#i'm hoping most of you in the states have done / are planning to do that

[beef-brisket]

((Sorry for taking a hot second with this. Everything I wrote didn't feel right, and I love this so much, I want to do it justice ��))

It was almost amusing how the Pride Ring was nothing but panic and violence for days after the broadcast. No one had seen or heard from the two remaining Vee's and that caused more chaos.

What sparked the most panic was a handful of sinners showed up screaming, covered in blood and in a gruesome state. Abaddon had moved back to torturing sinners.

-

Alastor paced in his radio tower. He hasn't done a broad cast in weeks, and as much as he usually loves watching the Pride Ring suffer, it was different now that he had experienced Adam first hand.

Being powerless and so close to becoming another notch in Adam's belt has changed his whole outlook. He was beyond scared, and was struggling to hide it.

The prey animal in him is screaming for him to run, to hide. But he can't. He doesn't understand it, but the thought of running from the hotel, of being alone made his blood run cold.

He listened to the screams, the explosions in the distance, the pure, deranged bloodshed. It's something that should feel like home to the radio demon, but this couldn't be further from home. It felt like he was in that forest all over again, dogs chasing him down and gaining. Now, all he was waiting for was the bullet from the hunter.

A knock at his hatch broke him out of his thoughts, straightening his jacket with shaking hands. He cleared his throat.

Alastor: Come in!

His hatch lifted, and there was a man he never thought he'd be relieved to see. Lucifer Morningstar.

He climbed up and closed the hatch. There was silence between them, but it wasn't awkward or felt like a power struggle. It was like an understanding.

Alastor was the first to talk, his voice uneasy: If he can defeat you, there's really no hope.

Lucifer sighed and took off his hat. The king looks older, troubled. Really looking a day over 16,000 years old, maybe older.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Lucifer: And Heaven has cut off all contact. We're on our own.

Alastor didn't know if he wanted to cry or laugh. What he did know is that he cursed Heaven. He's never hated anything more. Not the hunter and his dogs, not the worst if humanity he's slayed, not Vox, not even the Devil himself.

Alastor: So, this is it then. Judgment day has finally arrived, and the first man, reborn of the ashes. Becoming a whole new Devil.

Lucifer: Could have gone without eloquence.

Alastor gave Lucifer a tease smile before sitting down at his recording desk. He spun around and pulled his shirt collar, it suddenly felt impossibly tight.

Alastor: Why? Nothing I said was false. There's only a matter of time before he comes for me, and you. Vox is radio silent, pardon the pun. And miss Velvette? I heard through the grapevine that she's found a decent little hidy hole. But, only time will tell, I have a feeling we'll be seeing her darling corpse strung up.

Lucifer: ...He's sick. Adam... he wasn't like this. He was... a darling boy. Nothing but sunshine and rainbows in those eyes.

Lucifer smiled: When Charlie was growing up, I thought I had been cursed.

Alastor tilted his head: Oh?

Lucifer nodded: She was- is like a carbon copy of Adam. So sweet, and I saw the best in everyone. Never a dull day or a sky too dark or a storm too catastrophic. He... he wasn't even mad that Lilith wanted to leave him, go against Heaven's plan. He didn't care about his hurt. He was just worried for her. Traveling Earth was not easy. He even made her a spear. Even when he found out I was leaving to, leaving him. He didn't care about his own hurt, he just... gave me a basket of fruit and vegetables.

Alastor: I thought he hated you.

Lucifer: ...He does. I... used his kindness. Betrayed him over and over. Now, this monster... this Abaddon. He's my curse. My punishment. And you're right. He's the Devil now. I'm... just another fallen angel. I'm useless. I can't stop him. And Lord knows I've tried.

Alastor: We can't even call upon Heaven.

Lucifer's gaze hardened, a fire in his eyes: Heaven are cowards. There's no way to get word to them, and even if we did, I doubt they'd believe us.

Alastor chuckled. But it was more tense than because of amusement.

Alastor: We're alone. For thousands of years, sinners and overlords wished the angels would leave us, never to cause chaos again. And now look at us, almost begging at their door, and their not even home... what fools we are.

Lucifer: Damn right. Fucking fools...

Alastor: He'll come for us, your highness. He is death incarnate. And that's the one thing you can't outrun. You can't hide from. You can't barter with. Death comes for us all. One way or another.

Lucifer glares at Alastor as he talks: That's it? No bright ideas on how to kick his ass? How to send him packing?

Alastor stays silent for a moment before sighing.

Alastor: It's usually the king subjects look to for guidance.

Lucifer's disgusted with himself. He can't even protect his kingdom, and now this bastard is giving him a hard time.

Lucifer: Don't you think I fucking know that? I'm nothing against him, Alastor! Nothing...! Fucker... fucker wasn't even trying... my magic should have easily been able to snap him out of existence. But it didn't. I fucking... couldn't do it. I couldn't beat him... a-and I fucking tried, Alastor. I tried so hard... I'm nothing against him, now. I'm nothing against a man who tried to kill my daughter. If he decides he's bored of killing Sinners and Overlords and comes after my daughter? After Charlie?

Lucifer could feel himself start panicking. His breath is unsteady and uneven, his hands shaking.

Lucifer: ...I wouldn't be able to stop him... I'll have to stand there... and watch him kill my daughter... a-and if she begs for me- pleads for me to save her... I-I can't...

Alastor: ...Adam may be powerful, but he's weak.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow: Want to think about those words again, buddy?

Alastor rolls his eyes: I mean what I said. Yes, he's powerful, extremely. He's perhaps the strongest being in creation, under God, of course. But that's Abaddon. Not Adam. Adam is weak. We saw that during the failed extermination. It was easy to get under his skin to play with his feelings. He had over 10,000 years of anger and hate to play with. I heard what you said to him. You humiliated him. Broke him. Perhaps Abaddon is still as weak and delicate under all of that new power.

Lucifer: ...That's your plan? Pissing off Adam? Did he take a chunk of your brain when he popped your eye out?

Alastor glared: It's not a plan. It's more of an observation. Take it or leave it.

Alastor leaned back in his chair, his claws tapping against Sheetal of his recording bench.

Alastor: Not like we have anything else to go by. I doubt that. Adam would like to pop over for a cup of tea to discuss his weaknesses.

He felt like Alastor was on to something, but the risk out weighed... literally everything. Adam was too powerful to even thing of pissing on and expect to walk away with all of your limbs.

But, as much as Lucifer hates to admit it, Alastor is right. Adam can have all of the power in existence, but his mind is weak. His emotions always got in the way. His connection to God always came before anything else. His father's love meant more to Adam than life it's self.

Lucifer's eyes slowly widened: God...

Alastor: What?

Lucifer: God- my father. He could stop Adam! Like you said, Adam wouldn't be stronger than God!

Alastor gave Lucifer a soft smile: Well, well. We may still have hope.

Neither of them would have thought they'd call upon the heavenly father, but this was a unique situation. Lucifer hadn't spoken to his father since his fall.

Hope and desire slowly bloom in the demons chest. Maybe this is it. This is what they need.

Tormentor of souls au

Darkness surrounded him like a blanket. Only he was no way comfortable or felt safe. He felt fear grip him like iron as he tried to make even a sliver sense of his situation. He could barely a muscle, if he had any muscle to pull. It felt like he had nothing to move, was this what happened to the souls he exorcised? 

Were they to end up here for eternity, slowly being drove insane with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company? Adam couldn’t even try to open his mouth to speak, well he did try, but the only words that would escape from him were from within his mind. In his mind he sighed, he was just so tired, he didn’t have any strength to fight, to argue that he shouldn’t be here. Yet what exactly was the point? He’d only tire himself further out. 

He had to admit it, he was stuck here, for all eternity. Much the same as a sinner. 

That was when he saw it a flicker of light. Not just any light, a pure white light. A light that was so familiar, one that brought him joy when it spoke to him in his booming voice.

His creator 

“GREETINGS MY SON. IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I HAVE LAST SPOKE TO YOU AND FOR THAT I APOLOGIZE”

Adam didn’t care he was just so thankful to be in his creator’s presence.

“MY SON I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF HARDSHIP AND THAT IT DID NOT STOP EVEN WHEN YOU PERISHED.” 

He tried to not flinch at that. Thinking about his first life brought too many unpleasant memories.

“THAT IS WHY IT BRINGS ME PAIN TO ASK YOU OF THIS, BUT I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE ONCE MORE. I KNOW OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE THESE PAST FEW CENTURIES, AND I HAVE TO SAY THAT IT WAS NOT THE SOLUTION”

Adam could not believe what he was hearing. His own creator believed that they, the murderers and rapists, deserved to be redeemed!?

“HELL IS MEANT TO BE A PUNISHMENT, ETERNAL TORMENT OF THE SINS LUCIFER CORRUPTED WITH HIS WAY OF FREE WILL. HOWEVER MANY OF THEM DON’T SEE IT THAT WAY. TO THEM HELL IS MERELY A PLAYGROUND WHERE RULES NO LONGER MATTER. I HAVE SEEN TRUE MONSTROUS ACTS THE WICKED HAVE BROUGHT WITH THEM FROM LIFE. THEY CARRY IT MOST OUT ON THE TRUE CITIZENS OF HELL, THE ONES THAT HAD NO SAY IN BEING THERE OR NOT.”

The hell born, Adam thought taking in the Lord’s words

“I KNOW I AM NOT THEIR CREATOR, NOR DO THEY CALL ME FATHER, BUT I HAVE HEARD THEIR PLEAS FOR HELP TO BE SAVED FROM THE ACTS OF THE WICKED, OF ALL WICKED. UNFORTUNATELY THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE BORN DOWN THERE, BUT I CAN STOP THE SINNERS FROM HURTING THEM AND THAT IS WHERE I NEED YOUR HELP”

Adam had never put much thought into the hellborn. To him they were simply there and as long as they got in his way during the exterminations they weren’t a problem. There was the princess, but he didn’t really count her. He was curious however as to what the Lord wanted him to do.

“THE SINNERS NEED PUNISHMENT, AND THE HELL BORN NEED PROTECTION. YOU CAN BE THEIR PROTECTOR BY BECOMING THE PUNISHER.”

 With a simple snap of his creator’s fingers Adam felt something shift within him, in his very essence he changed. A warm feeling engulfed him whole and then he knew no more.

((Oh shit- I love everything about this! God needs to fuck off and let our boy rest!

Sorry this took me a hot second to get to- and I hope my reply does yours justice 😝))

Charlie is in full work mode and has been since the failed extermination ended. Since finding out Sir Pentious ended up in Heaven.

For months, she had been working hard. It was so hard that she somehow missed the latest gossip going around the Pride Ring.

Sinners ending up missing, only to resurface months later completely different. Scared. Traumatized.

Many didn't think much of it. This is Hell. There's always some crazy bastard out there doing shit.

But, it was when they became too scared to even function, too scared to ever be normal again, too scared that they would rather turn an angelic blade on themselves than to live with the possibility of going through whatever it is they've gone through.

Charlie was actually getting quite concerned. Especially when she heard Angel talking about it one night at Husks bar.

Angel: I fucking tell ya, kitty. People a shit scared. I've never seen the clubs so empty!

Husk shook his head: Must be the worst of the worst, huh?

Angel scoffed, downing his drink: Nah, babe. It's something else. It ain't no sinner.

Husk: Hellborn?

Angel: Those guys are freaky. Don't get me wrong, but their not THAT freaky. I had a client who said he was taken for three months. Three. That's fucking child's play. But the shit he said happened to him... fucking skinning, to pouring acid down his throat. Fuck mam, the sick ficker even dug around I'm his muscle and tendons!

Angel shook his head: There's something going on... even Val has lowered the workload.

Husk: Pft. Fuck. That's how you know it's serious.

Angel: Damn fucking right.

Charlie stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Angel's story. She was shocked but not surprised. She wasn't sure why this person has the sinners so scared, but sury it's nothing new.

She probably should make sure Al isn't behind this. She's only heard a few tales of his exploits so she wouldn't put it past him.

-

Alastor: Hm. So you've heard the rumors, too. While I'm flattered, I don't appreciate being confronted in such a way.

Vaggie: Just- fucking answer her, Alastor.

Alastor sighed, leaning on his cane: No, it's not me. I've been too busy here! And my kills stay dead when I'm finishing them~.

Charlie wasn't sure if she liked that answer, but it was good enough.

She apologized to Alastor, ams watched him leave.

Vaggie: ...I don't know, Charlie.

Charlie: I don't know either...

Vaggie: I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, you have more important things to deal with here, hun. You shouldn't get mixed up in sinner issues.

Charlie sighed: I know. I just... surely, it's a coincidence that this starts after the failed extermination... that was my fault. Simmered died because of me- I put my friends in danger! I feel like I owe it to everyone to at least try and solve it.

Vaggie smiled and pulled her girlfriend onto a soft hug.

Vaggie: I know you feel like that, hun. But you don't owe anyone anything... besides, if it's that bad, you could just ask Lucifer. He said he was looking for something to do.

Charlie: Hm... that's... a good idea, actually! I'll get dad on the case!

-

Lucifer: Me on the what now? Charlie, why should I care about whatever is going on with those sinners? Their... you know... sinners.

Charlie: Dad, please? Our guests are sinners. We need them to be safe. So please. Look into this for me? Even just a little bit?

Lucifer sighed. He really didn't want to do this. But, seeing the hopeful, pleading look on his daughters face, eventually changed his mind.

Charlie: Oh- thank you, dad, thank you!

Lucifer smiled as Charlie pulled into a hug. But when she felt and heard his back crack, she slowly put him down.

Charlie: S-Sorry dad!

Lucifer laughed through the pain: It's okay, Charlie - nothing I can't handle! I-I better start hunting a... whatever the fuck this is!

[biitchcakes]

[mariasont]

maria, i have an ideaaa!!

bimbo!assistant!reader goes on a date with a really shitty guy. and she sneaks away to the back door and calls hotch in the alley to come and save her (it’s also raining). she’s all wet and her makeup’s all ruined when hotch comes.

he then takes her back to his place and takes care of her… and… mushy soft fluffiness happens… and maybe feelings are confessed… and maybe a kiss or 2 happens…🥰💖

TALK ABOUT A BAD DATE - A.H

a/n: genius, genius, you are an absolute genius!!!!!!!!!!! this was probably my fav bimbo!reader fic to write <3 thank you sm for requesting

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: um the rain takes out reader's shirt, so she does kinda flash him for a hot sec, hotch also blatantly checks out her ass, cuties being sickeningly cute, cuties kiss in 4k

wc: 2k

A perfect, flawless, stunning, never-been-done before outfit wasted on a loser of a guy. Your makeup had taken an hour alone, your hair—well, you didn't even want to think about it because you were certain you were starting to break out in hives.

You steadied yourself against the brick wall, the uneven asphalt beneath your heels threatening to take you down as you fished your phone from the depths of your purse.

You dialed the first number you could think of--Hotch's. His was also the only one you had memorized. The battery icon flashed a warning of five percent as you hunched beneath the alleyway's awning, trying to shield yourself from the rain. You desperately hoped he'd pick up.

There was frankly no plan B if he didn't. Go back inside and ask you so-called date for a ride? That was not an option. The moment he pulled up in one of those big trucks, with its deafening music and roaring engine, you regretted not driving yourself. After all, you were well aware what men were compensating for with a big truck.

"Hotchner."

His voice was gruff, the sound slightly distorted by the speaker. You imagined he had just walked through his door, despite the time being eight o'clock on a Friday night. He was presumably preparing to pour his routine glass of scotch.

"Sir, it's me," you said, attempting to ignore the relentless raindrops assaulting your makeup--a battle they seemed intent on winning. Clearly, the concept of setting spray was foreign to them. "Can I ask you for a favor? If you say yes, I pinky promise I'll stop rearranging your desk. I know you have a system, but it just looks so bland sometimes."

"I'm going to overlook that desk comment," he stated, his sigh audible through the phone. You could picture the pensive frown that came with it. "What do you need?"

You drew your lips into a tight line, looking down to watch the rain mock the effort you had put into your outfit.

"Can you come pick me up? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Pick you up? From where? Are you okay?"

You shivered slightly, your free hand instinctively rubbing warmth into your arm. You should've brought a jacket. The thought of sharing this evening's failings with your boss did not sound appealing, so you avoided most of his questions.

"I'll text you the location, okay?"

"Okay, yes, I'll be there. Just stay put."

You thanked him and followed that by a double promise to stay put (he didn't believe you the first time). You also told him you'd wait inside, which was less than truthful. The thought of getting drenched was far more attractive than the prospect of bumping in that women-hating boy again.

You didn't have to wait long, thankfully, spotting Hotch's car turn into the alley, the headlights flaring up like spotlights against your face. You used a manicured hand to shield your eyes, narrowing them against the glare. The distinct sound of a door opening and closing signaled his arrival, and soon, Hotch was striding towards you.

"Christ, get in the car," Hotch insisted, more a command than a suggestion.

He was by your side in an instant, his arm on yours as he opened your door and helped you in. Then, unexpectedly, he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt. You giggled, his hand pausing just above your thigh.

"What?"

The rain gently streamed over his perfect skin, his hair now saturated and plastered to his brow, his blue dress shirt bearing the brunt of the downpour.

"You don't trust me to buckle my own seatbelt?"

"I don't trust you with a lot of things." Completely false. "For instance, your choice of men." Completely true.

He clicked the seatbelt into place and swung the door shut, cutting off any chance of a response, then moved around the car to the driver's side.

You can't help but pout, even as your eyes traced the line of his jaw. "How'd you know?"

Any trace of annoyance vanished as quickly as it came as he placed a hand behind you, giving you an even better view of his profile while he reversed the car. Your focus shifted to the ripple of muscles under his shirt.

"I'm trained to know when someone is in distress and you practically spelled it out. The restaurant, the clothes..." His voice tapered off, disguising his pause with a cough while his gaze flickered over your outfit, his cheeks tinged with a fleck of red. "I've got a spare sweatshirt in the back if you need it."

You traced his line of sight to your chest. Emitting a small squeak, you quickly shielded yourself with your arms, realizing that your white top had become completely see through.

"Totally not embarassing," you say, pursing your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"It's fine," Hotch insists, but you don't miss how his eyes are now careful not to drift from the road. "Put your seatbelt back on."

"I can't reach the sweatshirt."

You shift to face the back, knees planted on your seat as you lean over to grab just the thing you were looking for. In the rearview mirror you catch the brief moment his eyes do stray, discreetly (or so he thought) sweeping over your ass.

A self-satisfied smile crept across you face as you slid back into your seat, slipping on the sweatshirt. It smelled like him—an intoxicating blend of aged leather and pine. You liked it. A lot.

"So do you wanna talk about it?"

You really didn't. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your lip gloss. Flipping down the passenger mirror, you froze, confronting your reflection.

"Hotch, didn't you think to mention my face is all... smudgy?"

Your mascara (and setting spray) had betrayed you, leaving dark trails down your cheeks and a slightly unhinged look.

"Your face is perfect," Hotch remarks dryly, like he was tired of you, he undoubtedly was. You were a handful after all. "Why are you avoiding my question?"

