#five feet apart lockscreens

[chososluv]

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫

Plug!Choso being a good boyfriend and taking care of you drunk

choso art: @omagatokii

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: coming home drunk and horny to plug!choso. i got drunk and got in my feels !

🏷 tags/warnings: fem!reader, black!reader, mating press, squirting, creaming, petnames: (ma,mamas) , choso being the best boyfriend, uh something small for the wait on plug!toji and plug!choso 3, sortve proofread this was spur of the moment lol word count: 1.7k

You should blame your friends really.

You told yourself prior to going out it would only be for a few hours. You would have a couple drinks, catch up, gossip, plan to meet up again soon and then leave. You would head back home and snuggle up to your boyfriend and probably call it in for the night. You told Choso this while you got ready and he listened diligently as he was laying casually sprawled out on the bed, looking at the dress you had on. The dress you picked out silhouetting your curves sensually and Choso tried to listen fully but was so distracted by your ass. However he finally snapped out of it shaking his head, as he realized what you had proclaimed.

"A couple drinks and out my ass you gonna do a lot more than that," he stares at the heels you picked out, "feet finna be hurtin too, mama." He also says, remembering from past experiences and you looked at him over your shoulder, frowning. He shrugged and went back to his phone.

"Why must you doubt me?"

"I don't doubt you," he sucked his teeth, "I know just your ass there's a difference." All you do is pout at his words, knowing he was right but the heels completed the outfit so well. Again, another reason you would be in and out with this social outting.

And to no one's surprise, you ended up not in fact "in and out" and had shots, losing count after five, multiple drinks, and your 10:30 return turned into 2am uber vs lyft ordering session between your friends seeing which one had the cheapest rate. You pulled out your phone lockscreen lighting up and you see Choso. You bite your lip, remembering that your boyfriend was at home, hair down, with grey sweats on and you got excited.

"I need yall lyft or uber to hurry up because I got a man to get home to!" And that was all you needed to say because your friends stopped bickering and settled on a rate.

you arrive home, body fuzzy and otherworldly feeling as you made it through the door of your shared apartment. You manage to catch yourself after stumbling through, ankles and heels throbbing at the pain caused by your heels. You giggle to yourself, remembering Choso was right about these damn heels hurting your feet but you really didn't plan to be out that long. It really was your friends's fault! They were nice enough to send you in the first round of ubers after you dropped hints you were ready to go home and climb your man. That ache you had been suffering with between your legs.

That ache that started hours ago the moment you had your first taste of liquor.

You walk through the bedroom door, seeing a small light illuminated by a phone and you immediately settle on Choso's face. He looks at you, sleepy grin stretching across his lips and the ache on your feet seemed to vanished. You squealed, startling him briefly but then he saw that glazed over look in your eyes and just knew you were gone. You ran over, hopping on the bed and jumping on top of Choso. He grunts at your sudden attack but he doesn't mind, he's tossing his phone to the side to give your drunk ass his full attention.

"have fun?" He asks.

"I missed you so much. Baby, I'm so horny but my feet hurt but I'm so horny." You start spilling your immediate thoughts and he's laughing. He sits up, balancing you in his lap and brings a warm arm around your waist. You mewl, bringing your hands to his biceps but his hands reach for your ankles. He's ready to do his duties of the sober boyfriend before he even lays a hand on you sexually.

"One thing at a time," he's chuckling, "let me take these shoes off for you mama and we can go from there."

"Choso, keep sucking on me." You're pleading, his soft lips wrapped around your clit and he's licking the sensitive nub. He looks up at you from between your legs, seeing your eyes roll back as you drunkenly whimpered for more. He's happy to spoil you all night and to be honest he looked forward to this side of you when you told him you were going out. You promised him you’d only have a couple drinks but when he checked the instagram stories and saw shots were involved he knew you would stumbling in here drink. When the “imy” texts started rolling through he knew that liquor was heading straight between your legs.

You didn’t remember, but you sent him a text 45 minutes prior to arriving home saying he better be prepared for you to “dance on that dick.” You would wake up tomorrow feeling a little embarrassed but would find it funnier than anything.

"Let me see those eyes." Choso says, tongue flicking and knocking you speechless. You whimper, knuckles clenching and fisting his hair. He would moan when you tugged on it a certain way, not thinking you would notice -you did.-

"Chosoo..." You're whining when he licks his finger quickly before sinking into your hole. You take him instantly, sucking him gently and physically asking him to stretch you more. A mewl leaves your mouth, hips stirring as if they searched for another finger.

"Greedy fucking pussy its that alcohol huh?" He teases, sinking a second, then third finger inside with no warning and you whimper. You throw your head back, spine curving and you lose grip of his strands. He chuckles as he continues to curve his fingers deep and earning yelps and moans from you.

"Its the fucking Crown shots," you sigh, "I need that dick now, please Cho." You beg, his fingers not enough and you wanted to feel him deep in your lower stomach. He can't even try to tease you because he's been waiting to fuck you since you put that dress on.

"Don't worry ma, Ima give it to you. Now hold them pretty legs up for me."

To say being folded into a mating press by Choso was satisfying was more than an understatement. You only let out huffs and grunts each time he dug himself back inside you. Your juices spurting out when he nudged his tip just right. You were howling, ankles on his strong shoulders.

"Fuck you feel me in yo stomach, baby?" He grunts in your ear, listening to the way you whine loudly and struggle to keep up each time his large cock left and came back into your little cunt. One of his favorite things about you was just how small you felt against him. He fits you in his massive arms and cradles you to help coax you through getting your cunt assaulted by his cock.

"Cho, want you to fuck a baby in me." You're absolutely out of it, gone and its the first time something like that has ever came out of your mouth. Choso has to hold off from cumming right there, he moans, balls twitching at the thought of you being his baby mama but he reminds himself of your state. You were nowhere near sober and he was damn sure not gonna to try be selfish.

"We'll talk about it when you're sober, ma," You only coo when he kisses your cheek, "right now I want you to focus on cumming on me."

He continues pounding deep in you, balls slapping against the curve of your ass with a lewd and sticky sound. The substances courtesy of your cunt that just continues to leak and ooze with arousal and cream. It's dripping obscenely, decorating your lower bodies and the sheets below. You still cannot form words. Helpless cries and moans left your lips each time he came back bullying his way through your walls. Strangled grunts and gasps for air when his tip kissed the lower parts of you kept Choso wanting to bring his hips down harder. He does, earning a squeak from you and a gush of liquid. He can only groan at his thighs being wet but continues to look at your helpless face. Screwed up and twisted as pleasure consumed your brain and the only thing was him and his cock.

"Cho-So!" You cry out, borderline wailing as you felt that knot in your stomach about to unwind.

"You close baby?" You nod, tears coming out your eyes as the pleasure was becoming too much for you to fathom. Choso only continued, thrusting faster and you choked out before letting out a ear-piercing wail.

"Cho!" You're screaming, legs spasming against his shoulders and your orgasm wails were enough to send him over the ledge. Your cunt squeezed tight around him and it took everything in him to pull out. He finishes, cumming on your stomach and letting out desparate grunts.

"Fuck, ma this pussy will be the death of me." Choso chuckles and you only giggle softly, sliding your legs down off his shoulders. Orgasm knocked the last bit of strength you had in you and now you were exhausted between the post sex haze and the alcohol comedown. You felt your eyes fluttering shut. Choso saw, shaking his head before grabbing wipes you two kept in the nightstand.

"You better not go to sleep you still gotta take your makeup off." Choso shook you after he started cleaning you off. You open your eyes, huffing at him from waking you up.

"Why you gotta be a good boyfriend." You pout, knowing he was only looking after your drunk ass.

"Because I love your goofy ass now get up all you gotta do is get to the sink I'll wash it off for you."

Choso stays true to his word and washes your makeup off. Boyfriend of the year should go to him because not only does he wash your makeup off, but he manages to get you in a quick shower and brush your teeth before you started trying to sleep again. He was just securing the bonnet on your head before you fought your eyes from shutting again. He could only laugh, putting your ass to bed, throwing the cover over you and within moments you were out. Choso took care of himself and came back to hearing you snore. When he slid into bed it was like you were waiting for him because you instantly cuddled up to him, seeking his warmth. He could only throw an arm around you, embracing you with his love and body heat.

He would only do this for his favorite girl.

You.

©chososluv ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

[lovings4turn]

୧ ‧₊˚ ☕️ ⋅ ☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭…

— in desperate need of caffeine, logan stumbles into the first cafe he comes across. little does he know, this will be the start of something great.

+ the first part of my whole latte love series , aka my child , so i hope you all enjoy <3 this is set in the uk , but reader isn't specified to be any particular nationality !

+ dividers from benkeibear !!

there were many sacrifices logan sargeant was willing to make in his life.

flying halfway across the world aged only eleven to pursue his dream of racing, for one. on a smaller scale, always allowing his brother dalton to ride shotgun on family trips, despite the fact that the backseat caused his legs to cramp up after a few hours.

but, no matter how late he was running, logan had promised himself he would never, ever deprive his body of a hot, caffeinated beverage before a meeting. 

on this particular morning, though, logan was running especially late. normally, the jarring sound of the iphone alarm would snap him from his deep sleep within seconds, the noise sparking an instant feeling of dread within him even when it wasn't coming from his phone. 

he’d learned that alex had a habit of setting alarms for various things throughout the day, before promptly forgetting what he’d set it for, leaving logan to go through the five stages of grief at least four times a weekend. 

but it seemed today the universe had been a little bored, and so decided to find entertainment in burdening a poor, unsuspecting american race car driver with one minor inconvenience after another. 

firstly, his alarm hadn't woken him up. correction: it had woken him up, just thirty minutes after it was supposed to.

secondly, his pride in managing to get dressed with an impressive five minutes to spare was quickly dissipated when he couldn't find his keys or wallet. the hunt had set him back another ten minutes (because why on earth would he think to check the cutlery drawer until he had run out of other possible options?).

and, for good measure, he'd tripped over his own welcome mat in his mad dash out of his apartment. so, yeah, it had been a morning, to put it lightly.

logan cursed to himself as he all but jogged down the busy street, eyes desperately scanning every building he passed in search of a cafe. he was too frantic to read any shop signs, but when he witnessed two girls walking out of a doorway clutching two paper cups, he knew he'd struck gold.

fucking finally.

logan offered the pair a tight lipped smile as he slipped past them and into the cafe, letting a sigh of relief escape his lips as the familiar smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee hit him. 

this was more than worth being late for, he decided. he'd pick up a few extra coffees, as an apology, a courtesy of some kind. who could be mad with a cup of coffee in their hand? though logan figured he was allowed to be a little lax in his timings anyways, since he was no longer in his rookie year at williams. the team would forgive him quick enough.

trainer-clad feet led him towards the back of the fairly short queue leading up to the counter, and logan took the opportunity to slip his phone out from his coat pocket and shoot a quick text to alex. he hoped his teammate wouldn’t mind bearing the responsibility of updating the rest of the team on his whereabouts. 

