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kshira · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, would it be okay to request what Mikey, Sanzu, and Rindou are like in the 'afterglow' after making love to the reader?

SEX ❁ AFTERGLOW

ft. mikey, sanzu, rindou

tw. fem!reader, praise, cursing, super soft sex, dirty talk, f!oral, cockwarming(?) super fluffy but super smutty, softy dom!w/sub reader!

an. i loved this idea, i’m just a sucker for fluffy smut, hope you like my love! <3

❁ MIKEY

the sounds of his breathing are sporadic, eyes screwed shut as mikey cages you in, he’s leaning on his elbows pumping his cock at a lazy pace. he’s so close, tipping over on a incredible high, hips stuttering when you cry out his name as you gush around him. a sharp breath sucks through his lungs and mikey is spilling his seed, gasping out “f-fuck, god you’re such a fuckin’ good girl.” mikey flutters his eyes open through the aftershock of his cock expelling the reminiscence of his cum. he presses his forehead against yours, left heaving for some oxygen as he feels your soft touch wrap around him. “i’m here baby, just wanna stay here for awhile” he smiles, looking into your eyes. mikey wonders what life was before he met you, how he sulked through the darkness for so long. “i love you” he whispers, and the words bouncing from your lips make his heart pound faster. he doesn’t know what life was before but now, it shines so brightly.

❁ SANZU

“god you’re so messy” sanzu groans, gripping your thighs feeling his nails eat at the flesh, a whimper recites back to him furthering his tongue deeper in your pussy. he’s flickers his eyes up to you, sticking his tongue out “look how much cum is on my tongue from you” he smirks when your eyes knock white collapsing your head into the pillows. sanzu jerks his hand from pumping his cock to shove them in your hole, curling the digits till stars dance in your vision. “yeah that’s right princess, gimmie another” sanzu wipes the slick dripping from his chin just enough to shove his face harder in your cunt, fingers finding gratitude in his hair as you let go, just like he asked giving you another toe curling orgasm to color his pretty pink tongue. sanzu rises from your cunt, leaving wet open mouth kisses along the way. he hesitates a moment, looking over your body—he feels his heart sting. you always had that effect on him, pulling his strings just the right way “i’m in love with you” he looks at you, “i just love you so fucking much” the words roll from his lips without a second thought. pussy drunk could be behind his faultless words or—he’s just so helplessly in love with you.

❁ RINDOU

“keep bouncin’ like that and i’m gonna cum so deep in that fuckin’ pussy” rindou warns, your hips keep moving if not in a quicker pace, tits pushed against his face, your nipple dipped in his mouth. rindou throws his head back against the wall and he’s whining at his cock pulsating in your walls “fuck” he utters, whimpering as his seed paints your walls, cum slathering his thighs. you rise up from his lap only for rindou to pull you back down, “no stay” he pleads, nuzzling his face into your neck, “don’t want you to go.” rindou feels so vulnerable right now, cheeks flushed with warmest pinks, hair scattering his vision. he hates how easily he crumbles after he cums, needing to hold on to you, making sure you don’t leave, ever. “you’re mine” he reminds you, rubbing his nose against the skin and huffing “my pretty girl and all mine.” rindou grimaces at himself for acting like this, embarrassed how much he craves you over and over but he is reminded that’s what it’s like, to love another person.

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev smut #mikey x reader #sanzu x reader #rindou x reader #mikey smut #sanzu smut #rindou smut #tokyo revengers x you smut

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lampoest · 4 years ago

Text

Unfiltered thoughts watching mission impossible rouge nation inspired by @chaotically-cas

(sorry its so long my brain is all over the place)

this is also part 14 of me watching it every day :/

CURSING WARNING !! ALSO SPOILERS !!!

why is brandt first to speak

starting out with "shit" good call benji

brandt man we get the package is on the mcfucking plane

badass luther 10/10

nervous benji 10/10

that one sound effects sounds like the discord notif

why he in a fancy suit

*jumps on a plane with almost no plan on getting inside*

why did tom cruise think this was agood idea?

but like why would benji even open the ramp?

how is he not winded from that?

classic ethan

THE INTRO 1000/10

SOLOMON LANE !!

wait you can already see lane in the record shop.

how do they tell the agents these little convos?

also damn way to give it away

what if someone just looked in that room and saw the secret message?

also how did the disc get changed? because the imf definitely didnt make that

and how did lane know where he was going?

speaking of lane---

dang that man is pretty

he always sets guns down carefully

i can only see alec baldwin as trump from his snl skits so i dont take hunley seriously ;-;

damn brandt needs to step it up. man keeps letting himself be inturrupted

bruh the imf is only luck

why did no one resrict his legs?

also why is janik such an asshole?

dang she cool !!

why does it take janik so long to get that gun?

bravo-echo 1-1

this man is bleeding but decided instead of taking care of his wound he calls brandt.

i like how you actually see ethan worried and confused trying to plan his next moves. he is rarely caught off guard so it's refreshing to see his more human side

hunley spitting accusations damn bro

also a big fuck you from ethan to hunley

dang ethan is good

brandts little hidden smile

and ethan leaving trails

bitch how you sketch that good???

STAN BENJI !!

youve won, your way out of a job

benji is good

my little brandt x benji shipper in me is happy

simon pegg is such a good actor

the first time i saw this i was like: aww noooo

all dunn with that

TO THE OPERA !!!

TUX BENJI TUX BENJI

i cant tell if that was ethan

it just looks like youre talking to yourself thats more sus than using a phone

want drama? go to the opera

ok but like if you look like that im sorry you are a bad guy. thats like a stereotypical bad guy face

benji-

you can see ethan in the background of that scene

flute gun flute gun

oh no benji is in the closet. dont worry man we love you

if i were there and i just had a good vantage point i could find lane in an instant

ooh ilsa pretty

pipe gun

also pamphlet computer

those key things are cool and plausible

spiderman spiderman does whatever, ethan hunt can?

a W O M A N

what W O M A N?

reminds me of a marshmallow gun i made out if pvc pipes.

why does she not put that thing back?

also the dude loads it and then later it is unloaded

dang that guy is pretty tall.

ethan is so tiny

dis bitch is like uhh gimmie a sec to catch my breath mate

why he only dropkick people?

only 30 mins in ?!?!

the cinematography is exquisite

yes benji goin sicko mode

*gets shot* just a flesh wound

bruh i would've been so startled at that

i love how confused he is at that

ilsa saves ethan once again

they did this on the first day of filming

skdjs

ah yes random package in car = not bomb totally

if she tried to shoot benji then yes she is a bad person

but she didnt try to, she could've easily but didn't

benji being paranoid

she could just say the dude's name

benji being scared

hunley jumping to conclusions

brandt actually cares yeey

why di they approach from different sides of the street they were in the same car.

benji was far away from the sparks why he flinch?

friendship goals

oop plot dump that only mission impossible can get away with

ok...

why this mf's voice so smooth

lane is struggling with chopsticks

also lane :))))

ive chocked on my water so many times watching this scene

lanes voice :))))))