You let out a delighted gasp.

"Did you just say my face is perfect?" Leaning over the console, you tap his nose with your finger. "You're just the sweetest."

The look Hotch gives you is flat, expectant as if he knows just what you were trying to do.

"Okay, okay, fine, it was just a terrible date. Like, Hotch, I'm talking disaster-level bad. He made fun of my job, ate like a toddler, and his truck? He wouldn't shut up about it." Your hands are now shuffling through the contents of your purse in a panic. "And now, I can't find my keys."

"Your house keys?"

A breath of frustration flows from you, fingers pulling through your hair as you nod. "Dang it."

You felt a slight unraveling in your usual poise, and the panicking that came with it. Hotch's hand landed on your shoulder, his thumb grazing across your collarbone.

"Hey, it's fine. It's late, and you're upset. You can stay at my place tonight, I'll crash on the couch, and we'll find your keys in the morning."

He made everything seem so simple.

"I'm not upset," you insist, lips pursing as you angle your body just enough to feel his touch more fully.

His hands felt right on you.

He chuckled quietly, his thumb tracing a path from your shoulder to brush away the solitary tear beneath your eye that you hadn't noticed before.

"Must be a raindrop," you shrug. Hotch's soft laugh tells you he doesn't quite buy it. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying over?"

"I'm certain."

"Okay."

"So why did your date make fun of your job?"

"Because," you start, your fingertip lazily sketching doodles on the misted car window, "when I was telling him about being an assistant and working for you, he implied that the only reason you hired me was so you had something pretty to look at."

"Well, he's not entirely wrong."

You let out a surprised giggle. "Hotch!"

You reach over the console, pinching his arm which he just laughed off, pulling into what you assumed was his driveway. You had never been to his house. It was nice. Really nice, the kind you'd find in movies—not imposing, but inviting, with its brick walls and stout brown pillars framing the porch.

You were even more surprised when you entered the house. The image you had of Hotch's house one of meticulous order, a place where you could hear the tick of a clock from rooms away. But this... this was a home. There were throw blankets casually draped over the couch, books overflowing, armchairs worn in just the right places.

You lean down, intent on stripping off the torturous heels, but a wobble has you teetering. Hotch is quick to step in.

"Here," he offers, lifting each foot in turn to his knee, skillfully undoing the straps and easing them off you.

Standing flat-footed, you suddenly feel much shorter, and you wonder if Hotch has ever seen you without them.

You look up at him, smiling cheekily. "My very own prince charming."

He ignored you and moved through the living room. "Do you want a pair of sweatpants?"

"Sharing clothes now, are we? I bet there's a clause against this in the employee handbook."

Hotch raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I need to remind you of the numerous times I've overlooked your creative interpretations of the handbook rules."

"So you're admitting to showing me favoritism?"

You plucked the sweatpants from his hands, not giving him an option to respond as you shuttled yourself into his bathroom. You changed quickly, trading your sopping wet clothes for Hotch's dry, warm ones.

You reentered the living room to find Hotch reclining on the couch with an ease that was new to your eyes. He, too, had slipped into something more comfortable—sweats and a form fitting grey long sleeve that threatened to distract you completely.

You dropped your purse onto the coffee table and settled next to him, maybe a little closer than you should have.

He let out a sound that was more a breath than a laugh, a sound that all the same made your heart flutter unexpectedly. "You've still got some, uh, makeup under your eyes."

He reached up to wipe it away with his thumb.

"It won't come off that way," you said, grabbing his wrist with a soft smile. "I have makeup wipes in my purse."

But he didn't hand you your bag like you would've thought, instead he dug through it, pulling out the wipes and starting to dab at your face. The softness of his touch felt disarmingly intimate, so gentle it coaxed your eyes to flutter more slowly, eyelids becoming more heavy.

Your head tilted downward and Hotch used his free hand to tilt it back up. "Stay still, or I'm going to poke your eye out."

"You're making me sleepy," you murmur, your voice a soft, drowsy hum, but then he moved the wipe to your lips and suddenly you were anything but.

He was even more gentle with your lips, if that was possible, wiping away the gloss like you were made of glass.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself gazing into his warm, brown-sugared eyes, your heart thundering in your chest. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. How did you get so close? You weren't sure, but he was there, noses almost touching.

He pulled away the wipe, using his thumb to clean up left over gloss though you were sure there wasn't any. His hand paused there, resting on your lower lip like it was meant to be there. You felt every fiber of your being stand on high alert. You wondered what he was thinking.

Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

"Are you going to kiss me?" You asked, half-hopeful, half-daring, giving a microphone to your inner monologue.

He took a moment, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes then back down again. "Yes."

It was certain. Like there was no doubt about it, but he didn't move.

"Okay, I'm ready," you breathed out, pulse roaring in your ears.

Hotch's laughter was a low and warm sound. You had heard it a lot tonight.

"You kill me," he said, and it wasn't patronizing—it was affectionate and genuine, and it made your whole body turn to mush.

Then his lips were on yours, and you were both laughing, the sound muffled by lips. It was tentative at first but it quickly morphed into something sweet and soft and perfect.

"Aren't you glad my date went terribly?" you mumbled into his soft skin.

"Devastatingly glad."

One thing was clear—Hotch was not going to end up sleeping on the couch tonight.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @averyhotchner @everythinglizzy @sky2nd

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[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old” and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.

[flowersforbucky]

sweetener

bucky barnes x reader

summary: when the vacation that you've been planning for months gets canceled due to a last minute mission, you can't help but feel bummed - the bright side is that you're being sent on a mission with bucky.

word count: 5.3k - my masterlist

warnings/tags: canon level violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of blood, almost drowning, hospital setting, bad guys getting killed (not descriptive), non-sexual nudity, hurt/comfort trope, avenger!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, language, reader pov, no use of y/n, fem reader, bucky being super soft, not explicit but mdni please

when life deals us cards

make everything taste like it is salt

then you come through like the sweetener you are

to bring the bitter taste to a halt

Hand warmers. Flashlight and extra batteries. Can opener. Matches. First aid kit –

You glance down the handwritten list for the dozenth time that morning, checking and rechecking that you aren't forgetting anything obvious.

Your eyes flicker between the ridiculous amount of supplies scattered across your bed and the three large duffle bags on your floor that you're determined to pack it all into. You know that you are most likely being excessive, but you'd much rather be too thorough than not thorough enough when you're about to be miles deep in the Appalachian wilderness.

Sure, you'd be staying at a relatively civilized campground with restrooms and showers, but this is the first time that you've been camping in years, and your first time ever going camping alone.

A two day road trip there, then six days in the Great Smoky Mountains, and then another two day road trip back to upstate New York.

A much needed ten days of time spent by yourself, seeing as how you haven't gone on anything resembling a vacation in over two years. The last couple years have been nonstop work with very little time for relaxation.

To say that you're excited would be an understatement. Although you find immense fulfillment in the work that you do with the Avengers and can't see yourself doing anything else, you're ready to sit by a warm fire and sleep under the stars without a care in the world.

Just as you've finished packing the second bag and are about to begin on the third, the Bluetooth speaker that your cell phone is paired to begins blasting your ringtone, cutting off the music that you'd been listening to while you pack.

When you grab the phone off of your nightstand and see the name Nick Fury displayed across the screen, a ball of unease immediately forms in the pit of your stomach.

Nick Fury isn't the type to call and chit chat about how your day is going or what shows you've been binge watching. He's the type to call when he wants something done, and wants it done now.

“Hey, Fury,” you greet in a neutral tone as you perch on the edge of your bed. With the phone still connected to your speaker, you place it back down on the nightstand so that you are free to wring your hands together.

“Agent,” Fury's voice booms throughout your room. “I hope I've caught you before you've left the state of New York.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Uh - yep. I'm still here. Packing up for my trip right now,” you answer, trying your hardest to conceal the irritation in your voice. There's a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you should just lie and say you are already on the road, but you're not stupid enough to lie to Nick Fury.

There's a second, louder voice in the back of your mind screaming at you that you shouldn’t have even answered the phone.

“You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm going to suggest you pack a tactical suit and weapon of choice instead of hiking boots and a sleeping bag. We just got word that a vibranium weapons dealer we've been tracking will be receiving a large shipment at a port in Destin tomorrow night. Need you and Barnes on a flight to Florida this afternoon.”

“Florida?” you repeat, unable to hide the shock and disappointment in your tone. “I can't go to Florida right now. I've been planning this trip for months. I put in the notice for my leave–”

“I realize that this is unfortunate timing but I'm afraid that this is non-negotiable, Agent,” he interrupts you in a tone of finality. “If we don't intercept this shipment then these weapons fall into very dangerous hands. With Romanoff and Rogers still in San Antonio until next week, I have no choice but to ask you and Barnes to handle it.”

You exhale an audible, frustrated breath and massage the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. You don't know why you're surprised. It's not like illegal arms dealers take your vacation time into consideration when they plot their dealings.

“Is that understood, Agent?” he asks when you don't respond.

“Yes,” you say as you dig your nails into the flesh of your palm to hold back any further argument. “Yes, I understand.”

“Great. The jet leaves in three hours.”

The line cuts off before you can get another word out.

You groan out loud. Three hours. That doesn't even leave you enough time to feel sorry for yourself.

You look around at the chaotic state of your room before your gaze lands on the already packed duffle bags filled with camping supplies.

You're too annoyed and short on time to care right now, so you empty the contents of both bags back onto your bed and tell yourself that you'll deal with the mess when you get back home. For now, you need to focus on packing the appropriate items for taking down a vibranium arms dealer in hotass Florida.

Beneath all of the disappointment and frustration, there's a glimmer of relief that at the very least it's Bucky who you're being sent on this unexpected mission with. You may not be fond of hot weather, but you are quite fond of him.

••••••

Just as Fury said, the jet departs from the compound at exactly three o'clock. You sit in the aircraft's cabin, reading through a thick file containing all of the information that SHIELD has compiled on Dmitri Petrov's crime empire, ranging from drug smuggling to illegal arms deals.

You are only a few pages into the report and it's abundantly clear why this mission was non-negotiable. Petrov has been getting away unscatched for years - tomorrow night will be the first clear opportunity for a take down since getting on SHIELD's radar.

“Coffee?” A voice snaps you back to reality, making you realize that you're reading the same sentence for the dozenth time. “Three creams, two sugars.”

You look up to find a vibranium hand holding out a disposable cup to you. If the fact that he's committed the way you take your coffee to memory isn't enough to increase your heart rate, his smirk and the crinkles around his blue eyes do the trick.

“Thank you,” you tell him, snapping the folder shut on the table in front of you. “My eyes are on the verge of bleeding.” You take a sip of the coffee - indeed, three creams and two sugars.

He takes the seat directly across from you, spinning the folder around for him to flip through himself.

“We land in less than half an hour and you've been reading this the entire flight,” he says teasingly as he thumbs through the pages. “I think it's safe to say you're prepared.”

He places the file back down, returning his attention to you.

“Just trying to get myself in the right headspace. I didn't know anything about this operation until a few hours ago, you know.”

Not one to complain, you had yet to bring up the fact that your trip had been postponed in order for you to be here. You had talked about the trip on several occasions with Bucky, but you didn't expect him to remember the exact dates that you were supposed to be gone.

Sure - if he was going to be away for over a week, you'd be hyper aware of it until he returned - but you weren't naive enough to think that he would know the exact dates of your comings and goings.

“I know,” he sighs, a sympathetic look on his face. “I was on my way to tell you to have a good trip and to be safe when I got the call from Fury this morning.”

Oh. Your cheeks heat at the casual admission from him.

“I'm sorry about your trip. I know you were really looking forward to it,” he adds sincerely. “I'm going to find extra enjoyment in putting Dmitri Petrov behind bars for causing it to get canceled.”

“You and me both,” you chuckle. “Really though, it's okay. I was bummed, but it's not the end of the world. It can easily be rescheduled once this guy is locked up and we're back home.”

You don't add the fact that you find yourself caring less and less about the canceled trip the longer that you sit here with him.

“There is at least one silver lining to this, you know,” he chimes, leaning forward with his elbows on the table between you. You instinctively lean in closer too, causing the side of your leg to brush against his beneath the table. You wait to see if he'll pull away, and when he doesn't, you leave the side of your thigh resting against his.

“Oh, yeah? And what's that?”

“Petrov’s shipment isn't set to arrive until tomorrow night, and they've sent us down here the day prior. It's not like we have to stay holed up in our hotel room for the next twenty-four hours, right?”

••••••

Bucky's right - there's no sense in locking yourselves inside the hotel room until the time of the weapons deal tomorrow evening, but when you see the hotel room that you'll be spending the next couple nights in, you think you would also be okay with staying inside if you had to.

It's not a five star resort by any means, but in comparison to the dingy roadside motels that you're normally stuck in for missions? This place might as well be a Four Seasons.

It's relatively small, but there's more than enough space for the two of you. There's one full size bed, plus a couch that converts to a futon mattress - the latter of which Bucky insists on taking, giving you the bed. The bathroom is nearly as big as the main room, with a jacuzzi tub that's bigger than three standard bathtubs put together.

And the best part of it? When you open the curtains to the sliding glass door on the backside of the room, there's a clear view of turquoise water and white sand.

“I guess Fury felt a little bad about springing this on me at the last minute, after all,” you sigh as you pull the door open, letting the light breeze pull the smell of saltwater into the room. “Can't say that I’ve been given a beachfront room for a mission before.”

Bucky walks up to stand beside you, leaning against the doorframe and staring out to the ocean.

“It's definitely a step up from the rat and roach infested Motel 6 that Sam and I had to spend three nights in when we were sent to Atlanta for recon last month.”

You shake your head, both cringing and laughing at the memory of him ranting about the motel room as soon as he saw you after returning home.

“It was the size of a fucking capybara. Why are you laughing? I opened the bathroom door and it charged at me–”

A sudden deep rumbling noise snaps you out of the memory and you glance down at your stomach in surprise. You suppose it makes sense that your body is screaming at you to eat - you had such little time to pack for Destin before your flight left that you hadn't even bothered with lunch today.

“How does pizza sound?” Bucky asks with a knowing smirk. “I saw a pizza place just down the street on the way here.”

“Anything sounds good right now,” you sigh, both starving and exhausted from your day of packing, unpacking, re-packing and traveling.

“I'll go grab one for us,” he tells you, pulling the keys to the rental car out of his pocket. “Just stay here and get settled in.”

You don't object, itching to change into comfier, more weather appropriate clothes. When you left the state of New York just a few hours ago, it was chilly outside. Now that you are in eighty plus degree Destin, the sweater and boots that you're wearing have got to go.

You unpack your bag, thankful that you had brought a pair of casual drawstring shorts. You throw them on, along with a tank top. You decide to go ahead and convert the futon from a sofa into a bed, and then search through the hotel room's small linen closet for a set of sheets and a quilt. If Bucky insists on you taking the comfier sleeping option and going to get food for the two of you, you figure the least you can do is make his bed for him.

When he returns, he not only has a large cardboard box containing the pizza, but a plastic bag hanging from his vibranium arm as well.

“Grab a towel and follow me,” he tells you before he's even closed the door behind him.

“Follow you?” You laugh, taken aback by the instructions. “Where are we going?”

You hop up from where you'd been mindlessly scrolling on your phone on the bed, doing as he asked and grabbing one of the complementary beach towels from the bathroom closet.

“Not staying holed up in our hotel room. Remember?”

And with that he pulls the sliding glass door open with his empty hand and exits the room, heading towards the beach that sits directly in the backyard. You don't even take the time to throw on a pair of tennis shoes before practically running after him through the sand.

He comes to a stop when he's a few yards away from where the waves wash up against shore and turns back to look at you. You take it as your cue to spread the towel across the sand at your feet.

He sits down and you follow, the cardboard box nestled between you. He opens it, revealing a pizza that is split down the middle - half your favorite, half his favorite.

“I know it's not a campfire in the Great Smoky Mountains,” he smirks. He digs into the plastic bag and pulls out a drink for each of you, along with some napkins. “But it's the best I could do in our current situation.”

The sentiment leaves you momentarily speechless. You know it isn't a grand declaration of love, and it might not mean as much to some people as it does to you - but you can't remember the last time someone went out of their way just to improve your day in such a simple yet thoughtful way.

Between the pizza, the vibrant pink and purple sky as the sun sinks beyond the ocean's horizon, the sound of the waves and him beside you, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

“No,” you murmur. “It's not. But it's perfect.”

••••••

The next day, you manage to forget that you're actually on a super important mission taking down a dangerous illegal arms dealer.

The first half of the day feels like an actual vacation - the closest thing you've had to a vacation in a long time, anyway. You sleep in until nearly ten o'clock in the morning - which may not be considered sleeping in for some people, but in this line of work, you've overslept if you're still in bed at eight am.

After waking up thoroughly rested and refreshed, the two of you get brunch and then spend the early hours of the afternoon leisurely strolling at the boardwalk just a short drive from your hotel.

You and Bucky are sitting on a bench eating ice cream when you check your phone for the first time in hours and realize how quickly the day has gone. It's already four o'clock - you're due to be on lookout at the pier where Petrov's exchange will occur soon.

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks when you huff under your breath as you stick your phone back into your pocket. “Nervous about tonight?”

You're not nervous, truthfully. You're fully confident that you and Bucky will be able to handle the job. You've been on countless missions less straight forward than this before, and so has he.

“No,” you shake your head as you take another bite of your ice cream cone. “It's… silly,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal.

“I'm sure it's not silly,” he assures you gently.

You pause, staring at a couple holding hands in the distance as you contemplate your words.

Bucky seems to follow your gaze.

“Today has just been really nice,” you shrug with a small smile. “I almost don't want to go back home.”

From your peripheral vision, you see his face shift to look at you. You continue to eat your ice cream, pretending that his stare doesn't warm you more than the Florida sun.

“We're on the same page then, doll.”

••••••

A few hours later, a feeder ship pulls up to the pier just after dusk.

“We've got eyes on three men,” you say lowly into your communication device. “They're guarding the pier. No sign of Petrov yet.”

“He'll show,” Fury's voice echoes in your ear. “Keep watch until then. Backup is on standby to take him in.” The comm clicks off before you can respond.

“I know there's a lot riding on this going smoothly,” you grumble as you bring your binoculars back up to your eyes. “But sometimes I think he just really needs to get laid.”

You and Bucky are across the road from the pier, concealed by large shrubs and the darkness of the night sky. You've been sitting here as still and silently as possible for well over an hour, before Petrov's men had even arrived to stand guard at the dock.

You really fucking have to pee.

Headlights begin to approach from down the street, and as the vehicle gets closer you're able to see that it's a large, black van.

Totally not suspicious at all.

It comes to a stop close to the boat dock, and a second later Petrov hops out of the driver's seat. You recognize him right away by his shrimpy build and receding hairline.

“I should just take them all out from here and be done with this,” Bucky grumbles from beside you.

“I agree,” you sigh. “But Fury's adamant that Petrov be brought in alive if possible. He’s got an empire behind him that we need to find out as much as possible about. His men, however..” you trail off.

Bucky looks through the scope of his gun, zeroing in on one of the guards.

