#it all inside. and it was before my painkillers kicked in so my ankle was hurting so so bad.

[mildmayfoxe]

sorry for your suffering (terrible workplace). you’re amazing and cool and you deserve better. water off a ducks back thursday friday 😔🤘

OOOH i’m fine i’m just complaining! it’s all good in the end. it’s my friday after all it’s almost the FREAKIN weekend

[whatwouldsylwrite]

A lil thought for ya: reader getting Abby flowers to congratulate her on winning a hockey game and Abby getting all emotional because she's never gotten flowers before and it makes her feel all special and cared for by her sweet lil gf.

They're super domestic and fluffy in this <3 I'm sorry it took so long, but it just fitted so perfectly after the last chapter because of course reader'd want to do something nice for abby for her first post-recovery game

Abby was finally back on ice after a month of recovery. Her ankle still hurt a little, but she was so eager to be back she sometimes overworked herself - Abby wanted to be in the best form possible before she'd go on ice. It obviously resulted in restless evenings when you'd have to give her painkillers and make her put the brace back so her ankle would rest in a proper position. 

Somewhere inside Abby expected you to treat her like a child and scold her, but you never told her off, not taking away her responsibility for her own health. It felt good to have a partner who knew the line between care and patronising. 

Today was going to be challenging, their opponents were one of the strongest teams in the tournament, and Abby was nervous.

"Fuck. I can't fucking-" Abby swore as she was looking for her socks. 

"What are you looking for?" You asked from the kitchen where you were drinking tea. It was Saturday, and you got to wake up later than Abby who had a morning practice before the game. 

"The blue socks. Oh for fuck's sake." Abby was frustrated, and you picked up on it, immediately leaving your tea and coming to Abby. 

"Hey. You need to take a breath." You held her hands, stopping her from any movement to bring her back. "In and out, come on."

Abby closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming herself down. She was spiralling and she needed to stop it. 

"I'll look for your blue socks and you go finish my tea, okay?"

Abby nodded and went to the kitchen, still taking some deep breaths: she was getting too worked up. Abby was scared of fucking up today, and it was driving her crazy. She sipped your tea, making herself slow down and just vibe while you were looking for her socks. Abby was sure they were in some obvious place, but her mind just couldn't register them. 

You came back, holding not only her blue socks but also a hairbrush.

"I'll do your hair. Sit."

"What would I do without you?" Abby asked, genuinely thankful as she sat down on a chair, giving you all the control over her hair. If Abby did her hair herself she'd probably get frustrated again with how imperfect it'd look, but it was you doing it so it couldn't be imperfect by design.

"Spiral, lash out on someone and then slam a lot of people into the boards." You shrugged playfully as you braided her hair. 

"Oh fuck you." Abby laughed and you laughed too, kissing her head. 

"It's the first game, you're nervous, of course your head is not in the right place. But I know you'll kick their asses and win tonight. I've seen you practise, you're going to be magnificent." 

Abby pretended she didn't blush from your words, but it warmed her heart. Your support meant a lot to her, and knowing you had her back made her feel safe and calm.

Eric can scream and get punched in the face afterwards, but as long as Abby knew she'd come back to your gentle embrace and soft kisses, she could care less. 

The practice was going well and Abby felt her anxiety going away and letting her competitiveness take hold. She felt powerful, her confidence coming back. Abby was the strongest player in the whole fucking tournament and she was going to prove it. They were going to win and she'd show everyone that the injury wasn't holding her back and she'd still kick everyone's asses even with a weak ankle. 

Boys felt confident too, hyped up as they skated to their positions for the puck drop. Abby quickly looked at the benches to find you and you waved and smiled at her, showing thumbs up. Oh, Abby was definitely going to win when her cutest number one fan was rooting for her. 

The puck dropped and Abby skated immediately, taking it away from her opponents. She felt ruthless and dangerous, not letting anyone get in her way. Abby definitely ignored the pain in her ankle, too high on adrenaline, as she scored again and again. She felt fucking all-powerful, like she could do anything right now. 

"What the fuck, Abby? Are you on fucking drugs today?" Manny said during the first break, laughing, surprised how well Abby was playing.

"(Y/n) is right there man, I can't lose today." Abby chuckled and chugged her water. "She braided my hair so I'm like. Blessed. You know what I mean?" 

"Like you have a lucky charm?" Manny helped. 

"Yeah." Abby smiled, refusing to get embarrassed of how sappy she was.

"You're a fucking simp, Anderson."

"I fucking am." Abby agreed and looked in your direction.

You were in her hoodie (your hoodie now, based on how often you wore it), you hair in a braided halo and you were looking back at her, smiling. Abby felt herself melt and turn into a soft pile of goo, your cute smile and cute up-do just evaporating her "don't fuck with me or I'll kill you" vibe.

"Oh god do I look the same when I look at my girl?" Manny asked with disgust as he watched Abby drool in your direction.

"You look worse." Abby's attitude came back and she was cool and stoic and hot again. "Remember when I had to close your mouth that one time when your weather girl wore a mini skirt?" 

Manny flipped her and they went back on ice, prepared to tear their opponents to shreds. The game was challenging and it wasn't easy to score, Abby got body checked a few times, but she enjoyed the game so much she thought they should ask their rival team for a friendly match after, because they were actually good.

The final horn rang, ending the game with 4:3 and Abby smirked, smug, as she skated back to her team. They won. The fucking won. Take that, Eric, Abby was the best even while she was still recovering. They shook hands with their opponents, thanked them for a game - and today thanks were actually genuine - and went to the players' benches to rest a little and go home. 

Abby took her helmet off as she was stopping before the exit and when she lifted her head back, she noticed you standing right at the exit, congratulating her teammates, hugging Manny. Abby rushed to you, excited, hugging you right away and lifting you up so she could kiss you. She knew she was cold, but she also knew you didn't mind.

"Congratulations." You whispered in her mouth with a sweet smile on your face, your eyes twinkling with love. "You were glorious."

"It's because you're my good luck charm." You giggled and blushed, and Abby just stared at you.

"Stop I'll literally barf." Ellie said behind your back and Abby let you go to hug Ellie next. "You're a fucking beast, Anderson."

"Thanks." Abby chuckled. "We're going to celebrate tonight. You coming?"

"You know I do." Ellie smirked and left you two alone as boys already went to the lockers. 

"I've got something for you." You said and quickly grabbed something from the bench. "Congratulations on the win."

Abby stared at your hands, her chest suddenly tight with emotions. You held a big colourful bouquet to her, filled with different flowers Abby probably didn't even know the names of. Abby took them carefully, still staring at them, absolutely dumbfounded. 

"Thank you." Abby said in a soft voice, getting shy. 

The last time someone got her flowers was when she was a child and was winning her first games: her father always made sure to give her flowers. Her previous partners just assumed that if she was more dominant it meant she didn't want this kind of attention, and it wasn't like she gave it too much thought, not really understanding the whole idea of flower giving. 

