint said.

Wanda gave him a thankful look.

A cough came awkwardly behind them.

“I really hate to cut this short everyone, but something’s come up back at the office. Investors are a pain.”

“Yeah go on back to your investors then,” spat Tony.

“Wow” you drawled, heading back to the elevator, “is the rich card the only thing you can play Stark?”

The light on the wall indicated that the cab had arrived, and you stepped inside the carriage which would take you back down, as Peter stepped out.

“Oh hey Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I was just leaving Pete, but swing by later, alright?”

“You know it.”

“Oh and I heard you liked the hoodie I gave Wanda, Mr Stark,” you called. “I can grab you one as well, since it’s my company. But I really do gotta run now. Nice to meet you all!” The metal doors slid shut on your grinning face.

There was a silence, before Tony turned on his protégée. “How the hell are you on a first name business with her?”

“We’re friends?” Peter offered.

“Friends?”

“She went to college with me. She was super smart and we hung out and stuff. You know, what friends usually do.”

Squirming under his mentor’s gaze, he continued. “She was too smart for college though, so she dropped out and started her company. It didn’t mean we stopped being friends though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Underoos?”

“She figured you might overreact, especially with the web sho-“ The boy’s eyes widened, and he made a mad dash for the stairs.

But Tony grabbed his wrist. “What were you saying?”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “She helped me out with my web shooters in college, and since then, she’s been developing them with me.”

“What?”

“She knows I’m Spider-Man and I work with her on my tech,” he said slowly.

The man surveyed his teammates, making deliberate eye contact with each and every one of them. “Traitors, the lot of you,” he huffed.

“I mean you gotta admit it,” laughed Sam. “She’s college age, and built an empire to rival you. Not to mention that she’s pretty, smart, has better PR and actual time management skills-“

“Okay I get it,” the genius cut him off.

“Don’t be upset,” Clint smirked, “you can’t lose if you’re not her competition.”

Tony stomped off.

“Don’t worry about him, he’ll come around,” Steve said gently, nodding at Wanda who was fiddling anxiously with her rings.

“She was cool,” added Nat. “Tony can be a pain in the ass, but he knows she’s a good person.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

<3: i’d say that went pretty well

Wanda: cannot believe you didn’t tell me

<3: i’m really sorry babe, please don’t hate me

Wanda: i could never

<3: just didn’t want him to stop you from fraternising with the enemy or whatever

Wanda: i’d break the rules for you any day

<3: how romantic

<3: so miss rebel, you coming over tonight?

Wanda: depends if you’re still wearing the suit

<3: anything for you ;)

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want 

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I’m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

[arrowflier]

if you still taking prompts, I wish you could write something about... since Ian's always over-worrying about Mickey's safety, what if he gets a call saying something happened to his husband? maybe Ian's freaking out thinking Mickey could be locked again or hurt so he runs to get him? Thank you!!

Spoiler alert--nothing bad actually happens to anyone in this ficlet.

--

Ian is at Whole Foods when the call comes.

They usually go together, Mickey whining about rich privileged fucks and overpriced organic shit but coming anyway to, and he quotes, “make sure you don’t drop our whole paycheck on fuckin’ tomatoes this time.” But Mickey had begged off today, claiming he didn’t feel up to “dealing with those judgmental dicks at the checkout actin’ like cash is fuckin’ dirty”, and Ian hadn’t pushed.

Now he’s wishing he had.

“You need to come now,” Sandy is saying into his ear, voice tinny and thin through the cheap speakers of his second-hand phone.

“Where are you?” Ian asks her numbly. He kneels down on autopilot, picking up the now-bruised oranges he had been holding when she greeted him with the words, “hey, it’s Mickey.” The tile floor is as unforgiving on his knees as it was on the fruit. He turns one of the oranges over in his hand. He had been planning to make Mickey fresh orange juice with that later.

“That little corner store by your apartment, you know it?” Sandy is asking him.

Of course he knows it. That’s were they run to in the middle of the night when they run out of lube, or beer. Where Mickey bought him flowers once and tried to pass it off as an error by the cashier, until Ian found the receipt in the bottom of the bag. Where they take Franny to pick out candy every other Friday when they pick her up from school.

“Yeah,” is all he says. “I know it.”

Then he’s hanging up, and running out of the store, leaving an overturned basket and the handful of oranges on the floor in his wake.

His heart is pounding as he runs toward home. Not toward the apartment—toward Mickey.