“Blow a tire on the van first,” you murmur. “So Petrov can't flee.”

“I'll take out these three guards, and then I'll get Petrov and call for back-up. You worry about getting to that ship and taking out anyone inside. Sound like a plan?”

“Easy peasy,” you agree.

Less than thirty seconds later, all three guards have dropped dead and Petrov is frantically running to his van, unaware that Bucky had shot the back tire after killing his guards. You and Bucky emerge from the shrubs, sprinting across the road. He dashes towards Petrov, who freezes and begins shouting curses in Russian when he sees what is running towards him.

Bucky lands a punch to Petrov's jaw as you're running past them, only slowing down enough to not trip over the guard’s dead bodies that are littered across the dock.

You're only a few yards away from the ship when you hear Bucky screech your name. You immediately come to a halt, turning back to see why he could be calling for you.

You see a tall, burly man - someone that you and Bucky hadn't noticed before - sprinting down the dock after you. He raises his arm above his head, his hand holding a rocklike object that he sends barreling in your direction.

It's the last thing you see before everything fades to black.

••••••

The shrill, repetitive beeping of a monitor pulls you out of limbo and back to earth.

You're met with painfully bright, fluorescent lighting that has you squinting your eyes shut before you can make sense of your surroundings.

“Bucky,” you attempt to call out but it sounds like the croak of a lifelong smoker. Your eyes begin to adjust to the harsh lighting, allowing you to see that you're alone in a hospital room. You raise your fingertips to where it feels as if your brain is pulsing through your skull. There's a thick, defined knot on the top of your head that's sensitive to the touch.

Panic starts to take over you. Bits and pieces of the mission start to flash through your mind. Bucky shooting the guards, you running towards the feeder ship when you heard Bucky yell your name and then turning to see –

“Bucky!” You call out louder, your voice still hoarse. You sit up, not hesitating to carelessly yank an IV out of your arm. You're vaguely aware of the fact that you're in only a hospital gown and that blood is now trickling down your left arm, but you don't care.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up far too quickly. Your vision fades to a fuzzy gray and you're overcome with an intense wave of vertigo as the room spins around you. You grab onto the metal side railing of the hospital bed to keep yourself upright, desperately trying to focus your eyes enough to find the nurse's call button.

“Hi! I'll be to your room in just a moment–” An overly cheerful, feminine voice pours from the speaker a moment after pressing the button.

“What happened? How long have I been here? Where is my–”

The door to your room opens, and you immediately breathe an audible sigh of relief as your last question is answered. He looks as though he could use a good night's sleep, but he is okay.

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky exclaims as he rushes over to where you're still clutching the hospital bed railing for support. You follow his gaze to your arm, seeing that there's now blood all over your gown as well as the white floor around your feet.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mumble, embarrassed by your current state. He guides you back to the edge of the mattress before walking away to get a towel from the bathroom. “I was worried something happened to you,” you add weakly.

He wipes the blood trail on your skin before using the hand towel to apply pressure to the puncture in the bend of your arm.

“I'm okay,” he assures you delicately. “I had just gone to get some coffee.” He glances at the styrofoam to-go cup that you hadn't even noticed him place on the bedside table when he entered the room.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask, noticing that it's still pitch dark outside. You also notice that he's no longer in the clothes that he wore on the mission - now wearing a pair of loose fitting black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. “What happened?”

“There was another guy in the back of Petrov’s van,” Bucky tenses, still holding the towel to your arm for you. “We were both distracted and he snuck up on you. He hit you over the head with a piece of vibranium and threw you into the water.” His jaw clenches as he recounts what happened, meeting your gaze with a pained look.

“But you saved me,” you finish for him.

“Yes,” he gulps. “I did. But I was almost too late. By the time I knocked out Petrov and killed the man who hit you.. it felt like it took forever to find you in the water. You almost drown–”

He cuts himself off, unable to force the last word out. A nurse enters the room as you open your mouth to offer him reassurance. Bucky holds your gaze for a split-second longer before reluctantly dropping his hold on your arm and turning to take a seat in the room's singular guest chair.

The nurse informs you that they did a CT scan while you were unconscious, and that while you don't have any swelling or bleeding on your brain from the blow, the doctor believes you to have a concussion and tells you that she will need to do an exam now that you are awake before they feel comfortable discharging you.

Judging by the high-pitched ringing that you've heard in your ears since you woke up and the way that you feel dizzy when you even think about trying to stand up, you don't doubt that you're concussed.

An hour later, you've been thoroughly examined and it is confirmed that yes - you are indeed concussed. The doctor discharges you under the condition that you don't drive and that someone keeps a close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.

“Don't worry,” you hear Bucky tell her when you step into the bathroom to throw on a pair of dry sweatpants, a t-shirt, and cheap shower slides that the hospital had given you to wear back to the hotel, seeing as how your tactical suit and boots are still sopping wet with ocean water. “I'm not letting her out of my sight.”

The nurse who helps you dress gives you a small smirk at his words.

“You're a lucky woman,” she tells you quietly. “He was worried sick until you woke up.”

You avoid her gaze, your cheeks heating. You busy yourself by tightening the drawstrings to the gray sweatpants.

“I am lucky,” you agree. “He's a great partner.”

She raises an eyebrow at the word partner, but doesn't make any further comment.

By the time that you and Bucky make it back to your hotel room, the sun has started to rise.

Bucky all but carries you inside, only letting go of you when you're perched on the edge of the mattress. Your head is still throbbing despite the extra strength ibuprofen that you'd taken before leaving the hospital, and you still can't walk without stumbling from dizziness, but at least the intense ringing in your ears has begun to subside.

You feel tired down to your very bones, but you have no doubt that Bucky is even more exhausted. You'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours during the night, whereas he had been awake the entire time sitting by your bedside.

“You get some rest,” you tell him. You brace your hands against the mattress, preparing to attempt to stand back up. “I smell like a mixture of sweat and fish from being in the ocean, so I'm going to shower off.”

You push yourself off of the bed, and as quickly as you stand, you're sitting back down. The room immediately begins spinning in circles around you, sending a wave of nausea through the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, not likely,” Bucky huffs lightly. “You can't stand up, and the shower doesn't have a seat. How about we compromise on a bath?”

You give a weak nod, too tired to protest. A warm bath sounds incredible right now.

Bucky retreats to the bathroom, where he turns on the water to fill the tub before returning to help you get up from the bed without toppling over. He secures his flesh arm around your waist and guides you to the closed toilet, where you carefully sit down.

“Do you.. need help undressing? Or..?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you breathe with an awkward laugh. “I think I've got it.”

He gives you a quick nod, looking away to give you the privacy to shed your clothes. You carefully tug the oversized t-shirt the hospital had given you over your head, wincing when it brushes against the swollen knot on the side of your scalp. You rise off the lid of the toilet just enough to push your sweatpants down to your ankles.

“Okay,” you murmur, letting him know that you're ready to step into the tub.

He grabs one of your hands in his, and places his metal hand on the small of your back as you step over the side of the large jacuzzi tub and into the water.

Not that you don't trust your other teammates. But with Bucky, it doesn't feel vulnerable.

You're aware of the intimacy of the scenario, but you can't find it in yourself to feel insecure or embarrassed right now - you're sure that's largely due to the concussion, but you think it's also simply because of who you're with.

If it were Sam, or Steve, or anyone else, you know you'd be mortified to be utterly exposed as they help you take a bath. If it were anyone else you wouldn't be taking a bath right now - you would have just gone to sleep and waited until you could fully do it yourself instead of putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

He lowers you into the water, your entire body instantly relaxing at the warmth. You glance to his face, noticing a faint purple bruise along his cheekbone.

“I'm going to leave the door cracked. I'll be right outside if you need anything. Just let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?”

You don't respond, instead reaching up to his face, where you run your finger along the outline of the bruise. He freezes beneath your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Don't worry,” he assures you softly. “It was a lot worse when it first happened. It's already almost gone.”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “It happened because of me. I wasn't paying attention as well as I should have been. Should have heard that guy coming.”

“Don't say that.” He places his flesh hand on top of where yours still rests against his cheek and then brings it in front of his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “You're okay, and that's the only thing that matters now.”

“Mmm,” you hum, staring at his lips that are no more than an inch away from your hand.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice patient and curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to the bruise in a featherlight kiss. You pull back, once more resting your back against the tub and giving him a small shrug.

“Just thinking that I wanted to do that. Have for a while.”

He grins, a faint blush taking over the apples of his cheeks.

“Yeah, I'd say you're definitely concussed.”

He then presses his lips to the side of your hand, causing goosebumps to form across your skin despite the warm water that you sit in.

You chuckle, your smile matching his. “I am,” you agree. “But the concussion will go away soon, and I'll still want to kiss you then, too.”

“I hope that you will do just that.”

••••••

One month later

You wake up to the smell of campfire smoke that creeps through the crack in the partially zipped tent.

Despite a thick sleeping bag, multiple blankets, and the plush sweater that you wear, you can't help but shiver.

Something is missing.

You look around the tent, your eyes adjusting to the early morning daylight that filters into the tent.

Someone is missing.

You reluctantly exit your cozy sleeping bag, shoving your wool sock covered feet into your boots and crawling out of the tent.

Bucky is facing away from you, cracking an egg into a pan that is positioned over the fire.

“Good morning,” you murmur as you creep up behind him, wrapping an arm around his midsection. He wraps his own arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teases softly. “What's on the agenda today?”

“Maybe some hiking, maybe some biking,” you shrug into him. “Maybe a little bit of you keeping me warm in that tent.”

He laughs, more carefree than you've ever seen him before.

“See? It's a good thing that your trip got postponed. What if I wasn't here to keep you warm?”

You raise up to capture his lips in yours, the taste of fresh brewed French press coffee on his breath.

“Remind me to thank Fury for that when we get back.”

thank you so much for reading 💕🫶🏻 comments and reblogs are infinitely appreciated!!

[eubybubble]

slytherin boys after an argument

ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo

Theodore Nott

Realization hit him hard after a prolonged silence. The air felt thick, and he felt nauseous as he shifted his gaze from a small crack on the wall under his fist to your face. He just swallowed and left the room without a word.

He was terrified of himself, didn't he promise to never raise a hand on loved ones? Technically, he hadn’t, but it was too close. Thoughts flooded his mind as he rushed up the stairs in a desperate attempt to breathe fresh air. It wasn't surprising that he instinctively headed to the Astronomy Tower – your favorite place. Reaching the top, he stood there and retrieved the cigarette pack with trembling fingers. After hesitating, he lit one. Everything seemed to remind him of you. It was never that serious, you just wanted to help him.

Now, he felt like a total fool. Leaning against a wall and sliding down, he pondered over the the relationships. You were too sweet, he couldn't let you suffer near someone like him. With that, he set his mind on ignoring you and breaking up with you because "that'd be better for you." It seemed like you would only agree, he didn't consider any other possible answer.

In the next few days, he deliberately skipped meals and tried to ignore your questioning gaze in halls. However, you heard a slight cough from behind after the lunch.

"May we discuss something?"

"Well, if it isn't Theodore Nott! What—" he didn't let you finish.

"Let's break up." you froze, staring at him in disbelief.

"Nott, are you insane? Didn't you think to ask me?"

"I'm doing it right now."

"Really? It felt more like you just stated a fact and I can only accept it. It was really low of you to avoid me." Your eyes became shiny as tears started to accumulate involuntarily. Theodore noticed it, and despite the cold agenda he planned, he rushed towards you, wiping the tears.

"You wouldn't want to be with me," he mumbled.

"What? We could've talked! We've always talked about how important communication is, but how come we don't practice it? I know you, and I know myself; I wouldn't give up on our relationship that easily. And more than anything, I know that I want to be with you. Why would you do that to me?" you sobbed, clutching onto him as if you were afraid that if he left now, you would never see him again.

"Shush, principessa, I'm so sorry-" he didn't expect such a reaction from you. As you hid your crying face in his chest, his heartbeat only became faster. What an idiot he was for even thinking of such a thing. "I'm so sorry. For everything I've done and said. I'll work to be better for you," he rambled quietly. "Do you trust me? Are you ready to give me another try?" His voice cracked slightly as he asked the last question. You just nodded, and he chuckled at the sight. "Tesoro... I'm so sorry. I promise you it won't happen again." He gave you a forehead kiss, and he really meant it. Even though he didn't say anything about it, he decided to quit smoking. Yes, it won't be easy or a short process, but at least he found a far better addiction - you.

Tom Riddle

From the moment you saw Tom, you thought it could have worked out. At least, you hoped so. It all felt dumb. All those times when your friends told you to break up or said that he didn’t care about you - you refused to believe them. And now, it got you here when the most precious person told you were some troublesome trivia. In the past, you and Tom would at least talk during lunch or sit next to each other in Potions where he patiently helped you, but now, he skipped most lessons, and if he attended one, he’d sit alone. Everyone noticed it, and you became the target of their whispers and snickers. Some even went as far as mocking you in the halls.

“Well, if it isn’t the one Tom Riddle dumped. What, did he finally realize that you’re pathetic?” you tightened your hold on your books and tried to leave hurriedly until the blonde boy from the group shoved you into the wall. “Aren’t we talking to you? Why are you leaving so suddenly?”

It was a pretty loud encounter, so Tom, who was walking nearby, heard it and stopped in his tracks. To tell the truth, he didn’t even want to break up. He invented this silly excuse to protect you because he was afraid of his own actions. He hoped you’d be stubborn and come once again, but you didn’t. That’s when he knew he messed up, but his pride held him back from going to you. And now, someone was bullying his treasure.

But they underestimated your power. You didn’t want it to escalate into violence, but they started it first. With a swift movement of the wand, you threw them off with a big blast. Not even bothering to look behind, you paced up and bumped into someone.

“Oh.” As he put his hands on your shoulders to steady you, he eyed the unconscious group behind. “Using a spell of such power at this hour?” he mumbled nervously.

“Care to explain why you care? Get off, Riddle.” You tried to shove him away, but his grip was strong.

“What’s going on with you? I didn’t even do anything to make you that mad.” You nearly choked at these words.

“Tom.” He hesitated. “Do you think I’m that dumb to fall for your words? Move out of the way.” But he just stood there without a change.

"Don’t leave. I was just... I was afraid I’d hurt you," he whispered as he clutched onto you. "I was afraid of my own plans, of my own thoughts. But please, promise me never to leave, even if I change. I won’t hurt you, just stay by my side. I never expected to fall in love..I had everything planned ahead in a neat way, but you came in like a surprise. Yet, here we are, and it's you. There's no turning back now" You never saw Tom being so vulnerable, and you could do only nod. You cupped his face.

"Hey, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll be here," you softly reassured him, not noticing how easily he drew you right back.

Mattheo Riddle

You had hard time absorbing everything Mattheo said. It was already dark outside, but you didn’t care to turn on the light or illuminate the wand with “Lumos”. You sat on the bed and went through the box with a glossy eyes. You couldn’t believe that he saved every gift, every letter, note - even those that you gave him before dating. Quiet sobs escaped your chest upon finding the promise ring at the very top. Why does it feel so awful when you believed you made the right choice?

As if on cue, your roommate entered the dorm room. "Hey, look what everyone’s talking about in school- oh, are you okay?" She turned on the lights and noticed your teary face. Quickly wiping everything away, you pretended to be busy, gathering everything back into the box. "Yeah, my eyes are sore from reading in the dark," a lame excuse, "what were you gonna tell?"

She knew you disliked having your privacy intruded upon. "So, three students were caught for an outrageous duel and a series of mobbings in Hogsmeade! Surprisingly, it was two Gryffindor students and one Hufflepuff. That fits into the ‘don't judge a book by its cover' narrative. I wonder when the stereotypes about the houses will end. Remember when everyone didn't doubt that it was Slytherin?" she sighed.

As if it weren't enough of a heartbreak, you discovered that everything you had ever suspected Mattheo of was all filthy lies and gossip. Suddenly, you felt dizzy.

You didn’t care about decency or dignity as you rushed to Mattheo’s dorm. He, too, was struggling. Despite everything, he regretted speaking harshly and leaving the memory box. What if you never returned and tossed it away? His heart clenched at the thought.

Feeling too irritated and unwilling to join others in the common room for a card game, he was all alone for now. In futile attempts to fall asleep, he heard a light knock on the door.

"Who’s that?" he groaned, too lazy to open the door.

"Hey, can we talk?" His muscles tensed upon hearing that familiar voice. Rushing to the door, he unlocked it immediately. "Oh, hi," you blushed and stopped mid-sentence, staring at his torso. He glanced down, realizing he forgot to put his shirt on.

"Shit. Sorry, one second," he shut the door in embarrassment and put on a random sweater. "What do you want?" he still held a grudge against you.

"I wanna... apologize. You have every right to shut the door, but I wanted to tell you that our relationship isn’t a joke to me. I love everything about you. I was just so stupid to believe all the gossips floating around Hogwarts, but that doesn’t matter. I came here to tell you how insane you make me feel. I mean, these days when I tried to collect my thoughts and was avoiding you, I was thinking of you non-stop. Mattheo, I’d fight the world to be by your side." As you rambled on and on, his gaze softened, and he pulled you by the waist.

"That’s my girl. I felt terrible when you acted the way you acted, but I hope it won’t be the same in the future?... I also apologize for saying unnecessary things."

"That’s okay, you had every right to be mad. What about I’ll order the food and we’ll watch a movie?"

“Gladly” he was grinning now. It wasn't necessary to tell him that you were also ordering a new broomstick, the perfect one for the perfect boy to make it up. It was the least you could do now. As you scrolled through the list of new films, Mattheo coughed.

"So, uh, can I get my box back, please? You didn’t go through it, right?" a light blush covered his face.

“Actually, I did, Matty. I didn’t know you are so sweet” he groaned at this comment “but I’ll return it to you. Sure.”

Lorenzo Berkshire

The moment Lorenzo received his numerology exam back, he couldn't believe the mark he saw. 70, satisfactory. Many would pray for such a grade, but he had studied and sacrificed too much for this.

As he walked to breakfast, he scanned the Great Hall but couldn't spot you. The previous day's argument flared up in his memory, and he wrinkled his nose as he sat down to eat. As predicted, a white owl sat on his shoulder, delivering a letter with Berkshire's family logo.

He run his eyes over the text. “disgrace..wasting time..bad influence” and blah blah blah. Nothing’s new, except the threat that ordered him not to come home until he got back on the track academically. He's been following his parents' wishes for too long; he was too afraid to ruin the perfect son image that he completely lost hold of his priorities.

Oh, how he wished to be in your embrace now, to listen to your soothing voice and nuzzle up to you in the dark. But he ruined it single-handedly.

He stood up and went to lessons, scratching an apology note for you in the meantime. At DADA, the only class you two took together, he tried to sit next to you and apologize, but that place was taken by a Hufflepuff girl, to which he could only frown. Throughout the lesson, you felt his gaze on you, but never once did you turn your head back at him. If he needed a break that much, he could get one. After all, you got tired of constantly begging him to relax and spend time with you and felt like a total fool.

After the lessons ended, you were the first one to leave the classroom, but he's not an idiot either. You felt someone gently taking hold of your wrists and pushing you into the empty classroom. The door closed behind.