But right now Abby felt fucking butterflies in her stomach as she shyly smelled the bouquet, stealing glances at you. She felt giddy and couldn't control her smile even if she tried to suppress it, embarrassed by how plainly happy the flowers made her feel. Now Abby understood what you meant when you said she made you feel like a lady, because right now Abby felt like a fucking princess in front of her knight. You smiled at her, pleased, and Abby blushed more. 

"They're very pretty." Abby murmured as she looked over the bouquet. 

You smiled and Abby smiled back, her cheeks red, and you watched how delighted she was with your little gift, absolutely enamoured with her.

"Do you want me to take them so you can change?" You asked, but for some reason you knew she didn't.

"No." Abby said quickly and held the flowers closer to herself just as you did on your first date, protecting them.

"You're so cute." You chuckled and kissed Abby on the cheek.

"I'm not." Abby said, but you weren't convinced when she stood there, 6 feet of pure muscle and strength, holding a bouquet so gently like it could break, her cheeks pink, looking like a school girl. It was just so endearing and you kissed her again, basking in her.

Abby giggled when your prepped her face with little kisses and glanced at you bashfully, so in love with you she felt like she could explode right there.

"Yes, you are." You said teasingly and Abby just huffed at you. "I like it. I'll give flowers every day if it means you'll look so happy." You murmured as you stroke Abby's jaw on both sides and she rolled her eyes affectionately, still trying to appear cool and confident.

"Maybe every week?" Abby said playfully, but you caught on it.

"Every week then."

And you were true to your promise.

[ptergwen]

pls can you do peter parker (idm whether it's Andrew or Tom) looking after his drunk girlfriend headcanon

peter the party pooper

w/c: 0.8k

warnings: mentions of drinking, vomiting, and feet (you’ll see lmfhsjfhs)

a/n: i ended up making this a blurb because i wanted to expand on the concept and i went with tasm!peter :) it’s my first piece for him omg so please let me know what y’all think and enjoy <3

-

“alright, alright. we’re almost there. one more step, baby,” peter pants, helping you up the stairs to your apartment. his arm is secured around your waist, yours around his shoulders. “you with me?” he checks.

your response is a giggle, which turns into a full blown fit of laughter for no reason other than the fact that you’re drunk out of your mind. peter presses his lips together and tightens his grip on you.

“thank you, y/n. that was very reassuring,” he mumbles to himself, you stumbling up the last stair and onto your floor.

the two of you are just arriving back from a party. you took advantage of the assortment of liquor available to you there, knocking back drinks like it was nobody’s business. peter indulged in a few himself, but they didn’t have much of an effect on him. you, on the other hand, got absolutely wasted.

it was when you’d puked your guts out into one of the host’s houseplants that peter decided you two were done for the night. being the caring boyfriend he is, he’s bringing you home and staying the night to care for you.

“where’s your key?” peter asks as you reach your apartment. “my what?” you question, face twisted in confusion. “key, baby. your key. can i have it?” he holds out a hand. you beam at him. “sure, petey. anything for you,” your words slur.

you dig around in your pocket for the key to your apartment, which takes longer than it should.

“oh, dear god,” peter mutters.

“got it!” you announce, jiggling the key around once you’ve found it. peter is about to grab it, then you pull your hand back. “oops, too slow!” you muse. “you’re cute, but i’m gonna need that for real now,” he chuckles and tries for the key again. you let him have it this time with a huff.

“ugh, you’re no fun. party pooper,” you complain. “yup, mhm. that’s me. peter the party pooper,” peter agrees, unlocking the door. “come on, let’s get you inside.”

you follow peter into your apartment, still too wobbly to walk without his support. you’re beginning to topple over, so he quickly leads you over to the couch. he sits you down and crouches in front of you with his hands on your hips to keep you steady.

“easy, y/n/n,” peter coos. “talk to me, baby. how’re you feeling? you doing okay?” he squeezes your hips. you frown and shake your head. “tummy hurts,” you groan.

peter hears your stomach gurgling as if you’re going to throw up again. he moves one of his hands to your lower stomach, fingers brushing it carefully.

“hey, you know what? i’ll go get you a glass of water, and some painkillers,” peter glances up at you with a sweet smile. “d’you need anything else?” he wonders. “a bucket would be nice,” you joke, peter laughing lowly. “coming right up. be right back, okay?” he presses a kiss to your stomach before setting off for the kitchen.

peter returns shortly with your water, medicine, and a bowl for you to vomit into. you swallow the pills with a big gulp of water, peter assuming his previous position. he retrieves the glass from you once you’re done.

while he’s down here, he figures he should take your shoes off next. he starts to unlace your sneakers for you, you grinning lazily.

“love you, petey. thanks for all your help,” you yawn out. peter finishes removing each of your sneakers, smiling back. “i love you, baby,” he speaks softly.

you ruin the moment by shoving your foot into peter’s face in your drunken state. his eyes screw shut, nose scrunching. he gently pushes your foot away.

“yuck, your feet stink,” peter teases. “they do not!” you gawk, kicking your foot at him. he catches your ankle in the process, smirking proudly. “do too.”

as you open your mouth to share your comeback, another yawn slips out of you. peter stands from the floor.

“it’s past your bedtime, young lady,” he waves a finger at you. “you tired?”

you only nod, eyes struggling to stay open. you flop back so you’re lying down on the couch and sigh out of relief.

“woah, woah, woah. on your side,” peter comes and rolls you over. he rubs your shoulder. “you might have more chunks to spew.”

your lips form a small smile, which prompts peter to bend down and peck them. peter covers you with a blanket that was thrown over your couch cushions. he tucks you in the best he can. you curl up and cuddle into the fuzzy material, allowing your eyes to close.

“will you stay with me?” you whisper.

peter sits on the free cushion, his hand resting on your leg.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby.”

[chocolateheart]

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tag list is open! :)

If something is not working, you weren’t on the tag list even if you wanted to, you can’t send an ask or you didn’t receive the notification about me tagging you in any of my fics, please contact me in DM’s.

Tag list: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns​ @polina-93 @teresa-67 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @mrspeacem1nusone @flamencodiva @cutiecowgirl @waywardbaby @flashxspn @lyarr24

[ynscrazylife]

Is it cool if u can request a avengers x fem reader where her powers are unique and born with them and she has ice and fire powers? Like half of her body she can control ice and the other half fire? Basically hot and cold lmao? Headlamps would be nice :) maybe some romance between Natasha x reader just cuz I miss her lmao

50% ice, 50% fire, 100% smitten

Summary: Y/N is an Inhuman. Half her body controls fire and half her body controls ice. Y/N doesn’t like to use her fire side out of fear, but when she sees her crush, Natasha, in danger, she’s forced to overcome what she’s scared of.

“Everyone ready for the mission?” Steve asked the Avengers as he boarded the jet. They were all preparing to go out and kick some ass.

“Yes”’s went around.

Y/N leaned against the wall, fixing her suit. The mission was simple enough. They were infiltrating an old Hydra base. They had gotten an anonymous tip that SHIELD files had been stored there. Phil Coulson (we’re pretending that they know he’s alive) had called, asking the Avengers to investigate as the files were reportily very important for Hydra’s plans and could compromise SHIELD’s safety. Phil was too busy with other problems, so the Avengers jumped to help out in anyway they could.