SHE RUINED HIS SUSHI WHAT THE FUCK ILSA

this man dont know what personal space is

gotta look up these peeps mbti types

casablanca references

also benji is wearing dollar store lookin glasses while ethan is wearing some fancy glasses

luther is top notch

as much as i dont like jeremy renner he delivers these lines really well

because atlee is a bitch

oh honey please, impossible is a walk in the park

benji just wants to wear a mask

id be so nervous walking through those

yes...

personal wellbeing who?

why not bring a plastic bottle full of air?

tom cruise can hold his breath for 6 minutes and he learned to do so for that scene

luther big brain

damn cctv

why did they need to break in while benji was going in?

das sus but ok

also isnt et voila french?

she just randomly tapping the ipad

benji being stressed

if he missed the exact center

i want one of those to open my locker's lock

if he just went with the current and didnt try to force his way against the water ilsa wouldn't have had to save him

imagine if he put the wrong one in-

she is breathing heavily to over saturate her body with oxygen so she can hold her breath longer

see ilsa makes it out without well and she went with the current

BENJI'S OUTFIT YESSS :))))))

no you didn't

you gave her a false sense of security

ethan's confused face for the next like 10 mins is great

liar

why does that one man look like sean ambrose?

parkour

skdjdksjdjdkfjs

the facial acting in this

STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS

the glare yesss

vrrrm vrrm

hey its you !

drivin like a grandma

shit !

benji just screaming

im convinced that ethan is indestructible

no you didn't survive that

bonk

dskfh

ethan didnt just-

also why didnt benji just tell ethan he made a copy ???

dont shoot and drive kids

high speed motorcycle chase with no helmet or leather. tom cruise, how?

i wanna learn how to drive a motorcycle

HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD YET ?!?!

the lighting

ofc brandt would be the person why sits backwards on a chair. fkn bi vibes

benji to the rescue

fuck off atlee

i am so proud of us ...

the lines are done so well here

benji lookin like how i look when my parents argue

YES THIS SCENE

LANE LANE LANE LANE LANE

im too fucking gay for this movie-

once again no personal space

*inhales* :))))))))))))))

ive like memorized the entire script of this including the music

1 man performance of m:i5 ???

benji's outfit

also i love how youre able to see the characters in the background. props for the attention to detail

i need that haircut because his hair is lookin A+

fuck you atlee

ilsa spitting straight facts

uhh ilsa he still loves julia

NO BENJI NOOOO

EW FUCK OFF JANIK NO ONE LIKES YOU

speak of the devil-

betrayal--

WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW WEATHER BOY !??

actin sus

BENJI LANE BENJI LANE

his posture shdhskhsj (i cant be talking though)

0 personal space whatsoever

why does everyone have the same haircut in this???

simon mcburney pretending to be hunt prentending to be atlee

manipulation !?

the syndicate you say ? i know a thing or two about them 😼😼😼

damn though renner delivers these lines really well

a black tie? how informal. ..

complimenting hunt right infront of him

but he really didnt

i never realized that they were on the clock for this

huh...

the lil head nod though-

HAHA YEAH FUCK YOU ATLEE

is it bad that i hate atlee more than i hate lane?

ethan big smart wrinkle brain

janik just reading a fucking magazine

ethan has a photographic memory

oh look its benji :)))

lane :))))

ethan being tough

it must be aquward to get the low angle shots

lane is running out the clock to put pressure on ethan hmmm big brain

it isnt working though :\

damn he so cocky that hes telling the villain his plan

ill give you 1/5 of the money you wanted to get my bf back

ok but like does tom cruise just not age?

kill the woman

ugh i hate janik

the trust that is shown between those two is great

yes the score and the chase are so great

also this man really hates windows for some reason

fuck off janik

sneaky sneaky

EYY ITS LANE !!!

yeyy janik is dead

once again dodging bullets and hating glass

couldve killed him but needed him alive

the glass box

badass ethan

all the pretty men assembled

lane really let himself go aster this

dang though lane is my favorite villain ever

i like how for once the girl and the guy just are friends instead of romantically involved

eyy the callbacks to how the movie started.

welcome to the imf

#benji x brandt #mission impossible rogue nation #mission impossible #ethan hunt #benji dunn #luther stickell #ilsa faust #william brandt

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beats-guns-and-roses · 3 years ago

Note

✖ - a repressed memory (For Thalos)

Memory Meme

As Thalos sings out the last bars of the song, they find themself a little winded...but in a good way! After the utter hell of battles that's been this past month, this was like a breath of fresh air. Dare they say that it was even...fun? They give a small smile to their opponent, lowering their mic. "Hey...thanks for the practice. I really needed that."

"...Yeah...f-for sure, man..." Even in the dim light, it's clear that the other seems to be struggling, sweat dripping down his face as his chest heaves. The smile quickly leaves Thalos' face, replaced with an expression of slight concern.

"...You alright?" ...Something they've noticed during their battles with Girlfriend's deranged family is that if they did especially well, they're able to sap some power from the magical arrows sent at them. They don't know if that's supposed to happen, or if it affects their opponents in any way, but seeing the older guy now is making them a bit worried that it does.

"...Y...Yeah...j-just gotta...catch my breath..." the man pants, before moving to lean against the chain-link fence nearby. He then proceeds to pull out a pack of cigarettes, plucking one out of the box and placing it between his teeth.

Thalos raises an eyebrow, before moving to stand next to him. “Didn’t know you breathe smog instead of oxygen,” they joke, jabbing a finger towards the cancer stick.

The man merely shrugs in response, briefly taking the cigarette out of his mouth to speak as he searches for his lighter. “W-What can I say? Helps c-calm the nerves...”

...Personally Thalos doesn’t get it, but a few of their previous hosts were into smoking. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is as well, on occasion. Their teal-haired opponent here even tried to coerce them into trying one before the battle, but they weren’t really interested. He said that he’d get off their case if they defeated him in a song battle, but...what the heck, they’re in a good mood. They feel as ready as ever to tackle the next challenge Daddy Dearest’s gonna throw at them tomorrow, and hey, they can be a good sport when they want to be.

“...Oi. Gimmie one of those.”

The smoker seems surprised at this, his eyes flashing underneath the shadow of his cap. “...U-Uh...you know I was...k-kiddin’ around, right? A kid like you shouldn’t be gettin’ into things like these...”

Thalos rolls their eyes. “I’m not getting addicted, trust me. One of those things isn’t going to kill me. I just want to see what the deal with ‘em is if folks like you are smoking them all the time.”

“...” The man seems hesitant, pausing for a long moment...before he brings up the cigarette pack once more, carefully picking one out and placing it in Thalos’ hand. “...L-Let me...light it for you...”

They roll the cigarette over, holding it between their thumb and forefinger as the other finally locates his lighter, flicking it open and holding the flame up to the end of it. Once it’s lit, he pulls away, lighting his own before leaning back once more. Thalos watches him, mimicking his actions as he brings the cancer stick up to his lips, taking a drag...and once they do the same, the smoke immediately gets into their lungs, causing them to break out into a coughing fit.