"Can we talk and communicate like grown-ups?" Lorenzo inquired.

"You said everything you wanted last time. I have to go, Hermione's waiting for me in the library," you blatantly lied.

"Oh, really? Because when I last talked to Hermione, she told me she would be with Ron," he calmly stated, stepping closer. "I don't really remember things I've said, but-" You didn't let him finish.

“Enzo, you needed break and I’m giving it to you” his jaws tightened in frustration at your unwavering stance. “You told me I was a burden and you know what? I think you were right because lately, that’s what I felt like in relationships with you. It’s like I’m begging you to spend time with me. Maybe it's best to return to being friends” you mumbled. But he just shook his head, moving nearer once more until he stood right in front of you.

"I'm sorry I made you feel this way. It's not an excuse for my behavior, but I've been stressing about..something," he sighed. "You don't deserve to be treated like that, but trust me, I'll be better." He gently reached out for your arm. "I need just another chance. The only one. I've already written back to my parents, and I hope they will get off my back. I've also told them about us," his voice got quieter. "I hope you won't mind." Your breath hitched. He had always been postponing this, even if you wished for it. There was a minute of silence and apprehension before he wrapped you in a hug. "I hope you can forgive me, sweetheart. How about we go to the cafe you like this weekend?" he mumbled, peppering your face with kisses.

a/n: I apologize if it's not the way you imagined, but hey, I tried my best. Also, I think they were super careful and sweet afterwards!

taglist: @lilanxietysstuff @nopedefe @marina468

[heroesneedalancer]

Post by u/DJConvex to r/AskReddit on Nov 6, 2024:

People who work in DC for the government, what is the vibe?

Comment by u/Meduselde:

Resigned. We are generally very good about not discussing politics in the workplace but the vibe was obviously off. My more conservative colleagues who were happy Trump won were extremely respectful. There wasn't smug gloating and they were very obviously being cognizant of others' feelings even more than normal. It was extremely appreciated. Ultimately, we survived the first administration and will survive again. It's not necessarily Trump who was the problem last time, but his inexperienced senior appointees. The world isn't going to end nor do I feel democracy will crumble at his feet. It's just gonna be chaotic, and that's the worst part as a worker bee. At least with Biden we had consistent leadership and clear guidance, even if you didn't agree with it. Under Trump, your "yes man" says "no" and that's how you rotate through four SECDEFs. But as a sign of hope, it also means that even the most loyal DO say "no" sometimes, especially when businessmen are finally confronted with the realities of governance.

They chill out REAL quick on their dismantlement plans when they see the work these agencies do and what's at stake if they don't stand up for their people. It's easy to say you will dissolve or cut funding for something when you do not truly understand it. And as much as people say we can ALL be magically replaced with "yes men," even the most stone-hearted appointees recognize that the last thing you ever want is to lose the entirety of your skilled workforce. They learn it's best to get the skilled people to work towards their vision and not hire enthusiastic but stupid people to attempt the same. If they do, they risk looking inept themselves. You don't get skilled federal workers in a blue portion of the country to work for you by being a fucking Nazi. We're cranky and will make your life hell if you behave like that. I'm not talking about some sort of organized resistance movement because we feel like it. That's wrong. But just imagine hundreds of thousands pissed off at you. If that's the Deep State at work, then we aspire to be the quality of swampy Deep State your racist uncle thinks we are. If implementing dictatorship was that easy, Trump would have taken out every agency his last term and fired us all. I am actually extremely proud of the resiliency and checks and balances that the American federal government has in place to prevent most of the shit he says he can achieve by waving a magic executive wand. (He's done this once. He knows he can't. He just lets the majority of the population believe he can.) Us feds will make it, as we always have.

And we will live up to our oath to serve the Constitution, not a president. We serve every official of every party faithfully within the bounds of legalities and our oath. Working for administrations you may not like it's just a part of the job that we all recognize. Public servants at the federal level generally hold that extremely close to their heart. The ones that don't (I'm talking to YOU, WaPo "informants!") put us to shame. We're just tired, man. I can't believe it has already been four years since the last round. There's going to be some waves, no doubt, and some people definitely are going to be hurt at upper levels. But grab a Twisted Tea and buckle up. We'll at least pretend it's meant to be a roller coaster and ride it. TL;Dr Democracy is not going to die. But a drink and "thanks" would go a long way.

EDIT: Woah! I woke up this morning and am surprised by how much traction this got. I'm sad that this was the most positive thing some people had read. I'm sorry it's been that bad. I am not predicting outcomes. I have no idea how it's going to go. It's going to be bloody. But the hope I am trying to get across is that we are a resilient people and a group of (generally) good people. It will be okay, okay? The people that really make or break your daily life are those around you and your local government. Hold those around you close to your heart and always be kind. Everybody go outside, take a deep breath, eat something you love, and hug your grandma (even if she voted differently). The world is still turning and the sky is still blue. Being surrounded by spiraling anger on the internet only makes us the losers, not those we disagree with. The only thing we can do right now is wait. We have a few months to cool off! Enjoy your holidays!

EDIT 2: I think everybody has forgotten about this, but go check out the memorandum signed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the end of Trump's first term after January 6. The feds basically said "fuck that" when people were scared that the government was going to turn the military on them to help Trump in some way. While it was specifically addressed to our armed forces members, it was spread throughout the DOD and beyond. Partially as a result of federal workers' fear (not actually ordered, to be crystal clear) that they would be asked to turn on citizens. This sentiment was echoed across the entire government via internal emails (from Trump appointees!) as well to the civilian workforce. That's one of my proudest moments as an American and why I know we will get through it.

Emphasis mine. Link to original Reddit Post. Link to an article about the aforementioned memorandum signed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Don't give up. We will get through this.

[logansdoll]

Heyyy it would be awesome if you wrote a third part for “37” where Charles gives Logan’s memories back and we go through flashbacks of some of his best memories, his wedding, the day his kids were born…something like that, it would be very heartwarming 🥰🥰🥰 or even maybe coming back from the past and seeing his kids again

sunflower

part three of "37"

CW: fluffy fluff, all the feels, suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Days Future Past, very bittersweet, your daughter's a lil menace, your son's a lil cutie pie, angst if you squint, i never know how to end these things, etc.

"Logan, the mind is a fickle thing," Charles sighed, resting his hands on his desk with a solemn look. "I can't possibly guarantee that this will work, much less in one session—" "I don't care how long it takes."

Logan's face drew tight with the statement, his patience visibly wearing thin.

He'd been listening to the same bullshit for twenty minutes...

"I don't care if I need a hundred different fuckin' sessions. I'm gettin' these memories back," he spelled out, leaning forward in his seat and roughly tapping his finger on the desk. "It doesn't make any damn sense. This body's been in this timeline for fifty-fuckin'-years and it doesn't remember shit."

"Because it is your consciousness that is the problem, Logan," Charles groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That is what I've been trying to tell you."

Logan piped down for a moment, brows knitting together as he leaned back in his seat, taking an annoyed drag of his cigar.

"Your psyche is from a completely different timeline, and now resides in a completely different body. It's like asking to recall the memories of a random person walking down the street," the professor explained, again.

Sadly, he hung his head, greatly sorry for the misfortune of his friend.

"I wish there was something I could do, Logan. Truly. But I'm afraid it just can't be done."

But Logan didn't buy it.

Huffing a small plume of smoke out his nose, he glanced out the window, catching sight of you teaching a class on the lawn.

Using your powers, you grew a large sunflower out from the ground, the younger kids marveling at the sight as you began pointing out its anatomy, most of them enamored by the huge petals—which were bigger than their little six year-old frames.

And in a small pause in time, your eyes flitted up to meet his through the window, that heart-stopping smile finding its way onto your lips as you gave him a tiny wave.

It warmed him, experiencing your light for the first time in years without the threat of annihilation on the horizon.

Domesticity like this is something he'd craved all his life, and now that he had it in his grasp, he wasn't going to settle for anything less.

A stilling chill descended on his chest at the thought of your smile, and the countless others he'd missed.

Your tears of joy when he proposed.

Your frazzled excitement with the wedding planning.

Your radiance as you walked down the aisle.

He missed it all.

And he'd be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to try and get it back.

"Charles..." Logan started, stamping out his cigar in a nearby ashtray. "My whole life is standin' out there under that tree... and I can't remember a goddamn thing about her after 1973."

His tone turned cold, eyes sharp as he stared the professor down.

"I don't care if you have to rip my head in half... I'm gettin' those memories back."

The old man let out a sigh, accepting that going on like this would bring no other outcome.

He'd have to give the man what he wanted... consequences be damned.

'Let's hope he survives...'

"This will be violent," Charles stated off-rip, wheeling himself out from behind his desk. "I am essentially hammering your mind like a dam, making cracks in its defenses until it eventually gives way."

Logan nodded, watching as the man settled in front of him, raising his two fingers to his temple.

"Now... try not to move."

Logan shut his eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if his head was struck by a speeding train.

He let out a growl of pain as images began to flash behind his eyes, the next one always coming quicker than the last.

"Hon, which color do you think would go best with my complexion? Eggshell or Porcelain?" you asked, eagerly holding up two different swatches against your skin.

"You look beautiful in anything, baby," he stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Either one is fine."

"As sweet as that is... it doesn't help," you huffed, playfully attempting to scold him.

"Fine then. Eggshell," he answered, quickly.

You raised a brow, an amused smile playing at your lips as you leaned in closer, "Are you just saying that to get me to shut up?"

He let out a chuckle, resting his forehead against yours, "Never."

Yes...

"Can't wait 'til this damn reception is over," he growled in your ear, lips dragging down your neck as you both hid in a nearby hallway. "First time I've been alone with you since I do."

"Logan..." you gasped, tucking your lip between your teeth in an attempt to muffle yourself as he tightly grasped your hips. "Someone'll hear..."

"Then I guess you better keep quiet," he smirked against your skin, giving your collarbone a soft nip.

It's all coming back...

"Logan..." you started, nervously, hands held firmly behind your back. "I have something to tell you... and I'm open to talk about it if you're upset..."

His brows furrowed as he turned away from his dresser, looking toward you with an air of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his protective instinct spiking at the sight of your fearful expression. "What happened?"

Unable to say it, you slowly held up your hand, revealing a positive pregnancy test.

His eyes widened like saucers, throat drying at the tiny piece of plastic.

"You're... pregnant?"

You nodded, silently, his reaction not soothing your anxiety one bit.

But, as if on cue, he moved toward you, striding across the room and pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm gonna be a father..." he muttered into your hair, the phrase not one he thought he'd ever hear. "I'm gonna be a father..."

Wait...

"Logan!" you cried, tears welling in your eyes as you glanced up at him, scared. "I can't...mmmph fuck!... I can't do it! Hurts too much!"

"C'mon, baby, keep pushin'. You're doin' so good," he cooed, swiping stray strands of hair out your face as the nurse on the other side of the bed helped cheer you on. "Just a little bit more. You're right there."

With a grunt, you squeezed his hand tight, letting out a growl of pain as you gave another push.

Pop!

Logan's eyes shot wide, the man nearly biting through his tongue as he glanced down at his hand.

You dislocated his finger.

Though it seemed to be worth it as that final push was what did it.

"It's a girl!" the doctor smiled, carefully holding up the newborn.

Looking upon her small, chubbed face, Logan felt a sense of protectiveness sink into his chest—one that he only felt when things came to you.

In that moment, and every moment after that, he knew he would lay his life down for her, no question.

And she wasn't even a minute old yet.

I have—

"James! Get back here!" a little girl squealed with laughter, bursting into the office after a little boy, who looked terrified.

Logan snapped out his head with a gasp, shooting up from his seat and unsheathing his claws out of muscle memory.

'James...'

Quickly, Logan retracted his claws as the boy ducked behind his leg, gripping tightly onto his jeans as the girl stormed over.

She looked just like you, save for a few small details, and had a small snaggle-tooth poking out on her right side, only adding to her adorableness.

Not to mention the bone claws she had protruding from her knuckles.

"No fair! You can't hide behind Dad every time you're scared!" she furrowed her brows, upset.

"Mommy told you about your claws, Laura..." James mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as he shyly peeked out from behind his human shield.

'Laura...'

The boy was Logan's mirror image, looking almost exactly like he did at that age..

Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree...

Charles could sense the pieces clicking in Logan's mind, and figured lending a hand would be best after what he'd been through.

"Logan, these are your—" "Laura Marie Howlett!" your voice cut in, the little girl flinching at the sound.

Quickly, she retracted her claws, whipping around with a guilty smile, which was met by your less-than-approving glare.

"What have I told you about chasing your brother inside? And what have I told you about using your claws to do it?" you scolded, walking into the office. "You two are interrupting your father and Professor Xavier."

Logan let out a soft sigh, taking the moment to finally look over his family.

Like a slow moving stream, things were coming back to him, the feeling like a fog clearing from the recesses of his mind.

Every birthday.

Every boo-boo.

Every first.

Slowly but surely, they were all returning.

Without warning, Logan dropped to his knees, pulling the two kids into a tight hug, fiercely fighting off the emotion swelling in his chest.

"Daddy?" James squeaked, concerned.

"Are you okay?" Laura asked, confused.

He nodded, silently, the sight making your heart both burst and ache.

After all this time, your husband was truly whole.

Fifty years of suffering and agony had finally come to an end.

taglist !!

@catiwinky @seamlessepiphany @vinaluvsu @kellyxo1 @amandarobertsboyce  @captainloki1 @qveendiorsworld @sarahskywalker-amidala @mei-simp @oatmilkriver @br3nt-12 @bimboshaggy @lightsgore @edszn @couturewinx @sunroxic @notanotheroldman @bontensbabygirl @buckleysg1rl @marvelgirlie-4 @eljaynosine-triphosphate @nickf1 @pinkisokay @mercurysjoy

[meydang]

cute wings

(sfw)

Nameless!Sunday x Nameless!reader

Based on Sunday's ultimate animation and my own headcanons about halovian's lore.

.

.

.

"So what was that move you whip out earlier? The one with the vines and everything!" You said, clearly impressed while sitting down on one of the couch.

"Have you been hiding the other two pair of wings or do they only come out when you do that last move?" You asked eagerly when Sunday enter the parlor car, the both of you having just gotten back from your trailblazing expidition together. Your eyes following him as he joins you on the couch, with sparks of curiosity in it.

It hasn't been that long since Sunday joined the Astral express, but he could definitely say that it's been enough for him to start opening up to all the nameless and vice versa.

"Ah, are you refering to my supporting spell?" This is the case especially for you, with your seemingly endless energy and desire to learn about everything, it's only a matter of time before you start flooding him with all these question about anything that piqued your interest.

"For halovians, our wings are like a representation of our emotion and power, similar to that of our halo." Sunday pause for a moment, you guessed to try and think of an answer that will satisfy your question.

"To put it simply, take that fight we just won earlier for example, I was using my power to aid us, the wings that appeared were due to my strong emotion and use of power at the moment." He turned to look at you as you nod multiple times, trying to grasp your head around the new information like a lost puppy trying to figure out where it is.

You do that quite often - something Sunday has took notice and find endearing.

Cute, he think.

"Sooo... does that mean the wings can only come out when you are in a state like that?" You finally said after some time. "Aw pity, I was hoping you could make them appear anytime you know, I think they are really adorable!" You said what you were thinking with all honesty, completely oblivious to the fact that your last comment caught the halovian off guard and flustered to his core, hints of red dusting his cheeks.

"Th-that is not entirely correct, I can make them visible if I want to, but I'll need to be in a state of strong emotion or focus on my power in that case." Sunday tries to brush of your compliment about his wings with his answer, but before he could given it anymore thoughts, you have already came up with an idea.

Sunday jolts slightly as you prop your chin onto his shoulder, your face display a smug expression, looking up at him with your hand on top of his own.

"Wait, if I'm correct... Then I'll just have to make you feel emotions strong enough for your cute wings to come out, right?"

Huh? What did you just say? What are you planning? How did- what? There is a million things going through Sunday's head right now and the fact that your gaze are still fixed on him while this is happening does not help at all. Sunday doesn't know what is worse, the way he got insanely flustered just by a few compliments or you being extremely close to him right now.

"Well...? Aren't you gonna say anything?" He heard you said in the slowest and most teasing way possible, as if to get even more reaction from him. Before he could even answer, you stood up and move infront of him.

"Sunday." you said while bending down to face him, your hands on your knees and face tilting down at him with an adoring smile.

Huh?

"Yes?" He managed to say, his head spinning to guess what are you planning to say next.

"Although it hadn't been long since you join the express, you have been adapting and trying your best to keep up with the crew really well." Sunday can feel his cheeks burning with every sweet words uttered from your mouth. You on the other hand, are determined to get his marvelous wings to come out.

"You have done a great job as a nameless... Don't you think so too?" You continue, still looking down at him but leaned in a bit closer, too close for Sunday to maintain his composure. If he still has any, that is.

"Ah, th-thank you. That's very kind of you to say." As his wings move to cover his face, he can here an audible 'aww' coming from you which caught him by surprise. Resulting in him moving them to his side again, for a better view of what was happening.

"It worked!" Opening his eyes, Sunday sees you smiling and gushing over his wings - ah, right, his other wings that have appeared due to him being oh so flustered just by your simple remarks.

"May I touch them?" You asked, your gaze gentle, yet still intense that it makes Sunday gulp nervously as his face turn even more red.

"Yes, you may." Sunday doesn't know why he gave you permission, as if you being in such close proximity to him wasn't enough to get his heart pounding. Especially with the fact that his wings are actually pretty sensitive.

With a happy grin, you reach out to glide over the feathers with the back of your hand, not missing how doing it make Sunday shudders a bit.

"Oh, sorry!" You retrieve your hand after noticing.

"No no, it's fine... please continue." He assured, not wanting you to feel bad. Even if he doesn't exactly want you to keep thumbing his wings like this... purely because it's making him all embarrassed and a blushing mess.

"You know... what I said earlier about you joining the express. I wasn't just teasing you, I actually meant it." You reach out for his wings again, this time with a soft smile, making sure he knows you are being sincere.

Sunday made a dumbfounded expression, or atleast you think he is, his face shows a mix of gratitude and confusion as he stare at you.

"I am grateful that you hold me on such high regards, though... I do not believe I have made any significant contribution to the express, more less better than all of you." Sunday answered truthfully. How could you say all these good things about him when he doesn't deserve any of it? How are you still able to welcome him with open arm? After all his mistakes, after the grand pursuit of a dream paradise through such manipulative methods, and-

"Sunday!"

He blinked,

Once,

Twice,

"Hey, are you okay? You just zoned out for a moment." You move your hands from his wings to his shoulder, sitting down next to him again, tone worried.

"Sorry... I was just deep in thought. Were you saying something?" He quickly apologized, feeling bad for making you worried. Yet again another reason he doesn't deserve your praises, Sunday blames himself.

"I said stop thinking bad about yourself. Don't ever say anything like that... nobody is perfect, everyone has their own flaws and values. You just have to not let your doubts get to you." You turned Sunday towards your direction a bit, so that he's looking at you in the eyes.