His heart is pounding and his legs are churning and his feet are slapping the pavement with every step, chest aching to force air into his lungs. But his brain is moving faster.

He doesn’t know what happened. He should have kept Sandy on the line longer, gotten more of the story, but it only would have slowed him down. But he doesn’t know if Mickey is hurt, or in trouble, or in danger of being carted off to prison again for daring to live his life on parole.

And Ian’s mind has never exactly been his greatest ally to begin with, so it’s no surprise that the scenarios it comes up with as he runs aren’t exactly comforting.

As he rounds a corner, narrowly missing an old woman and her shopping bags, he pictures Mickey injured, collapsed on the floor of the shop, like back at the Kash and Grab when they were just kids. He won’t let anyone near him like that, no one but Ian, and he’s bleeding out onto white tile waiting for his husband to save him.

Crossing the street between cars and ignoring the honks, he pictures Mickey backed into a corner by his father’s cronies, refusing to look for an escape as Sandy frantically tries to call for help. He still doesn’t know how to back down, would never back down from men like that, would never let them take what they have and try to turn it ugly. He’d held a gun to his own father’s face, more than once, but thanks to Ian he didn’t even have one now.

Approaching the shop, finally, only to see the familiar red and blue flash of police cars, he pictures Mickey cuffed to the counter inside, glaring at the officers and spouting curses to the questions they ask. Knowing that despite living clean for over a year, they could take him in any time they wanted, with no more evidence than his last name and his rap sheet.

Ian dashes across the last street, desperate now, only to come to an abrupt halt as soon as he’s close enough to take in the scene.

Because there’s Mickey, all right. Not hurt, not cornered, not arrested.

But stuck.

Ian’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he bends over, hands on knees, to catch his breath and his heart. Mickey is whole, and healthy, and right in front of him. Well, in front of him and up a little, pacing along the edge of the single-story shop roof.

“Hey!” Sandy calls out from the entrance of the store. Ian keeps his eyes on Mickey, who starts at the sound and looks down, gaze quickly finding Ian. He grimaces when he sees him, and starts pacing faster.

“Uh, hey Sandy,” Ian manages, finally looking to her just long enough to take in her shit-eating grin before he’s back to watching his husband. “What exactly is happening here?” The question might come out a little unhinged sounding, but sue him, he’s allowed.

Sandy comes up next to him, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand as she joins him in observing the roof. “Apparently,” she tells him, voice raised enough that Mickey can probably hear, “Mickey here got robbed.”

Mickey can definitely hear, if the finger he throws up toward them is any indication.

“Robbed,” Ian repeats faintly. “On the roof?”

Sandy snorts. “No, you moron, in the store. Some kid swiped his bag on his way out, then went up the maintenance ladder. Mickey followed, but,” she shrugs. “Little fucker started jumping rooftops, and Mickey couldn’t keep up.”

“Uh huh,” Ian says, nodding once. “Okay. So why hasn’t he come back down?”

“Ladder broke,” Sandy offers, and Ian closes his eyes.

“The ladder,” he parrots. “Broke.”

“Yup,” she says, popping the P.

“And your first thought,” Ian continues, “was to call me, and tell me that Mickey was in trouble, giving me a heart attack in the middle of the fucking grocery store, instead of finding another one?” His voice rises until he’s nearly yelling, and when he opens his eyes, Sandy is wincing.

“Um,” she answers. “Sorry?”

Ian just sighs, deflating immediately.

“Mick,” he calls up to his husband.

The response he gets back isn’t even addressed to him.

“The fuck did you call him for?” Mickey shouts down to Sandy instead, finally stopping his incessant pacing. “It was supposed to be a fuckin’ surprise!”

“Well, I am surprised!” Ian yells back. “Thought you didn’t like heights?” That just earns him a middle finger, as expected.

“Why aren’t the cops helping?” Ian asks Sandy at a normal volume, but Mickey catches it and responds before she can.

“Cops ain’t here for me,” he grunts, rubbing at his nose and looking to the side. “Shopkeep called ‘em about the burglary, they got the kid ‘round the other side of the building.”

“What did he steal, anyway?” Ian questions, but Mickey goes silent.

Sandy tells him anyway. “He had a big order come in,” she whispers to Ian. “Told me all about it, had me come help pick it up. Something about some fancy booze and chocolate you like?”

Oh. Ian’s heart, now recovered from its scare, warms.