The man immediately straightens up, blowing colored smoke in the other direction before turning towards them and looking them over with concern. “W-Woah, you good, little man? I tried to warn ya...”

Thalos is quick to wave him away, taking another drag, successfully this time, blowing out colored smoke as well. “I’m fine, I’m fine... Eurgh...this thing tastes weird... Why do you keep using these?”

“...” The man lets out a sigh, staring down at his lit cigarette. “...Like I said...calms...the nerves...” After he says that, the two proceed to get into a pleasant conversation, mostly about music. It’s late as hell, and Thalos does in fact have somewhere to be tomorrow, but they feel like hanging out with the guy. Sure, they don’t know him that well, but they’ve had enough pleasant interactions for them to put a surprising amount of trust into him, despite him being an adult. He’s helped out ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ on multiple occasions, after all. He can’t be that bad.

...However...this chill evening soon takes a turn... Thalos’ cigarette is nearly half gone when all of a sudden, they feel dizzy...very dizzy... Their body lurches, and they have to reach out and grasp the chain-link fence so they wouldn’t fall over. “Ugh...” they groan, shaking their head.

The smoker glances over, his body tensing up. “...Kid? You alright?” Thalos opens their mouth to respond, but before they can get a word out, they break out into a coughing fit, doubling over. The man’s mouth forms into a grim line, and he reaches out, hesitating for a moment, before gently placing his hand on their shoulder. “Feeling...sick? ...M-Must be the cigarette... Told you kids s-shouldn’t mess with this stuff...” ...The...cigarette...?

Thalos looks down at their crumbling cancer stick, struggling to focus on the green and white object, but...there’s...something else... Tilting it slightly, they notice something...a pattern nearly burned away...a skull and crossbones...? Why is that on...? A chill runs down their spine, and when they look back to the man and see that his cigarette bears no signs of the same marking, it confirms their suspicious. Despite the worried look on his face...he has something to do with this.

They quickly jerk away from him, taking a few unsteady steps back, nearly falling over in the process. “W-What...did you g-give me...?” they hiss out, glaring at the man as they try their best to suppress the coughs.

He freezes, and though he tries to his best to keep his expression neutral, he can’t hide the guilt flashing in his eyes. “I...it’s just a c-cigarette, kid... They’re not good for ya, and they can make you sick. ...T-That must be it... Here, I...c-can help you home and--” He makes another move towards them, but they back away just as much, snarling.

“G-Get away from me...! Liar...!” They start coughing once more, but this time, wisps of red smoke escape their mouth with every exhale. Pain is flaring up in their chest, and they’re finding it difficult to breathe. What the hell was in that cigarette? Poison?! ...They have to get out of here.

Thalos spins around, prepared to make a run for it, but the momentum coupled with their current weakness makes them topple to the ground instead. Their head is pounding...and they just can’t stop coughing. They clamp a hand over their mouth, almost gagging as they attempt to get their body under control...but when they feel something warm and sticky splatter onto their palm...they know it’s too late.

Red liquid drips from their hand and onto the ground, and the smoker’s eyes widen at the sight. He seems...distressed at the sight, but he gets no closer, dropping his cigarette and digging through his pockets instead. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have t-trusted him...!” he exclaims in a frantic hushed voice. “I-I’m going to call you an ambulance, j-just hang in there, little man!”

Thalos barely registers this. They just feel so sick...like they’re on the verge of blacking out... Whatever poison was in that cigarette is working quickly now that it’s fully in their system, and they can feel their host’s lifeforce rapidly depleting. It’s...beyond saving...they have no time, they have to get out of here...!

The combination of their host’s body shutting down and their own preservation instincts forces them to retch painfully, and they double over as their true form expels from their mouth along with a cloud of red smog. The man behind them jolts, taking a step back and raising an arm to shield his eyes from the smoke...and when it clears...he’s met with an unusual sight.

The body of a high schooler lies facedown on the ground, deathly still in a small pool of blood...but rising from it is a different red substance, slightly misty and transparent in properties, yet somewhat goopy and formless... The sludge twitches, seemingly turning towards the smoker...before a single eye forms in the center of the mass with a disgusting squelch.

“...Thalos...?” the man breathes out in disbelief.

Before he can even blink, the creature is lunging towards him, tendrils outstretched. He lets out a shout, falling backwards in surprise, quickly bringing up his arms in an attempt to protect himself. He screws up his eyes, body tense as he waits for impact...but it never comes. His eyes blink open after a moment, and he slowly looks up in confusion.

Thalos is towering over him, yes, but...what are they doing? Why aren’t they possessing this f***ing traitor? He killed their host, they have every right to take his body for themself! ...But... Their form falters, their single eye staring at the smoker for a long moment...before they twist around, taking off into the night. They...need to find a new host...before it’s too late.

...Garcello...why...?

#BeatsGunsAndRoses #; Briar Patch ; (Demon)#; Might Just Disappear ; (Garcello)#ask #; Drifting Spirit ; (Demon Headcanons)#; McDonalds Order ; (Garcello Headcanons)#; Writing Class ; (Mod Roses' Stories)

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imalwaysaslutfordrag · 5 years ago

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5 with any Crystal pairing because... It her. She's the child

Bold of you to assume I will pair Crystal with anyone other than Nicky. Thank u for the prompt, babe <3

5. “Don’t yell at me like I’m a child!!” - “DON’T THROW SCISSORS!”

They had been stuck working on garments in the stuffy apartment for nearly an hour now.

Correction.

Crystal had been playing with the fabric that Nicky was stuck trying desperately to turn into a dress for nearly an hour now.

It was hot, and their New York City apartment didn’t have an AC unit yet. Hadn’t had one since they moved in, but they were always on the road so they didn’t really see a point in it. Until now when their apartment was so hot that even after cooling down for nearly half an hour, Crystal could still feel sweat trailing down her spine.

Crystal was, frankly, over it and had been trying to get Nicky to see sense and leave the damn fabric alone and come kiss her for what felt like years.

“Kiss me.” Crystal repeated for the umpteenth time that minute.

“Let me finish up this stitch-”

Crystal cut her off, “Kiss me.”

Nicky rolled her eyes, exasperated by her girlfriend’s antics. “Will you hold on one second?”

Crystal pouted. Nicky only knew this because after not noticing her pouting initially, Crystal got up from the floor to stand in front of Nicky and pout in her line of vision.

Nicky looked up at Crystal hovering over her work station pouting like a child. Nicky wanted to ignore her, really wanted to find the whole thing ridiculous and annoying, but her stomach did that little flippy thing it always did when Crystal gave her those eyes. Nicky cursed herself for giving in and leaning forward just enough to press a quick kiss to Crystal’s lips.

Crystal tried to deepen the kiss, but Nicky pulled away. “Let me finish this and I’ll kiss you all you want.”

Crystal pouted again but accepted her fate of being unloved and lonely for the next half hour.