"Hm, promise me you'll never think negatively about yourself again." You said firmly, waiting for him.

"I-I promise." With an exhale Sunday replied to you, smilling. "Thank you."

You smile back "There we go, now that's my little angle~"

!?

This is the second time you have caught him off guard in this conversation. Little angle? At this point he swear you will be the death of him eventually, Sunday think as you suddenly lit up.

"Well, let's lighten things up a bit..." you said, pulling out your phone. "Say cheeseeee" what are y-

Snap

Just like that, a picture of Sunday smilling sheepishly and flapping his wings was sent to the astral express family group chat. Earning you a panic, embarrassed Sunday and the multiple 'aww's from the trailblazer and March.

_

The Astral Express Family

You: (picture)

You: I found a happy bird on the express today~

March: aww

Trailblazer: wow! Six wings!

Trailblazer: aww

Sunday: ...

_

[buckyalpine]

Cheating!Steve x reader, Bucky x reader

Oh look, more cheating Steve with sweetheart Bucky to save us

A/N: Last year someone asked me for some mad angsty fic and I posted and deleted it so quick because it was god awful. Just awful. However, I had kept a draft of it cause even though I hated it and everything about it, I didn't want it gone forever. Upon rereading it recently...I kinda like it. So I decided to change some stuff (like most of the entire plot), switch around characters (I'm a Bucky girl) and repost. If you want to see the OG fic, I can post it again or just edit this to add it under the new version

Steve couldn't stand seeing you like this. In the hospital room, the needles prodding you, it all reminds him of hydra and the things he had seen on numerous missions. When you almost die, he's thrown back into the spiral where he has no hope for a future. And nothing changes after you get better. You had almost died once. Missions were getting riskier and you weren't always in the clear. In his mind, everything good in his life leaves him or gets ripped away eventually. Peggy was a prime example of that. It's just a matter of time.

Even in your injured state, your attention was all on Steve. You knew how much he hated seeing you hurt. It sent him into a dark place few people had witnessed. As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your tired eyes met his red rimmed, puffy ones. For days, every time you try to bring him back to you, he has his walls built up again.

He won't let himself love you more.

He drinks.

He drinks enough to get drunk. It takes bottle after bottles but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything any more. So much so, he decides to seek the warmth of someone else.

Because you almost left him.

You could die so easily.

You almost did.

Nothing matters any more. His moans of pleasure are empty but he's wrapped around her none the less. He doesn't stop until his body can't move, too exhausted to even think about guilt.

-

You have it all planned out. You were finally released from the hospital and the first thing you wanted to do was spend time with Steve. The team had left the compound so you could set up a movie night for you and the captain, you don't want to let him slip from your grasp, not after all you'd been through together. You didn't go through hell and back to lose him like this. You fought for your life to pull through.

There are snacks laid out on the table, a movie pulled up, some hot chocolate made just for you and him. You shuffle nervously, your heart beating erratically. You didn't spend 4 years with him just for this to end because you nearly died. No. He was worth the fight. His cold demeanor was not towards you but towards the fear of losing you. And that fear was from love. Love you both shared deeply for each other.

You knew he got back from the bar late; if he was too drunk then you'd help him to his room and talk to him in the morning. It was a new habit of his but you understood.

Except he never came. He always made it home. Not tonight.

Steve stumbled in the next morning, rubbing his eyes, seeing a small sleeping form on the sofa, snacks and some drinks laid out in the living room. He swallowed thickly when he sees you get up from the couch wearing one of his hold hoodies, making your way towards him.

"Steve?"

You have a soft smile on your face, but it drops when you get a closer look at him. Tears prickle at your eyes when you see the way his neck is littered in bruises, his skin still flushed. He can't look you in the eyes, not after what he'd just done.

"I-

You freeze before him, you don't want to ask. You don't want to know. The broken expression his face is enough for you. You wordlessly leave the living room, locking yourself in, giving FRIDAY instructions to make sure no one can enter.

"Did you talk to y/n" Bucky asks excitedly when he sees Steve sitting in the living room. He knows how excited you were about the movie night, spending days planning every last detail. His excitement drops when he sees the food untouched and you're nowhere to be seen. "Where is she?"

Steve remains silent, staring at his hands. The rest of the team enter the living room, hoping to find you both curled on the couch, but no. Nat's eyes narrow when she sees the hickeys on Steve's neck but something tells her they're not from you, you've never marked him like that before, you've always been so gentle with him.

"How could you?" She hissed, while the rest of the team look at her in confusion. It doesn't take long for them to piece things together. And it's a mess.

You come down to the living room, both Sam and Tony holding Bucky down on the couch while he glares at Steve, his hands still in fists. They all turn towards you with broken eyes, this is not what they ever wanted for you. The second he sees you, he breaks down. You're numb to his cries, his pleas.

He finds you leaving the compound at 1:00 AM from where he's still seated on the couch, something you'd never done before.

"Baby? Where are you going"

You ignore him, making your way to the garage. You were never able to sleep since and staying in bed only left you alone with your thoughts.

"I-I need some space. Don't worry about where I'm going"

"Y/n, please, just let me explain"

"No"

"I made a mistake, I-

"I don't care. I just want need some air"

"Promise me you'll come back?"

You shake your head, you can't even look at Steve. You scoff, shoving past him, not caring when he hisses in pain. His cheek is bruised, spots of dark purple and blue bloom around his eye and you'd seen Nat icing Bucky's hand earlier.

"Y/n, please angel, I-I just want to talk, just promise me you'll come back?"

"I promise" You reluctantly mumble, hopping on your motor bike and speeding off before Steve can call after you again.

You loved him so much.

You fought so hard to pull through for him, you heard every word he'd said to you when you were unconscious.

Tears clouded your vision.

It all happens too fast for you to comprehend.

The car doesn't see you.

The bend is sharp.

You bike is sent over the edge.

Darkness.

-

It's been a week.

You still haven't woken up.

It's all his fault. It doesn't matter that the driver was intoxicated. It didn't matter that it was dark out. You wouldn't have left the compound if he hadn't done what he did and it eats him alive.

He's not met with any sympathy.

No one bats an eye at his tears or sobs, too concerned about your well being to go and comfort him. Like clock work, every member of the team visits on rotation since they can't all be there at once. however Bucky is exempt from all hospital rules with one brooding, grumpy stare.

Bucky is by your side every single day. He doesn't say anything when Steve grips your hand, praying for you to wake up, silently praying himself while your heart monitor continues to beep. Steve refuses to move from your side but he's not given much of a choice when Fury summons him personally for someone mission related.

He's only gone for a few hours but that's when you finally stir. Bucky is on his feet instantly, paging for the doctor while stroking your hair.

"Hey pretty girl" Bucky whispers when your eyes finally focus, the knuckles of his metal hand gently caressing your cheek. The cool sensation helps you feel more alert. You smile seeing his baby blue eyes, feeling safe as he talks to you softly.

-

Everything hits Steve all at once. He didn't just betray you. He betrayed the team. His bestfriend. Himself. All the people who had faith in him to make the right choice, to do the right thing, to protect them. And he threw it away. Everyone waited a month for you to fully recover before throwing a welcome back party so you'd actually be able to enjoy it. Steve looked back longingly at the happy group gathered together in the living room, more emotions hitting him again.

He was happy you were alive. His sweet, sweet girl pulled through. H

He was envious of the love everyone was sharing, one he wasn't privy to anymore. He was invited, he was still apart of the team after all but he knew it wasn't his place.

He was jealous.

Jealous of the way you melted into Bucky's side. Longing to feel that warmth that he used to feel himself. Bucky had his arm around your waist, keeping you tucked right by him, taking care of you long after you were discharged. He wasn't going to stop any time soon.

There was something between you two, everyone could sense it. The soft gazes at each other and innocent kisses. Bucky wouldn't let a day go by without pressing his lips to your cheek, your nose, your forehead, the top of your head. He needed you to know you were loved and cared for. He stuck to his guns, claiming his actions were purely platonic but the pink blush on his cheeks proved that he was a bald faced liar.

-

Steve knows theres no one to blame but himself. He sighs and swallows the lump in his throat as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss the brunette, sealing you both together forever. He's always thought it would be the two of you standing together at the alter but how things had changed. The cheers of the crowd are a dull buzz to him. He watches Bucky swoop in for another kiss, this time dipping you and capturing your lips sweetly.

"I love you Mrs. Barnes"

"I love you more, Mr. Barnes"

Your happy, love struck giggles cause the first tear to fall.

He does his best to smile when you both walk by, flashes of what your wedding would have looked like. The white dress. The veil. The flowers.

if only he never-

But it was too late.

[gilverrwrites]

Hi

Could you make a Sam Winchester having erotic dreams with his female best friend?

Author Note: Hello! I hope you don't mind, but I combined this request with your other request for Dean in the same scenario (and added Cas cause 😍) I'm also working on a separate fic for Dean having erotic dreams about a rival per that request. I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Rating: M/18+

Words: 1940 (Dean 685, Sam 685, Cas 570)

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

It's a total coincidence that Dean and Sam are both 685 each!

Please remember: To focus on the things that make you happy.

Dean Winchester

“Oooh yes Dean, yes, that’s it.” Your voice sounds hoarse and breathy. Makes sense cause you’ve been moaning like that, praising like that all night. “You like that baby?” Dean asks from beneath you, completely entranced by the bounce of your breasts and the sway of your hips as you ride him. “You like fuckin’ yourself on my dick baby?” “Yes, Dean, yes! You feel so fucking good. Make me feel so good.” You chant, and when your head rolls back in ecstasy, Dean follows. His fingers grip at your skin, forcing you against him as he ruts into you, spilling himself inside.

That was last night’s dream. The most recent in a string of dreams that left him hot and bothered every morning. The worst part was facing you. Trying to look you in the eye, discuss a case, or make a game plan without thinking about you naked and moaning on his dick.

He’d been avoiding you as much as possible, but sometimes just your name was enough to make him pop a boner, much like the one he had now. He positioned his beer bottle over his offending member and forced himself to stare out the window, averting his gaze from the sight of you, bent over the nearest pool table.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” The sound of your voice made him jump. Man, how out of it was he?

“What?” He looked up at you, hands on hips, staring down at him. The sight made his lips dry. “Oh nothin’, I think I’ve had too many. Maybe I should call it a night.”

“You’ve had like two drinks. That barely even touches the sides.” You state, and you’re not wrong. You know him too well. He can’t help clenching his jaw as you sit down across from him. When he sees how your new angle offers him a perfect shot of your cleavage, he thinks he might start grinding away his teeth. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” He leans in closer. Not to be closer, but he hopes leaning forward might help hide the bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been acting funny, and avoiding me all wee-“

“N-“

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, you have.” You punctuate your statement by placing your drink on the table. You don’t slam, but it's hard and firm enough to communicate your point. “Don’t you try to deny it Dean Winchester! I know you too well. You’ve been avoiding me, and when you can’t get away you’re all squirrely and quiet. Now tell me what’s going on.”

He drains his beer as he thinks it over. Partly to try and return some moisture to his mouth but primarily to buy himself some time while he thinks things over. If he’s honest, he might get something out of it. A one-night stand, a fuck buddy, maybe more? Or he might lose you, which he couldn’t stand.

“I…”

“Come on Dean, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Fuck it. You’re right. He gestures to the bartender for another round, takes a deep breath, and spills. And a funny thing happens: he starts to feel more relaxed as he lets it out. If you’re not into it, that’s fine. So long as it doesn’t scare you off.

When he’s done, he watches you as you process his confession. Man, he loves the way your face moves when you’re thinking.

“So…” You purse your lips and take a quick sip of your drink as you prepare your response. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to sleep with me?”

“No, I do. Obviously, you’re…” hot, incredible, the only woman I want. Unable to voice any of the thoughts in his head at that moment, he gestures to you, head to toe and back again. “I just don’t want it to cause problems between us. Our friendship”

 “Then we won’t let it.” You state matter-of-factly. “Now, are you gonna take me back to the bunker so we can fuck each other dumb or not?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

His fingers are knuckle deep inside of you as you lay back, spread out across his bed. “Fuckkk… Sam!” You look up at him, eyes hazy, hair a mess, and he can feel his dick throb in response. “Sam, I’m so full.” “Poor baby.” He coos in response. “So full already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He watches the way your expression melts at his words with pride, when he sees your lips start to form your reply, he places a direct smack to your clit. The whine you release is music to his ears. The way you wither and moan as he begins to play with your clit, fuck, you’re so hot. “Are you ready for more?” He asks. He’s pleased when you begin vigorously nodding. “Yes, Sam! Yes! Yes, please!”

Years of impersonating officials and hustling at almost every bar he stopped at had earned Sam a more than convincing poker face. But you always saw right through it.

For that reason, Sam had been bending over backwards to avoid you. He wasn’t totally sure what he was hiding, the fact that he’d dreamed about you, or the fact that he’d furiously masturbated to the memory of it upon waking up. Either way, he wasn’t ready to face you.

He’d hung back in the morning, grabbing his breakfast later than usual. Gone to the local library all day to research, citing a change of scenery when Dean questioned him, and had gone grocery shopping as an excuse to stay out later.

After unpacking the shopping, he’d hopped in the shower, making up for skipping his usual morning routine.

What he hadn’t accounted for was finding you, dressed in nothing but your panties and one of his t-shirts, in the centre of his bed. The very bed he’d vividly fantasised about pleasing you in.

It wasn’t an unusual sight. You were his best friend after all. You often hung out in each other’s rooms, and you frequently borrowed his shirts. He just really could have done without all this today.

“Hey Sam.” You greeted him with a smile, looking up from your laptop. “I missed you today.”

“Hey.” He responds awkwardly. Both hands clutching at his towel. He clears his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I was busy I guess. You too.”

“No worries.” You assure him before returning your gaze to your screen. “I could use your help with something if that’s alright?”

“Sure.” He approaches the bed. Certain close proximity will escalate his predicament he resolves to remain standing. However, looking down at you, with your head so close to his crotch, is equally stirring something within him. Reluctantly, he sits beside you. He glances at your computer briefly but quickly becomes preoccupied with adjusting and readjusting his towel, determined to cover the growing erection beneath.

“So, I’ve been looking into the apple of Sodom for Claire but…” he swears he meant to listen, but he’d never noticed how good you smell before, or how your skin glows even under the dingy light of his room. “Sam? Sam are you even listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” He finally tunes back in. “Apple of Sodom, Claire… hand of God?”

He looks into your eyes to judge his improv, but you’re staring, wide-eyed, right at the thing he’s been trying to hide.

“Is that- are you…” You look at his face, and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. “For- because of me?”

“I’m sorry!” He stands, pausing to compose his words before continuing his apology. “I just, I had this dream last night about you, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Right.” You always saw right through him, but fortunately, that was a two-way skill, and right now, he could hear, he could feel the disappointment you were radiating.

“Unless…” he cocks a brow at you, and your body immediately perks up. You look up at him, eyes hazy, identical to his dream. “Do you want this too?”

Castiel

You’re a vision on your knees before him, eyes watering, cheeks puffed out, hair tangled between his fingers. He stares intently, relishing in all the subtle movements of your faces as he lazily pumps his penis between your lips.  His grip grows tighter every time he feels the back of your throat against his tip. Your muffled pants and moans are music to his ears. The way your lips glisten beneath the sheen of your own saliva is erotic, and he worries the sight of you alone will be enough to make him finish before he’s really begun.

It’s that vision he’s thinking of now as he watches you on your hands and knees, scrubbing a chalk pentagram off the floor.

He’s brought out of his chain of thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He squints at your face; he is confident it looks fine, more than fine, beautiful in fact, but he examines it in more depth, nonetheless. “There is nothing on your face. In fact, your face is quite adequate.”

“Quite adequate, I’ll take that as high praise.” You laugh. He’s not certain what’s so funny, but the sound is exquisite, and only further fuels the unfamiliar fiery feeling he’s experiencing. “But seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Your line of questioning makes sense to him now. He briefly considers lying to you, but on the spot he cannot think of anything convincing. “I slept last night.”

“I didn’t know Angels did that.” It’s not a question, but he has learned many human cues during his time on Earth. You’re digging for more information.

“We can, but we do not need to, so typically we don’t. I thought I might trial it to see if it would help in replenishing my grace.” He answers.

“Did it help?” Your inquisitiveness is ceaseless. It is something he has always liked about you.

“No.” He replies, he enjoys the brief frown of disappointment you give in response. “I did however, dream of you.”

“Ahh, and what did me and my quite adequate face do in your dream?” You’re smiling again as you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. He notices the unintentionally alluring way you chew at your bottom lip and is immediately reminded of the way you had looked in his dream, as you waited in anticipation for him to expose his genitals.

He allows himself to wonder how you will react to his next statement; he hopes you’ll be as excited and pliable as you had been in his fantasy.  “You were nude, on your knees, performing fellatio on my, well, my vessels penis.”

“Oh!” You respond in a tone that he believes to be humorous and a little surprised. Until you look down at your knees, considering your precarious position. “Oooooh.”

You don’t say anything else, nor do you look back up at him. He begins to worry that he may have said something inappropriate, or that you thought he had disliked the experience.

“It was an enjoyable dream, if that is your concern.” He attempts to offer comfort.

“Well, I suppose that’s good news.” You nod to yourself; your tone gives nothing away. “I wonder if my real-life skills are as enjoyable as your fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t know, we have never…” His line of speech, his thoughts are interrupted by the enticing sight of you crawling towards him. “Oh.”

[g3llyfish]

Hey I wanted to request something funny.

Like redson and macaque ( separately ) kidnaps one of mk’s friends, fem s/o and they start laughing ( not like mocking them ) but more like ( I can’t believe this happened ) while saying “ no no I’m sorry..it’s just..this is the most effort a man has ever put into me 😂 “

Idk i thought it was funny in my head 🤔 hope this was okay

"DELUSIONAL"

Redson x FEM! reader x Macaque (Seperate)

Either platonic or romantic

Redson and Macaque judging the reader, Reader being delulu, MK just wants his best friend back TT

NOTE:

MY FIRST ASJ AAA Tbh, it can also be considered as GN!reader cause I mostly do second pov but I still hope you enjoy!!

🔥 || REDSON !!

It has been a few week of him trying to defeat the noodle boy to get his staff

As expected, he fails again and again, machines after machines being crushed by that stupid staff and that stupid monkey boy

Knowingly that there's no use for his machines since they only go to his scrap corner

Until an idea pops up in his big demon smart boy brain

What if he kidnaps someone who is dear to MK and bargain them for the staff!

I mean, if that stupid noodle boy loves his friends so much he would do everything to get his best friend back!

Brilliant! Amazing plan even!

Meanwhile, you were hanging out with Mei and MK in the anti-gravity arcade, having the greatest time if your life

Until the ceiling broke down...

You were immediately grabbed by the demon bull clones and tied up so you wouldn't escape.

     "Redson?! Get back here with our best friend!" MK shouted at the bull prince who has you in his arms as you struggle.

     "Never! Catch me if you can, noodle boy and dragon horse girl!" Redson yells back as he laughs dramatically and surrounds him, you, and the bull clones with his fire to teleport away.