‘sorry, overslept. omw now though, bringing coffee as an apology and effort to keep my head’.

three laughing emojis quickly flared up onto logan’s lockscreen, and he took that as a positive sign. 

it was only when logan placed his phone back into his pocket that he realised just how close he was to the front of the line, and immediately began rehearsing his order. sure, he ordered the same thing practically every single time he got coffee, but with the day he was having, he’d probably find a way to absolutely butcher the simple order.

all he needed was his oat milk latte, a black coffee for james, and some sort of sugary, overly sweet concoction for alex. he doubted this place sold the pumpkin spiced lattes that he loved to tease alex about ordering, so he’d just have to find the next best thing.

only, when he finally stepped up to the counter and opened his mouth to order, his mind went blank.

standing only a few feet in front of him was the most gorgeous person logan had ever seen, and considering he’d travelled the world and met countless different women and men over the years, that was an impressive achievement. 

you, luckily, hadn’t noticed the internal reboot logan was experiencing, and focused instead on offering him a warm smile and greeting.

“morning! what can i get for you today?” you asked, finger poised and ready to input his order into the till in front of you.

logan barely managed to stop himself from physically shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, before pasting a crooked grin of his own onto his lips.

“good morning,” he returned, voice a little quiet before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “can i just get a large black americano, large oat milk latte, and uh,” logan paused, eyes quickly scanning the board in front of him as he weighed up all of the different syrups available. 

vanilla, caramel, hazelnut, and oh, thank god, cinnamon. that was close enough to pumpkin spice, right?

“and a large cinnamon latte, please. oh, to take out.” he finished, finally returning his eyes to you as you skillfully rang through his order.

“ah, great choice,” you commented, your smile still never having left your lips. 

from the moment he’d opened his mouth, you’d quickly registered the accent, though opted not to comment on it despite how pleasing it was to your ears. of course there were no shortage of americans stepping into the cafe everyday, but there was something about his in particular that caused your ears to perk up a little more. maybe it was down to the person it was attached to, instead. 

“and is that everything for you today?” you continued, snapping back into following what you’d aptly dubbed your ‘service speech’, a routine that ensured you didn't stumble over your words to every customer you served.

“that’s all, yeah.” logan responded with another small smile. 

“perfect. that’ll be nine eighty there.”

"great, thank you."

logan quickly pulled out his phone to pay, though as his eyes caught the small jar sat on the counter, ‘tips’ scrawled onto a label in nice handwriting, he wished he was paying by cash. a flash of hope ran through him as he dug his hand into his jean pocket, and he had never been more relieved to feel some spare change brush against his fingertips. 

barely even bothering to count how much was there – it looked to be about three pounds, but he could have been wrong - logan dropped it into the jar, offering you a sheepish smile. he felt a little foolish, paying by card and fumbling around for some cash, but the look on your face was more than worth it. 

“thank you,” you repeated with a soft laugh. “should be ready for you in two minutes.”

logan couldn’t bring himself to speak again, so simply nodded and moved to walk to the point he would collect his drinks from. before that, though, he would grant himself one, small privilege. 

his eyes quickly found your name badge, and he scanned it as subtly as he could before he walked away, the name replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record. but, no. broken records were annoying, an inconvenience, something to fix or throw out. your name was anything but. 

not even five minutes after he’d placed his order were his drinks placed onto the counter, each labelled appropriately to save for any confusion. a cupholder had also been provided, which logan was eternally grateful for. he didn’t think the three drinks would survive the short journey otherwise. as a treat to himself, he took a small sip from his latte and almost swore. logan didn’t believe in magic, but he was sure that this coffee was somehow laced with it. never had a simple oat latte tasted so good to him.

and, he thought, a little embarrassingly, never had someone looked so good making one, either. 

“see you later!” you called from behind the till, lifting your hand in a gesture that could be perceived as a wave, but also an attempt to smooth your hair a little. 

logan nodded and gave you a smile. you would definitely see him later. he had just found his new favourite coffee shop, and he wasn’t going to give it up any time soon.

☕️ . . . there it is , the first instalment !! i loved writing this so much - and actually did so with a cinnamon iced latte of my own , as alex and i are actually one and the same ! hope you all enjoyed , and thank you for reading <3

[simplymurdock]

The City Light’s

summary: peter shows you that the city truly never sleeps, especially during the holiday season.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x gender neutral !reader

warnings: just some teeth rotting fluff

word count: 2,349 words

authors note: so does this kinda suck? yes, yes it does. but this is what happens when you reread @peterthepark and @indouloureux andrew’s peter stuff. not to mention i couldn’t stop thinking about how cute something like this would be 

The crisp, drying, New York winter weather wasn’t always your favorite thing. Of course taking this coldness over hot summer days. In your eyes it was easier to put on more layers than having to deal with trying to find a way to cool yourself off. So, here you stood, on the top of your apartment building's roof. The crappy lock was quite the easiest thing in the world you had ever picked. Squatting down near the brick railing resting your elbows on it as you look over the city. Winter was your favorite season, just from the decorations alone filled your excitement. The city that never sleeps truly never sleeps during the holiday season. Rather it be 24-hour lights, bell ringers trying to get donations at every corner, or the famous Santa Race. Drunk people crowding the streets dressed in either the enter Santa costume or just wearing nothing but the beard and hat.

Looking down at your feet as you pull one of your mitts off with your teeth. Your newly freed hand dug through your hoodie pocket for your phone. Pressing the power button to be met with your lockscreen. The photo taken from a full length mirror in your room, showing your boyfriend, Peter, laying on his stomach with you on top of him. The time clearly shown at the top of the screen.

12:10 a.m.

He was late. To be fair he is pretty much always late. Never fullying understanding how someone with spider powers is always late. You used to worry when he was five minutes late, thinking he had flung himself into a skyscraper and was now laying on the street with a concussion. And you still worry, just not as extreme as you used to. Understanding after he kept apologizing that he just didn’t have a strong concept of time.

Putting your phone back in your pocket and fighting with the wind as you struggled to slip the mitten back on. Hearing a pair of footsteps suddenly stumble your way. Standing up and turning around to be met with Peter in his Spidey suit. His suit being partially covered with his hoodie, the same hoodie you had on. You had gotten these for the two of you as a joke gift but they turned out to be the softest things on Earth. He reached up and pulled the mask off, his hair a mess, his cheeks and nose red, and he was huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath. “I’m late,”

“Yes, yes you are.” You nodded leaning your back on the railing.

“But I can explain.” He quickly replied, making you tilt your head slightly. This you wanted to hear, hopefully it would give you a reason on why you were both up here. Getting a random text message thirty minutes ago saying that you had to meet him up on the roof at midnight. Nothing explaining why. “I had to make sure it was perfect.”

“Make what perfect?” You asked walking up, smiling lightly up at him. “Or have you forgotten you haven’t told me anything about what we are doing?”

“But then it would ruin the surprise,”

“Oh my — Peter, you know I hate surprises,”

“Look, this one is a good one, I promise you’ll love it.” He insisted while letting you pull him closer to you by bunching up the sides of his suit.

You thought about it for a moment before looking up at him. “Fine, but if there’s any type of Lizard’s I will hose you down with bug spray.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Just hold on tight.” He said making your brows knit in confusion. “Where are you taking me, Spidey?” You asked, using the nickname whenever he wore the suite, to make sure you didn’t accidentally give up his identity. He smiled at you sweetly reaching up and taking your hat off, folding it up and putting it in your hoodie pocket. “Just try to keep your eyes open this time.” He remarked, smiling widely while pulling the mask back down his face. You moved to his side, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wrapped one arm around your waist as you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist. You had done this before, especially whenever you were about to miss your curfew. He waited for you to find the right grip, all while holding your waist. When you finally got comfortable enough he knew, feeling you stop moving around he starts walking. 

Speed walking his way towards the railing, stepping up on it and jumping off of it. Free falling a foot before he brought his hand up and shot a wed sending the two of you forward. “Oh my god!” You screamed, never getting used to the first stomach drop. You knew Peter would never let you fall, but it still scared you everytime.

Block after block passed as your eyes were shut tightly, shoving your face into Peter’s neck. Screaming every so often, making him laugh each time you did. People looking up and watching as Spiderman and the mystery figure clinging onto him for dear life. 

Finally feeling the stable ground, as stable as roofing tile can be. “Okay, you open your eyes now.” You slowly loosen your grip around him. Placing your feet on the ground and looking up at his masked face. He nodded his head towards the street, you followed as your eyes widened at the sight. There was the perfect view in the entirety of New York City. Cars filled the streets, people rushing about trying to get places as fast as possible. The sounds of bands playing on either side of the skating rink with the infamous Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. The rainbow lights covering it all light up, not a single bulb out and the star on top shining in all its glory. Looking down the street towards the few trees that stood their trunks wrapped in lights. Altering between regular white lights to rainbow multicolored ones. It was absolutely breathtaking.

Absent-mindedly taking a step forward and slipping on one of the tiles. An arm quickly wrapped around your waist pulling you back towards him not letting you slip but more than an inch. “Whoa watch your step. It’s slipper,” Your back now pressed up against his chest, looking up at him, “It’s beautiful.” He smiled wide under his mask, seeing the absolute joy on your face. “Where did you find this place?”

“I was on patrol a couple of weeks ago watching them put up the tree, and thought you would love it.” He explained as she kept turning her back and forth between the city and him.

“I love it, thank you.” You reach up pushing his mask up and kissing his cheek. 

The holiday itself wasn’t your favorite. Normally either feeling your longest, or just everything going wrong the week before. But the actual look and apella, the food, and candy, the spirit never failed to make you happy. Peter knew how you felt about this season, watching as you put on a fake smile whenever people talked about how excited they were for Christman, or what their winter break plans were. So, he knew he had to find something for you that would hopefully make this year different. Taking y’alls normal swing around the city at night to see the city lights on the bridge.

The two of you sat on that roof, cuddling up next to each other. Peter’s arm wrapped around your waist holding you close to make sure you didn’t slip again. And you had your arms around his neck, shielding your face from the cold wind every so often. Doing what you loved best, people watching. Rather it be seeing what ridiculously heavy item a man was holding on his shoulder running trying to make the subway. Or watching as someone was able to hold twenty different shopping bags, and still being able to walk perfectly fine. Or making a small bet, loser having to buy the other a drink, on what a group of obvious tourists would take a picture of. The winner was the one that guessed which build they would pose in front of the most. And of course you won. Finding it fun to watch people, and guess which one was a tourist and which one was sending their mother their daily skyline photo.

1:59 a.m.

“So, what is it this time?” Peter asked, referring to the bet. You thought about it for a moment, placing your covered finger up to your lips. “Oh! Dr. Pepper floats?!” He nodded, holding out his hand as you took it. Interlocking your fingers as you wrapped your arm around him. Him holding onto your waist like you had previously done. Except, this time you didn’t wrap your legs around him. Instead feeling a bit brave and letting them dangle. That was until the first drop had your head tucked and hidened away in Peter’s neck. 