However, they had to take cautions. Even though it looked like it was abandoned, they doubted that anyone would likely leave these important files without protection. Which is why Avengers were going together, not quite knowing what Hydra agents were up to now.

“All set,” Y/N said, glancing up after she finished checking that everything in her suit was good. She gave a thumbs up to Cap as she watched Clint settle himself at the pilot.

Y/N situated herself in-between Natasha and Wanda.

“You excited, little snowman?” Sam asked as he sat next to Bruce and Steve.

Y/N rolled her eyes. The team loved to come up with new nicknames for her with her powers. Humoring Sam, she waved her hand and creating a flurry of snow that floated.

Steve grinned. “You know you can’t defeat Hydra agents with a snow flurry?” He joked.

Y/N bit her lip and sent an icicle at Steve, stopping just before it impaled his nose.

“Note to self: do not piss off Y/N,” Natasha said, making her heart flutter.

Y/N glanced over at Natasha, smiling. “Clint, can you go any faster? They’re tearing into me over here!” She called.

“Hey! That’s my job!” Tony called back from beside Clint.

Wanda slung an arm around Y/N, ruffling her hair. “Just joking, little one,” she said.

“I’m older than you!” Y/N argued.

“Tomato tomato,” Wanda said.

Ten more minutes of joking around and Clint landed, a couple blocks away from the base.

“Y/N, Sam, you’re gonna go in the base from the back entrance. Nat, cover the roof. Be ready to slip inside when Bruce locates where the files are. I will wait and cover the blocks, and will come back you up. Wanda and Tony will go directly through the front entrance and then Bruce, you stay here and monitor. I’ll let you know if we need the Hulk,” Steve told everyone.

“I’m not detecting any heat signatures. It seems like no one is there - but still, be on guard,” Bruce advised everyone.

Everyone nodded and split up.

“So,” Sam said as they walked around the building. “You like Nat, don’t you?”

“What?” Y/N asked, trying to play it off with a laugh. Seeing Sam’s smirk, she gave in. “How’d you know?”

“Despite popular belief, I notice things,” Sam said.

Y/N smirked.

“You should ask her out,” Sam whispered.

Y/N pushed his shoulder jokingly.

As they got closer to the entrance, they both stopped in their tracks. About a dozen Hydra agents stood in front of them. Waiting for them.

That’s when Cap’s voice rang through.

“They masked their heat signatures. There aren’t any files. There were files here - but they’re ambushing us now to distract us and get away,” Steve’s voice rang through.

“What do we do?” Y/N asked.

“Wanda, Bruce, and Tony are gonna go after the people escaping with the files. The rest of you - fight,” Steve ordered.

With a glance at Sam, the two began.

Y/N shot icicle after icicle, trying to trap as many Hydra agents as she could. Sam was doing well, and they almost had everyone knocked out, until someone managed to knock Sam out.

“No!” Y/N yelled. She thought quickly, and saw one agent moving towards Sam. Y/N, knowing she could take on the rest, put up an ice shield around Sam’s unconscious form.

However - she quickly realized that was a distraction when an Hydra agent shot two weapons at her. One was a weapon that sent out a burning flare at her ice side, as ice and fire didn’t mix well, and one was an ice flare gun that shot at her fire side. This made Y/N scream and stumble back in pain, after securing the ice shield around Sam. It gave one of the Hydra agents with powers an opportunity to make a ton of rubble crash down.

The Hydra agents grinned as they saw the rubble cover Y/N. She was knocked out, face first into the ground, and buried. The rubble was trapping one of her arms - the arm that could control ice. The agents ran away, knowing they could go after the other Avengers and when they’d come back, she’d still be here. With their plan, no Avenger would have time to come to her rescue. They ran away.

A couple minutes later, Y/N came back to consciousness. She groaned, spitting out dirt, and yelled when she felt the pain again. Y/N saw that her fire controlling arm was freed, but her ice was trapped.

Y/N thought. She couldn’t set fire to the rubble - that would hurt her even more. She was trapped, and her comms were knocked off. Y/N looked around for anyone to help. Sam was still knocked out but . . . The roof. Natasha. She looked up, trying to find the redhead.

What she saw crushed her (pun not intended). From what Y/N could tell, Natasha was fighting off about twice the Hydra agents she and Sam had. She was confident in Natasha as she was highly trained, but if Hydra had something up their sleeve like that they did to Y/N . . .

“NO!” Y/N yelled, seeing Natasha slip off the roof and fall. A Hydra agent caught her, though, and she saw his evil smile. He was going to drop Natasha. And Natasha was gonna fall.

She wouldn’t survive that height.

Y/N saw Natasha take hold of the roof with her other hand, so she wasn’t just hanging on from the Agent. However if he pushed her off, Natasha holding the roof wouldn’t do any good.

Y/N glanced down at her freed hand. She couldn’t do it. She was too scared to use her powers. She didn’t want to. She never did. It was too dangerous, too risky . . . But now she had no choice.

“NATASHA!” Y/N yelled. The Hydra agent was too prideful just to drop her - he had to get a view snarky comments in. “HOLD ON!” Y/N pointed to Natasha’s right hand, trying to indicate that she was going to save her. The spy seemed to get the message.

Taking a breath, Y/N conjured a hall of fire - it would hurt the agent, but not too badly and threw it up at him. Natasha ducked, and it hit him. The agent flew back, and Natasha held on from the roof. She scaled the building until she found an open window, slipping through it.

A couple minutes later and Natasha was practically running towards Y/N. “Oh my god,” she said, and Y/N smiled weakly at her. Natasha immediately began getting the rubble off of her, apologizing when Y/N would gasp in pain.

Finally, Natasha got enough off that Y/N could move without pain and get up. Natasha helped Y/N stand up, and she stumbled into the spy. Without warning, Natasha picked Y/N up, carrying her birdal style.

“Natasha,” Y/N groaned, leaning her head on Natasha’s shoulder. Her left arm, the fire ice, dangled limply as did the rest of her, essentially. She just had the amount of strength able to wrap her right arm around Natasha’s neck.

“Y/N, I’m carrying you. You’re heart,” she said firmly.

“No,” Y/N said quietly. “Sam.”

Natasha turned around, seeing their teammate’s body encased in the shield. She frowned. “You’re gonna need to melt that, Y/N. I’m sorry,” she said, knowing the pain it would cause.

Y/N took some breaths and let out a small cry of pain as she just about managed to melt the ice. Her left arm fell limp again.

“Someone else from the team will get him,” Natasha said, beginning to carry Y/N back to the jet.

“Why not you, after you get me back?” Y/N asked.

“I’m staying with you. Not only did you save my life - thank you, by the way - but I care about you,” Natasha said.

When they got back to the jet, they saw that everyone else - save Sam, of course - was back.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, paling.

“A bunch of rubble fell on her. She saved my life. Someone get Sam - he’s behind the building,” Natasha explained shortly.