     Now you are hung from the ceiling in his lair, if that's what you like to call it considering the lava pool, tools, materials, engines, and many more are laying around the gigantic room.

     "Let me go!" You demanded "What are you planning now, Redson? Y'know MK is gonna MK.O!!™ you again right?"

     Redson scoffs a laugh, lifting up his welding mask to look up at your hanging state as he puts down his blowtorch.

     "After I finish my invention, we will go up to the mountain where my father was imprisoned..." He started to monologue "and then... I will exchange your life for the staff! ...that noodle boy cares for you so much that he will give it to me willingly! And once I have the staff is mine... MY FATHER WILL GAIN HIS POWER AND BE THE GREATEST RULER OF THE WORLD!"

     Redson's dark and overdramatic laughs echoes through the room as the lava's light reflected behind him, creating a giant menacing shadow of himself on the walls.

     Meanwhile you only blink twice at him, not being effected by the intimidating aura that the prince made.

     "You think I'm worth more than the staff?" "What"

     "Well, you basically said that I'm the same price as the staff... Do you think I'm that special?" You grin at him while he was only flabbergasted by your words.

     "W-what?! NO YOU IDIO--" "I don't know, like, you kidnapping me, thinking that I'm enough to be exchanged with the staff, you could've picked Mei but you chose me!"

     Redson gave you a dumbfounded look, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as you explain your conclusion.

     "Like, you took effort to kidnap me, you think I'm that worth of effort? No one has ever done that for me" You continue as you sniffle a bit.

     "Did-did you forget about the part where I said about my world domination?" Redson simply ask as he gives you a deadpanned stare.

     "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm just so happy right now, you think I'm worth more than the staff? You think I'm that unique?" "Shut up, you're delusional."

While he made his invention to secure his plan, you were in the background trying to make him admit that he thinks you're special

You're not what he thinks you are that's for sure, with you being a giggling mess while you're LITERALLY CAPTURED BY TYE DEMON BULL PRINCE

He expected you to be like MK and Mei, someone who wrecklessly fighting anything that move...

Not someone who is off to delulu land with quips at the back of your hand

He definitely regrets the kidnapping plan

🍌 || MACAQUE !!

After the 'stealing-wukong's-powers-from-MK' plan didn't work, he couldn't find anymore information or updates in MK's life

Macaque has to keep a close eye on him afterall, considering he is Wukong's apprentice

So why not get one of MK's best friends? He can't just lurk in the shadows

Sure, that'll work but he needs more dept and personal stuff about MK, to find something to hold him back

So while you were on your way back home, not paying attention to your surroundings that was when Macaque took the opportunity.

You took a step and before you knew it, you were falling down to the ground into a theater place for shadow puppet shows.

You landed on your back on the wooden ground, making you raise your brow in confusion cause you remember that you were walking on a pedestrian.

As you look around the place, you hear a dark echoey chuckle from behind you making the hair on your skin rise.

You stood up immediately to see none other than the shadow of the six-eared Macaque.

"Hey, doll..." He chuckles again, his grin getting wider as his shadow shrinks and he turns into his monkey form.

"Macaque?! What am I doing here?! Are you here to hurt me?! Well bad luck, monkey!" You glared at him making him smirk.

"Don't worry, don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm just here to borrow you for a while" Macaque says shrugging, getting closer towards the stage that you stood on.

"Me?" You ask in full confusion, your body relaxing as you put down your defenses.

"Mhm... You see, hiding in the shadow is not enough for getting information and I need you get me some," Macaque answers.

You pause as each side of your lips starts to slowly rise, "Me?"

"Yup, if you don't comply... then I might take back the 'I won't hurt you' part, simple, hm?" Macaque threatens with a hum.

You pause again, longer this time "me?"

"Yes, you..." Macaque sighs as he gives you a 'are you deaf?' look.

You held your laugh for a while before laughing aloud, Macaque, ofcourse felt as if you're underestimating him as he gets a little grumpy at your reaction.

"Wh- why are you laughing huh?!" "Pfft-- sorry! Sorry, sorry, it's just... I don't know it's funny"

"Funny how?" Macaque ask as he raises his eyebrow in frustration and crosses his arms.

"I don't know, you could've chosen anyone that could stalk MK for you but you chose me! Hah! I just didn't expect that someone would actually put effort on me" you laugh out.

"Effort?" Macaque questions, he wouldn't disagree with himself but he's definitely worried for your well-being.

"Yeah, I mean, you could've just sended me a text saying 'give me information or you're dead' text like my other exes, but here we are!" You continue to blabber making Macaque give you a concerned look.

"I-what..." "Yeah! I'm kinda flattered that you put so much effort on me, kidnapping me, tracking me down, watching which street I go to-- okay that's kinda creepy--" "okay, stop"

Macaque has to make you stop so he can continue his plan

He's mostly concerned about you cause who tf reacts like that?

He had to make a deal with you to proceed with his 'information gathering' plan but you always gawk at the fact that he chose you out of all people

Plan unsuccessful (?)

I'm sorry if it isn't to your expectations TT tell me criticisms if you'd like but I still hope you had fun with the fix as much as I did, love you pooksters :P

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Prologue

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Cheers to the new longer fic series starring Toby! Hope you enjoy this brief little intro to get a taste of what's to come~

Commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Divider by @plum98

Work.

That’s what Toby’s life revolves around. Day in, day out. He doesn’t have hobbies, doesn’t have friends to hang out with—and he certainly doesn’t have a family to go back home to, either. He has work.

It consumes him.

He’s thankful for it, though. It’s pathetic to say, but at least he has something. At least he’s still good for one thing. At least he’s not completely fucking useless.

So it doesn’t bother him when Slender sends him out on a mission not even a full 24 hours after the last one. It's just another distraction, another way to kill some time and keep his darker thoughts at bay. It's another way to feel useful, to feel needed.

He notices, as he's preparing his things, that his partners in crime aren't the happiest about getting thrown into another job. But then again, when are they ever happy?

Toby sits on the couch in their dingy cabin when he finishes prepping. Hoodie joins him not too long after, leaning against the side of the couch with his arms folded over his chest, and both wait in silence for the following orders.

When Masky has most of his things ready, he stands in front of them and addresses them for a debrief. It's a fairly standard mission, as far as jobs go. Something about someone with the Sickness who's trying to find the cure and needs to be intercepted—same old, same old. There's a strange kind of comfort in the regularity of the work.

Ever since the incident, Toby's life stopped making sense. But at least there's still some semblance of routine within the insanity of it all. At least he could still cling to these fleeting threads of normalcy.

"Toby."

Snap.

Masky snaps his fingers in front of Toby's face.

"You're zoning out. I need you focused."

"I am focused," Toby retorts.

"No, you're not. You're not taking this seriously."

With a roll of his eyes, Toby looks up at the ceiling.

"That's because we've done this exact same job hundreds of-of times by now. I don't need to listen to the same fu-fucking debriefing every s-single time."

Masky pinches the bridge of his nose, furrows his brows, and exhales deeply through his tired frustration.

"It's not the same every time. I'm giving you important information that you need to know and you need to remember. I don't do this shit for fun, Toby; it's not a fucking game."

"I'm not saying it's a fucking game," Toby stands abruptly as a jolt of anger snaps through his body. It takes everything in his power to stop himself from grabbing Masky's collar and shaking him. "I'm saying I'm sick of hearing you spew out the same crap time and time again when you—when you could just s-summarize it or something!"

"I am summarizing it—you fucking dipshit. You'd know that if you fucking listened for once in your life."

Toby's about to lose whatever meager ounce of self-control he has, when Hoodie steps in between them and separates them.

"Alright, that's enough. No injuries before we're on site. I don't wanna have to work more to compensate for dead weight."

"Just—focus, alright?" Masky insists, and all Toby can think about is how satisfying it would be to throw his fist into his dumb fucking face.

"I am focused," the youngest of the three seethes the words out.

"Alright, can you repeat the plan to me, then?"

"We're finding our target, going in, seeing what edge we can find. They have some—some notebook or wh-whatever and Slender wants it back. We kill if we need to."

Masky groans, as if the recap isn't good enough, but Hoodie shakes his head, as if to dissuade his partner from arguing any further.

"It'll do," Hoodie states, "C'mon, it shouldn't be a long one. The sooner we're in, the sooner we're out."

And just like that, the three separate to start loading up the car and heading out.

Masky drives, as usual, and Hoodie takes shotgun, leaving Toby in the back, as usual. He doesn't mind it too much, though; anything is better than sitting next to Masky for an extended amount of time. Plus, not having to worry about the road gives him plenty of time to look out the window and daydream. It's one of the few times he can escape, and his mind won't take him anywhere unpleasant.

Well, most of the time it won't, anyway. Which is about as good as it can get.

They sleep at a hotel after driving non-stop for the rest of the day, and they're on the road for the following two days after that. It's only on the fourth day that they finally crash at a hotel that Masky announces will be their "home, sweet home" until the end of the job.

He recaps the mission, again, but Toby, admittedly, only really pays attention to their target's description. He hears Masky explain that they’ll start working at dusk, but Toby’s already too busy testing out the mattresses and pillows to bother listening.

Thankfully, Masky ignores him instead of bitching at him, and the two other proxies talk about more shit Toby doesn't care about.

At least this won't be a long one, Toby thinks, his eyes already growing heavy as the comfort of the cheap hotel bed encourages him to relax. The last coherent thought he has is the feeling of relief that at least this mission’s bound to be over before he knows it.

And then his thoughts are lost to his dreams.

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong part 2

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1

Word Count: 5499

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: After Y/n's accident on her mission, her mother's are terrified that they might not get the chance to make things right with their daughter. That's assuming Y/n wants anything to do with them when she comes around.

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Nat's POV:

It's been over 24 hours since Y/n came out of surgery and she's still unconscious with a machine helping her breathe. I thought she would have been awake by now and there'd be a relief that she was on the start of her long road to recovery.

Instead, Wanda and I are glued to our seats next to her bed. We've only gotten up to use the bathroom. Otherwise, we've remained by her side. Pepper kindly offered to take the boys for as long as it's needed. Though they are both very anxious to see Y/n themselves. They might be young, but they understand that she's hurt. They love their sister, and they want her to wake up just as much as we do.

I've not slept since we found out that she was hurt, and I don't plan to until she is awake. Though the longer it goes on, the more my body is fighting against that desire. I want to be there when she wakes up to show her that her moms are going to be there for her the whole way through her recovery.

Wanda and I have spoken a lot over the last day. We've shared our pain and sadness, whilst making sure we come up with a plan to help her with her recovery and to ultimately gain her forgiveness.

We both know that Y/n will not forgive us easily, if at all. But that doesn't mean that we're not going to try with everything in us. For too long we've allowed her to go about her life thinking that we don't love or care for her anymore. She has every right to feel that way after how we've treated her. But she will not ever question that again.

The both of us are sat in silence, both of us watching over our daughter. My eyes are trained on her chest, making sure that she is still breathing, gaining a lot of comfort from the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. However, the silence doesn't last long until the door flies open.

Out of instinct, both Wanda and I shoot up from our seats and take a defensive stance in front of our daughter to protect her from any danger. However, we soon relax when we see Yelena's worried face. "I came as soon as I could." She tells us as she moves closer to the bed, her hand hesitant as it reaches out towards her niece.

Yelena has been away for most of the time over the last few years. She's been helping to find all the widows and has only come back for a couple of days at a time. Each time though, she has always made time for us. "How is she?" She asks, as I pull up another chair for my sister.

"It's not good. She's still in critical condition. They had to remove part of her liver, but Cho reckons that if she can get through these first few days, that she'll be on track for a full recovery." I fill her in as her eyes never leave Y/n. "Clint said that it was a double agent that set her up." She states and we nod in clarification. "I'll be paying a visit to Fury when I'm done here." She announces, an anger to her voice. "We've tried to see him, but Fury won't let us anywhere near him." Wanda warns her but Yelena just scoffs. "I'll get to him one way or another." She states and I believe her. She's incredibly protective of the people she loves, and she'll want to make sure that he pays. I actually hope that she does.

"Wait, you said you were with Clint?" I question her and she nods. "Yeah, he was with me on my last mission. He's waiting outside, he didn't want to intrude." She responds, pointing towards the window behind her where Clint is stood with a young girl next to him. "Who's with him?" I ask. "Kate Bishop. Clint's stray. He's going to see if she can join Shield." Yelena explains. "She was with us and had no where else to go so I said she could stay here for now." She adds on. If Clint thinks she's worthy of Shield, then I believe that she is. She must also be good if Yelena has been working with her. She wouldn't let anyone help who would slow her down.

"How long are you back for?" Wanda steps in with her own question, making my own ears prick up for her response. "As long as I need to be. I want to be around to help with her recovery." Yelena replies, making me smile. Y/n is going to need all the help she can get, and she adores Yelena, so I'm glad that she's not going anywhere any time soon.

After a while, we indicate for Clint and Kate to come in. We go through our introduction, and I can see how enthusiastic Kate is. She's very chatty and I'm surprise she's not pissed off Clint and Yelena yet though! "I read about Y/n in the Young Initiative files." Kate shares. "Did you know she is the only recruit to ever get a perfect score. She could have passed the exams two years ago and still topped the class." She tells us enthusiastically. "Sounds like you're a fan." Yelena teases her, making the young girl blush. "I guess when your parents are the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch, you're going to be good." Kate chuckles.

It makes my gaze drop, something that Yelena clocks on to instantly. She's not been around so hasn't seen how we've treated Y/n. I'm actually worried for when I tell her. She's going to hate us for it and I'd be surprised if she even lets us stay around Y/n. "Y/n did it all on her own. With a little help from Steve. Her talent has come from her own ability and desire to be the best." Wanda corrects Kate, showing that we have no claim to how good Y/n is at being an agent. "Oh, that's even more impressive then. You must be really proud." She smiles at us and we both nod. "More than she'll ever know." I mutter.

__________

When Kate and Clint leave, Yelena is quick to question Wanda and I. We tell her of what's been going on and how ashamed we are and how much we want to be able to fix everything. "You don't deserve to fix it." She spits angrily at us. "It's no excuse to say that you got lost in the boys. Y/n is your daughter too and she needed you." She shouts, calling us both out on our actions. "We know Yelena. We can't take back how we've treated her. But I promise that we won't every do anything like that again!" I tell her sincerely. "No, you won't. I won't let you. If you are going to be back in her life as the parents you should have been, you have to be all in. You promised to be better than we had Natasha!" She tells me firmly with a finger jabbing into my chest.

"I know Yelena. I wish I had a valid excuse or reason for what we did. I will never forgive myself. I will always have a hatred towards myself for ever making her feel the way we did. But I'm not going to wallow and hide away from it. I want to own up to the mistake and try and fix it. I know that it's not going to be an easy fix, but I will stay here and face the brunt of the anger and pain that she's feeling because I will not give up on her. Not again." I tell her passionate. "Neither of us will. I promise you Yelena, we will do everything in our power to fix this." Wanda steps up and adds her own promise, taking my hand. At least we have each other through all of this.

Yelena doesn't speak, she just looks between the two of us, her chest heaving with anger. It's intimidating to be the one on the receiving end, but we deserve it. I'm glad that Yelena is here. She simple nods her head and that is the subject over with. For now.

That night, my body ultimately wins, and I end up getting a couple of hours sleep. Though it's full of nightmares that I can't seem to escape and then when I wake up, I'm terrified that Y/n will be awake already and I'll have missed it. But when my body wakes with a jolt, I'm met with my sleeping wife and still unconscious daughter.

I stretch out and move closer to the bed and take Y/n's bruised hand in my own. "I can't lose you. You are my daughter, blood or not and I love you so much. I know I haven't shown that to you and there is no excuse for that. I also know that you have every right to never forgive me. So, my only request, is please wake up. Please survive. I don't think I can live in a world without you in it." I plead with her. Hoping that somewhere in her subconscious she can hear me. I squeeze her hand, hoping for any response, but nothing comes.

The day goes by slower than usual. That is until Cho comes in to check on Y/n and gives us the good news that she should be able to breathe without the ventilator now. Wanda and I step outside as we watch through the window. We're holding on to each other tightly as we watch. "This is good. She's strong and this is the first step to her waking up." Wanda speaks. I can hear the hesitation in her voice, showing that she is trying to convince herself more than anything. "You're right. She is so strong. I know she's going to wake up soon." I add on, smiling at my wife.

Cho soon joins us with a smile. "She's doing well. She's now breathing easily on her own. I expect she'll wake up within a few hours. I'll be back to do a full examination then so we can assess her injuries." She informs us. I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Hopefully it won't be long until our daughter is back with us.

The next couple of hours seems to drag by. Clint, Yelena and Kate all paid another visit but left to try and sort a room out for Kate in the compound. Steve was then the next to join us, taking a seat at the end of Y/n's bed. It's a long wait until we finally see a twitch to Y/n's eye.

I'm the first to my feet, leaning over to see if I had imagined the small movement. "Y/n, honey. It's mama. Can you hear me?" I ask her, fighting off the tears threatening to fall. With a flutter, her blues eyes lock on to mine. "She squeezed my hand." Wanda says excitedly. "Baby, we're here." She tells Y/n, who's got a confused look in her eyes.

"You're in the medical wing sweetheart. You got shot on your mission." I explain to her. "S-t-Steve." She stutters out. "He's fine. He's here." I reassure her, waving for Steve to come closer. "Hey kiddo. Boy we're glad to see you awake." He tells her with a relived smile. One that she returns. "I'll got and get Dr Cho." Wanda states, quickly leaving the room. "T-the m-mission." Y/n starts but Steve is quick to stop her. "Is not to worry about right now. Just know it wasn't your fault. But we'll explain it when you're doing better." He tells her, earning a nod. She reaches out her hand to Steve and he instantly takes it. "You're not allowed to scare us like that again." He chuckles, his voice wavering.

"S-sorry." She replies, her eyes fluttering again. "It's ok sweetheart. Don't fight it if you want to sleep again." I tell her softly. She doesn't really acknowledge me, but she does seem to listen as her eyes flutter shut once again.

They don't stay closed for long though, soon woken up by Cho as she comes in with a wide smile. "There's my favourite patient." She smiles at Y/n, who grins in return. "I bet you s-say that to e-everyone." Y/n responds through a struggled chuckle. "But with you I actually mean it." Cho winks, before looking over Y/n's chart and obs.

She takes the time to explain Y/n's injuries to her and the plan for her recovery. I see her face drop when she realises she's going to be in the hospital for at least another week before being on strict bed rest when she's discharged. "I'll be around if you need anything or have any questions. So please get one of the nurses to get me if you need me. That goes for all of you." Dr Cho offers. "Thank you. For everything." I tell her sincerely. She gives me a tightly smile before turning on her heel and leaving the three of us too it.

With Cho gone, it's silent in the med bay as Wanda, Steve and I just watch over Y/n. She is struggling to keep her eyes open, but I can see a pain in them when they lock on to mine. "You should get some rest kiddo." Steve speaks up as Y/n nods in return. "W-will you s-stay?" She asks, making Steve smile widely. "Of course." He returns, moving to get another chair to sit with us. At that confirmation, Y/n seems comfortable enough to let her eyes close and for sleep to take back over.