But your happiness was stronger than your fear so, you actually lifted your head from his shoulder and took a look around. Watching as you passed building after building, widow after widow. Laughing lightly when you heard a child yell, “That’s Spiderman!”.

Finally, reaching the block that your apartment building was on and landing in an alley-way. Nervous laughing as you pulled away from him, but he kept an arm around you knowing people’s legs are always a little wobbly after a swing. “I actually kept my eyes open this time!” You exclaimed in between laughs. Looking towards the entrance from the street before turning back to him, seeing everyone passing by. Reaching up and pulling his mask off, cupping his face and pulling him towards you. Kissing him passionately, feeling him smile into it as he kissed you back pulling you closing into him. Feeling every bit of your body, from the tip of your nose to tips of your fingers filled with electricity. 

Pulling apart for air, but not from each other. Looking up at him with nothing but love and adherence in your eyes. Scrunching up your nose, “Thank you Peter, I really loved tonight.” You expressed as he hummed in response his eyes flickering down to you lips and then back up to eyes. “Now,” You started as you tapped his chest in the center of the spider symbol. “Someone owes me a float,”

He smirked, shaking his head as he pulled the mask back on. Turning to lead you out but you grabbed his hand stopping him, pulling him back towards you reaching into your hoodie pocket and pulled out your beanie reaching up and slipping on his head. “Can’t let Spidey walk around in the cold without the right clothing.”

The little bell rang as they walked in, making a B-line to the back wall where the ice cream was. Peter held the door open as she reached in and grabbed a small carton of vanilla ice cream. Leading the way towards the right side of the small convents store where the soda machine was. “So what will it be, Spidey?” You asked, but already knowing the answer. 

“Wait, are you the real Spider-guy?” The older man behind the counter asked making the two look over at him. 

“Yup,”

“That is so cool,” He breathed out in awe. Not looking away from Spiderman, watching as he filled one cup up with Coke and the other with Dr. Pepper. You had already gotten the straws, napkins, and a spoon. It was a small spoon that was made to stir coffee but it would still work. “This is so cool,”

The two of you walked over to the counter as Peter started to go into his pocket for his wallet. “Spider-guy no, I can”t let you pay, you saved my store from some robbers a couple of months ago.”

“Oh, no sir, you see Spidey here lost a bet.” You explained grinning looking between the two. The man nodded, “Ah,” making Peter sigh, “A deals, a deal.” He said handing the man the cash. “Don’t worry about the change.”

“Thanks again, Spider-guy!” He called as the two of you started out of the store. “Have a nice night!” You called back walking through the door as Peter followed with the small bell ringing as you two left.

“Now,” You started once more looping your arm through Peter’s as you started down the now not as busy sidewalk. Some people stared as you walked by in awe, in shock, and confusion. “The real question is where do we indulge in our late night snack?” You asked as he suddenly stood still, his head shooting up to the left. He snapped out of it after a second looking down at you. Even with his mask on you knew his expression was now written with empathy. Already knowing what was about to happen. 

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be,” You held your finger. “All I need to know is if you think I need to tie this bag once or twice?” 

“Twice, just to be safe.” He suggested as you nodded, tying the bag shut before taking both drinks in either hand as you held. Slipping the bag onto your wrist. “This you is going to be interesting.” You muttered stepping in front of him. Wrapping an arm around you as you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. And before you knew it you were back on your roof humming to Carol of the Bells, thanks to the bands surrounding the city. 

[shinsstories]

On The Morrow

     Long stepped into the dingy apartment where Tom’s coordinates had led him. 'This is where he's been living all along, huh?' was his first thought as the door swung open.

     On the sofa lay drunk Tom, and on the other was his Pa. Petra was probably in her bedroom; she was safer there. And despite how much Long despised both men, he knew that they  cared deeply for her. Between both sofas was a glass table which had an assortment of drinks piled atop it. The softsilk carpet was ruined by a spilled glass, dropped on Tom's side. The culprit lay on his back and was fully clothed in the only pair of suit and tie he had. One arm lay limp, dangerously close to the shards of glass behind him.

     A memory of their first toast together stretched out before Long's eyes.

     Tom was laughing loudly. He was talking to Nick beside him, who was dismissing him for the half naked girls clamouring for the boys' attention. So he had turned to Long and whispered, "Apprentice…?"

     "What's up?" Long had replied, to which Tom'd said,

     "Let's do something really crazy tonight." As he said this, he had a sort of sparkle in his eyes that Long really liked. He continued on: "You know, because I am drunk."

     "Piss drunk Tom!" Nick had commented, snorting, from beside Long. "I think you should refrain from doing any shit tonight, man." And that had put an end to the conversation for the time being.

     Long moved to the far end of Tom's apartment. It was a small home, with only two closed doors being the only bedrooms, and two wide open doors, one leading to the bathroom, the other leading to the hallway where Long had just come in from.

     Pulling open the blinds, Long looked out of the Morrow apartment building. There were mostly skyscrapers in view; some stopped just short of the window he was peeking out of, while most rose higher above. But visible above all of those was the moon. It had been witness to most of Long's life, which was why he’d named his second child after it; and it was witness to this moment, too. He pulled the curtain back further, allowing it to watch with greater ease.

     Next was the bathroom. It had chess-patterned tiles which ended at the shower, just opposite the door. The shower had a more grainy floor, and the door was a glass sliding door. Just at the top hung a towel. The towel blocked the view of a rack on which different types of soap were filled. On the right wall of the bathroom was the sink. Inside, it reeked of vomit, and splattered over the edges was blood. Opposite the sink was a toilet, which stunk of unflushed waste. And last but not least, right in the doorway in front of Long's feet, was a computer. The screen was black but open, and the bottom, wet with spilled sink-water, was hot.

     As soon as Long picked up the computer, the screen flashed on. He placed it on the floor and looked at the five-digit lockscreen for a long while. In the end, he came up with six password ideas. The first was Tom's first name and a bit of his last, if he was that simple; as Long had suspected, he was not. The second was parts of Long's full name, which wasn't it either. The third and fourth were Tom's internet security password and his phone's password, but neither worked. The fifth was Tom's sister's name, but even that hadn't worked. The last was simply one-two-three-four-five. This time Tom had played the simple game.

     The first thing Long saw was a full search bar. Someone had begun to type "symptoms of pois" and not gotten any further than that. The rest of the search history was just as horrifying as the not yet typed sentence.

     At the very bottom of the list was "how to deal with an abusive parent".

     Long looked towards Petra's bedroom, then towards the man of the Morrow family. The man was laying on his side, both arms folded before him. He was facing the table and his son, but from where Long stood, he could see the ripples of the man's muscles just over the short back of the sofa. 'I could see that.' Long thought.

     Long leaned down and picked up the computer, making sure not to click anywhere. He walked toward the bedroom where Long remembered Petra's room was, from one of his first visits almost a decade ago.

     Tom was taking Long to his bedroom when Petra's door burst open like there was a pressure on the other side which had forced the hinges to burst. Petra herself stood in the doorway, looking thoughtful. She turned her head sideways just slightly before Tom could escape her gaze, and caught them standing there. Her gaze had turned sour when she looked at Tom, then thoughtful again once she saw Long. She turned away quickly, closing and locking her bedroom door. Then she stalked out of the apartment room, silent and stony the whole way.

     Long had asked Tom while he was unlocking his door, "Who was that?"

     "My younger sister, Petra." Tom had replied, then grunted as he shoved the key into the hole and tried to twist it again. There was, at last, a click, and then he pulled open the door and held it open for Long to enter. "She's intimidating, isn't she?" He had said.

     'Younger?' Long had thought. He didn't bother answering Tom's question.

     Long crossed to the other side of the apartment in five strides. The memory was clearer than before, and he was now more sure of which door led to whose bedroom. He gripped the knob in a fist and pulled, but it would not twist. It had to have been locked. Absolutely anyone could have locked it from the inside. Long knew that the Morrow siblings always kept their keys on them. But anyone could have taken it from either one.

     Instead of pondering over this mystery further, Long walked to the other room. That one was unlocked, and Long stepped inside. He could feel his teenage self grinning in this room with a friend whom he'd once thought he would be lifelong companions with. The atmosphere was sort of different, considering the whole room reeked, but the outward view looked almost the same. There was the same blue bed, the white and peach walls, and the mahogany armrest next to the window. The only difference was a large bookshelf opposite the bed splattered with blood, and Petra's limp body, half on and half off Tom's bed.

     From where Long stood, he could see Petra's exposed neck, cleanly slit.

     Long put the computer down on the bed and, trying to ignore the dead body, leaned down to it. In the computer's search history was, 'how to escape an abusive family', then 'how to escape home'. Long looked back at the girl next to him on Tom's bed. She had probably been suffering before she was killed, before things had boiled up to this point. By either the gang's orders, or simply cruel carelessness's orders, she had ended up like this.

     Next was, 'How to properly kill someone without a weapon.' This time the first letter in the sentence was capitalised, which was something Tom never did and always refused to do. The searcher this time could have been their father, but the man was highly-ranked in the gang. He had killed many men with only his hands and arms. Could it have been Petra? Did that mean that the lowercase searches were Tom?

     Long had known that Tom previously suffered pretty terrible abuse, but last he saw, things seemed to be getting better. But that could have been a ruse. And now, things got so bad that he had resorted to looking for a way out of his father's view completely. Then Petra got involved, and she wanted to help her brother escape. From where Long sat, he could see a papercut on her finger and the cut across her throat, but other than that there was nothing amiss. Her sleeves were rolled up and her skin was smooth, no scars, no sign of physical abuse. Did that man really love her more than Tom, as he'd once said to the boy?

     Next on the list was 'escaping home stories' and then 'where to buy postcards'.  Here Long paused.

     He had come home from the meeting - the one in which he'd been told about the damning evidence against Tom - and had checked his mailbox as Nick had told him to do. Inside was the small folded note with an address where he was to get the drug from. Next to that was a postcard. It had Canadian scenery on it, tall mountains and grass meadows - both of which Tom had never seen in his time there - and it was accompanied by a folded paper. In haste, Tom's writing could look the neatest or the messiest - and sometimes both at the same time - but either way Long fell back into an old feeling.

     Old Friend,

You must have just come back from the meeting, or are getting ready to head there.

Either way it means that you're now out of my jurisdiction, and out of my protection. This meeting I've arranged, it's only a little exaggerated but it admits some of the things I've done. Perhaps they'll tell you nonsense. I don't know. But either way, listen to them. Come with the drug and toast with me. You aren't my apprentice anymore, and you killing me will solidify your trust in them and their trust in you.

BURN THIS LETTER ONCE YOU READ IT. Then come to me.

Cheers, Tom.

     Long had stared at the letter for a while, though how long he didn't remember. He finally stood up and burnt it in a lighter over the garbage, then let the ashes fall to the floor like grey snow. He cleaned it up, leaving no trace, and then went and got the drug. The thing which caused him the greatest pause was the postcard, and he thought about it on his way back. The thing was that Tom hated postcards, and he hated Canada. It seemed to be that either he was in too great of a hurry to bother, or someone else was in a hurry while they hovered over Tom's shoulder.