Clint went to go grab him while Bruce directed Natasha to the back of the jet, where a medical table and a first aid kit was. Natasha laid Y/N, who had now passed out, on the table.

“You said a lot of rubble fell on her?” Bruce asked, opening up the first aid kit.

Natasha nodded. “I don’t think it was an accident. She was trapped underneath the rubble - save her fire power arm which she used to save me,” she explained.

“Friday, can you scan Y/N and give me a list of her injuries?” Bruce asked before turning back to his friend. “Did you get hurt?”

Natasha shook her head. “Bruises, but otherwise no. Is everyone else okay?” She asked, but never took her eyes off Y/N.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. No major injuries,” he said.

Friday’s scan came back. In short, she had a broken arm, broken ankle, a stomach wound, concussion, dislocated shoulder, and a broken thighbone. She also had many bruises and cuts which were at risk of being infected.

Bruce cursed under his breath and got to work. “This is gonna take a couple hours. You should get some rest,” he told Natasha, seeing that her concern had grown.

“No,” Natasha said.

“Would she want you watching over her?” Bruce asked.

Natasha glared at him.

The next morning, Y/N woke up. She found herself on lots of painkillers and she was lying in a bed, her own bed. Looking around, she saw Natasha sitting in an armchair, reading a book.

“You’re awake,” Natasha said with a smile, dropping her book and sitting next to Y/N. “You’re going to need a lot of rest and I’ll be your doctor. How are you feeling?” She smiled.

Instead of answering that, Y/N asked her own question. “Why do you want to take care of me so bad?”

“I owe you. You saved me.”

An eyebrow raise showed that Y/N didn’t believe her. “Please don’t lie.”

“Only cause you’re injured,” Natasha said, with a smirk. “However . . . I like you. You’re cute. And I care for you. Also . . . Steve won’t let me go after the Hydra agents who hurt you and kick their asses.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing that I like you, too,” she said.

[acnelli]

Hiding

This is my entry for the Hinny FicFest 2021 hosted by @clarensjoy. Thank you for organising it! There were so many lovely prompts to choose from and originally I wanted to write something really angsty for this one, but then decided to approach this in a much more lighthearted way.

Thank you @accio-broom for beta-reading! You are the best!

Prompt 2: Ginny gets sick and won’t admit it Rating: GA Pairing: Harry/Ginny Summary: Ginny had a bad day, including an unfortunate injury, which she tries to hide from Harry.

Also available on AO3 and FFN.

Ginny walked out of St. Mungo’s with a limp and a glare that would put Hermione’s cat Crookshanks to shame. The world was against her these last couple of days; she just knew it. 

It had started with a horrendous loss against a team the Harpies were positive they would never lose to; the Chudley Cannons. The orange excuse of a professional Quidditch Team had beat them, and it wasn’t even a close match. They lost 590 to 120—an absolute disaster. 

Of course, her insufferable brother had lost his mind, along with all the other Cannon fans in the stands. It had been the first time the Cannons won in what must’ve been years, which resulted in the players not even hearing the referee’s whistle, signalling the end of the game. 

Ginny had given Ron the tickets to this match as a birthday present. As long as the Cannons lost every single time, and she could greet her brother with a smug grin, she was okay with Ron switching his Harpies jersey with her number on it to his orange Cannon one. This time though, Ginny found it nothing short of traitorous, and even her family, including Harry, had the gal to congratulate Ron. Her brother would make sure she would never forget this day, no matter how many times the Harpies would kick their arses in the future. 

The Harpies, quite demoralised from their previous match, had shown up at training the next day, as usual. After a pep talk by their coach, the team had pepped up, flying different manoeuvres and acting out the strategies for their game against Ballycastle the next day. 

Enjoying the wind on her face, as well as the feeling that only flying so high up in the air could provide, Ginny had forgotten all about their loss and solely concentrated on getting the Quaffle inside one of the three loops from every possible angle. She had been so engaged in training that she noticed the dangerous wheezing of the Bludger one second too late. Although she could dive away to avoid getting hit in the face, the ball collided with her left ankle, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on a stretcher as a medi-wizard treated her injury. 

A broken ankle usually could be treated by the team’s healers, but the young man insisted on transferring her to the hospital as he suspected a more complicated fracture. And because it was Ginny’s lucky week, he had been right eventually. 

The healer who treated her advised Ginny not to play against Ballycastle as the Skele-gro would cause a great deal of pain, and painkillers were strictly forbidden at Quidditch matches, especially pain-relief potion which had strong side effects, and therefore, were a danger to herself and others while on a broom. 

Against the healer’s strongest protests, Ginny refused the skele-gro and asked the middle-aged woman to stabilize her ankle and give her some light painkillers that would wear off until tomorrow. 

Ginny needed to play tomorrow. A few days ago, Oliver had tipped her off that the national trainers would be watching the game against Ballycastle, and there was just no way she would pass this chance to show them that she was the right choice to play for England. Even if they only let her join as a reserve Chaser, it would be her ticket to play international Quidditch. 

While the discussion with the healer had been annoying but without any chance for the St. Mungo’s employee to change Ginny’s mind, the real battle would be at home. If Harry got even the slightest hint about his wife’s injury, a fight would break out, fitting these infuriating last two days. 

Harry, usually being blissfully oblivious to most things, immediately noticed when something was up with Ginny. While most times, this little fact warmed her heart, it was rather unfortunate today. And ever since Harry joined the Aurors, he had become even more of a bloodhound when he sensed a secret. 

Ginny was determined to try her best to appear normal when she carefully walked out of the fireplace and into the living room of Grimmauld Place. As she expected, Harry sat on the settee, reading the sports section of the Daily Prophet. 

“Hey, Gin,” Harry greeted her, looking up as she walked over to where he was sitting, “How was training? Did Rodgers let you off earlier today?” 

The painkillers still in effect, Ginny leaned down to kiss her husband, carefully lifting her weight off her injured ankle. Kissing Harry always made her feel good, but after her dreadful day, it simply felt like heaven. 

With one swift movement, Harry pulled her down with him on the settee. She cuddled up against his side, inhaling his scent as she trailed kisses down his neck. As their kisses became more heated, Harry rolled on top of her, and just as she was about to sigh because of the sweet friction, a pained whimper escaped her when Harry hit Ginny’s foot with his leg. 

He immediately jumped up, eyes going wide, and Ginny knew that she lost her little hiding game. Carefully sitting up, she waited until Harry crouched down in front of her, looking at her worried. 

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong with your foot?”

“Just a small accident at training today,” Ginny tried to reassure him, “Nothing serious.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Why does it still hurt then? Your medi-staff can heal most injuries in a heartbeat.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ginny said, cursing her bloody Weasley genes as she felt her ears turning red. As graceful as possible, she stood up, heading for the kitchen. Besides the fact that she didn’t want to have this conversation, she was also hungry. 

Of course, the conversation was far from over because Harry followed her into the kitchen, watching her with a raised eyebrow as Ginny made herself a sandwich. When she turned to face Harry, she tried to casually stand on her good foot, pretending her ankle wasn’t throbbing in a more penetrant manner now. Obviously, the painkillers had already started to wear off. 