“Come on, Mickey, come down,” Ian cajoles. He wants to hold his husband.

“Oh, brilliant fuckin’ idea man!” Mickey rants. “Why didn’t I think of that?” He pretends to think for a second, then adds with an overdone gesture, “Oh yeah! Cause I don’t wanna break my fuckin’ neck!”

“It’s one story, Mickey,” Ian points out. “I could probably reach the gutters if I jumped.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us are giant gangly fuckers like you!” his husband shouts back.

Ian rolls his eyes.

“I meant,” he says slowly, “that if you hang down off the edge, I can reach you, dumbass.”

Mickey is silent at that, then promptly sits and scoots so his feet are hanging off the roof.

All the warning Ian gets is “don’t drop me, fuckhead,” before Mickey is sliding down right into his arms, sending them both stumbling backwards until Ian regains his footing.

They stay like that, pressed together from knees to chest, Ian’s arms around Mickey’s waist and Mickey’s looped around his neck, until Sandy coughs from behind them.

“Adorable,” she drawls, and they both flip her off this time. Ian hold Mickey tighter instead, and kisses his hair.

“So,” he whispers into Mickey’s ear, “Sandy scared the shit out of me about this.”

Mickey just hums into his neck.

“I think you might need to make it up to me,” Ian adds. “What’s this I hear about a surprise?”

Mickey pulls back just enough to scowl at him. “Surprise got pinched,” he mutters. “Evidence now or something, greedy pig bastards.”

Ian grins. “I’m sure you can think of something else,” he muses, shifting to that they’re side by side, and starting off in the direction of their apartment. He waves over his shoulder at Sandy, a clear dismissal. “You’ve never lacked for ideas before.”

Mickey sighs, but leans into him as they walk.

“You’re gonna make me buy you fruit again, aren’t you?” he asks, resigned, and Ian thinks of the oranges he had left at the store, and the tomatoes that Mickey liked to tease him about.

“Maybe,” he answers, and smiles all the way home.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

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caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

[mizunetzu]

Can I request a Iida x male reader with a skin problem? Like every time they finish training or after a stressful event the reader's skin would inch then they would scratch it, red blotches would appear on their chest, stomach, back. The reader insecure about them and hate their body, so in the locker room Denki points them out which they realize and start to become insecure and the itching becomes unbearable. They make an excuse then Iida becomes worried about his classmate then hears quiet cries in their door, Iida asks to come in then sees them curled up on their bed scratches their skin harshly which Iida quickly stops them. Iida confronts them and tries to comfort them.

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰LOVE YOUR WRITING BYE THE WAY!!!!!!!!!!!

Aaaah thank you! This request was very fun, and I do love me some iida~ I feel bad for antagonizing kaminari once again in my fics tho 😅😅

��—————

Iida x reader - Don’t Itch Your Neck

⚠️warnings - two (2) mentions of itch attacks, one in the beginning and one at the end (sorry, didn’t know the word for it) kaminari being insensitive to reader.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

‘Please don’t compare me to a villain.’

It should be common sense. Why would you ever compare someone to something as wickedly as a villain? It’s rude and distasteful, and you’re practically saying they’re just as bad as illegal thugs and murderer.

But as (Y/n) mindlessly scratched the itch on his neck, a normal itch, not one caused by his skin condition, a villain who terrorized their school at USJ suddenly popped up on the news channel he was watching on his phone.

“-Villain known as Shigaraki Tomura, the alleged ring leader of the League of Villains, has last been seen atop of a high building.” His phone buzzed. He stopped writing answers onto his notebook, as well as unconsciously scratching harder at his neck while turning his attention to the news channel on his phone propped up on Iida’s bed.

Iida would come back any second, telling him to get back to studying, but hey, he’s doing something productive like watching the news, right? Watching news is productive, right? Apparently, it was a special on Shigaraki, and knowing more about villains as a future hero is good, right?

“Shigaraki is estimated to be in his 20’s, and he is commonly seen in disputes against U.A, especially first-year hero class 1-A.” Yep, that was them alright. The news castor continued.

“It is also estimated that Shigaraki has some sort of skin condition, or due to his quirk his skin seems to be very dead and brittle.” The screen cut to some surveillance footage zoomed in on Shigaraki, clawing at dry blotches covering his neck.