     When Long got the drug, he followed the coordinates which he'd already put into his phone, and when he got there he found that Tom had already begun the toast.

     "Look around first. Try to find anything - more proof, if we even need that, weapons we can use, perhaps if you can save his sister - just anything," the man who gave him the drug had said. "And then, kill him. Kill that bastard." Then he spat on the floor.

     Long nodded once, but said nothing. He was going to kill the bastard.

     Long dwelled over the story he was now putting together, of what had happened inside the Morrow household before he’d arrived. He decided that Tom had been looking for a way out and Petra pitched in. Their father discovered and a fight ensued. Perhaps he was drunk beforehand and swung at Petra. Or maybe he meant to, deciding that a useless child was not worth keeping at all.

     He looked down at the rest of the search history. 'child support', 'assisting criminal laws', and 'Psychological manipulation tactics'.

     Long stared at 'assisting criminal laws'. That had to be it. Tom and his father had always been a part of the gang while Petra was not. Perhaps Tom had done things just as terrible as his father, just as terrible as Nick had said, and perhaps he had even helped  his father. But now he was going to run away from that. They'd tried looking to see if they could get help from the law, but that law would condemn both their father and Tom. Deciding that dealing with the law was now out of the question, they wanted to trick their father into temporary oblivion and run away. But of course things had gone wrong and Petra ended up dead in her brother's bedroom, and both father and son ended up drunk in the living room.

     But where did Tom and his father having a toast fit into this story?

     'How ironic,' Long thought, 'that just as Tom decided to repent and the gang decided to punish, that the Morrows finally exploded. How strange. How… unfortunate.'

     Long headed back to the living room, leaving the computer on the floor beside Petra Morrow's limp and lifeless foot. In the living room, he walked past Tom, the spilled liquid, the table and drinks, and the Morrow father. Inside the bathroom, Tom looked at the sink with more awareness than before. Even the toilet now piqued his interest. It was as if someone was trying to get something out of their system. Out the mouth, out the backside, and then, when everything was lost, they had tried to search symptoms of poison on that small computer sitting right in the doorway. No time to flush. No time to drain the vomit out… No time to be sanitary at all. This person was dying.

     Then what did the blood mean?

     Long judged the distance from the splatter of blood on the floor to the drops on the toilet and the sink. Something - or someone - must have been smashed on the floor hard, causing their blood to splatter everywhere. Perhaps the poisoner, wishing to make death come faster.

     Then who was the poisoned and who was the poisoner? Who was dead and who was alive?

     Well, it would be simple to find that out.

     He walked back to the living room. The scene there sickened him now. He had been a part of the gang for a while now but he never dealt with the messy moments. He snuck in; spied, and in most cases, poisoned. Even though he didn't see the main action most of the time, things sometimes boiled over and got messy. He was used to a scene like Petra’s death area.

     But to see his friend - to see Tom specifically - here in a scene like this, possibly dead, made him feel squeamish… and weak. It made him see his life, before Uyên and Ai, Luân, and Yu, when he was only sixteen years old and new to the job. The time when everything was just so much worse came running back to him, and he saw everything up until then, happening right before his eyes. The lives and the deaths… and the failures.

     Long shook his head and soldiered on to Tom. He placed his hand on the man's forehead - which was much too cold - and then gently eased his eyes open with his hand. Tom's eyes looked alive, causing him to jump. When he let go they didn't drift closed once more. Long wondered what he was expecting, what he might have been looking for.

     He remembered watching Tom's still body on the couch one afternoon, wondering why the boy was going to call him over and then get so piss drunk that he couldn't wake up. He wasn't watching worriedly, though. He was glaring at Tom, annoyed that he had forgotten and got himself wasted. His parents had set a curfew for him and his siblings, and though he broke the rules every now and then, he mostly followed it out of respect for them and for their authority. He didn't have much time left until the curfew would be over, and a decent amount of time would no doubt be spent leaning over Tom as he dry retched and complained about his piercing headache.

     A part of Long didn't want to bother dealing with that. But another part of him wanted to laugh with his friend for one more day before he was sent off. At the very least, no matter how much Tom's complaints always annoyed him, he could laugh at the other so as not to sow discontempt between them.

     So he walked over to Tom and, using his own hands, he brushed open the other's eyes. It was his favourite way to wake Tom up when he was irritated or mad at him. It always made the other a little sour.

     Tom reacted differently this time around. His eyes shot open as soon as Long's hand touched them, and he sat up hurriedly. He began to splutter something that sounded a little like  Pa as he turned to face Long, but then stopped dead still when the two came face to face with each other. His face adopted a slightly confused expression similar to Long's own, and then he looked relieved before his face broke into a grin.

     "Apprentice! Didn't hear you come in!" Tom had said.

     Long only nodded. Sometimes Tom droned out and it always got him beaten by his Pa, usually a slap(Tom had said once his Pa's slap had thrown him clean off the sofa) and it made him touché about the subject. Long understood that, and he knew to keep his mouth shut whenever something of the sort came into the conversation.

     A long silence followed. Long stared at the live-like dead eyes. He shuddered. 'Tom, the unbreakable… broken miserably,' he thought.

     He turned away from Tom to look at Tom's father. He pressed a finger to the man's neck but there was no heartbeat. Just like Tom, his chest was still. The steady rise and fall of a person's chest while they were sleeping - the intake and release of air which was so customary of a living person - was absent from this man's system. Long sucked in a breath, more curious than horrified. He liked a good story, as long as he could focus away from Tom…

     Long then looked in the direction of Petra's door. If he looked around carefully, he was sure he would find something that could work as a good picklock. Unless he already had something on him.

     He first searched in his shirt pockets. In the right was a picture of his wife and kids, in the left one of his youngest brother and eldest daughter. By now, Ai would be eighteen and Tuân would be twenty-five. Despite the age gap between uncle and niece, they were great friends, having been around each other since Ai was a baby and Luân a teenager. Their friendship was one always Long envied.

     In his pants pockets was a lighter and a box of cigarettes, always customary to carry around when planning a visit to one of your comrades, unless you've got drinks on you. Long preferred to lug around the lighter of the two options.

     Sighing, Long leaned down to check Tom's pockets. He didn't mean to pry around a dead body, much less his best friend's, but he was out of options, and he knew that Tom would give up his dignity to unearth what had happened to his beloved sister. Long thought that and didn't let himself listen to anything else. He allowed himself only to feel over Tom's pockets to feel if he had something inside of them that Long could use for his current situation.

     He quickly found a small pin which he pocketed. And then there was a big paper which, on the side that stuck out of the pocket, had the names Long Son Vû, James Morrow and Petra Morrow. Long pulled it out, deciding that his name on it meant that at least a third was meant for him. On it were the words,

From, Tom Morrow,

I'm sorry I couldn't deal with your sadness that I listened to the gangsters again, Pa. I'm sorry for leaving you alone, my little sister Petra. And I wish you a long and happy life, Long.

Sorry to you all. Goodbyes from Tom.

     Looking at the paper, Long realised what this must have meant. It meant that Tom was gone forever, and he knew he would be. He was saying his goodbyes and more importantly his sorries, because he was going to do something to himself and he knew he would.

     Standing up, Long thought again, 'Who was the poisoned and who was the poisoner?'

     But this time, he didn’t stop to wonder who was dead and who was alive, because he knew morosely that neither were.

     But then there was the message that Tom had written to him. I wish you a long and happy life. Tom didn't apologise to Long, even now - he never did, always of the opinion that Long had a great life, that he didn't bear any sorrow or hatred. And, to a certain extent, that was true-ish. Though Tom was a good man, and the one who had taught Long to fight - which Long was forever grateful for - he was also a little troubled and a little unethical.

     Even though Long knew Tom's habits, he still pondered over the message. Even then, even with all of the numbness he felt at the time and the sorrow he would later feel, Long still had a better life.

     Long looked at Petra's bedroom door. He looked at his pocket where the pin was, pulled it out and then let it drop to the floor. Then he looked at Tom.

     'Time to move on, I suppose. …Goodbye, Tom.' was the last thought Long would ever think in that room.

[tvsedit]

five feet apart

like or reblog

[blackmoon-edits]

like/reblog if you save/use <3

[heartylessoul]

Mamma mia, here I go again My my, how can I resist you? Mamma mia, does it show again My my, just how much I've missed you?🌼

[bureaudart]

Lili Reinhart at Five Feet Apart Premiere.

Credit if you use, please. <3

@bureaudart

[haleylustuff]

Will and Stella lockscreens

Like or reblog if you save.

[bartxnhood]

lockscreen | p.p

gif not mine

| andrew!peter x reader

summary: how you’d react when you find you are peters lockscreen

warnings: none

authors note: hi i’m back !!! this has been sitting in my drafts. gotta be honest, not my favorite things i’ve written but it’s still pretty cute. enjoy !!

Copyright © 2022 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

these past few days you had been so exhausted, managing work and school wasn’t what you anticipated for college. but you needed the money to keep your apartment, there were some perks. like free sandwiches from your co-worker, or free drinks. very nice, especially on the days you were incredibly busy. like today.

you walked into your apartment, which you frequently shared with your boyfriend, peter. he would stay over for a few days or sometimes weeks if he’s not busy. you loved having his company, it kept you distracted and not worried about all of the assignments you spent hours working on. he was like a breath of fresh air. taking your bag off and letting it drop to the floor with a thud, slipping your shoes off, and walking to your bedroom to change.

coming back into the main living area, you saw peter on the sofa, kicked back on his phone. “the hell? when did you get here?” you stopped in your track, staring at the back of his head.

“like five minutes ago, I’m pretty sure you fell asleep while changing” he laughed, looking over his shoulder. you only rolled your eyes and walked into the kitchen, peter followed behind you. “how was work?” you opened the fridge for a drink, peter leaned against the counter. “samantha quit today. we are understaffed now” you sighed, taking a few swigs of the liquid. “i’m considering leaving too. with the exams coming up i haven’t had time to even think about studying.” you sat the bottle down on the counter, peter came to your side running his hand up and down your back. “you know” he started, “i could move in. help you with rent and everything.” he finally suggested, this wasn’t the first time he brought up moving in with you. it’s not that you weren’t ready, you were but you didn’t want to put the burden of rent on him.