It's almost agony to see her asleep once again. We've been waiting for so long for her to wake up, for her to be asleep so soon is tough. I almost want to start apologising and showing her that we're going to change and it's going to stick. But I don't want to overwhelm her. At the moment, her recovery is the most important thing. As much as I hate it, earning her forgiveness will have to wait.

"Now she's awake, you two should head to your apartment. See the twins, eat some proper food, and get some sleep. I can stay with her." Steve offers, but I'm quick to decline. "I don't want to leave her." I tell him, whilst gripping her hand tighter, my eyes not leaving her sleeping form. Steve lets out a sigh. "She'll be asleep for a while, and she needs you both on top form." He tells us.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Wanda smiling warmly at me. I hadn't even noticed that she had moved from the other side of the bed. "Steve's right. We've been here for days. If we want to do what's right by Y/n, then we need to look after ourselves as well." She speaks sense.

With a huff I stand from my seat and lean forward to press a kiss to Y/n's head. "We'll be back later sweetheart. I love you so much." I tell her softly then move so that Wanda can say goodbye too. With one last look to our daughter, we both reluctantly leave. Though I smile when I see Steve move closer and take Y/n's hand in his own. Although I will forever regret how we have treated Y/n, I'm glad that she has had Steve there for her.

Y/n's POV:

Well, that was not how I wanted my first mission to go. I wanted to impress everyone, not end up in the med bay with part of my liver missing! Waking up was a weird experience. Seeing my parents' faces were the last thing I expected to see. They seem genuinely worried, but that was probably all a front for everyone else. They can't be seen to not care about the daughter they've ignored for the last few years.

When I wake up next, I see Steve smile down at me. "You're still here." I say and he nods. "Of course. I wanted to make sure that you're ok." He replies, making my own smile grow. I look around and my smile drops when I see that my moms aren't here. I can't hide that it hurts a little that they didn't stick around. But I shouldn't care about that. They haven't cared about me.

"Should have guessed they would go once I woke up." I complain, wincing as I try to adjust myself in bed. "Careful Y/n/n." Steve scolds me as he shoots to his feet to help adjust my pillows. "I told them to go." He admits and I look at him with a frown. "Not like that. But they have not left your side since you were brought in. They weren't looking after themselves and if they are going to help you through your recovery, they need to be at 100%" He explains but I just scoff.

"I don't need their help with my recovery. They didn't care before I was hurt, they don't get to care now." I groan. Steve takes his seat again and looks at me with his, "I know I'm right" look. "Y/n. I know you don't believe it, but they do care for you. They were cut up when you got hurt. They were devastated that they wouldn't have the chance to be able to make things up to you." He says. I roll my eyes, but he continues. "Look, I'm not saying you have to forgive them. But you can't question how much they have cared for you over the last few days."

"Fine, but I'm not going back to their place to recover." I huff, folding my arms. "Considering you've been shot and in a medically induced coma for the last few days, it's good to see it hasn't affected your attitude." Steve teases.

We sit in silence as I think about my parents. They surely can't think that just because they've been sat beside my bed whilst I've been hurt is going to make up for everything that they have done over the years? Who's to say that they won't go back to how they were once I'm healed? I have a place at Sheild now. Somewhere that I can make a name for myself and create my own family.

"I'm sorry I messed up the mission." I break the silence, my mind now moving on to the fact I failed at my first mission. "You didn't fail anything kiddo. We were set up. If anything, I should apologise to you. They were after me, but you were the one to get hurt. You did a great job of take on as many agents as you did." He explains, taking my hand in his. "You fought, and it's because of your skill and ability that you're alive. You impressed everyone." He assures me, running his thumb over my bruised knuckles.

Our moment is broken when my moms walk back in. "You're awake!" Mom says excitedly as both her and mama move into the room quickly. Steve moves back from my side, which I frown at as mama takes my hand in hers. I'm quick to pull it away. The hurt that flashes across her face doesn't go unnoticed, but I'm not in the mood to pretend like everything is ok right now.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asks, appearing to my left. "I'm fine." I respond shortly, receiving a warning raised eyebrow from Steve. "Are you in pain? I can get the nurse to come in and get you some pain killers." Mom fusses. "I'm fine." I repeat the same words. "That's not true, you've been wincing since you've woken up." Steve rats me out. Traitor. "If a 40 calibre bullet went through you, I'm sure you'd be wincing too." I snap. "Told you. Amazing how your attitude hasn't changed." Steve chuckles.

However, both my mom's look at me with worried looks. "I'm going to get Dr Cho. You look pale." Mom worries before rushing out the room.

Mama reaches forward and places her hand on my head, which I quickly try and move away from her touch. "You're hot. I hope you're not running a fever." She states. "Like you care." I mumble, but she hears it and that look of hurt appears on her face again. "Look Y/n. I know you believe that we don't care or love you. But that couldn't be further from the truth. I want nothing more than to talk to you about it and start to make up for everything. But right now, all that matters is your recovery. You can hate us and ignore us or yell at us, but we are not going anywhere." She states firmly, her eyes locked on to mine. I just roll my eyes and turn to look at Dr Cho who has walking into the room.

She checks me over and I notice the frown on her face. "What's up?" I question. "I'm worried about your temperature. I want to run some tests, but with the inflammation to your incision, I'm worried you've got an infection. It's nothing to worry about as we've caught it early. But we'll need to keep a close eye on you." She replies. "So, no discharge yet then." I huff.

Cho chuckles and looks up from my chart. "It's funny you think you were close even without this infection." She teases. "Aren't you meant to be nice to me? I'm a patient after all." I pout. "If I'm on good behaviour, can I get out early?" I plead. "Maybe in a week. But you'll be on strict bed rest and need to be cared for. You're still technically a minor." Cho breaks the news and I know exactly what she's getting at. "But I'm 18 in like 4 days! Besides, I literally got shot on a mission for Shield. Surely that's enough?" I argue.

"Y/n, you are going to struggle to walk, let alone be able to properly look after yourself. Even after you're 18, you'll need support during your recovery. It isn't a simple road ahead for you." Dr Cho returns. "So, what are you saying?" I get straight to the point. "I'm recommending that you are discharged to your family. You'll be in the compound so if anything goes wrong, you can get the right medical attention straight away." She explains. "Really? There are no other options. Can't I stay with Steve or something?" I ask but she shakes her head.

"Y/n, come on. It's what is best for you. Your moms will be there to help. I'll be away on missions so can't give you the care you need." Steve speaks up, but soon shrinks back as I glare at him. "Really, what makes you think that I'll get the care I need at home?" I growl, my anger building. "Y/n..." Mama starts but I cut her off. "No! You can't just stand there and act like the caring parents when you have done nothing to back that claim up. I've been the forgotten daughter for years! Slowly I have been pushed out this family and now you want me to just act like everything is ok and trust that you'll look after me?!" I yell, that frustration finally finding its way out.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. Your heartrate is getting too high." Dr Cho tries to calm me down. "Kiddo. You're ok. You need to give them a chance." Steve tries to reason. "A chance like I was given? I've practically raised myself these last few years!" I snap. Why is he suddenly defending them?!

"Please sweetheart. You're going to make yourself sicker. We want to be there for you. We're not denying how badly we've treated you. But I promise that it will never happen again. You'll be safe with us. We just want to be able to care for you and help you get to full health." Mama speaks, her eyes filled with tears. I look between her, and mom and I see that she's almost inconsolable. "Do I have a choice?" I sigh, turning to Cho. "Technically, yes. But physically, you won't be able to follow through with it." She breaks the bad news. Suddenly the sounds of my heart monitor becomes noticeable so I lie back and take a couple of deep breaths. I can feel all their eyes on me, and I let out a sigh. "Fine whatever." I respond. I just need to do everything that Cho tells me so I can heal as fast as possible and move back to Shield and start my life again.

__________

The next few days are not fun. My infection hit me pretty hard, and I spent a lot of time either sweating or freezing whilst fighting the urge to throw up. I hate being stuck in this bed and I just want to be healthy again and being able to go on missions. Before it went south, I was loving it. Even if it was just a small one.

I'm also finding it hard that my mothers are suddenly around all the time. Mama is much better at not smothering me. Mom on the other hand, she is always fussing. But that's her and I used to love it when I was younger, when she actually cared about my wellbeing. "Wands, she's already said she has enough pillows." Mama sighs, her own frustrations growing. "Yes, sorry you did." Mom apologises, slowly putting the pillow down she had in her hands.

"Can I get you anything else? Some food. Though the food here is pretty horrible. When you're back home, I'll make sure to cook you something tasty with the food you're allowed to eat." She starts to ramble. I'm not going to lie, that does sound amazing, and I'd kill for a bowl of paprikash right now. I remember when mom taught me how to cook it. It was one of the last memories I have of us spending quality time together.

I don't realise I'm smiling until I see both my parents looking at me warmly. I quickly shake it off, not wanting to let them think that I'm enjoying this in the slightest. "You know what. A sandwich would be good." I say, taking them both by surprise. I've not been very talkative, but I could do with a break right now. I know I won't be able to get rid of both of them, but I can at least take a break from mom fussing.

"Of course. I'll go and make you something up and bring it down. The bread is always dry here." She speaks, grabbing a couple of things and turning to leave. "Maybe I'll check with Cho if you could have a smoothy." She mumbles, making mama chuckle as she leaves.

I let out a breath of relief. I feel slightly less suffocated. But I am still very aware of mama's eyes boring into me. I'm used to her being quiet. She always observes, making her conclusions before talking when it's necessary. But seeing her now, it feels different. I'm pretty good at reading people and I can tell that she is lost in her own thoughts. I've only seen her like it a couple of times before and it's been after particularly difficult missions. Ones that bring up bad memories for her.

I grab the TV remote and try and find something to watch. I end up with Rizzoli and Isles on. I don't really watch it, but the sound is helping to break the awkward silence. Just after they break the case in the show, I notice mama sit more upright in her seat.

"When I found you in Hydra, I knew instantly that I wanted to help you. There was something about you that melted my heart. When we found out that you had no family to return you to, it wasn't even a question, I knew I was going to adopt you. In that short space of time, I had spent with you, I grew to love you." She starts. I don't look to her, my focus on the TV.

"Even though you had been through so much, you had this happiness around you. You were grateful for everything and found the joy in the smallest thing. I just wanted to give you a life that you deserved. When I married Wanda, I was so happy that I could give you two loving parents." From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile tearily as she picks at the skin around her fingers.

"I failed you Y/n. When I adopted you, I promised that I would be the best parent to you. That you would never want for anything. What's worse, is I never even noticed what I was doing. What we were both doing. I've always prided myself on being able to read people, but I couldn't see the damage I was doing to my own daughter." She continues, pain evident in her voice.

"I wish I could go back in time to change how we acted with you. To include you fully with the twins, to support you in your work in the Shield Programme. To show that even with the boys, you were loved and an integral part of this family. All I can do is apologise and promise that we are not going to let that happen again." She finishes, finally look up to me, a couple of tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's been years. We're not just talking about a couple of months here." I speak up, still not able to lock eyes with her. "Steve became more of a parent for me than the two of you." I admit, and that seems to make mama's heart break a little more. "Is it because I'm not biologically yours and moms?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Mama is quickly to her feet and takes my hand in between both of hers. "No. Of course not Detka, and I will forever hate myself that I've allowed you to think otherwise." She tries to reassure me, a panic in her eyes. "I wish I could give you a reason for why we acted like we did. Initially, it was because we were so focused on the boys, but after that, I have no idea. I wish I could pinpoint why, maybe it would make this all easier. I know you probably don't believe it, but I love you as much as those boys. Blood doesn't matter to me. You are my daughter as much as they are my sons. I know and feel that through every fibre of my body." She expresses. The sincerity is evident in both her voice and facial expressions. "Saying sorry isn't going to fix this. You only knew what you were doing because I called you out on it. Had I not gotten shot, would you have made any effort to rectify what was wrong?" I question her, my anger growing.

"We wanted to. We were planning on taking you to breakfast to talk and work out a way that we could make things right with you. But you had gone, and we couldn't get to you. You have a lot of people at Sheild that love you." She chuckles humourlessly. That is true. Maria is like an aunt to me and her and Fury happily kept my room allocation secret, "Look, I know that we don't deserve your forgiveness, but it doesn't mean that we are going to stop trying." She states firmly.

"It's not that simple mama. I have learnt to live without you now and I've got my own place with Shield. We can both move on with you getting your perfect biological family and I get the career I want." I say, but that only makes mama cry more. "No, our family is only perfect if you are in it too!" She almost shouts, but she's quick to calm herself down. "Look, we've got to live together through your recovery, let's just see how things go after that ok." She proposes. "Fine, but I can't promise anything will change." I respond and she nods. "I know. But I'm going to try everything to earn your forgiveness." She comes back with a newfound confidence.

We fall back into a silence, one that feels more comfortable. Mama looks less stressed, but her brow is still furrowed. When mom returns, the quiet is broken again, despite mama trying to get her to calm down. I try not to smile when she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I miss this caring side of my parents so much. But for me, it's too little, too late.

Part 3

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist

[supernaturalfreakout]

"Serve you."

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: Sam brings you to orgasm with your bullet vibrator whilst you cockwarm him. Plus some emotional revelations and some ever-so-appropriately-timed philosophical musings. In other words, you're just a couple of hot, horny nerds with a soul-bending emotional connection (emphasis on the horny).

Tags: 18+ MDNI, implied BJ, sub/Dom dynamic, sub!you, dom!sam, gentle dom sam winchester, BDSM, confessions, mutual longing, cockwarming, vibrator, multiple orgasms.

Words: 2k

Notes: As with most things I write, this started off as a drabble/just some thoughts/ideas. I've hardly edited this. This may eventually may make an appearance in my longfic, History on Your Side, but I haven't got there yet, and I'm too impatient to keep this to myself. I hope you enjoy!

Sam’s eyes meet yours, the thin band of hazel ringing his pupils glazed with pleasure. The gold flecks dance in the lamplight, swimming with desire as he reclines against the headboard, chest rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. He looks dazed: his lips wet and parted, the sweat on his skin making him glow like a god. You’ve never seen him so... 

So...?

He is blinding, angelic, gazing down at you with... what?—adoration?—awe? He’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. How can he even exist? He is beyond comprehension.

Your heart beats a little harder in your throat and you swallow around the lump that has formed, the salty tang of Sam’s release still fresh on your tongue. What is he seeing as he takes in your state: naked and disheveled, what you have just done, what you are planning to do? You can’t be sure, but the way it makes you feel when he looks at you… The way he makes you feel. Him wanting you, desiring you, basking the afterglow of your ministrations. You feel like the most powerful woman on the planet.

Chancing a smile, you shuffle your already-grazed knees in the blankets.

“I wanna be the best, and worst slut you’ve ever had,” you rasp without thinking, but stop yourself short before saying, I want to be your everything. It’s too much to ask, you know—but fuck—it doesn’t make it any less true.

You watch his eyes widen, then... soften slightly. He is all hard muscle and bone, but you know that beneath that rough exterior is a terrain he’s sheltered behind the barricades of his lifestyle for too long. Just like you have. He’d taught you that, no matter how unintended.

“Shit,” he says, his breath hitching. “You already are.”

You already are. It sounds like a confession to your unvoiced thoughts. 

“And I,” he continues, leaning forward and cupping your cheek with his palm, “want to be the one to fulfil your desires.” His thumb brushes a gentle stroke against your jaw, making your hairs stand on end, electric. “Every depraved, little thought. Every dirty fantasy. Every desire you’ve been too afraid to ask for—including the ones you deem you don’t deserve.”

He isn’t just talking about sex anymore. This is.... personal. He knows. Somehow, he knows. He’s always known—the way you view yourself—how you’ve deemed yourself unworthy of love. Because... He feels that way too, you realize, your heart breaking. This man. This perfect, selfless man, has never deemed himself worthy of love. 

At least he hadn’t, until—

Sam’s hands find your waist, calloused palms gliding over smooth skin, and he pulls you towards him, guiding you onto his lap. You let your knees fall on either side of his hips, his bare skin a warm, familiar comfort.

“I,” Sam says, your face now level with his, “want to be the one who gives that to you, Y/N. It’s my greatest honor to serve you.”

“Serve me?” Your voice is but a whisper, but the question sits heavy on your tongue. It tastes foreign, but sweet, a flavor you’ve never encountered, but now that you have, you’ll never forget the aftertaste.

“Yes,” he says, matter-of-factly. “As your Dom, it’s my duty to serve you.”

Duty. That word again. It's come up a lot in your conversations. What is it with this man and his superior sense of moral responsibility? For a seemingly non-religious man, he attached a lot of reverence to it. For him, it was an imperative. He was attracted to it like flies to honey. He did go to law school, you reflect. He's definitely read too much Kant. 

He cups your check again, his gaze flicking between your eyes and lips. “Everything I do is to serve you, Y/N. Even when I’m commanding you, I do it to serve you. Thank you for trusting me to do that.”

A sense of revelation washes over you at his words. Although you’ve never doubted him, not even for a second, trusting someone to anticipate your needs—to know when and how far to push your boundaries, and when to pull back—is not something to be taken lightly. Now, you realize, that putting your trust in him should have been harder than it was.

But he’d made it so easy—you’d never once felt pressured, put on the spot, or coerced. As counterintuitive as it may sound, being his sub—being commanded by him, at his mercy, restrained at times—actually makes you feel more free. Liberated. It all suddenly makes so much sense, like a lens snapping into focus. 

He looks you in the eye again, steady, analyzing, and you know that he is asking for permission. That look, coupled with the strained sensation against your thigh. You know that this conversation isn’t over, but yet—

You can feel him beneath you—again—hard and insistent, undeniably desirous. You’ve never known such stamina.

You nod, yes, and that is all the confirmation he needs.

His lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his tongue shortly following, as if he’s savoring every note of your taste.

Your bodies move together and you shift your weight, rising slightly to angle yourself against him.

You join together slowly, deliberately, the stretch of him a welcome pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth. You sink deeper, deeper, until you are held-fast against him. He fills you so completely, so perfectly, you can feel it in your soul. It is more than the physical—you’ve never felt so whole, so complete.

Sam smiles against your lips as he holds you there, unmoving, seemingly happy to just sit here inside you.

“You see?” he says. “We fit perfectly together, you and I.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you tease.

“Maybe. Maybe it’s just the effect you have on me.”

You roll your eyes, start to say something, then let out an embarrassingly breathy moan as Sam’s lips attach themselves to your throat. 

“You were saying?” He chuckles, continuing to explore your neck with his lips and tongue. 

“I... I can’t remember.”

He chuckles again, smugly, then moves his lips to nibble at your earlobe. The way his body presses against you angles his cock even tighter into your sweet-spot, and the desire below your belly cascades with liquid heat.

“Fuck,” he growls, his breath hot against your ear. “I can feel you baby—what this is doing to you. You’re so fucking wet. So fucking responsive. Such a good girl for me.”

You don’t even bother to hold back your moans now, it is all too much—he knows exactly what to do, knows exactly what to say to get you going. Always has.