“Why are you hiding this, Gin?” Harry asked, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, “Why didn’t you just go to a healer?”

“Because they would give me skele-gro and a pain-relief potion, meaning I wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow.”

“So? Ginny, I know you are amazing, but I’m sure the Harpies can manage one match without you.”

“Yes, they sure can,” Ginny huffed in frustration, “But if I don’t play, the scouts for the English national team possibly won’t take me into consideration.” 

Harry stood up and walked over to his wife, leaning down to get on eye-level with her. “To quote your brother: Are you fucking mental?”

“It’s my career, Harry! Playing for England is the dream, and I refuse to let this silly little injury get in the way.” 

Instead of commenting on this, he gently took Ginny’s hand, leading her to sit on a chair. More out of discomfort because of her increasingly throbbing ankle than the willingness to sit down, Ginny complied anyway. 

“This is far too dangerous, Ginny. You can’t possibly hold yourself on a broom for-”

“This is not up for debate,” Ginny interrupted him, her tone clipped and her face now red from anger, “I’ll just grit my teeth long enough to play some of my best manoeuvres, and then I’ll ask for a timeout and Rodgers will put me on the bench.”

“And you think Rodgers will be alright with you playing injured? Or are you planning to hide it like you tried to hide it from me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Harry sighed in frustration at her trademark Weasley-stubbornness but he took Ginny’s hand anyway. 

“Okay, let’s put this into perspective, alright?” Ginny wanted to interrupt him, but Harry just kept talking. “You want to play in a game, most likely showing only a mediocre performance because of your broken ankle. Ginny, these scouts don’t have to see you play in this particular game. They know exactly who you are and what you’re capable of already. If you’re not playing in this match, they’ll watch you play in the next one. Assuming they want the very best for the national team, they’ll sure enough not write you off because you couldn’t make it to this match.”

Harry could tell that Ginny’s resolve was already crumbling, but he knew better than to stop here. “There are also your brothers, and more importantly, your mother. Molly will kill me if she learns you hurt yourself even more, despite me knowing of your injury.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to this game for so long,” Ginny sighed, frowning at the unfairness of it all. 

“I know,” Harry said, leaning forward a little to softly kiss her pouting lips, “But you can’t play. It’s not just dangerous for you, but also for your teammates and Ballycastle.”

Harry’s words destroyed every resolve Ginny still had standing. The last thing she would want is someone getting hurt because of her stubbornness, and certainly not her beloved Harpies. 

“Since when are you the voice of reason.” she groaned, letting her head fall against Harry’s chest and draping her arms around his neck. 

Harry took this opportunity to swoop her up into his arms before walking towards the fireplace. 

“Let’s get you to St. Mungo’s then.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, sighing at the prospect of the knowing look the healer will give her when she comes back. 

Before Harry could floo over to the hospital, Ginny leaned up and placed a hot kiss against his throat. 

“If I have to stay at home all day tomorrow, you better keep me company, Potter.”

[chokemeanakin]

Give Me Love

Chapter Ten

Wc: 2.7k

MASTERLIST

“Master,” Anakin faltered on his way to the piloting chair. His eyes lingered on you for a long moment, unreadable. “I was wondering where you’d run off to after Grievous fled. Looks like you’ve earned yourself another vacation.”

Grievous had thrown him off a building? You’d heard legends about how awful the part-human mostly-droid General was, but you’d never been at the same battle as him before. A small part of you wished to see if the stories people told about him were true-- if he really was the feared Jedi-killer he was known for being all across the galaxy.

“That won’t be necessary this time,” Kenobi was thankful for the banter. It gave him an excuse to get his mind off the searing pain in his arm. “Thankfully, I have Y/n here to fix me up good as new.”

“You’re right. She is extremely capable, isn’t she?”

His eyes twinkled, just slightly so that only you could catch it. You smiled, chest blooming with warmth as your fears were all washed away. Things weren’t different because he’d been gone for so long. He still cared for you, the same as you cared for him. The war couldn’t change that.

“I would trust no one more with my saber arm,” Kenobi grunted again as you began to wrap gauze around his shoulder, fitting it into a makeshift sling.

“Enough flatter,” you hushed them both, though the smile was evident on your face. “Keep this ice on your shoulder and take it off if it goes numb. And don’t move too much-- we won’t know if you broke a bone until we get you x-rayed.”

You let him take over holding the ice pack to his shoulder, reaching into your medcase for some painkillers. You were scraping the bottom of the bottle, honestly surprised you even had any left to spare.

“Lucky you, you get the last two.”

Kenobi grunted in an attempt to laugh, and swallowed the pills you gave him. After waving off your attempts to get him to lie down somewhere, he stood with a groan and braced himself on the back of Anakin’s piloting chair. He began to heckle him, trying to kick him off so you could have a look at his head.

“What’s wrong with your head?” Your heart stuttered in your chest. You had seen a trickle of blood on his cheek, but that was it.

“It’s nothing,” Anakin growled at Obi-Wan, but gave his seat up anyway so the injured man could sit. He pressed a few more buttons on the piloting interface, putting the ship on autopilot as he stepped away. “Y/n, I’m fine.”

You were already pushing him by the shoulders to sit on the chair Obi-Wan had previously been occupying. He sat with a huff, crossing his arms childishly as you turned his face in your hands.

“See?” he mumbled. “Nothing to worry about.”

His forehead had been gashed open, from the top of his hairline to the tip of his eyebrow. Your blood began to beat thicker in your veins, the panic causing your stomach to knot as you got to work dabbing the blood away with some alcohol cloths. It looked worse than it was-- the cut wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, but it had bled a lot. Head wounds always do.

He winced slightly as you cleaned the wound, the half-second of pain crumpling his face causing your movements to freeze.

“I’m sorry,” you stroked his jaw with your other hand, the one that was holding his face steady. You hoped it would distract him from the sting.

Those blue eyes stared at you the entire time, unperturbed. “It’s okay, really. I’ve had worse.”

You assumed he was right. If this scratch was all he’d come out with after weeks on the battlefield, he was either really lucky or really skilled. You guessed it was both. The evidence of less fortunate encounters rested on his right thigh, clad in a leather-buckled glove. You couldn’t even imagine what that pain had been like.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you said this quietly, so Obi-Wan wouldn’t hear. Anakin brought his flesh arm up to hold your hand to his face, closing his eyes and relishing in the feel of your soft, smooth skin. He had desperately missed your touch, your voice, those steely eyes and that gentle strength. After so long wishing you were there to curl up beside him in the off chance he got to rest, you were finally here. Now, he was going to be selfish and make up for that lost time.

“We’ll be right back,” Anakin called to Obi-Wan with his eyes still closed, hand still holding your palm against his cheek. “Y/n’s going to come to engineering with me to help repair my arm.”

“Your arm? You mean the metal one? I didn’t know it was damaged.”

“Just a little waterlogged. Shouldn’t take too long… or maybe it will. We’ll see.”