“i know, i just don’t want the responsibility falling on you.” now, you had turned around to face you. you yawned before he could answer. “let’s talk about it later. do you want to watch a movie with me?” you were so exhausted you didn’t think you’d survive a movie but it was better than doing loads of homework. you nodded, which made him grin. he took your hand leading you into the living room. he sat down first, you followed. stretching your legs out and resting your head on his thigh. you weren’t even paying attention to the movie he picked, your eyes began to get heavy closing them from time to time but trying your best to stay awake. you failed miserably. within ten minutes you were out like a light.

peter noticed almost immediately, your breathing had evened out and you weren’t moving as often. he didn’t mind it at all, you deserved to get rest. you had been working so hard lately and peter just wanted you to take care of yourself. he made sure not to move much that way you were comfortable. as the movie progressed he couldn’t stop taking glances at you, how your face looked so relaxed when you were asleep. he grabbed his phone and opened the camera and quickly snapped a few pictures of you. he smiled to himself, going back and reviewing them.

when you woke up in your bed you were very confused, knowing you fell asleep on the sofa and suddenly you’re in your bed? peter probably brought you in last night. you got up, shivering at the contact of your feet and the cold floor. you opened the bedroom door, greeted by the smell of breakfast. you rubbed your eyes, entering the kitchen seeing peter at the stove. “g’morning” he smiled, looking up at you. “what time is it?” you asked, taking a seat at the table. “little after noon” he said, turning his phone on and putting it back down. you glanced at his phone seeing his lock screen. “pete” you groaned, “i look awful in that!” you hung your head.

peter laughed, putting a plate in front of your and kissing the top of your head. “i think you look beautiful”

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (19/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,667

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, slight smut maybe??, soldat makes an appearance

masterlist

a/n: This is part THREE of my blog birthday surprise!

It had been two weeks.

Two of the hardest weeks that Bucky had ever experienced in his entire life.

Two weeks without hearing your voice.

Two weeks without seeing you smile.

Two weeks without feeling the way your hand would slip into his when no one else was looking—and even when they were sometimes—and give a gentle squeeze, reassuring him that you were there.

And you weren’t going anywhere.

But he hadn’t had it for two weeks and he felt like he was going to fall apart at the seams. It had been a lot of fits of rage that turned into all-encompassing breakdowns that would leave him dehydrated and exhausted.

His nightmares were worse than they had ever been before.

He hadn’t slept since you’d been gone.

Fuck, the first thing he was gonna do once he had you back was curl up in bed with you and sleep for a year.

Bucky sighed as he sat outside the conference room where all of the planning had been taking place, letting his head fall into his hands. He wasn’t allowed inside. Too emotionally unstable to have a level head, which is what was needed most right now.

But everyone knew there was no way in Hell he wasn’t gonna be part of the team that went to save you. He’d kill every mother fucker that got in his way, that had helped take you in the first place.

Pulling out his phone, his heart constricted as he saw your sleepy face on his lockscreen. You’d been curled up on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of pink fuzzy socks with little red hearts. Your little snores had been absolutely adorable, your knees pulled up to your chest.

When he’d woken you up, shaking you carefully with whispers of a milkshake he’d gotten for you, you’d blinked up at him, almost like you weren’t sure who he was.

And then that beautiful smile had spread over your face.

God, anytime he thought about your little, “For me?” his heart was ready to burst.

He’d snapped a photo, which had immediately resulted in you launching yourself at him with squeals for him to delete it.

Which, of course, he didn’t.

He’d give anything to go back to that day and insist that you guys didn’t go on the field trip.

Well, if Hydra had done anything, they’d successfully ruined one of his favorite places in the entire world.

“Hey,” Sam said as he came out of the conference room. “We think we’ve got a hit.”

Bucky leapt to his feet and rushed into the room after him. “Where is she?! What did you find?!”

“There’s a base in Canada that we thought was abandoned,” he explained as he showed him the map of the general area. “It’s small, but heavily armed.”

Everyone around them was already making plans, making a strategy of how they were going to get you out of there and bring you home.

But Bucky knew there was only one way to guarantee you came back.

“Sam, I have a favor to ask of you.” He was sure his heart was going to break his ribs from how hard it was beating as he led the man out of the room, away from listening ears. “I… When I went to Wakanda and I got the words taken out of my head… I asked Shuri to put in a different set.”

The way Sam’s heart dropped was… extremely visible. He could see it in his deep brown eyes. “What the hell do you mean, man? You… I thought the Winter Soldier was out of your head and all that.”

“He is. Mostly,” Bucky explained. Running his fingers through his hair—fuck, he needed a haircut—he took in a deep breath. “I got words put back in with the intention of only giving them to her… In case she needed the Soldat’s protection. We both know that while I’m tough, the Soldat is a machine. And he’d do anything to protect her.”

His best friend stared at him long and hard, his eyes narrowed. “You want me to unleash the Soldat in order to save her. Do you really think that’s the best way?”

“I do,” he said quietly. “Especially because the loyalty to Hydra is not longer in my brain. All that’s there is loyalty to my friends, my family. I won’t hurt any of you.”

Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And you really think this is the right way?” He asked quietly.

Bucky’s throat was dry as the Sahara as he nodded, both hands trembling. “I’ll give you the words. I don’t want to use them until we’re almost to the base, okay? I don’t want the Soldat to be around Morgan again, even if he wouldn’t hurt her.”

Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “Hey. I’ve got your back. And if you believe that this is the best way to save her, then I trust you. I’ll always trust you.”

The Soldat sighed, exhaustion weighing down his bones as he walked down the halls of the Red Room. The mission he’d been on had been quick, but he hadn’t been able to sleep in two days because of it.

All he wanted was his bed.

But no, he had to head to the Red Room to train the little brat.

The little brat being you.

If he was being honest with himself, you weren’t a brat, not really. He was just tired and ready to collapse at any moment, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid.

Well, fifteen. But that was still a kid.

His brows furrowed when he stepped into the training room that he always met you in and found you lying on your back on the mat, staring straight up at the ceiling. What was going on?

You shifted a little, your knee bending so your bare foot was flat on the floor.

He couldn’t help the wince when he saw how banged up your feet were.

The life of a ballerina.

To be fair, he’d seen a lot of fucked up feet since he had started to train girls in the Red Room, but he’d never get used to it. The blood and the half-ripped off toenails and just… Ugh.

Anytime he thought about it, it sent a shudder down his spine. He hated it. He hated feet.

Who would’ve thought that the fearsome Soldat would get freaked out by feet?

You didn’t acknowledge his presence as he got closer, even as his heavy boots sunk into the soft, squishy mat beside your head. But your eyes flickered open as he peered down at you and said your name. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Laying down.”

“I can see that.”

“Then why did you ask what I’m doing?”

The Soldat rolled his eyes at the impish grin that was spreading over your face. How had it come to be that you could give him shit when no one else could? If anyone else gave him the sass and attitude that you gave him, they’d be six feet under.

But not you.

What made you so special?

“Come on,” you said as you leaned up to tug on his metal hand. “Lay down. It’s nice.”

“But…” He glanced towards the open doors that led into the training room, before being brought back by the tug of your hand again. What could he do except give in when you were giving him those puppy eyes? “Okay,” he said as he slowly sunk to his knees before moving to lie down beside you, leaving ample space. The hunk of a man stared up at the ceiling for what felt like forever, before asking, “So what is this supposed to accomplish?”

“A moment of rest.”

Oh. Huh. He hadn’t… had one of those. In a long time. Anytime he was done with a mission and he wasn’t training, it was back into cryo.

“Okay.”

Your head turned to look at him, a gentle smile gracing your lips. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling for the first time in what felt like a century. “It is.”

Bucky took a breath as he looked out the front windows of the quinjet. They were coming up on the base pretty soon, and he knew what that meant.

It was time.

Everyone had been briefed on what was about to go down, and even if they weren’t sure about it being the best course of action, they weren’t going to stop him. Not when it came to you.

“Sam?” He said softly, looking back at the man who was already waiting for him towards the back of the aircraft.

“I’m here,” he said reassuringly, holding the scrap of paper that Bucky had written them down on for him. “Are you ready?” He asked once he’d joined him.

“As I’ll ever be.”

There was a heavy pause between them, before Sam looked down at the paper and began to read. “Fifteen.”

It felt like the weight of the world was on Bucky’s shoulders.

“Sleeping Beauty.”

He couldn’t fuck this up. He had to get you back.

“Midnight.”

Oh, god, he could feel it coming.

“Sweetness.”

His brain was beginning to shift, beginning to take another form.

“Five.”

The Soldat was beginning to awaken inside of him.

“Warmth.”

This was the best way to save you, to ensure that they didn’t leave the base without you.

“Moonlight.”

He could feel the Soldat’s feelings mixing with his own, the rage and the worry, specifically for you.

“City.”

At the forefront was the demand to know where you were, to have you safe in his arms.

“Sundress.”

Bucky could feel himself falling asleep as the Soldat was taking over, like he was just about to take a nap.

“Plush.”

The Soldat scowled as he looked around. “Where is my malen’kaya?” He asked sharply, somehow knowing that English was the proper language to use at the moment.

“We’re going to get her. And we need your help,” Sam said, catching his attention. “Hydra took her. So we have to save her.”

Everything else in the world lost all meaning as soon as the Soldat heard him. “Where is Natalia? She was meant to protect her! That’s why I got her to get her out!”

Wanda swallowed thickly as she stepped forward. “Natasha died. A few months ago.” Her fingers were fiddling with nervous energy, red swirling around the tips. “She died protecting her.”

It was close enough to the truth.

His spine straightened, his jaw clenching. “Then I will be the one to protect her again.” The Asset looked around, looking each of them in the eyes. “Stay out of my way.”

None of them planned to get in the way in the first place, but they knew he wouldn’t have known that.

As soon as the quinjet landed and the ramp was down, he was off, storming into the base. He left a trail of bodies in his wake as he searched for the one person that had meant anything to him.

And that was when he saw her.

Madame B.

And oh, did he have a score to settle with her.

“Soldat! How kind of you to finally join us,” she said with a cold smile, and he tensed up as you were suddenly dragged out of a cell to his left and shoved to your knees. “We’ve been waiting for you. Though… We did think it would take a little less time for you to find us.”

You looked up at him with those beautiful eyes he loved so much, and he was hit with how much older you were from the last time he’d really gotten to see you.

You were so gorgeous. It was like you got better looking everyday.

“Malen’kaya,” he breathed out, blue eyes wide as his heart pounded inside his chest.

“Soldat! Soldat, get out of here!” You cried out, tears rolling down your soft cheeks. “She’s going to kill you! RUN!”

But he stood his ground, pushing his shoulders back and holding his head high. He didn’t know what had happened to him, but he couldn’t feel that unwavering loyalty to his former captors anymore, and that was just fine with him. “No. No more running,” he said sternly, keeping his eyes on Madame B. “No more being afraid.”

It hurt him to see the tears that were streaming down your face, to see the panic that his words sent you into.

But he couldn’t keep running away. If he did, then you would just be hurt again later on. They’d keep coming after the two of you, and he was done. He was done with the hiding and the running and the being afraid. He wanted to spend his life with you.

He wanted to be able to hold your hand out in public and know that you were safe. That no one was going to snatch you away from him until he’d completed yet another mission.

“Soldat… Soldat, no!” You begged, your body shaking as you stayed on your knees. A pitiful whimper escaped your lips as the Madame cocked a gun and held it to your temple, the metal cold against your skin. “Please… Please, run. D-Don’t watch this.” You couldn’t stand the thought of the Soldat—and by extension, Bucky—watching you die.

And that was certainly Madame B’s plan. Now that she’d drawn him in by holding you hostage, she’d kill you, and Hydra would have their greatest weapon back.

Their Asset.

“Wait!” The Soldat called out, causing the older woman to freeze in her tracks. “Take me instead.”