That didn’t mean she was happy with it. She made sure Nicky was aware just how unhappy she was by sighing dejectedly every thirty or so seconds.

Now, Nicky liked to pride herself on having the patience of a saint. But even saints sin sometimes and the added heat was doing nothing to soothe Nicky’s rising temper. After a particularly deep sigh from Crystal, Nicky snapped at her girlfriend, “You know if you helped this would go faster.”

Crystal hummed noncommittally.

Nicky sighed, regret at her tone creeping into her words. “Will you cut me a sheet of the red fabric?” She turned to look at Crystal. “Please,” She added.

Crystal nodded and got up from the floor to snatch up the scissors from the dining table. Except, Crystal’s hands were sweat-slick from the heat, and in her eagerness to help, she may have picked the scissors up too quickly and they may have flown across the room and made a clunk sound as they sunk into the far wall.

Nicky heard the sound and Crystal’s subsequent gasp and turned around to face the scene, “Oh my god, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Crystal lied.

She was still in shock at the fact that the scissors were indeed buried into the wall.

Nicky was also confused, but not in the innocent awe-like way that Crystal was. No Nicky was more angry-confused.“Did you THROW the scissors? Why the hell would you do that?”

"Don’t yell at me like I’m a child!” Crystal squeaked out.

“DON’T THROW SCISSORS THEN!” Nicky actually looked mad. Like there was a fire lit behind her eyes and she was breathing heavily. That could just be the lack of cool air though.

“I didn’t mean to throw them!”

Crystal really hadn’t.

Nicky approached the site of the crime and her mouth hung open at the realization. “They’re in the WALL!”

Crystal winced at the articulation of ‘wall’ because yes, they were technically embedded in the wall, but it was totally fine, right?

Nicky clearly didn’t think so because she repeated the statement, “You threw the scissors into the WALL, Crystal!”

“I’m sorry!” She exclaimed.

Nicky just looked from the wall scissors to Crystal then back to the wall scissors in half-confusion half-anger. She threw her hands up in surrender after a few beats of silence.

Nicky went and sat back down at her sewing machine, taking a deep breath in then out before continuing.

Crystal retook her spot on the floor. She looked at the wall scissors and then back to Nicky. Was she just going to... leave them there?

Evidently so, because Nicky went right back to sewing.

Crystal could tell she was still fuming inside, so she allowed several minutes to pass before speaking again. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” Nicky answered curtly.

Crystal didn’t believe her. “Really? Cause you sound-”

Nicky cut her off, “I’m not mad at you!”

Nicky was definitely mad at her.

And Crystal knew this, but she also wanted attention. And that outweighed, as it often did, anything else.

“Will you gimmie a kiss?”

“Oh my god,” Nicky rolled her eyes, and for a minute, Crystal worried she had pushed her girlfriend too far.

Nicky unplugged the sewing machine silently and cleaned up her workstation as much as possible before turning to look at Crystal.

When the younger girl didn’t make any sign of moving, Nicky motioned for her to stand up. Crystal stood up and approached Nicky slowly, still trying to feel out the situation.

Nicky decided she was moving too slowly and pulled Crystal to her by the waist and into a deep kiss.

Crystal smiled in victory against Nicky’s lips.

Nicky did her best not to smile too, but she couldn’t help it. She pulled back to give them both a chance for some much-needed oxygen, “You’re a menace.” She spoke with a laugh.

“You love me.”

“I loved our walls being intact.”

Crystal pouted until Nicky rolled her eyes fondly.

“I love you, you menace.”

#prompts #thanks for the prompt #nicky doll #crystal methyd #Methydoll #nicky x crystal #fluff #drabble

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

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Feeling kinda dumb asking this tbh. Not sure if you even watched TVD, but in case you did, you know how Bonnie uses Expression Magic which is considered extreamly dark and powerful form of magic (I mean, she literally destroyed hell!) do you mind writing Freddy x victim!reader oneshot where he mets a witch who also practices Expression and is extreamly powerfull? He tries to kill her at first obviously

Omg, this one started out so light hearted but oh my god.