“Yes,” you mewl. “And it’s all for you, Sir. All for you...”

You begin to grind your hips, chasing that high only he can give you, but Sam seemingly has other plans. 

“Hey,” he whispers, placing his hands on your hips to still you. “Not yet. Slow down.” 

As frustrating as it is, you comply. Sam has a way of testing your patience like no one else. It has always been worth it, though. 

You watch as he extends his arm to the side, rummages around in your bedside dresser. Immediately, you know exactly what he has planned, and you throb around him at the thought. 

His hand emerges grasping a small, silk, drawstring pouch, and you watch as he slides out your small-but-mighty bullet vibrator.

It may not look like much, but it is powerful, versatile and lands itself perfectly for situations like the one you currently find yourself in. 

You’d told him about your toys, this one especially, seeing as it had kept you company most recently whilst he was away. 

He sets the empty pouch back in your drawer.

“So this is what had you screaming my name down the phone?” he says, smirking. 

You whole body flushes at the memory: Sam’s voice in your ear as you both got yourselves off; you at home, Sam in some dingy motel room when he’d managed to steal some time alone.

“It might be small,” you say, “but it’s very effective.” 

“Hmm,” Sam says, considering. “I think it’s about time we get acquainted, then.” 

You watch open-mouthed as Sam brings your vibe to his lips, letting the tip enter his mouth. 

“Cold,” he says, then pushes it in further, coating the entirety of the metal with his saliva. 

You continue to gape as he removes it, then after three testing clicks with his thumb, sets the vibe alive. 

The sound of the buzz alone has you tingling, especially at the thought of Sam controlling it. 

“May I?” he asks, holding the device between you. 

Your nod is urgent, but Sam’s actions are anything but as he brings it to rest lightly against your mouth. The sensation is strange, but not unpleasant, and it sends a tingling sensation right through your brain. 

“Open,” he demands, and you comply, letting the vibe buzz against your tongue for a minute before he drags it down your chin and across your jaw, painting your combined saliva in a shiny, wet stripe across your flesh. 

When it meets the side of your neck, you flinch, giggling. You’ve always been ticklish there. Sam knows that, and he only looks amused. 

After that agony, he drags it over your collarbones, then over your chest, taking a moment to circle the tip around your nipples, making them pebble. 

“That good?” he asks, no doubt in response to your increasing moans, and you nod, biting your bottom lip. 

“Good,” he says, smiling. 

After another few moments, he slowly trails the vibe down your stomach, only lightly, as if the tip were a knife skimming the surface of your skin. But before it reaches it’s destination, it veers of to the side, snaking along the insides of your thighs, and you can’t hold back the groan of want that has built beneath your vocal cords. Your clit is throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can’t stop yourself from rocking into his pubic bone for a second of relief. 

At that—and in true Sam fashion—he pulls the vibe away completely, stealing a kiss before you can do so much as protest. His tongue glides against yours, and you let the taste of him flood your system. He’s throbbing too, you can feel it—aching inside you, yet his kiss is anything but urgent; it is controlled, completely deliberate, and utterly frustrating. You want to be devoured. 

When he pulls back, you are breathless, but his breath is steady. How does he do it? you wonder. You suppose that is why he is such a good Dom for you: he is the gravity keeping you in orbit in an otherwise chaotic universe. The steadying force, keeping you from spinning out of control. Without him you’d either combust, or float around aimlessly like you had done for the past several years. 

When you are least expecting it, Sam finally lets the vibe make contact, pressing it lightly against your swollen clit. The rumble is ecstatic, and you gasp as you let the sensations take over, dissolving every rational thought in your skull.

It doesn’t take long. After all that apprehension, you are a loaded gun; cocked and ready to blow.

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back in ecstasy and release a high-pitched squeal of pleasure.

Sam cups the back of your neck, and then it's his lips on your throat again, his voice in your ear.

"That's it, moan for me, baby. Ah—fuck—you're so tight, so close already, I can feel it. Come around my cock, princess. Yeah, that's it. My beautiful girl..."

His words. His voice. His lips. His tongue on your neck. His cock inside you... It's all so... perfect. He's perfect. So—

You start to tremble, and then it hits you, all at once, like a freight-train derailing, again, and again...

“Fuck!” you scream, as your climax seizes you, grasping you by the throat and throttling you blue.

As quick as the first one leaves, another comes in it's wake, surging towards you like a lightning bolt—sharp, intense, and impossible to escape. Your nails dig into Sam’s shoulders as he turns the vibrations up to the max, and you all but wail his name, bucking against the vibe, his cock now firing to life inside you. He lets you take control now, rocking him inside you, milking him dry as you both come together in a writhing ball of orgasmic bliss.

A few, sweat-soaked minutes later, collapsed and tangled together in euphoria, he concedes with a grin, “Very effective, indeed.”

Even he is breathless now. 

[xenyasplacex]

BABY TRAPPED PART 2

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!OC

Summary: Chris is in a toxic relationship and the only thing keeping him there is his daughter.

warning- Toxic relationship, Miserable Chris, Shouting, Abuse, Physical Abuse, emotional abuse, Talk of isolation, crying

A/N : Soooooo, it’s been a while! see my dumbass thought i posted this a few days ago but turns out i just saved it to drafts 😍😍😍

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Part 1 <—> Part 3

Things had changed in Chris’ household. Chris knew that through his life there were going to be times where he had to sacrifice certain things he thought he couldn't live without if he wanted their marriage to work and so far he had sacrificed a lot. Sometimes he thought about how younger Chris would look at him now. He had let this woman completely take over his life. First he had to sacrifice his friendship with nate who was a ‘bad influence’ on him, then he had to sacrifice his relationship with his parents who were ‘brainwashing’ him, then he had to sacrifice his friendship with Madi, Tara, Quen and Madison Beer because they were all ‘flirting’ with Chris and disrespecting his wife, he had to sacrifice his relationship with his older brother Justin because ‘he took to much of Chris’ time’. So, so, so many sacrifices had been made to make Aaliyah happy and yet here she still was, making his life miserable.

The couple were planning to move. That's what started the whole ordeal. The couple had decided to pack up and move to San Diego about a year ago and they only had 3 more days until they were gone for good. Well, to be completely honest it was more of Aaliyah yelling and Chris being too scared to do anything to stop it. Apparently she wanted to be closer to her dad and step mom which confused Chris because from what he knew, she hasn't spoken to her father since she told him she was pregnant. He still remembered when he told his brothers. Matt started crying on the spot which really did shake Chris to his core. Matt always said he hated Chris and thought he knew it was a joke he still didn’t think that Matt would be so distraught over Chris Leaving. They still planned to do Youtube. They planned to rotate, one week they would be in Los Angeles and the other they would be in San Diego. It would be tough but they had no other option. The whole argument started when Chris had stated he wasn't sure if he liked the dark brown wood for the floor that Aaliyah had chosen in front of their interior designer. He wasn't rude or malicious, he was simply voicing his opinion, but it was enough to have Aaliyah beating him for “embarrassing her.”

“You ought to wrap that wrist up.” Aaliyah said from the doorway of their living room staring at her husband who was hunched over their couch, trying to wipe the remaining blood from his mouth. He looked up at his wife with nothing but pure terror. The tyrant was back.

“Relax, i'm not here to hurt you,” Aaliayh chuckled as she approached him. Laughing, she was laughing. How could she be laughing? 

Aaliyah sat next to Chris examining his face and Chris simply froze. She had done this to him. She was the one to hurt him. She was the one who bruised him, she was the one who caused him to be bleeding out and now here she was, sat next to him like a loving wife. She leaned forward and abruptly brought her hand up to his face. By pure muscle memory Chris jumped back, preparing for the next blow to his already weak body. She laughed. Again. She laughed at his pain. 

“I'm not going to hurt you silly,” She laughed, “I'm just here to clean you up.”

Her smile was so deceiving. With that smile she could light up an entire room, she could have bored you outta your mind listening to her ramble about the most useless things but you would stay there and listen in the hopes of even catching a glimpse of that smile. She is so addictive yet she was poisonous. Like a hard drug, something you can't seem to live without even if its slowly killing you. 

After about half an hour she had fully cleaned Chris’ cuts and bruises and had kissed him so many times her lips were puffy and she was starting to feel slightly light headed. It was late, Adriana had been asleep for hours at this point and Chris was slowly starting to slip into unconsciousness

“I'm so sorry Chris, you know I love you right?” She said as she rolled on top of him in their shared bed.

“I know.” Chris said, not bothering to look at her, instead he stayed fixated on the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the same thoughts as always racing through his mind.

How did he end up here?

How could he let this happen?

Why couldn't he just man up and take his child and leave?

Why couldn't he protect his own child?

Why couldn't he tell his brothers?

Why couldn't he te-

“Chris!” Aaliyah yelled as she sat up, looking at him slightly agitated.

“Huh?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No.”

Alliyah simply rolled her eyes before getting off him, “And im not good enough for you to listen to as usual. Some excuse of a husband you are.” She grumbled angrily.

Chris knew he had to deescalate whatever it was that was brewing or he could end up sleeping in his car tonight, so he sat up, resting against their head rest before picking Aaliyah up slightly and sitting her on his lap. He then kissed all over her face down to her neck until she was giggling uncontrollably.

“Chris stop!” She laughed, not pushing him away though.

“I'm sorry, it's not that I wasn't listening to you, I'm just so tired. Tell me what you were saying again, I promise you've got my full attention”.  Chris said before resting his head on her chest.

It was moments like this when Chris thought maybe things werent os bad. He was here with his wife, in their joint bed, kissing and laughing, enjoying each other presence, basking in joy and lo-

“I think it's about time we cut off your brothers.”

Moment ended.

“What?” He asked, whipping his head up. He was shocked. Him and his brothers were a package deal. It had been all of them or none of them for so long. His brothers were something he could rely on because they were countistant. You can’t exactly stop being a triplet after all, and now here she was. Getting rid of the one piece of consistency he had through tough times.

“Chris, you are far too reliant on them, I mean 3 weeks ago we got into a little argument and you picked up our child and spent the night with them. That's not normal Chris.”

It wasn't a little argument. She hurt their daughter. She hurt his daughter.

“Listen to me Chris,” Aaliyah started again, adjusting herself slightly so she was straddling him, “Chris I love you, I’m doing this because I love you. I mean what type of example would that set for Adriana? You need to learn to be strong on your own. Not with Nick or Matt holding your hand through life.”

Chris was silent, looking down at his lap through the whole speech.

“Chris, I am all you need. You don't need them, the fact that you've cut everyone else off and have been just fine just proves all you need is me, you don't need anyone else Chris i promise you.” She said sweetly before pressing a kiss to his lips which isn't reciprocated.

“I just… I need to think about it.”

“What?” Aaliyah asked, sitting up and starting to get off Chris once again.

“Those are my brothers Ali, I can't just get rid of them.” “Yes you can!” Aaliyah exclaimed. “Chris when we leave in 3 days you are to block their numbers and get rid of them or I promise you, you will never see Adriana again. If me and Adi aren't good enough for you then you don't deserve us at all. You don't need them Chris but you need me and you are a coward and a cheating bitch for even thinking you can have all of us to yourself.”

“I've never cheated on you Ali…” Chris tried to protest but she cut him off.

“What, you really think I'm that stupid? All the times you ‘go to your brother's house to film’ you think i don't know you're out being a whore. You dont think i know your out there fucking any bitch who comes within a 5 foot radius of you. You don't think I know? You're pathetic.”  She screamed at him. Chris couldn't even say anything. The claims were so far-fetched that he didn't even know how to defend himself. “Get the fuck out of this room Chris.” She said finally before turning over.

“Ali I didn't ev-” 

“Chris get the fuck out of this room!” Aaliyah screamed again. When Chris didn't move, frozen in pure astonishment she started punching him in the head.

The first punch was enough to snap him out of this trans, the second punch was enough to kick off a heavy migraine and the ones that followed were enough to add more fuel to this fire. 

“Get out! Get out! Get Out!” she screamed again and again, landing punch after punch. 

Chris quickly scrambled to his feet and ran for their bedroom door, trying to avoid the objects that she was hurling at him. When he finally got out of the room he just stood there for a while taking in what had just happened. He had to get rid of his brothers. His shoulder to cry in, his light at the end of the tunnel. He had to get rid of them. Slowly Chris found himself sitting on the floor, knees to his chest simply sobbing. He had to get rid of his brothers.

He had to get rid of his brothers.

“Nick stop!” Chris laughed as he watched his brother throw Adriana up in the air before catching the giggling girl again.

“I can't stop, i'm not gonna be able to see my niece any time i want anymore, i have to take in every moment i can.” He said before resting Adriana on his hip.

“I still can’t believe you're actually leaving.” Matt said softly, looking at his triplet brother. 

“Chris can you please tell him you'll call him everyday. I keep telling him we're still gonna talk all the time but the kid just won't listen.” Nick laughed, throwing Adriana into the air again. Chris’ smile faltered a little at that.

It had been 2 days since his argument with Aaliyah and she was still set on Chris cutting his brothers off. The only reason he was even allowed to come and see them was because he had promised that today would be the day he cut them off.

“Hey Adi, why don’t you we let Aunty Sunday put Nemo on for you the living room huh?”

Sunday was Matt’s girlfriend who Adriana absolutely adored. He watched as his daughter toddled into the other room before looking at the confused faces of his brothers.

“I need to talk to you two.” Chris stated bluntly before taking a deep breath and just letting out. It’s now or never and though he preferred never, he cared for his daughter too much to let her go without a fight.

“I love you guys. I really do. I love you with everything in me. You’re my best friends and I genuinely don’t know where I would be without the two of you but I just. I just think I need some time. Some time away from being a triplet to just think about my wife and my child. I just, I need time, you know?”

They didn’t know and they didn’t get it.

“Time? Like how long are we talking, like a week, maybe two?” Matt asked, Chris couldn’t bear this, he couldn’t even look at him. “Or like maybe a month?”

“I was thinking more like a few years,” Chris replied softly.

There it is. The bomb was dropped.

It was silent. Nobody said a word. Everyone was too shocked to even comprehend what had just been said. A break? For a few years? How does one simply decide that they need a break from being a triplet and how do they decide that need a break for so long?

Nick especially wasnt having it. Nobody optionally has a break from being brothers. Especially not triplets.

“What did Aaliyah out you on to this?” Nick spat with nothing but anger in his tone.

Chris and Matt were stunned but for different reasons. Matt because he couldn’t believe his brother would actually voice an accusation like that, and Chris because of how accurate it was.

“Wh-, what are you talking about Nick.”

“Don’t play games with me Chris. You don’t think we’ve seen the difference? You suddenly can’t make it to hang out or you suddenly can’t reply to messages after a certain time?” Nick screamed as he stood up off his couch.

“Nick I don’t know wha-” Chris tried again before being interrupted again.

“And I’ve seen the bruises little one!” Nick yelled again.

Caught.

Chris was stunned. They couldn’t know. If they found out they would only see him as week and unfit to be a father.

“What the hell are you talking about Nicolas!” Chris shouted as well, taking a step forward.

Nick rolled his eyes before grabbing Adriana’s baby bag, picking up 2 clean baby wipes and quickly coming at Chris. Chris flinched hard but that didn’t stop Nick from swiping the wipe across Chris’ face, revealing the concealer he was wearing and a purple bruise that had formed on his face.

“Yeah then what’s this?” Nick yelled showing his younger brother the wipe.

“Nick,” Matt interjected, trying to calm everyone down, “let’s all just take a deep breath okay?”

“What the fuck Nick, how dare you accuse my wife of something so evil! I fell down the stairs a few days ago! That’s were the bruise is from you sick fuck.” Chris yelled back.

“Oh spare me!” Nick replied. “So what happens when something happens to that little girl huh? What happens when she won’t let her have friends or go on playdates or go to the park? what happens when she isolates her daughter the same way she’s isolating you!”

“You know what, this is exactly why I can’t be around you. You’re all delusional and this sort of environment is not good for my child.” Chris yelled, picking up Adriana's baby bag and walking out of the room to grab Adriana.

He walked through the room, seeing Adriana and Sunday playing together. Without saying a word he picked his daughter up and started heading toward the door. “Chris? Chris what happened to your face?” Sunday tried to ask before hearing her own boyfriend running through the room.

“Chris! Chris stop!” Matt yelled while chasing after his brother who didn’t even turn around.

Chris walked straight to the car before gently putting Adriana into her car seat while Matt tried to calm him down.

“Please Chris, Nick was just trying to help, he loves you.” Matt tried to reason but Chris simply wasn’t having it.

“Nick he just accused my wife of beating me I can’t just le-”

“Chris!” Matt yelled, starting to get annoyed. “Chris we love you. More than anything and he’s just hurt that you’re leaving us. I mean a break? Come on Chris.”

That did make Chris feel bad. He always had his brothers. He wouldn’t be where he was now if not for them and now he was leaving them. Chris just felt so awful.

“I’m sorry Matt, I just… I just have to.” Chris replied softly looking down.

It was silent for a minute, then Matt spoke up. “Okay, and when this break ends we and Nick will be waiting for you, because we love you.”

With that Matt brought Chris into a hug. A proper hug. That was all Chris needed for the silent tears to come crumbling down. He was sure how long they were in that hug for before he felt another pair of area wrap around him.

“ I love you Chris, you have to know that.” Nick said, voice thick with tears.

“I know and I’m sorry. I love you guys too, both of you, so much” Chris said pulling away from the hug.

Matt then made his way over to the back of the car where Adriana had been buckled in.

“Hey baby, it looks like I won’t be seeing you for a while. You rember your Uncle Matt okay?” Matt told her making her giggle a little, not fully understanding the situation.

“And don’t forget your Uncle Nick either.” Nick interjected.

“Okay I promise I won’t. Pinky promise.” The little girl promised holding out her pinky fingers for both men to intertwine their fingers with.

The two said their goodbyes to their niece before shutting the door and looking back at Chris.

“Look, I don’t know what type of arrangement you and Ali have, but you protect that little girl or I will, you hear me?” Nick warned him.

Chris simply nodded, too emotional to trust himself to let out any sort of words. 

“I’m sorry, and I love you guys,” Chris said one last time.

“We love you too Chris. You take care of yourself okay?” Matt said one last time.

With that Chris got into his car and started to reverse out of his brothers drive way while his two brothers watched. Once he had fully reversed, he caught one last glance at his brothers, noticing the tears streaming down their faces. He wanted to stop the car, run out and tell them everything but he simply couldn’t. Instead he gave them one last smile before driving off. Now he was fully alone. Nobody to talk to, nobody to help him. He had nobody at all.

And with that, one single tear swam down his face.

TAG LIST:

@betasturniolo

@mattsbitchh

@nicksloverrr

BONUS SCENE

Nick just stood there in his drive way, tears running down his face. “Now what do we do.”

With that Matt took his phone out, going to ‘find my’ where a moving air tag was displayed. Nick’s eyes widened slightly, realising exactly what Nick had done.

“Now we go and help our brother.”

A/N: Heheh, Part 3 has already been started 😘

luv ya,

Xenya 🖤

Part 3