Anakin stood, the tips of his fingers tickling yours. He led you out of the room, through the halls of the cruiser, slipping into an unoccupied resting room and slamming the lock on it.

“If you’re expecting me to know how to help you with your arm, you are very mistaken,” you admitted. “I know nothing about mechanics.”

Anakin blinked at you, and then laughed. That glorious, glorious laugh. His arms fell to his waist, where he unclasped his belt and then discarded it on the desk. His tabards came next, and then the robes underneath. You ogled him as he stripped, a steady flame rising to your cheeks, thawing out the weeks of grey-nothingness.

“Umm.. Anakin.. what are you doing?”

It was suddenly very hard to swallow as his bare middle was exposed to you, rippling with muscle. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you were frozen in your spot, unable to do anything but stare.

“I’m getting out of these wet clothes so I can properly hold you,” he explained, bending down to dig through the drawers underneath the metal cot. He turned to eye you up and down, shamelessly lingering on every inch of your body. “I suggest you do the same.”

“Huh?” You looked down, seeing the blood stains splattered all over you. “Oh.”

He was pulling a loose-fitting recreational shirt over his head, the same kind that was supplied in all resting rooms for people to wear if they wanted to sleep in something more comfortable. You were still rooted in your spot, forcing yourself to gather enough wits to unzip your field suit.

All you were wearing underneath was a black undersuit, tight enough to leave little to the imagination. It was meant to keep you warm and wick away moisture, not to be seen in by any incredibly sexy Jedi Knights. Your heart hammered in your chest, skin beginning to sweat as his eyes probed into you.

“You need help unzipping?”

“Uh… I got it,” your fingers snapped to your zipper, now that he was watching you, you didn’t want to be a fumbling idiot.

You were glad for when he seemed to become enamored by the state of his clothes, and you knew it was for your sake. Still, it did little to calm the pounding of your heart as the suit dropped to your ankles, every inch of your black-spandex clad body now available to his eyes.

Get it together. Your chest was visibly moving up and down as you fought to control your breathing, almost panting with anxiety. It’s not like you were naked. What a fucking virgin.

He turned from his pile of clothes, those blue eyes making no effort to hide the way they scanned you up and down. All you could do was stand there at his mercy, burning under that stare.

You expected him to frown. To snarl and pull away and tell you to get dressed again. How disgusted, he should be, you thought. How appalled.

You knew you didn’t have the best body. You’d been to enough nightclubs, seen enough people naked in your workstation, watched enough programs on the holonet to know that. You had always wanted to be like Ahsoka and Sabè— they were slim and toned, long and graceful. Their cheeks were sharp, their fingers elegant, and waists tiny. Your thoughts turned to Padme— his past lover— horrifying you further.

You were nothing like her.

That tiny frame, the beautiful face, and the perfect body. She was so smart, so important, and shaped so womanly. You were nothing to compare.

How could he even stand to look at you?

“Okay, I guess I’ll come to you then,” that silky voice teased, and suddenly you were wrapped in a pair of big, strong arms. It took a moment for your breath to return to your lungs before you realized he hadn’t pushed you away, and instead he was clutching you to his body like a starving man.

“I missed you,” he breathed into your ear, cementing this reality. Your body erupted in a flurry of butterflies, warming you from the inside out.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He still liked you. He missed you. Even after seeing your body like this.

“I missed you, too,” you returned his words with emotion thickening your voice, bringing your arms up to wrap around him as well. He sighed at the feeling of your arms on his back, melting further into your neck.

“Wanna move this to the bed?”

He did most of the work shuffling your embrace onto the metal cot, lying down and pulling you so that you were on top of him. You were beginning to think you actually just had a heart condition, because it was beating out of rhythm constantly now, your pulse spiking and temperature rising at this new position.

You loved it.

He was hard, and warm, and strong beneath you. You were able to lay your head on his chest, stare at the exposed skin of his neck as he rested his chin on your head. Your legs slotted between his, so long in comparison to yours, while his arms secured you to his body around your back.

You’ve never felt safer in your entire life.

Still… you couldn’t help but wonder. Were you crushing him? Was he uncomfortable? What if he was and he was just too polite to make you get off? These thoughts caused you to tense up in his arms, suddenly rigid with fright.

“What’s wrong?” He caught onto your worries immediately. His hand smoothed up and down your back, hoping to soothe your tense muscles.

Maker, you were sick of being the insecure one in this relationship. You wanted nothing more to lie on the man you adored’s chest. Anyone else could do it. Why couldn’t you?

Relax. You hissed at yourself. Relax relax relax relax relax—

“Am I making you uncomfortable again?” The pieces clicked in his head, and the brush of his hand against your back stopped. “I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I should have asked—“

“No.”

You wiggled your body, wordlessly begging him to resume his motions. You clutched tighter to his shoulders, dug your head deeper into chest, even turned to plant a small, lingering kiss to his collarbone.

“You’re fine. I’m fine. We’re okay.”

“Yeah?” The smile was evident in his voice.

“Yes.”

You could never ask someone to make more of an effort to make you feel comfortable around them than Anakin did. And he did it with no price held over your head, no expectations, no pressures. If your timid nature put him off, he never let you see it. Honestly, you were surprised he was still here. Any other guy, you wholeheartedly believed, would be running in the other direction when they realized you couldn’t even hold eye contact with them for longer than 5 seconds.

But this shyness— it was exclusive to Anakin. You wouldn’t be this way with anyone else, and it frustrated you to no end.

The least you could do was prove that his patience was paying off, and take a leap yourself.

You planted your hands on either side of his body, pushing yourself up so that you were hovering right over his face. Your knees followed, holding your weight as you sat yourself onto his lap.

Scandalous, for the amount of clothes you were wearing.

A surge of confidence ran through you at the surprise that crossed his features. His eyes were wide, confused, as you took his face in your hands, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

This was your domain. You had always been the mynx of the group, luring men in and then leaving them cold. You loved the power it gave you, the ability to promise everything and then take it all away. It left them yearning for you, begging for you. And you loved it.

Sabè and Ahsoka were entertained to no end, watching you string along guys all night just to leave them hanging by the end. It was all a game to you, the flirting and teasing and wooing. You loved to feel needed, to feel wanted, but you never actually planned to do anything more with them.

So when the night ended, and you wanted to go home, you would break the game off and leave them feeling cold, and angry, and cheated. That’s when you’d get cussed out by egotistical whiny men, demeaned and degraded until their little hearts felt satisfied. To be fair, you never promised that anything would happen. It was simple flirting. It was completely on them that they expected things to go any further than that.

That’s why when Anakin came around, you felt like you had been run over by a speeder. He was the only one capable of making you feel like a bug next to him. Every moment he had you tripping and stumbling, your heart stuttering out of time, your cheeks burning with bashfulness, you hated yourself. How could you let one man have that kind of effect on you? It was pathetic.

But now, you were determined to get a little part of your old self back. You wanted to feel in control again, to have that power. He was just a man, after all, and most men were the same. You just needed to dangle, and they’d be all over you.