Don't feel dumb!! Its a good ask!! I do watch TVD, and I hope you like this ^^

~~~

I wake up the same way I have for the past 3 weeks. With messy hair, slashes through my favourite pyjama shirt and a finger in my hand- well, it isn’t always a finger. Sometimes its an ear, a portion of his ugly sweater, his hat, once even his eyeball. You get the picture though. Unimpressed, I watch the finger turn to gunky, dirty dust. Then promptly get up and tiredly get out the vacuum cleaner to clean up the mess.

Once I’m done, I put the vacuum back in its cupboard down the hall, which at this point I could totally do just from muscle memory and no other senses due to how often this month I’ve ripped something of Freddy’s back out into the real world in my attempt to take him out and kill him off the clean way.

But, I take a deep breath and let it out, exhausted and resigned, as I pull on pants and search through my closet for a shirt to wear out today. I guess I’m going to have to do it the hard way.

Finally, I discard the ruined shirt and wrench on a clean, yellow t-shirt and leave my house.

___TIME SKIP___

“Hey, Bernard,” I beam towards the grassy haired barista. The café’s basically empty, apart from a group of teenagers watching Netflix and Disney plus on their laptops and phone sin the far corner, so I think we’re fine to talk. He looks up from the mug he was drying out, sees my expression and promptly scoffs. Immediately he starts down the bar, past the glass case with all the sweets inside including a delicious jelly slice with lavender for safety that I get when I come here for breakfast, rounds it, and comes all the way to stand very close to me. He holds up his pointer finger between us sternly, almost mad and I focus instead on his hair rather then his face. It really is grassy- not because he’s been playing footy which he likely was before he came to work and not just because its green. Its messy, and multiple shades of different, environmental green. Representing his element.

“Don’t you dare.”

I sigh, and roll my eyes as I sit down in a bar stool, successfully putting space between us as he doesn’t move. “Its kind of a dire situation.”

“A demon?” He doesn’t look at all like it would change his mind on the subject of my using magic if it were a demon. Which it is.

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that draws strength from attention, lets move on.” Again, I roll my eyes. Not at Bernard though, this time its Freddy. Yes, he totally is that kind of demon. Not even just because he needs people to believe he exists to work. He’s just an attention whore.

Bernard crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back, more than expressing his parents’ shared fire element. And, also, his cranky streak. “You will not use magic.”

“I’ve tried doing it the easy way. I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about your neighbours, and the rest of the known universe if you fuck up. Actually, scratch that. Unknown universe, too.”

“I’m not asking you for permission anyway. Just- come on, gimmie the book.” I hold out my hand, looking around for where he could possibly be hiding it. Cupboards? Behind the cupboards? Has he digitised it? He just continues to glower, and its so forceful that I lower my hand and pout. He’s always been the scary cousin in our family.

“Oh, you so are asking me for permission. You don’t know where the book is!” He sneers, and I deadpan deeply at his immaturity.

“Look, Ber, we’re grown adults. Grown! Ass! Adults! I can make my own decisions, now- where is the book?”

“No!”

“Gimmie!”

“I’m older than you, and I say no!”

“Berrrrrrrr- Oh hi Boyd.” I pause in glaring at my Bernard to look at his brother, Boyd walk by from the upstairs apartment, clipping the vizor attachment to his glasses as he’s going out. He looks boredly at me smiling at him and keeps going to the door with an old-fashioned bell fixed to the top.

“You’re here for the grimoire?” He asks, opening the door and turning over his shoulder, and I nod sweetly- he’s sure to be more helpful! “Yeah, Bernard lost it. Hid it so well even he cant find it anymore. Now, I have a date.” He leaves the, now very tense and cold café with a curt, “Later.”

Slowly… I turn to Bernard. He is now avoiding eyecontact. He misplaced… our families… century old… grimoire??! “Find. It.”

Having a change of heart, he heads behind the counter again with a lowered head. “Oof, I’m on it.”

It must take hours, before I give up looking alongside him and sit down to take a rest. The teenagers have gone by now, and Bernard turned the ‘Open’ sign on the front window around to say ‘Closed’. I don’t know how it happened, but at some point, I rest my head on the bench and the exhaustion from not getting full rest for weeks catches up to me, and I fall asleep.

“Back so soon?”

I jump. “Gah!” Turning around to where the voice came from and I see Freddy- clearly, not in a creative mood because otherwise he wouldn’t have appeared so quick. “Why are you here?!”

“This is my domain, sweetheart.” Freddy explains, something I already knew and he knows I already know and I groan.

“It’s the middle of the day! Can’t I have this one moment to sleep in peace??” A wide smile spreads across his face, and I slouch over. Course not. Oh god, I am so tired. Another yell escapes me though, exhaustion making me incredibly jumpy, when suddenly he appears beside me. Physical form and everything, I can feel the fuzz of his sweater on my arm. “Don’t touch me.” I flash him a glare, not daring him. Definitely not daring him- he’ll take it. Just telling him to back the fuck off because I’m tired not only from his unfaltering ability to keep me busy and working, even when I’m asleep, and also now because my dear older, moronic cousin has lost our grimoire which was entrusted to him, which I need to get rid of Freddy, in order to sleep and actually feel rested!

Oh, my goodddddd, I would do almost anything right now to dream about stupid normal stuff like flying, or running from an encroaching car, or falling. Even falling, which wakes you up. At least I can fall right back to sleep.

“Okay, now, see, if you tell me that, I’ll just wanna do the opposite! ~” The clawed glove nears my face and my right eye twitches, but I stand still there with my arms crossed and glare at it. The rusty, nearly black metal nearing my eyes, reflecting the sharp, gross grin on Freddy’s burnt face.

“So, its opposite day then?” I ask, humouring him because what else are you going to do? When he gets bored, he’s even more dangerous.

“Yep!” Visibly, the stripe sin his sweater switch places so its green and red, and not red and green. He thinks he’s funny.

And, clearly I’m exhausted otherwise I never would’ve fallen for that. “Then please touch me Fredrick.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, raucous laughter escapes him, and he holds his belly as he doubles over and laughs. I groan and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. I need to wake up. “Out of all the obnoxious murderers out there… “I got the worst of the lot.

“Yep, you got me. Now, let’s stop fucking around shall we? Let’s get to the good stuff!”

“Oh no.” I half groan, half whine in dread and fear. Suddenly, the fact that I fell asleep feels like stupidest move ever- at any time, he might kill me. Its just blind luck that he hasn’t felt like ending the game so far. But he could at any time, including this time.

Freddy disappears again, and I whip around to look for him. My heart starts to beat thunderously in my chest because nothing good has ever occurred when Freddy disappears. I’ve been shot, I’ve been crushed under a stone slab, I’ve been choked with 80’s twisted telephone phone cables- I’ve even been kissed. And every time, I get closer to dying. I lose oxygen, I lose blood, I lose morale. Every time I get hurt, Freddy takes me closer to death then before and I think I’m actually gone this time. He’s bored, I’m not enough anymore, the torture is over.

Which is both a relief and even more horrifying then anything else. Tears cluster in my eyes as time goes by and nothing happens. I just see the boiler room around me, everything tinted red and everything damp and shiny with grease and rust. I don’t want to die.

Suddenly, smoke starts to fill the room. Until I can’t see anything at all except the white in front of me and my hand if I would raise it, but I don’t. I just stay very still, afraid of what’s about to happen. “Fr-Freddy?” I call, weak and disappointing myself. I’m a fucking witch… but that doesn’t really mean much in this world. Not without the spell that I need from the grimoire that’s nowhere to be found. I’m a witch, and I’ve raised to think that means something, means I’m a force to reckoned with, but here I am being reckoned with and I’m useless.

The ground underneath me starts to vibrate, and the smoke slowly starts to clear.

I squint, but I can’t see much through the remaining smoke and the tears shielding my eyes except a bright light.