“What?! NO!” You screeched, thrashing against her hold. “SOLDAT! JAMES! NO!” You were beginning to panic, your breathing coming heavier and heavier.

Fuck, you looked so much smaller than when he’d last seen you, even if you did look older. They'd been keeping food from you.

“I will go with you willingly if you let her live,” he said calmly, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“Oh, really?” She drawled, glaring at him coldly. “You give me your word?”

“I give you my word.”

He just needed to get you away from her for just a split second. He needed to get that gun to be… not pointed at your head.

He could work with that.

It happened in a split second. Madame B’s hand holding the gun shifted, the gun now pointed towards your legs.

The Soldat had been holding a knife just out of her view and threw it, letting out a sigh of relief as it met its intended mark.

Deep in Madame B’s throat.

Blood had splattered all over the back of your head as the older woman sunk to her knees, the light leaving her eyes.

The look of shock that was plastered across his face worried him. You looked frozen, paralyzed out of fear.

“Malen’kaya?” He whispered, moving to kneel in front of you.

You took in a shuddering breath, your eyes refocusing. “S-Soldat? You’re here?” You asked, fingers shaking as you reached up to touch his cheek. “I… How?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured quietly, cupping your face in both of his hands, both flesh and vibranium. “I don’t know, but I’m here. And I’m not leaving until you’re home safe.”

You didn’t want him to leave, but you wanted Bucky, too.

You were just so confused. The words had been taken out of his head, the programming.

The super soldier didn’t hesitate to scoop you up, cradling you close to his chest as he carried you out of the base.

He hadn’t left a single Hydra agent alive, and that’s how he liked it.

The only good Hydra agent was a dead Hydra agent.

Your eyes were locked on his face as he carried you to the quinjet, where most of your little found family was waiting.

They all rushed to you, finally letting the tears out as they welcomed you back into their arms. At least, until the Soldat growled out a warning and they gave you some space.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you breathed out as he set you on his lap with a bottle of water, taking small sips. His strong arms had locked around you almost immediately, ensuring that you were stable in his lap.

And that no one could take you from him again.

“It’s okay,” Soldat said as his vibranium hand rubbed up and down your arm, soothing you. “Rest… You need to rest and eat and drink. Questions later. Hard stuff… later.”

The Soldat knew he wasn’t staying. He couldn’t.

He’d been brought out for this specific mission, to rescue the person he cared about more than anything, and he’d succeeded.

It had been an honor, knowing that these people trusted him to bring you home.

Maybe he wasn’t as bad as he’d been led to believe.

Or maybe… Maybe you made him good, somewhere along the line.

And maybe that was the best he could’ve ever hoped for.

When they made it back to the Compound, some part of him knew the way to the medbay, and he took you straight there.

“How did this happen?” You asked, your eyes sliding up to where Sam was lingering in the doorway.

“Bucky… made a plan,” he said as he took a few steps closer, though he kept a wide berth.

Even the doctor that was looking you over kept casting wary glances to the hulking man sitting next to the hospital bed, holding your hand.

“A plan? What kind of plan?”

Bucky had done something to make sure the Winter Soldier was able to come back? But that sounded like his worst nightmare…

Sam glanced at the Soldat, before moving to the end of your bed and holding onto the plastic footboard. “He had them take out the old trigger… activation words or whatever, and had them put in new ones that only he knew,” he said. “On the off chance that you would need the Soldat.”

“He… He did that for me?” You looked up at your Soldat, the man who had protected you, who had cared for you and ensured your survival. His existence hurt Bucky. He was a part of him that he had been desperate to get rid of.

And he’d left a part of him inside, and provided a way to bring him back just in case you needed him.

The Soldat gave you a weak smile as he caressed your cheek.

It was so strange. Even though he had Bucky’s looks, his new haircut and the stubble, the lack of blood or dirt or something covering his face, it was very clearly the Soldat.

“I cannot stay,” he said quietly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing each of your knuckles. “I wish I could, malen’kaya… But we both know that our time has passed. If I have to come back, you and… Bucky know how to bring me out.”

“But… But…”

He shook his head, taking in a deep breath. “Everything is alright. You are safe. Hydra will never come after you again, especially if they know what’s good for them.” The hand holding yours was trembling, but he kept his eyes on your face. “And I… I am safe. They can’t hurt me anymore, thanks to you and this… Bucky.”

Your eyes burned as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, being careful with the IV that had been inserted into your arm. “I love you,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” he said breathlessly. “But… Malen’kaya, don’t let the past hold you back from the future. I… Those that hurt you in the past don’t matter anymore. You are stronger than what happened to you.” He held your hand a little tighter. “Do you understand me, malen’kaya? You are stronger than what has happened to you.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he said, his lips pressing to your forehead. “You will live a long life. A long, long happy life. You have suffered for so long, but that’s over. The time of suffering has passed, and you get to be happy.”

Panic was overwhelming you. “But what about you? Don’t you get to be happy?”

“Yes, I do,” he said, a smile spreading over his lips. “Malen’kaya… I never knew peace until you. I found little moments of happiness when I was with you, in that training room…” The man’s forehead rested against yours, your noses nudging. “You gave me peace. And feelings. They couldn’t wipe you from my brain completely, no matter how hard they tried.” He let out a slow breath, his fingers massaging your scalp. “You rescued me. You are my savior. And now…” He was so warm, like a furnace, and you just wanted to curl up against him forever. “Now I can rest.” The Soldat tenderly pressed his lips to yours.

Possibly the first and only kiss you’d ever share with him.

It was… It was sweet and gentle and loving. Years of unspoken feelings, of the longing stares and lingering touches while in that horrible room, of the wild look in his eyes anytime someone dared to hurt you.

It was overwhelming and beautiful and fuck, you wanted more.

But he was right. The time you two had together was over. The Soldat’s time was over.

He could rest, and that’s all you had ever wanted for him.

As he broke the kiss, he slowly laid you back against the pillows of your hotel bed. “Sleep. I’ll be gone when you wake, but… Bucky will be here.”

Bucky.

Jamie.

Those that hurt you in the past don’t matter anymore.

And your Jamie… Your Jamie had never hurt you.

Maybe you could rest, too. You could have a life.

One with him in it.

[patchessolostan]

vertigo

a snippet of a dnf fic i’m kinda working on. 1.8k, canon-ish

Isn’t it strange, how sometimes, certain smells can inspire old feelings, can awaken memories that seemed to be forgotten? The delicate pathways in our brains weaved together in unintended ways, so tight and durable, and yet completely slipping past our radar.

For example, love, to George, smells like oranges.

It’s one of his first ever memories: a Christmas morning two decades ago, the faint tickle of his wool sweater, the subtle warmth of the sun spilling down his back. And his mother’s hands, skin soft and unmarred, neat, rounded nails digging into the orange, carefully peeling it and then splitting its tender flesh. It’s hazy at best, but the smile on her face, his father’s laughter, the sweet juice spilling past his lips—they’re as clear as day still.

He thinks there’s no amount of time that could fade the memory of that warmth from his chest.

 So, perhaps George should’ve known his fate since the day Dream told him his shampoo is orange scented.

But then again, who's to say he would've wanted to change a single thing?

 “I’ll wear the brightest blue clothes I have,” Dream promises, and George can hear the grin in his voice. He always can, whenever the topic of George’s approaching visit comes up. “So much blue, you’ll want to vomit when you see me.”

“That seems counter-productive,” George answers, giggling when Dream sighs dramatically.

“Fine,” he relents when George quiets down. “It’ll be a mild headache. I’m sure you can deal with that.”

I think I could deal with anything, as long as I get to meet you, George thinks, and despite his fluttering heart and shaking hands, he doesn’t say it.

“I hate you both. This is unfair,” Sapnap speaks up after staying silent for five solid minutes while they talked about the upcoming trip. George practically jumps and starts giggling again. “It is so unfair, you both suck, and I’ll fucking block you. Try me.”

“Oh no,” Dream wheezes out, and the sound of both his and George’s laughter easily conceals Sapnap’s muttered insults and protests.

“C’mon,” George says eventually. “At least you know how he looks like. I’m crossing the ocean to meet a fucking stranger.”

“...fair enough,” Sapnap agrees, and Dream just wheezes harder.

George bites his lip before letting his grin fully unfurl as he stares down at his fidgeting fingers.

I’m meeting him.

He wants to scream. Instead George just gently smacks his forehead on his desk.

 Ever since the plans get made, the ticket bought (Dream insists on paying, despite George’s half-assed protests), time seems to move both incredibly fast and insanely slow.

Still, soon enough there’s only a week left to his flight. And yet... George feels like every waking hour takes three more to pass. And it’s not like he can waste the hours away by sleeping, like before.

Now every time he lays down and closes his eyes, all George can think of are warm arms around him. All he can see in his mind is that still blurry face and a mess of dark blonde hair. That wheezy laugh in his ear, the Hello, George that Dream will inevitably whisper, so close that his breath will brush past his skin and set George alight from inside out.

It's already driving George crazy, and he's still almost 7 thousand kilometres away.

 He packs his bag, and then pulls it apart while looking for a charger, and packs again, and again, and again, in a seemingly never-ending cycle of anxious fidgeting.

He starts planning three different videos at once and scrapes two of them once he's almost done.

He turns Twitter notifications off, and tries to keep his phone face down on the desk, but as the date creeps closer, it's getting harder and harder. Somehow, he seems to spend even more time talking to Dream, even if before it seemed almost impossible.

Despite his big words, Sapnap isn't actually upset. In fact, he's possibly just as excited as George, which he finds hilarious and annoying at once. And though Dream seems to agree with George, he doesn't try to calm neither of them down, instead just feeding the flames.

Surprisingly, the trio manage to keep the meetup plans from fans; that’s not to say that they don’t sense a new kind of tension between them. Every worried, questioning donation and tweet is hard to ignore, with the way George’s tongue itches with impatience.

For now, it feels too fragile, too private to share, at least until he plants his feet on the Florida soil, until he hears Dream laugh in real life and watches the way his face lights up in real time.

 And then, as if no time at all has passed, it's here.

 Tomorrow, Dream texts in lieu of goodnight. George flops over in his bed a few times, legs uncomfortably tangled in the sheets, bottom lip between his teeth.

Tomorrow, he answers, and it feels like a promise.

George curls his fingers around his phone, pushing it under the pillow, and then buries his face under it too, cheeks hot from the force of his smile.

That night is full of fitful, anxious sleep, and when George wakes, it’s with a start. He jumps up and stumbles out of bed in panic.

It's so quiet in the apartment—too quiet, too still, like the world itself has paused. His heart is racing as he scrambles through the sheets for his phone.

Did he oversleep? Did he miss the alarm? Did he even set an alarm? The memories of last night are hazy, and George thinks his heart will push out into his throat when his fingers finally brush against glass.

All breath rushes out of him when the screen turns on, a clear 6:41 AM on his lockscreen.

He's fine. The anxiety pulls back, leaving George's muscles weak and sleep-tired, so he slumps on the ruffled sheets.