You continued to smooth his bangs away with the tip of your finger, ignoring the adorable look of confusion he had on his face. Actually, he seemed to really be enjoying himself despite not understanding where this was coming from, so much that his eyes were closing and he was thinking about maybe taking a little nap.

With his eyes closed, it was easier to lean your face in further. Your eyes zeroed in on those perfect pink lips, so full and inviting and soft, even after weeks of brutal combat. You wondered how they would feel on your own, how he would respond to you kissing him. You could imagine the way he might sigh and cup your face, pulling you closer and kissing you deeper. Sharp pangs of longing twisted your stomach into knots.

Anakin could feel your soft breath on his lips. His heart thrummed in his chest, fingers tightening on your waist. Were you going to—?

He was ready for it, no matter what it was.

Just as he was sure you were going to press your lips against his, you pulled away, planting a teasing kiss to his cheek instead. With no explanation, you fit your head back onto his shoulder, lying down against his body again.

What was that all about?

He opened his eyes, glancing down to see you resting with your head buried in your neck. You were like a kitten, breathing quickly and softly, a small smile curling your lips.

He dismissed the thoughts to analyze for another time. Right now, his body ached and his head throbbed. Your figure was soft and warm against his, and your calming presence was making his eyelids grow heavy. He decided to take your lead, and followed you off to sleep.

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Join the taglist!

[bnhabadass]

Pairings: Bakugo x reader, Todoroki x reader Genre: Fluff, Headcanons

How will Bakugo and Todoroki help you with your period pains?

It was Saturday morning when you were hit with the worst cramps you had ever experienced. You stayed tucked away in bed with the covers pulled over your head. You could barely move without it feeling like a thousand knives were slicing through your insides.

From under your covers you could hear the door creak open. “Oi, dumbass,” Bakugo said. “You said we’d go for a run this morning. I’ve been waiting down stairs for half an hour.”

You groaned and rolled over onto your other side, hoping the change in position would help subside any pain.

“Idiot.” Bakugo walked over to your bed and ripped the blankets off of you. The sudden feeling of coolness smothered you and as you huddled into yourself more your cramps worsened. You let out a long whine.

“Whyyyyy?” you asked. A couple of loose tears fell from your eyes. “Katsuki I have the worst cramps right now. I’m sorry but I can barely move.”

It’s safe to say that Bakugo felt really shitty. “Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He draped the blanket back over you and kissed the top of your head before leaving.

He returned only an hour later with a piping hot mug of herbal tea, your favorite comfort food, a bottle of painkillers and a water bottle for your stomach. “Don’t take those pills on an empty stomach,” he warned. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

He wouldn’t let you move until you were feeling 100% better. That being said, he refuses to leave your side all day. And any time you tease him for caring, he’ll just scoff and say “Yeah whatever. You should be lucky I care this much.”

And you really are lucky.

Your cramps started getting really bad right before training. You were sitting in the locker room with Momo who was letting you squeeze her hand and your pain worsened.

Todoroki was looking around for you in the gym, and when he couldn’t find you he asked one of his female classmates if they knew where you were.

“I think she’s in the locker room with YaoMomo,” Uraraka said.

He was cautious to open the doors to the girls’ locker room, but knowing the rest of his female classmates were on the training ground gave him the courage he needed to go in.

“(Y/n),” he called.

“Hey babe.” The words fell from your mouth with more of a pissed off tone than intended.

“Is everything okay?”

“She has some pretty bad cramps,” Momo answered for you. “And sadly the pain killers I made her with my quirk haven’t kicked in yet.”

Todoroki placed a hand on Momo’s shoulder. “You should get back to the rest of class. I can handle it from here.”

She was hesitant but left the two of you alone, only looking back once to make sure that your boyfriend could in fact “handle it from here.”

Todoroki sat on the bench where Momo had previously been. He picked your leg up and swiveled you around so you were facing him. His touch was so delicate, knowing that one wrong move could make you feel ten times worse.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to hold a pressure point on your ankle, okay?” He waited until you nodded before taking his thumb and forefinger and pressing down on your ankle. “You should feel better in a minute.”

And he was right. The pain in your lower abdomen began to decrease. Soon you were able to smile up at him and kiss him, thanking him for everything.

You spent the next ten minutes laughing and joking around in the locker room until you felt well enough to go back to class.

[jpegjade]

Confessions - Spencer Reid

frens and ferns, IM OUT OF SCHOOL FOR A MONTH. so here’s a new fic about something i’ve been struggling with lately...

summary: With emily gone, Spencer is having a hard time coping with her death. After a little prodding, he finds comfort in y/n, who is struggling with their own demons.

gender: neutral (i think. i tried not to point to any gender terms so hopefully i did okay at it bc i dont feel like proofreading.)

Warnings: talk of addiction but nothing more

———

Getting home from a case was always, hard on you. There were days when it was harder to get up in the morning because of the physical and emotional toll the job put on your body. Ever since that un-sub broke your ankle, everything has been even harder.

“Y/L/N, nice to see you back." Morgan said as you exited the elevator.

“You too, D." You said, plastering a fake smile on your face. In truth, you wished that you were off for one more week but the world wasn't that kind to you.

The doors to the elevator were slowly closing when you heard Spencer shuffling quickly toward your direction.

Before you had the chance to throw your arm in the way of the elevator sensors, Spencer's slender body slipped through.

You were a newer member to the team. Well... You were the only new member to the team. Being a replacement for agent Emily Prentiss, the team getting to know you was a process. Derek trained you so he already knew what you were like in action but this was the first case the rest of the team saw you on.

The silence in the elevator was loud and thick with anticipation. Spencer was looking over at you in quick glances when he wasn't staring at his converse.

“You didn't press a number." Spencer said, barely loud enough for you to hear.

"Oh... I guess that explains why if felt like I was going nowhere." You chuckled at your joke and winced when you met Dr. Reid's blank gaze.

"Do you..." He paused.

Spencer shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind. You continued staring but he dropped his gaze back to his shoes as if he hadn't started and dropped a question.

The elevator doors opened, showing an empty garage. The two of you gestured for the other to exit first but you ended up going first.

“Did you want to ask me something. Dr. Reid?" You said, watching him hesitate.

"Spencer." He said, ignoring the question. "My friends call me Spencer."

"I didn't think we were friends yet." You blankly. It wasn't meant to be funny but you couldn't help but smile.

“My team consists of my friends. As you are on my team, we're friends." Spencer's face never changed.

"Okay, Spencer." You looked at him. If you weren't so worried about getting home, you would've indulged in the moment. But all you wanted to do right now was be alone with some pizza and take the edge off from today.

"If that's all..." You tried to close the interaction with him by taking a few steps back but Spencer took just as many slow steps forward.

"Actually," Spencer began, "how do you do it?"

You faked a chuckle. "Do what?"

“Hide your addiction so well." Spencer was so pointblank sometimes.

"What are you talking about?" You tried to control the beads of sweat that threatened to pool.

"Everybody knows.” It's your ankle that started the painkillers and you couldn't stop. It took you away from the pain, the humiliation.