The vibrating gets worse, and I look down and notice that the smoke has cleared enough at the point to see what beneath my feet, and the realisation of what’s there makes fear swarm throughout every crevice of my being. Mind, body and soul.

Train tracks.

My head snaps up again to see the light, a train, barrelling closer and closer to me. It’s so loud now that I’ve realised, I’m about get his by a fucking steam train, that my ears pop and protest to the pain of it all. The train gets closer and there’s Freddy. The fucker. Wearing a conductor’s uniform and hanging out the side of the driver’s compartment. He grins and waives.

I try to use rational sense and move out of the way, but rope shoots out of the earth between the tracks and twists tightly over my shoes. I try to wrench my feet out of my shoes, panicking now as the train tracks are practically jumping, but the ripe starts to climb… higher and higher up and around my legs and my hip and my arms, until I can’t move at all. It’s so tight I can’t barely even breath- not that I’ll need to for much longer.

I brace myself, and squeeze my eyes shut against the now blinding, all-encompassing brightness of the trains light. And then the train hits-

“FOUND IT!”

I’m wrenched suddenly, and violently from my sleep on the counter and straighten up so vigorously that I nearly slip right off the bar stool. There’s drool on the bench from my sleep, my cheek feels stiff from resting on it for a while, and whip around to look at Bernard who’s standing beside me now with the leather bound, yellow paged book that he’s found. I snatch it from his fingers, dropping it on the bench and start frantically looking through it, eyes still filled with tears and now they start falling. I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the heavy sob that racks my back and shoulders and mouth from the shock and horror of what just nearly happened. I can still see fuzzy blue dots in my vision from the light, and my nose tingles because the train just touched. It smelled like smoke and coal and that’s still in my nose. Theirs white scrapes on my wrists from the rough rope.

“Y/N,” Bernard touches my arm and I don’t push him off, but I don’t respond, either. I barely notice him, too preoccupied with looking for the right spell. I need this to be over, that can’t happen to me again! I’m not brave enough for it. Another terrible sob forces its way from my chest and I feel half like curling into my cousins chest and crying my heart out and half like killing that bastard Freddy. Wrenching his entire nasty existence from unwritten history and tearing it so it will never be salvaged again.

The second half wins, as I go back through the book backwards, and this time find the spell. “Ow-Okay.”

“Y/N, take a moment- “

“No,” I snap. I nearly got h i t, by a t r a i n. A monstrous thing the same colour as Freddy’s blades. Bernard can’t understand that, but I sure as fuck can. Stammering, but sure, I start to recite the incantation under my breath. Slowly it gets louder, as words start to become harder to say and I need concentrate more. Latin mixes together into one big word, and its har don the best of days but when there’s expression magic involved, it takes an army. More.

And I am that, right now.

Bernard looks around as wind, not coming from an open door or window, starts picking up in this room and rushes to shut the curtains and block the rest of the world from seeing in. Napkins go flying, then the chairs topple over, and then finally the wind is so strong that coffee maker rips from the wall and smashes into the glass sweets case.

I don’t see it, because I’m still following the words in the book, but I hear it. But only just, over the terrible wind screaming through my ears. Finally, the spell reaches its peak and the air in front of Bernard and me, who has gotten back to where I am, opens up. Like someone took a knife and tore literally through the fabric of space and time and magic, revealing the familiar boiler room.

The words start to speak on their own. Whispering in the wind and my lips don’t even have to move, so I let Bernard take the book. Its all so chaotic, I don’t know how I know what to do. But I reach forward and just, lightly touch the hole and its like the magic knows exactly what I want.

Dirty dust, like what Freddy turns into when you bring out of a piece of him from the dream world that I’ve been vacuuming for the past weeks appears, connects together into the shape of a man and then twists together slowly, disturbingly like vines until it isn’t dust and vines anymore. Its burnt flesh and knitted, red and green cotton.

And he looks mad. “You bitch.” Is all he manages to say, but it’s got so much hatred and fury in it that I nearly get scared. I feel it creeped into my bones and organ in my chest.

But then I remember. This is my world.

And I don’t want him in it. “Get out.” I spit, and just like the world seems to crash. Eliminating an existence -anything. Much less a person, - is a lot of work and a big deal. It shouldn’t be possible at all, and I believe that. But I believe it like some who believe murder shouldn’t be possible.

But it is and sometimes it happens, in dire situations.

It feels like I’m being torn on the inside, and scraped clean on the outside- punishment, for doing such a thing. Something to make the world balanced for this.

And Freddy warps like The Scream or a computer glitch. Half of him gong up and the other half going down. Its horrifying sight and I’m in so much pain, but I make my eyes stay open.

And then everything goes black.

___TIME SKIP: A Week___

The whole week has gone by like dream. Not a Freddy dream. Not even a happy dream. Just, like its unreal. I don’t feel much, except a slow, soft blankness like when you’re totally out of it in class after a really, really bad day.

Its not particularly a bad feeling, not compared to the horrors I endured before. Its just like I need to rest, after I used so much power, and feeling so much in general.

Oh, and I have. I’ve been sleeping all the time. Day and night. It’s been uninterrupted and nearly… empty, feeling. Bizarly, I’m well aware now when I’m asleep that I’m dreaming. I’m lucid. Like when Freddy would be there, but without him. Its not exactly restful, but still. It’s better than the nightmares.

Right now, I’m going to sleep. Feeling tiredness expand and unconsciousness take over.

Immediately, I nearly jolt right awake again from fear. Nearly. But his hand grips onto my arm before I can.

Freddy’s right in front of me, smiling sharp like a much madder, pissed off the Cheshire cat. “Heya again sweetheart.” His voice sounds too real. His touch feels to real. This cant be- “It took a fucking lot. Pulled a few strings, don’t know how. Don’t ask. But I’m back. Don’t worry though, I’m not about to kill you. That was a real neat trick you pulled… “I jump, and whimper when the a blade on his glove touches my cheek, and he leans much closer.

“So, we have a lot to talk about.”

You didn’t think you could rid of this Slasher, did you?

#Request #Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot #Oneshot #Freddy Krueger #Expression magic

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reyjustrey · 5 years ago

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HOW I RUN MY BLOG

TAGGED BY: @brooklynislandgirl TAGGING: Anyone who wants to play! Just steal and tag me so I can learn all about you

SPEED: I work four days a week with varying spans of time off between shift-clusters so my reply speed ranges from instantly hyper-very-excite! to a few days oh God end me these shifts are a nightmare. Never is reply-speed an indicator of how badly I want to write with a person/how much I’m enjoying a thread. I LOVE writing. This place is my escape from a very scary world. It’s just that that world needs tending to sometimes.

REPLIES: I try hard to match my partners in terms of reply length. I’ve no problem writing ickle-smol things, and have no problem writing heckin’ long things. I’m here for the stories and the characters and what I can witness them go through and overcome and achieve together. How they do that - be it a little texts-between-eachother thread or multipara novella sort of writing - is up to us as writers and them as characters.

STARTERS: I’m happy to write starters for folks if they’d like them, and LOVE being tagged in them myself. I’ve got a few open starters on my blog too -- they’re here! -- which you’re welcome to pick up if you like. No obligations :3

INBOX: Any and all things sent will be responded to, but for anon hate. That I won’t even give oxygen to. It’ll never be seen on my blog, will never be vague-posted about or otherwise referenced. I’m a no drama kind of role player. I’m here to relax, to write, and to make friends (and will fill their inboxes accordingly :3).