Thought I overslept, almost had a heart attack, he sends to Dream, fully expecting him to laugh at his expense when he finally wakes up.

To George's surprise, the message gets read immediately.

I would’ve called you :), comes through, and before George can answer, Dream writes again.

I’ll have to call a cab for us. Haven’t slept since yesterday.

George huffs out an amused breath.

Would be a shame to kick the bucket right after meeting you, he replies and closes his eyes, placing the phone on his chest.

Now that the panic from before has subsided, another takes its place, slowly rising up and overtaking his pliant body like a tide.

There it is, the final dance, the last conversation where George can’t imagine the face behind the words; it’s just as frightening as it is thrilling. It’s bittersweet on his tongue, a piece of rotten fruit in his mouth.

He can’t help but wonder—what if it changes everything? What if it’s nothing like he expects? What if Dream realizes he can’t stand George when he can’t just leave the call?

George’s not a kid, he’s not all that naïve, and he’s well aware that people who work perfectly when there’s an ocean between them, can clash horribly once they share personal space. Life isn’t a fairy tale where everything works out perfectly, with a happy ending for everyone tied up in a neat bow.

His phone vibrates, scattering the restless thoughts, and George opens his eyes, pausing for a moment before finally lifting it.

At least I’d die a happy man.

He stares at his phone for a while, heart fluttering so hard, George barely manages to breathe in.

Perhaps he’s stupid enough to believe in good endings anyway.

 //

 Anxiety, however, smells like sweat and gasoline.

It didn’t always, but now George doesn’t think he could ever be in an airplane and not remember this day. Sitting in a packed airplane, left leg jumping up and down, fingers tightly gripping his elbows, as George stares through the window and waits for the plane to take off. Begging, pleading his mind to change gears, think of anything else but the upcoming moment.

A child whines behind him, some lady argues with the flight attendant, the doors close, the engine starts, and then UK is just a smear of colours underneath him.

He leans back and lets time and space run its course.

 The Orlando airport is a mess of sounds and lights that grate on George’s groggy mind as he slowly makes his way to the baggage claim. His phone is quiet, and he can’t help but keep glancing at it, knowing full well there’s no answer to his short I’m here.

Fear firmly grips his throat in a fist, a cruel voice whispering dreadful forecast, no matter how hard George tries to not listen.

He’ll take one look at you, and he’ll see, it promises as George waits for his suitcase to show up. He’ll figure it out, now that there’s no screen to hide behind. And he’ll be disgusted. He’ll ask you to leave.

Dream wouldn’t, George wants to argue; but then again. Just how well does he know Dream?

This is the first time he’ll see him, and they’ve known each other for years now. There could be a stranger behind the screen, one not as kind and wonderful as the Dream he’s used to. One that would—

“George?”

The all-too-familiar voice stops George in his tracks, and his muscles lock up, brain painfully blank as he worries his bottom lip.

Eventually, perhaps after way too long, George turns around.

And there he is.

 He’s wearing a navy t-shirt and blue jeans, just as promised, and his smile is so wide it takes up half of his face, and George can’t tear his gaze away from it. He knows he should be exploring the face that’s brand new to him, committing all the features to memory so even weeks later, they’d be perfect and fresh.

And yet, it’s those peach-pink lips he can’t stop staring at, like some stereotypical fool.

“Dream?” he whispers, though his feet don’t dare to move.

“I knew I should’ve worn something brighter,” Dream says. His voice is light, and happy, and he’s coming closer, and George can’t quite breathe in, his chest seized in an iron grip.

He wants to answer with a quip, a joke, the way he could when it was just the two of them in a Discord call, but he realizes any words would be followed by tears; and that’s just not the way to make a first impression.

So, George stays quiet and lets his suitcase drop when Dream wraps his arms around him.

Dream is so warm. The cotton of his shirt is soft underneath George’s palms. He smells like summer, like citrus fruit and the ocean, and George almost instinctively buries his nose in his shoulder.

Dream’s breath stutters near George’s ear.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, lips brushing over George’s skin and sending waves of heat and cold down to his toes.

“Me too,” he answers, and pulls his best friend even closer, feeling complete and safe for the first time in a long, long while. “Me too.”

[blackmoon-edits]

like/reblog if you save/use <3

[keep-your-hopes--high]

1-49

1. who was the last person you sent a text to?

You baby

2. who was the last person you said ‘I love you’ to?

Also you baby

3. favourite type of weather?

Fall

4. what’s your zodiac sign? do you relate to it?

Taurus

5. showers or baths?

Both!

6. favourite movie? (outside of mcu)

Five feet apart

7. favourite colour?

Blue!

8. person your closest to in your family?

My siblings

9. last movie you watched?

Ted

10. show you’re currently binging?

Greenhouse academy

11. what’s your lockscreen?

Me & sara

12. f*ck, marry, kill (pick three people)

I’ll fuck and marry you

13. opinion on...

I think you’re really cute

14. a celebrity you hate?

Idk!

15. a celebrity you love?

Demi lovato

16. a character you relate to the most?

Uh no one

17. someone you’re looking forward to seeing?

You!!!

18. what does the last text you sent say?

“I love you baby”

19. do you believe in true love?

Yes duh

20. have you ever been in love?

WITH YOU

21. if your ex texted you now how would you react?

Ew I’d throw my phone in the river

22. baths or showers?

Why is there two of these

23. summer or winter?

Summer

24. favourite memory from this year? (so far)

All the memories with you

25. favourite food?

Pizza duh

26. put your music on shuffle and say the line you like most in the song

I didn't know what love was

Thought it was just a word that people used

Until they say goodbye

27. last book you read?

I’m readin breathless rn

28. can you sleep if there’s noise?

No

29. bad habits?

Ehhhh

30. one regret you have?

Not reminding the people I lost too soon how much I loved them every chance I got

31. one bad thing that happened that worked out in the end?

Idk every bad thing has taught me something

32. earliest memory?

Man, I can’t think rn

33. what do you want to do when you leave school?

🥴🥴🥴you think I know what I’m doing, cute

34. what’s stressing you out right now?

A lot

35. ever been drunk or high?

Yes & yes

36. favourite type of clothing?

Button ups

37. most expensive thing you’ve ever bought?

I honestly don’t know

38. give me a song and I’ll tell you who it reminds me of (character or real person)

No

39. who do you miss right now?

You

40. have any siblings? are you close to them?

Yes and yes

41. tumblr friends or irl friends?

Irl friends none of y’all talk to me

42. do you want kids?

Yes

43. do you want to get married?

Yes

44. describe your dream girl/boy

You are it

45. one place you’d love to visit?

Cali

46. what’s on your bucket list?

I don’t have a bucket list 😂

47. are you outgoing or shy?

Can be both

48. one piece of advice you live by?

Yolo

49. how tall are you?

5’6

[navegandoaciegas]

the love you deserve.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: “He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly. Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

Warnings: soft!bucky, asshole!reader, angst, fluff, lying, cheating, drug use, alcohol consumption (including mentions of underage drinking), language that Steve Rogers wouldn’t approve of.

A/N: AU where Civil War and Thanos never happen, Tony forgives Bucky and he retires.  Reader kind of ain’t shit in this one, you’ve been warned.

This is my very first attempt at writing in English, I’m not a native speaker, so forgive me for any mistakes :)

This is part 1, please reblog and let me know what you think of it :) feedback is always appreciated! I can tag you for part 2 if you’re interested, let me know.

Brooklyn, New York

Bucky smiles softly looking at the picture of you two on his lockscreen.

He’s had the Parker kid teach him how to use those damn devices just so he could look at your pretty face and talk to you while you’re not together.

Alpine is cuddled on the couch with him and he shoots you a good morning text like he does every day. You haven’t responded much since yesterday, but he doesn’t think much of it.

You’re at a bachelorette party with your best friends and he doesn’t want to be a bother.

Still, he can’t even begin to describe how much he misses you. It’s only been two days since you’ve left for Vegas but he feels his heart constrict in his chest because you’re not there, and he can’t hold you, cuddle you, whisper sweet nothings into your ear and make you giggle like a schoolgirl.

He can’t look at you with big, curious eyes while you do the pretty girl things you always do, like put on makeup or do face masks. He can’t brush your hair and rub your feet when you come home after wearing heels all day at work. He can’t cook your favorite comfort food as you rant about your job.

God, if his father saw him run to the store to grab you tampons and chocolate every time you get your period, what would he think? He barely suppresses a snort just thinking about the shocked and embarrassed look on his old man’s face after he accidentally overheard Becca tell her friend she’d gotten her period at 14.

He’s sure Mr. Barnes wouldn’t approve of Bucky’s behavior.

And surely HYDRA would punch the air if they saw their most prized possession paint his best girl’s feet in a pretty baby blue nail polish, because baby blue makes you happy, and if you’re happy then he’s happy too.

He’s such a sap, like Sam tells him.

He smiles like a lunatic at the thought of Zola having a stroke if he could see him all dolled up, hair braided and makeup done, just because his girl is bored and wants to practice her skills.

He’s fallen hard for you and he knows you love him.

Well, you love Jaime, as he goes by when he’s with you.

Would you love troubled, damaged Bucky too?

Las Vegas, Nevada

Your late 20s are a weird phase of your life.

Half of your friends are inviting you to their weddings and baby showers, some aren’t even done with school yet, and others can’t properly take care of a house plant on their own.

You belong to the latter category.

It’s Jade’s bachelorette party tonight, you’re in Vegas and you’ve drank more alcohol and done more drugs than you can handle.

And mixing those it’s a bad idea, but you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

Getting wasted in Vegas. It’s cliché really, but a it’s a fitting ending to Jade’s bachelorette years. You have always wanted to recreate The Hangover, minus the tiger and a couple other things, you suppose.  

It reminds you of the first time you two have popped a pill in the dingy restrooms of a club in Barceloneta. You weren’t 18 yet, but in those kind of clubs age really did not matter.

You were so out of it by the time whatever drug you took kicked in that some British girls you met that night had to drag both your asses to their apartment.

Those girls, Grace and Hannah, if it wasn’t for them you wouldn’t be alive today.

You’d fucked and drank your way through Europe. It was London first, but London was boring, then Barcelona and Rome; Jade loved southern men, and you loved the way Spanish and Italian people partied. From Rome to some random italian city in the south where you’d taken a ferry to Corfù.

By the time you got to Greece you were so high all the time you barely registered moving from island to island until it was time to catch a plane to Athens and then Budapest. And from Budapest to Berlin, and from Berlin back home.

It was the summer before college and you were celebrating the end of your high school career. It was a nice phase, admittedly. You were both cheerleaders, popular, pretty, smart. You’d gotten into the college of your dreams on a cheerleading scholarship, your parents were proud of you, life was good. That summer you didn’t have a single care in the world, except choosing the sorority you would join in when August came.

Ten years later, Jade is getting married.

Today, you found out your boyfriend is a conniving bitch and a lying asshole. Not to mention the one they call the Winter Soldier.

“Hi pretty girl, can I buy you a drink?”

It’s lame maybe, but you’re drunk out of your mind and he’s handsome.