His scratched-up, blotchy neck looked uncannily similar to (Y/n’s), especially with the way he was scratching it while being confronted by heroes. It must’ve been caused by stress too. (Y/n’s) skin would burn under the pressure of stress, and he couldn’t help but scratch all over.

(Y/n’s) neck decided to flare up at the sight of Shigaraki. Does that mean he was similar to a villain? He had some sort of trait that was identifiable with a villain? One that attacked his school, no doubt? He scratched his neck harder, bringing up his other hand to scratch the other burning side. Does that mean he was like Shigaraki?

(Y/n) let out a whimper. The itchiness would only scream more if he retracted his hands from his neck. He rubbed his skin raw, scratching so hard he could’ve swore there was blood starting to seep out from his neck.

The door to Iida’s dorm room clicked open silently. (Y/n) paid no mind to it, more focused on the unbearable itch on his neck and the tears clumping at his eyes.

“...(Y/n)-kun? Are you alright?” Iida’s voice broke through the small breaths and scratches of (Y/n), making him look up slightly with blurry eyes. When (Y/n) said nothing, Iida immediately dashed into his bathroom, looking for a small container of ointment.

Iida timped back into the room with a tiny white container in his hands, unscrewing the cap and placing it on under the container. He sat down on his bed, next to (Y/n).

“(Y/n)-kun...I need you to remove your hands, please.” (Y/n) whimpered out a weak, pained “No...” Iida pursed his lips.

“I promise it’s only for a second, it won’t itch.”

“It-it won’t stop-!” Blood was starting to drip down (Y/n’s) nails. Iida winced, quickly shuffling to the bedside table to grab a tissue from a half-filled tissue box. He returned calmly, sitting down next to (Y/n).

He gently set his hand on top of one of (Y/n’s), testing the waters and gently urging him to pull away. “It will only be for a second, love.” He said, with the tissue in his free-hand and the cream resting on a book laying on the bed.

(Y/n) let him pull away his hand, and Iida immediately went up to dabbing the tender, red area of his neck. There wasn’t much blood to begin with, only a few drops, but Iida didn’t want to take the risk of rubbing in the ointment while there was blood on his neck. He dipped his fingers into the white cream of the container, gently cupped (Y/n’s) cheek with his dry hand, and blotted the reddest parts of his neck as gently as he could.

(Y/n) eventually cooled down, the cold substance of the cream as well as the medicine inside it enough to soothe his nerves. Iida hummed.

“How are you feeling?” Iida earned a hum of satisfaction in reply. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

(Y/n) paused for a second, before patting the bed around for his phone. His hand eventually landed on it, and he turned on the newscast in hopes they were still playing the same topic they were on to show Iida. Iida bent over slightly to examine (Y/n’s) phone screen.

“...a villain? The one who attacked us at USJ?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He also probably has a skin condition that makes him all itchy too....the news said it and they played a video of him scratching his neck—and I don’t wanna be like that-“

“Ah...I understand. I understand how upsetting it must be to share something in common with a villain.”

“It’s not just that, though...” (Y/n) sighed. “Because of the scratching, I have all these ugly red blotches on my body...and it makes me look scary...I don’t want my skin to end up like his either...”

Iida hummed. He set a hand on (Y/n’s) shoulder. “I can assure you, you are nothing like a horrible villain such as him. I’m sure there are many heroes with conditions such as your own!”

(Y/n) bit back a smile. He downcast his head, trying to avoid touching his sensitive neck as much as he could.

“Thank you...”

——

Hero training.

(Y/n) dreaded hero training.

The class itself wasn’t so bad, no. No, it was before and after hero training. Where he’d have to change into his hero costume, and change out of it after class was done.

When he did that, everyone could see the ugly red splotches or red scratch marks that made it look like a cat attacked him nonstop. He always made it a point to get in and out of there as fast as he could so no one would ever bring up the rough skin plastered on his body.

But luck didn’t seem to be on his side today.

(Y/n) tore off his hero costume, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. Or at least have something covering him by the time every one else arrived. Of course, Iida was there—he could never beat him first to the locker rooms somehow—but he trusted his boyfriend enough to let him change in the locker room while his vulnerable, spotty body was exposed.

But just as he had every single article of his hero clothing off, leaving him in his underwear, he heard footsteps rattling closer, before the door to the changing room swung open. His stomach dropped.