SELECTIVITY: I’m only selective in the sense that I need to be able to imagine a scenario -- any verse, au, whatever at all -- where our muses will organically meet and interact. Elsewise I’m very much at ease with people. Like I say, I’m here to enjoy myself, help others enjoy themselves, and to maybe make some pals along the way.

Oh. Also, importantly and WITHOUT EXCEPTION, I will not write shippy things with underage muns or muses. Ever. I am a 33 year old whole-ass adult.

WISHLIST: I’ll take most ideas for a spin honestly. Canon can go die in a dark pit *hard look at certain ‘canon’ writing choices in Rey’s ‘canon’ timeline*. I adore au’s and other universes and am seriously down to write in most any of them. Just gimmie a nudge :3

HONEST NOTE:...Honestly? Hi. My name’s Jen. To summon me in a summoning circle you’d need a hot cup of coffee, a punnet of grapes and a puppy. I also run another blog! It’s called ronmanmob and over there lives a very well dressed, dog-loving East End gangster of some serious historical acclaim.

And I can’t wait to get to writing with you - either here or over with Ron :3

#ooc #stuff and things about Mun #thank you for tagging me #brooklynislandgirl

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iphoenixrising · 6 years ago

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For 600 Followers: The Surgeon, The Captain, and the Soldier

From the Dr!Tim Universe: civilian!Tony, Captain America!Steve, and Winter!Bucky Barnes. Mr_Flamingo said he would read the shit out of this. Welp, there you go.

Dr. Stark is a busy, busy man. Even without the weight of Stark Industries on his back (thank-you Miss Potts), he still runs from one emergency to the next.

This one just happens to be to The Captain America.

Which is so Classified even the top level brass don’t know the guy’s real name. Probably because his files have been sealed longer than most of them have been alive, which is just grand. If there’s anything Dr. Stark likes, it’s a challenge.

When Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D came to him because honestly, he the best surgeon they’re going to get in this half of the hemisphere anyway, Tony tried to throw him out for approximately twelve seconds–

Until the file was tossed over his desk and a picture flops out pretty much in his lap.

And that picture is of a beautiful man.

With a star on his chest.

“I don’t put Cosplayers over people with real problems, Nick.”

“Stark, when I say he’s the real deal, that’s what I motherfucking mean.”

Mmhm. And he graduated from Med School yesterday. “Captain America has been dead for only seventy years, give or take. Looks spry for his age, good for him. I bet he’s Osteo’s wet dream, right?” Because he really does enjoy having witty banter with his rejections.

That’s when Nick Fury leaned over his desk, “you’re the only civilian the Black Widow has ever let work on her, and you think I’m bringing you someone in a costume?”

Some of the incredulous is creeping out of this exchange with the way Fury’s remaining eye is focused. “Seventy years? Nick, that’s–” but when Nick hasn’t moved a muscle, hasn’t blinked, probably hasn’t so much as inhaled.

That’s when the possibility becomes reality.

“Holy shit.” Tony’s eyes blow wide and the run-of-the-mill play date in the lab to make something to help with those pesky arteriovenous malformations is right on the backburner. “You’re kidding me.”

“Would I be here if I was kidding, Stark? He is the real World War II veteran. You save his life and I will give you what we have on a certain reason he survived.”

Dr. Stark stares for approximately thirty seconds, judging. The next instant he’s in his sharp coat and red shades, riding to DC in an Apache helicopter.

(Once upon a time, he would have told the engineers how he could make it better, but since his Dad died, he didn’t have to build for SI anymore. He could build for his passion and not feel one fucking bit bad about it.)

Forty-five minutes and he’s scrubbing in, the situation crucial. Agent gave him the run-down without giving him any real information on how this happened. He got a glance at scans of the cranial fracture and hemorrhaging. Shards of skull had been embedded in the grey matter (which makes no sense how he survived this long except as another shred of proof he’s the real deal. Captain Fucking America… his inner fanboy is screaming behind his calm, cool, surgeon demeanor.)

The team S.H.I.E.L.D gave him for the procedure are obviously all military, and in such need of a good laugh. Dr. Stark is sure they’re under order to watch every twitch of his fingers just in case he’s going to try making Captain America a drooling moron or something while poking around in his brain. So, he has to pull out the old SI CEO song and dance, being an unrepentant witty smart ass and talk fast before any of the sternly gowned agents can threaten him with horrible dismemberment if anything should happen to their delicate snowflake.

He gets the one called Barton to crack a smile while they’re scrubbing up, and it’s all going to be fine.

All is right with the world, except when he comes into the nice, sterile OR–

Where he finds the patient awake.

“Hey there, big guy,” he pats the shoulder of the utterly stunning blonde (who is apparently as old as his great-grandpa and has abs for miles), “we probably shouldn’t be meeting this way, considering you’re apparently the biggest secret in the Modern World, next to Big Foot sightings and the what is that gross ring around the tub really made of debate, but still, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. I’m Dr. Stark, and I’ll be your surgeon for the evening. Let me guess, gurney for one?”

He’s talking but checking machines, supplies, and sliding the special eyewear, taking the opportunity to review the site opened at the scalp to show the skull fracture at the side of Captain America’s head. While he watches, the skin is trying to heal around the clamps and a nurse apparently familiar with the Captain’s rate of healing is constantly re-adjusted to keep the wound open enough for surgery.

(The impact should have killed him. How did it not kill him? “Time is of the essence, Dr. Stark. You need to pull the bone fragments while he can keep his skull from healing over it.” Christ, Agent Tight-Ass, full work-up next time for Project Super Soldier Sandwich.)

“Hm…” slurred from behind the oxygen mask, and if Dr. Stark wasn’t one hundred percent invested on making sure he had everything he would need to fix the oddly not healing bleeder in the Captain’s temporal lobe (with things like Wernicke's aphasia hovering in the background), he would have shuddered. “Got that reference, Doc. S’funny.”

Watching the electroencephalography to monitor the Captain’s brain activity, Tony glances over as S.H.I.E.L.D’s people start filtering in around him and the ones with guns watch him closely through the observation windows.

“Never doubted you for a second, Captain. Guy that punched Hitler should be right above a Yeti in my opinion. Anyhoo,” and Tony, gowned, gloved, and masked, comes around to look at the very, very blue eyes and hold a hand close to the Captain’s blonde eyebrows to check the dilation. “The nice esthetician over there is going to hit you up with something to make you very, very sleepy so I can fix that terrible headache you’re probably having right now.”

And Captain America looks up at him from under those lashes, quirks a small shit-eating grin, “ssorry, Doc Stark. Knockouts...won’t work on me. S’ ‘causea the Serum. Gonna be awake no matter how much they gimmie.”

Blinking with his heart in his throat because he can’t imagine the pain the Captain must be in right about now, Tony gets himself back with, “oh? Then I have your witty repartee to look forward to while I work, don’t I Captain?”

“SSteve, Doc. I’m SSteve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Tony, and I’m going to save your life.”

“Soundss like ya gotta plan, Tony.”

And when the slightly familiar red-headed nurse gives him the thumbs up and it’s time to start, he has to step back around to the site being kept open for him.

“I always have a plan, Steve. Fortunately for you, part of my plan involves great music and nice conversations while we discuss your vitals.”

AC/DC starts in with a little Back in Black. And since he is who he is, him mouth moves on autopilot while he works with a delicate touch, fast and efficient, getting side-tracked from his running monologue with Captain Awake and Alert and Answering to accept vitals and updates from the other staff.

It’s been hours, and he’s on up-to-date knock-knock jokes.

They’ve run the gambit of must-see movies (and no he doesn’t see Agent Tight-Ass writing down the ones Steve asks about in detail because yes, he should see Firefly. Alien cowboys, Captain. Alien cowboys), and spent so much time on just the 60’s.

He’s gotten some stories that are absolutely hilarious (because Steve was so curious about the most oddball shit, ATMs, Fitbits, Twitter…) and is closing the wound in Steve’s scalp before he realizes he’s...done.

“Feels so much better, Tony, thank-you.”