Warm brown eyes look down at you.

They’re not like Jaime’s, his eyes are light blue, almost transparent.

His skin is dark and glistens in the lights of the club, nothing like Jaime’s fair completion and his rosy cheeks.

You can feel the drug induced euphoria wearing off and the slight tick of your jaw. You’re glad you’re wearing a bandana that covers the lower part of your face.

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

His smile is pretty like his face. His head is shaved. Jaime’s chestnut locks reach his jawline.

You nod your head.

When he talks he’s charming and sure of himself. Jaime was a stuttering mess the first time he spoke to you.

You think of nothing, you feel like nothing.

“Cum pretty girl, cum for me.” he grunts in your ear.

His voice is gruff and deep. Jaime’s voice is soft for a man so big.

You should feel guilty but you don’t.

How can you, when this feels so good?

Why would you? You’re not the one who lied in the first place, you’re not the one who hid their identity.

You’re spent and satisfied. In your drunken haze you barely register the man cleaning you up with a washcloth and leaving you in your hotel room with a kiss on your temple and a whispered thank you..

You should be ashamed of yourself but you’re not.

Because Jaime who brings you flowers on all of your dates, who opens the door for you, pulls the chair out the table, gives you his jacket when you’re shivering, that sweet Jaime doesn’t exist.

His name isn’t Jaime at all, it turns out.

It’s James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes.

Morning comes and your head is pounding. You’re hugging the toilet while you throw up all you’ve got left inside of you while Grace holds your hair out of your face.

You never fucking listen, and that’s one of your biggest problems.

The second big problem you have, you never watch the news, and that’s shame.

If you did you might have seen the cool looking guy with the murder strut that beat the shit out of Captain America at the Triskelion.

Too bad you never bothered to educate yourself on what’s going on in the world.

If you did, you might not have ended up dating the Winter Soldier for five fucking months.

Morning comes and the sun shines through the curtains of this nice hotel Jade’s fiance has booked for the five of you. Raven snores softly on one of the beds, and you hear Hannah whisper to her girlfriend sweet nothings on the phone, and all you can think about is Jaime’s shy smile and soft eyes.

The way he hunches on himself to appear less threatening, the way he gives up his seat on the train to pregnant ladies and old people, the way he never fails to leave a generous tip to waiters and is polite to everyone.

Your phone lights up with a text message.

Good morning sweetheart, I hope you had fun with your girls last night. Having lunch with Alpine, we both miss you. I love you.

Your throat feels tight as you choke back a cry.

You never fucking think before you act, and that’s the biggest problem of them all.

You should regret it, and you do.

[itsmattsunshinehere]

can i request about kuroo insisting that its okay if he’s only a rebound to the reader when she got her heart broken by oikawa?? you don’t have to but i would love to read it from you!!!! ilysm 💘

I’m sorry if it took so long sweetie, it turned out a bit sad, but I hope you like it anyway. I actually enjoyed writing it and I’m actually thinking of doing a part two maybe so let me know if you want it. Also, you can find a quote from one of my favourite books, Lord of Shadows by Cassandra Clare :)

Here’s your request, I hope you like it! 😘💘

-L

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Breathin.

Kuroo x reader.

synopsis: you got your heart broken by your ex boyfriend and your friend Kuroo tries to help you, even if it means being a rebound.

word count: 1.9 K

tags: angst

~~~

Snow falls covering the streets in white and you melancholy admire the view from the swing from which you are sitting on, when something cold hits your head, wetting all your hair.

"Tetsu!" you yell at your friend as he looks at you innocently, hiding his hands behind his back with a mischievous smile.

You bend to the ground and pick up the snow with your cold hands creating a ball, without even getting a clean shot you throw your snowball against your friend, who on the other hand, always has good reflexes and dodges your ball laughing at your poor shot.

You shudder as you look back at the city on the horizon, lightened by the colors of sunset. Curious, you pull out your phone from your pocket to check what time it is, but immediately you regret, staring at your lockscreen. A simple photograph taken months ago, in which you smile next to who’s been your ex-boyfriend for two weeks now. You remember when a few weeks earlier you broke down in tears in the apartment you share with Kuroo, collapsing to the ground as soon as you closed the door, unable to stand. You take a deep breath.

"He dumped me." You murmured when your roommate rushed next to you worried, while every little part of your control went in pieces and tears started falling copiously from your eyes.

He didn't need to ask you who had dumped you or who had torn you up like that, he already knew, anger had immediately begun to boil in his veins, but he decided that you were more important than his jealousy, that in that moment you needed him, as a friend. You needed someone to take you to your room and put you to bed and so he did: he pulled you up from the ground by taking you in his arms and took you to your room, lying on your bed with you and letting you drench his shirt with tears while he hugged you tightly. He let you vent, not leaving you alone for a moment until you fell asleep.

The next morning you told him how Tooru asked you to go out just to tell you that things between you two hadn't worked for months and that it was pointless to carry on a relationship that was not good for both of you, preventing you from meeting the right person. You told him how he told you clearly that it was over between you and how he turned around right afterward and probably went back to his place. You went back home, unable to speak and not realizing what had just happened, but then when you arrived at the front door of your house you suddenly began to cry and without realizing it, you had become a river, crying desperately while you entered your appartment, letting yourself slip against the door and wanting to stay on the ground until you had the strength and the desire to get up. You couldn’t stand up and luckily Kuroo was there for you: he was there to help you try to pick up the pieces of your heart. You're so grateful for everything he's done.

Still alive but barely breathing. That’s how you felt.

"Are you crying again?" your friend asks worriedly, sitting on the swing next to you and starting to swing with his legs like you.

You caress your cheeks in disbelief and you notice that you're actually crying, you didn't even notice. You've been trying to forget everything for days, but every time you see a picture of him by mistake or hear his name, the memories appear once again and overwhelm you like an avalanche, not letting you breathe and bringing all the pain back to your poor heart. It happened all unexpectedly; you didn't even have time to suspect anything. Was it really going that bad between you? You didn't even notice it: one day you were laughing together on his bed, the next day he broke up with you.

You wipe away the tears with the sleeve of your sweater that comes out of your coat and you look with a tired smile at the boy to your left.

"I think it's better if we go home." You tell him in a whisper and Kuroo nods as he gets up from his swing, taking your hand and helping you to get up, and then walking with you home.

You look once again at the view, admiring how the darkness has fallen and Tokyo is all lit by the lights of houses and streetlights. You found that place, which it has now become your place, with your roommate when one day, on your way back from the grocery store, you two got lost, ending up in that park fifteen minutes from your house. You still remember how with a little embarrassment you had confessed to your friend that you had agreed to share the apartment with him only because you were worried that some girl could steal your future boyfriend; Tetsu immediately laughed at you, calling you a fool.

You walk down the street leaving footprints in the snow, while Kuroo continues to shake your frozen hand. You're happy you have him in your life, you're so grateful to have him with you, and if you weren't focused on pinning the thousand pieces of your broken heart back together, you might even realize what you feel for him, but you know you need time. You need time to get back on your feet and walk again with your head held high, stopping staring at the ground and you know that a few days won’t be enough.

"You know, today Bokuto sent me a picture of his new teammates. You'll never guess who's on his team!" he says with a chuckle as he tries to take your mind off your thoughts and you look at him curious.

"Do you remember that Inarizaki boy who tried hitting on you in your second year, who you called by his twin's name?" He asks you by looking at you and you open your eyes wide.

"Was his name Atsumu or Osamu?" you ask him with a smile, not remembering who was who, provoking a loud laugh from the boy on your left.

"He was Atsumu Miya and I think he's still upset by how you could confuse him with his brother Osamu." He says to you with a laugh and you chuckle a little at the memory too.

How could you forget the disappointment on the boy's face when he stopped you to ask for your number and you called him by his twin’s name? His team had burst out laughing behind him, as did Kuroo and Yaku behind you. Apparently, everyone knew how Atsumu hated when he was confused for his brother, but how could it be your fault? You were in your second year of high school at Nekoma and for the first time you went with the volleyball team to Nationals as their manager; you had read about Inarizaki only a few hours before on a brochure that listed all the teams with the names of the players and their photos. But probably the photos of the twins had to be old and they still had the same hair color, their names were left in your mind just because they were the only twins in the tournament. So, not knowing who he was, when he asked you if you knew him, you whispered uncertainly one of the two names you remembered hoping it was the right one, but you were obviously wrong.

You reach the landing of your apartment and Kuroo leaves your hand for the first time since you’ve come back from the park to pick up the keys to open the door. You let him take you inside the apartment and he takes off your coat and your scarf, then he takes you to the couch and tells you to wait for him while he brings you a cup of chocolate. You listen to what he tells you and wait for him, letting yourself be pampered by his attentions.

After five minutes he's back with two steaming cups full of chocolate and you notice that in yours he also added some marshmallows, just as you like. He stretches your cup to you and you thank him with a smile as you take a sip, burning your tongue. Kuroo giggles at your clumsiness, taking off your cup and resting it on the coffee table in front of your couch.

"Wait at least for a second for it to cool down, silly." He scolds you making fun of you and you show him your middle finger, while you stretch out to hug him and he wraps you with his big arms.

"Do you know Tetsu that I’d be lost without you?" you whisper him, hiding your face in his sweater, and Kuroo feels his heart beating faster.

Thanks to what you’ve just said, he takes that courage that in all those months he had hidden to not ruin your friendship and he raises your chin a little, not so sure on what he’s doing. You have quite an idea of what he wants to do and you know it wouldn't be right for him, not now at least. But you let him do it, you need his love and you can’t hide it.

Kuroo rests his shaking lips on yours, kissing you softly, almost being afraid to hurt you. Fearful, he passes his tongue on your lips and when it notices how you leave him access, he intensifies your kiss. You feel like you're on fire, as if a fire is flaring up your body by making you boil from inside, you feel your bones melting under his touch, while his calloused hands caress your face and you let yourself be carried away by feelings, until you separate to catch some breath.

"Tetsu I-" you try to talk, but he immediately stops you.

"I know what you're going to say, I know you're still in love with Oikawa, but it's okay for me if you use me as a rebound. It's not a problem, I just want you to smile again, I only care about that." He looks at you hopefully and you carry one hand on his face, the tears that flow back on your eyes.

"But you will break your heart." You whisper to him, holding one of his hands and he takes the other one, bringing both of your hands to his soft lips and putting a kiss on them.

"Break it. Break it in pieces. I give you permission."

"I just need time." A tear falls from your eyes, coming down on your cheek, but Kuroo is fast and picks it up with his thumb. You feel his touch burning your skin and you realize your feelings for him, but you're not ready to start something new after such a short time. You need to take a breath and take back your life in your hands, and although you're not going to cut him off of your life, you know you need to be by yourself for a while until you can open yourself up to something new again.

Kuroo smiles and hugs you again as he lies down with you on your small couch, his feet coming out of it because he's too tall and you giggle slightly.

"We have all the time in the world." He whispers to you by laying a slight kiss on your hair and putting a movie on.

All the time in the world. You take a deep breath.