“Yooo! (L/n)! What’s-oh?” Kaminari’s boisterous voice dug pits in (Y/n’s) guts. He slowly turned around, doing his best to cover his torso with his U.A button-up shirt as he did so. He saw Kaminari standing a few good feet away from him, as the boys of 1-A began filing into the locker room. (Y/n) glanced at Iida, his anchor in a situation like this, before catching his apologetic expression.

“Dude...did Tokoyami really fuck you up that bad in trainin’ today?” Kaminari pointed at the red marks nipping at (Y/n’s) forearms and legs. Sure enough, he sparred with Tokoyami today, but that wasn’t really the cause.

Tokoyami turned around. He shook his head. “Dark shadow cannot inflict such...scratches. And if he did he should be in Recovery Girl’s office instead of the locker rooms.”

(Y/n) silently wished Tokoyami would just take the bait and say it was Dark Shadow. Because Kaminari wouldn’t be rubbing his chin and saying,

“So then what’s all that?” While gesturing circles to the rough, red skin on (Y/n’s) body.

“S’nothin...that’s all...” (Y/n) quietly mumbled. He turned around swiftly, shrugging on the button-up of his uniform and trying to button it up with shaky fingers.

Hands reached down from behind (Y/n) and grabbed his wrists, lifting them high above his head and twirling him around.

“Duuuude! They’re all over your stomach too!”

“Please...lower your voice, Kaminari-kun.” Iida voiced as kindly as he could, not facing (Y/n) to at least spare him one less pair of eyes that were staring at his red-blotched body.

Kaminari’s eyes were plastered onto the red scratch marks and flaked skin on (Y/n’s) barely-buttoned shirt, while (Y/n) wriggled his hands free from his grasp. He completely ignored Iida’s request.

He unconsciously brought his hands up to his neck, still sensitive from yesterday’s...incident and certainly still itchy. The itch was coming back.

He started pawing at the growing itch on his neck, his back pressed against the locker door as he tried to reach for his pants with his free hand.

He started pulling them on the best he could with one hand, not hearing the growing voice of Kaminari asking about why he was itching his neck; or the quiet protests from Iida. Once his pants were sloppily hanging from his waist, his hand flew up to scratch another forming itch right under his eye.

Kaminari suddenly clapped his hands together, looking very appealed all of a sudden. “Dude! I just realized who you looked like!”

“Kaminari-kun, thats-“

“Remember that villain who attacked us at USJ? Shigaraki? The one who kept scratching at his neck and stuff? I think they did a special on him on the news yesterday!”

“Kamina-“

“You look exactly like him!” Kaminari chuckled. “The scratching-“

Iida abruptly slammed his locker door shut. The loud bang it produced shook waves across the locker room, loud enough to silence every one there. Kaminari flinched in surprise, along with everyone else in the changing room.

“...Shut the fuck up, Kaminari.”

Silence ensued the once talkative changing room. All eyes fixated on Iida, a dead scowl on his face that replaced the mighty rule-abiding gaze he wore. The use of no honorific for the first time was absurd, but hearing Iida tell Kaminari to ‘shut the fuck up’ really took the cake. Iida was glaring dull daggers at Kaminari, who was standing there staring back with awkward eyes.

(Y/n) took that opportunity to mumble a quiet “I have to use the bathroom..” and slip out from in front of Kaminari, and slink out of the changing room. He buttoned up his shirt as quickly as he could, not caring about his long forgotten tie or blazer with the burning, unbearable itch that pulsed from his entire body.

He figured he couldn’t last in class like this.

——

Iida sped-walked all the way to the U.A heights alliance. He was worried when (Y/n) didn’t show up to afternoon classes, but didn’t want to run in fear of immodesty on school grounds.

Though, he supposed it hardly mattered anymore, especially after his spiel in the locker room. He was so irritated he didn’t think to apologize until they got back to the classroom. And boy, did bowing hundreds of times, chittering “I apologize for my rude behavior!” Millions of times over again count as an apology.

Iida started sprinting, before ducking into the door and up the stairs.

He ran around the whole dorm building, in case (Y/n) was hiding in someone else’s room or the restrooms. No luck.

And he had no further luck until he passed by (Y/n’s) dorm room, hearing soft sobs and skritches from inside the room. Iida hummed, knocking on the door.

“(Y/n)-kun?”

The sobbing from inside (Y/n’s) room went silent. Iida set his hand on the doorknob.

“Please open the door. Or let me in, please.”