“Hey, glad I was in the neighborhood. You’re quite the conversationalist when I’m poking around in your brain.”

“Could say the same. Thought ya might re-wire me to do something silly. Bark like a dog when someone says bell or something.”

And the staff is cleaning up around them, giving Tony the space to ease down just a notch, and wink, “sorry Captain, something I save for the bedroom, not the operating room.”

The sparkle that lights in Steve’s eyes–

–is really his undoing.

Riding the high of saving Captain America’s life got him all the way home and to his bed, still churning over the events of the surgery. Butterfinger and U were happy Daddy made it home in one piece (he’d kept the failed surgical bots, unable to decommission his first attempts at independent AI just because they’d rather play fetch than learn procedures...besides, they’re his creations and with their capacity to learn, they’re still evolving), and absolutely pampered him with coffee while he told them about why he was so late.

Butterfingers booped and patted his knee lightly while U rolled back and forth in excitement. Their favorite part was about the Apache, of course. His children were Philistines (but what would he do without them?).

Waking up at one am to Agent Tight-Ass leaning against the bureau in his bedroom was probably the fright of his life.

(Probably not, but no one needs to know that. Few people knew about his kidnapping in Afghanistan from a Medical Conference five years ago.)

“The Captain won’t let another doctor examine him.” Agent Tight-Ass said without even a hello or the decor is nice. “He’s asking for you.”

Tony completely blames it on sleep deprivation when he almost says my Captain? but shakes himself out of it at the last second.

The implications of Agent being here strikes him in the very next second and he’s throwing the covers off and climbing out of bed fast. A clean pair of purple scrubs and Agent knows he goes commando under his expensive and stylish pj pants. “Post-Op complications?” The litany of problems Steve could be experiencing after such a difficult and delicate surgery flash through Tony’s frontal lobe, a slideshow of problems he should have been able to catch before anyone else.

(They shouldn’t have made me leave him. He needs to be under close observation.)

“No. But, S.H.I.E.L.D needs to verify the Captain is physically fit for duty. He won’t let another physician check him out. We’d like you to come back to DC just to make sure.”

And, well, he’s Tony Stark, so he tries to play it off in front of Agent just to be a pain in the ass to deal with, but even before he’s had a single cup of coffee, Tony is riding in another Apache with his leg bouncing in anticipation.

He’s thrown a Henley on under his scrub top, cuffs up to his elbows and probably looking like a derelict resident, but dammit, at least he has good hair.

The damn corridors are long and Agent Tight-Ass is silently striding beside him while Tony desperately holds a cup of coffee in one hand and the Captain’s chart in the other, taking in every detail and plotting out all the worst case scenarios. What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to see the gorgeous man in dark jeans, red t-shirt, terrible trucker hat, and a single black-gloved hand standing against the wall like he’s the only thing holding the building up. Tony manages to keep his tongue in his mouth when Agent Tight-Ass stops to introduce them.

“Sergeant Barnes, this is Dr. Stark, the Captain’s neurosurgeon.”

And those eyes are like winter, grey and cool, taking him in from dirty sneakers to the half-curl just above his temple. It’s terribly frightening and arousing at the same moment and Tony is absolutely, completely out of his depth in hot men.

(And in-between relationships, isn’t he? Why are the Gods so damn cruel?)

“Very nice to meet you, Sergeant. I understand you’re an unapologetic smart-ass that can kill pretty much anything a mile away and make the worst borscht known to man. Pleasure is all mine, really. Borscht is already terrible, but making is worse? That has to take substantial talent.”

What he doesn’t expect is the tall, intimidating brunette with the sexiest stubbled jaw to blink down at him, head cocking sideways like an inquisitive cat, “s’at so? I think the pleasure is all mine, Doll. After all, Stevie ain’t quit talkin’ ya up all night. ‘Preciate ya taking good care a’ him fer me.”

Ah. Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. Always thought those stories were exaggerated.

Tony absolutely does not, does not (think about them together), lick his bottom lip while staring up into those eyes. “Anything I can do for the red, white, and blue, Sergeant Barnes. Just showing my...patriotism.”

Tony grins wide when he gets the Sergeant to laugh out loud, ruining his intense I will murder you vibe.

“Speaking of the Captain,” Agent Tight-Ass interrupts smoothly.

Both of them give the agent waiting with a patient, pleasantly neutral expression, and when Tony looks back, he can see the tension in James Barnes, and lets himself be his usual kind of confident.

“Honestly, I’m going to take good care of him. If the slightest thing deviates from absolutely normal, you will be the first person to know.”

“Thanks, Doll. Good t’ know he’s in the best hands,” and the gloved one squeezes his bicep, right above his elbow (and he is completely imagining that hand has absolutely no give whatsoever) before he turns to where Agent is holding the door open.

The Captain is awake at this ungodly hour and apparently more chipper when he wasn’t in horrible distress from bleeding all up in his grey matter. It was really nice to see this side and observe his handiwork, amazed the staples had already worked themselves out and there wasn’t even a scar to show surgery had ever taken place.

(Steve’s hair is soft and unfairly naturally fluffy. Tony’s bare fingers are threaded in it while his thumbs press lightly over the surgical site to test the healing and be fucking amazed.)

Sergeant Barnes is there for the examination, back in a corner, with that sensual bad boy thing going on, arms crossed over his chest, eyes sweeping the room every few minutes (like he wouldn’t notice?).

And once he checks the normal vitals and signs, looks for all abnormalities, any hint of a complication, Tony Stark–

–lies through his teeth.

“You need at least a week of rest. No strenuous activity at all. No punching Nazis, jumping out of planes, or potentially dangerous anything. Watch terrible daytime TV, eat your weight in bad food, and take it easy. The possibility for complications, or of re-opening the bleed site is high, even for a Super Soldier. Normal downtime would be months, I’m giving you a week. No arguments Captain.”

He turns to look at the Sergeant over his shoulder and they exchange a nod, but he sees James Barnes rolling his lips down like he’s trying not to smile.

“A week? A whole week?” The Captain honest-to-God whines, looking up at him, sitting up with perfect posture that makes his chest thrust out in such a distracting way.

(Those eyes should really be illegal.)

“Absolutely. I’m saying only a week, okay? That is very, very good news for you. From the scans taken less than an hour ago, you’re healing quickly and well. Still, we’re not going to take anything to chance.”

He grins down, completely confident he’s giving Steve the chance to get out in the world more, maybe get out from under all the Agent-Agents around here.

It’s all too soon he’s being ushered out the room and back to his Penthouse in New York, his heart thundering in his chest. The last twenty-four hours seem like some kind of dream, some kind of forbidden fantasy, something he couldn’t have really done, and being set back at his place with his bots and his lab, his nice office in Stark Medical waiting for him tomorrow, with endless calls from Pepper about the Board really wanting him present for the Quarterly Meeting this time, all of reality lays so heavy on him that he thinks maybe Agent Tight-Ass messed with his memories somehow so he’d never be able to tell anyone why S.H.I.E.L.D really wanted him in the first place.

He goes back to bed for an hour of sleep, thinking about Sergeant Barnes’ hand and Captain Roger’s eyes.

Dodging Pepper’s calls the next day between consults, residents, trips to the robotics, and some time spent in the lab, he’s in his office for a whopping fifteen minutes when his secretary knocks on his door.

“I’m sorry Dr. Stark, but they said they know you and he’s your patient–”

When Captain America and Bucky Barnes appear over her shoulder, looking a devilish mix of sheepish (Steve) and smary as hell (of course, the crackshot), Tony wonders how much effort it would take to clear his schedule completely–

–for the next seven days.

#crossover #tonystevebucky #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #Dr!Tim au #my drab #my writing #for 600 followers

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