Iida was trying his best to keep his voice level, but inside he was probably just as panicked as (Y/n). Even though he knew (Y/n) kept his medicated cream in his room, Iida had grabbed the spare laying in his own just in case. The soft whimpers from inside the room resumed. Iida sighed.

“I’m coming in. Pardon the intrusion.”

The door the (Y/n’s) room softly clicked open, the light from the outside casting a strip of yellow light into the dark that was (Y/n’s) room. Iida took a moment to let his eyes adjust, before his red eyes fell onto the curled up ball of itching that was (Y/n).

Iida quietly sat down next to (Y/n) on his bed, who paid him no mind. He kept sobbing into the school uniform he never bothered to change out of, one hand under his button-up and the other scratching at the back of his arm. Eventually, his arms switched to scratch at his legs and his neck.

“It burns...it-it burns, Ten-“

“I know, I know,” Iida refrained himself from patting (Y/n’s) back, in fear he’d accidentally inflame that area. Instead, he calmly rose from the bed, walking briskly to (Y/n’s) closet. He opened it gently, shuffling through clothes and picking out a loose shirt and basketball shorts.

He laid them out on the bed. “Do you think you can put these on for me...? Oh, but before you put the shirt on, please allow me to apply your medication onto your stomach..”

(Y/n) briefly looked up to see Iida squatted down infront of him through his tucked-in knees. He looked from Iida to the clothes waiting for him on the bed.

Iida set a hand down on the mattress next to (Y/n). “I can turn around if you would like me to.”

(Y/n) nodded, and Iida stood up and faced the opposite side of his room. Waiting as he heard shuffles of clothes being removed and slipped on, accompanied by more itching, he alas heard the dry “m’done..” from (Y/n) he turned back around.

(Y/n) was scratching at his arms, his head turnt down and tears still cascading down his face. He was holding the shirt in in between one of his armpits. Red blotches and scratch-lines littered (Y/n’s) chest, arms, and legs. The irritated skin looked even more irritated as (Y/n) scratched and clawed at them even more.

“Thank you, handsome.” Iida cooed. “Are you comfortable with me applying it to your chest or would you like to do that on your own?”

“You can do it...I don’t...” (Y/n’s) voice died down, but Iida got the gist of what he was saying. He set (Y/n) back down to his bed, drawing the cream out from his possession and popping off the cap.

After smearing on a generous amount to his chest, his forearms, and his calves, (Y/n) was able to stop scratching for just a bit. It soothed the burning itch for only just a bit, though.

Iida brought his cream-covered fingertips to (Y/n’s) red neck. He tilted it up, giving Iida access, as he rubbed gentle circles around it.

“Would you like to talk about what happened?” Iida said, not taking his eyes off of his current task. (Y/n) sniffed.

“...Do you think I act like Shigaraki? I know you said I didn’t...but you were just being nice, weren’t you?” (Y/n’s) voice was barely audible over the sounds of his sniffles and hics. Iida pressed his lips into a fine line, making sure to coat every area of his neck before retracting his hand. “S’ok...you can tell me, I won’t be mad.”

“(Y/n)-kun...darling, you know that’s absurd.”

“But it isn’t!” (Y/n’s) voice cracked. “Y’know-my body’s already all ugly and disgusting, I might as well become a villain especially because I look like one.”

“Just because you have these splotches on your body doesn’t make you any less handsome.”

“Stop lying, Tenya.”

“You know me, I don’t lie.” Iida placed his hands on his lap as (Y/n) carefully slipped on his shirt. “What kind of class representative would I be if I were a liar? I’m just stating facts like a good civilian.”

“And it’s a fact that (L/n) (Y/n) is the most beautiful, handsome, alluring boy I have ever laid my eyes on. Kaminari-kun took his ‘joke’ too far, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t qualify as a joke in the first place.”

Iida finally set his hand on (Y/n’s) shoulder. “Please don’t let his words get to your head. Your nothing like a villain, nor is your skin any less beautiful than you think it is. If you can’t love it yourself, I will just have to make sure to love you just as much to make up for it.”

(Y/n) stayed quiet for a second, before shifting closer to Iida and laying his head down against his shoulder. Iida smiled, reaching up to pat (Y/n) appreciatively on the head.

“Thank you, Tenya.”

‘Please don’t compare me to a villain.’

Because (L/n) (Y/n) was far from it.

——————

I apologize if I got any information wrong, I am not the best educated on topics such as skin conditions :((