“How could you be so stupid as to get caught? You're even dumber for finding solice in the feeling when you've got all of this support around you? You've got a family who..." Spencer trailed off.

Your head was still reeling from the beginning of his statement. Everyone knew... But how could that be? It wasn't obvious but something was off about the distant look in Spencer's eyes. It was like he wasn't looking or talking to you. The anger laced in his tone wasn't for you...

“Spencer," you took a step towards him, "Are you talking about you?" Spencer stopped talking. You weren't used to seeing him so quiet.

"It's been a while." Spencer looked down at his converse. "Emily was there. When it got bad, I would cuddle up with her cat on her couch and try to forget the thoughts. She wouldn't make me feel like a burden at 2 a.m., when I was screaming myself awake. She always told me to stay as long as I needed, even when I was positive she was fed up with me. I wish I believed her. I wish I stayed." Spencer tapered off into silence, sniffling.

A pipe dripping. Footsteps in the stairwell. A car alarm chirping. All of those things sounded louder than they normally would. This wasn't Spencer cornering you. This was a confused and hurting boy that was begging for help. He just didn't know how to say what he needed right now.

“Do you..." You started but stopped because it didn't feel right.

Where do you start with someone who is just like you: broken, hurting, and alone.

How do you comfort someone without enabling them to do something destructive that might make everything worse?

How do you avoid hurting someone when all you wanted to do was hurt yourself, in a way.

"Do you like pancakes?" You asked, startling him out of his thoughts. "Pancakes? Sure." Spencer slowly lifted his head and shrugged.

You started walking to your car, motioning for Spencer to follow.

The car ride with Spencer was filled with silence. The whole time, you were thinking about ways to explain the situation to Spencer without making it worse. Spencer was trying to decide if talking to you was a good idea after all, considering you were taking him somewhere pancake related.

Pulling up to the run-down diner, you looked over at Spencer, who was staring out the window.

"I promise the pancakes are better than the place looks." You chuckled, getting Spencer's attention.

"I wasn't really worried about the taste of the pancakes..." Spencer trailed off.

"Good, I guess." You said, a little bit defeated.

You and Spencer walked into the diner, where you were greeted by a friendly older woman named Janice. She knew your name by heart, since you were a regular, and she seated you at your normal booth.

"Actually, would you mind seating us at 12? This is Spencer, the guy I've told you about..." You blushed, hoping you said everything low enough for Spencer not to notice. His mind was elsewhere so he wasn't listening as he normally would. A part of you was grateful for that.

Janice did a once-over at Spencer, softly grinning, and brought you to table 12.

Despite the outside looking dingy, the inside of the diner was cleaner than Spencer thought it would be. He wasn't really fond of booths but these weren't the pillow seat booths where children could hide things between the bottom seat and the backrest. This was the plastic seats that hurt your butt after a little while. But what he noticed that was different about the seating at the table was that one half was a booth and the other half consisted of two four-legged chairs.

"I know you don't like the germs in booth seats so I figured this would be a better option." You said, unable to meet his eyes.

Spencer was shocked as you slid into the booth seat, avoiding his eyes. Spencer pulled out his chair, temporarily distracted by the fact that he never mentioned how much he hates booth seats. You paid attention and noticed that about him. What else had you noticed?

"So..." Spencer folded his hands in his lap nervously.

"Let's order and then we'll talk." You said, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Placing your orders, you went with your usual breakfast at midnight and he just ordered the same thing you ordered.

"It'll be good, I promise." You said, giving him a small smile.

"You never answered my question." Spencer said, looking up at you.

"I know." You were getting nervous again. The nerves hadn't stopped since Spencer asked that question in the parking lot but you were trying really hard to find an answer to it.

"How do you do it?" Spencer asked again.

"Spencer, it's not that simple. I can't give you an answer like that over something so complex. Why do you want to know?" You asked, trying to focus on meeting his eyes.

Spencer's gaze was intense when he wanted it to be so you settled for staring at the tip of his nose.

"I'm struggling, y/n. Emily was... She was family to me. If Hotch is the dad, Rossi is the cool uncle, JJ is the mom, Derek is the older brother, and Emily is..." Spencer's voice caught in his throat. "Was the big sister. I lost a sister the day she died and I'm lost without her."

"Spencer, I'm so sorry..." You said, wanting to hug him.

A tear slipped down Spencer's face as you watched him frustratedly wipe it away.

"It's not fair, you know?" Spencer continued. "I survived the worst days of my life. I got to live after experiencing torture and she didn't do anything but fall in love with someone who wasn't..."

There was a moment of silence as you let Spencer get his feelings out. While the two of you said nothing, Janice brought your food and drinks to your table. She must have sensed the tension between you and Spencer because once you thanked her, she didn't hover or make additional conversation.

"It just hurts and I don't... I don't want to feel it. I just want to escape the constant pain and be happy again, just for a little while. It doesn't have to stay forever but I don't want this pain to hurt like this for now." Spencer cut into his pancakes, taking a bite. His face changed into something of contentment.

"I come here when I have a... I guess you could say craving." You started, "Carbs and sugar are good for the itching feeling you get when you really need a fix."

A moment passed as the two of you enjoyed the food in front of you. After downing half of your food, you decided to speak again.

"What's your drug of choice, if you don't mind me asking?" You quietly said, your eyes staying trained on the way your butterknife slowly cut into your pancakes.

"Dilaudid." Spencer was so upfront about it. You thought you would have to pull it out of him but he made your job easier.

"Ah... Opioids are a bitch to kick. Controlled substance so I won't ask how you got it but I understand it's not easy. There was this study we had to do in training. This one agent got captured and tortured and the BAU had to watch as he was drugged, tortured, and almost died... I guess you would know them, right?" You asked, trying to figure out which team member it was.

"That was me." Again, Spencer being upfront.

"Oh...Spencer, I'm so sorry... I didn't know." You were remorseful, you shouldn't have brought it up.

"That's where it began. I begged for him not to do it the first time, not wanting the drugs. But after that? After the torture and pain and... Everything? I craved that release. And even after he died, I just wanted to get away from all of the stress in life. Feel warmth in my veins, mentally zoning out for just long enough to reset my mind and be reminded that there was something good in the world..." Spencer looked over your shoulder but his eyes weren't fixed on a particular spot.

That's the thing about being an addict... You don't realize how much it hurts to be alive until the high sends you crashing back down. And, especially in our line of work, all you want is to stay up for as long as possible because the horrors of reality will tear you apart..." You finished.

Spencer's attention came back to you as you spoke, making you a little uncomfortable. You couldn't meet his eyes.

"I went to a couple meetings in the past." Spencer said, thinking about his experiences there. "I didn't feel like I belonged. I have a good life. Stable job. I'm fortunate enough to have a roof over my head. My mom is taken care of by capable people. I don't have to worry about anything. And the guys there? They're struggling in many cases. They're fighting for the things I take for granted and I didn't know how I could stand to be in the same room with my privileges and pretend like my problem was important..." Spencer trailed off.

"Spencer, your addiction is valid." You were finally able to look him in the eyes and emphasize your point.

"Is it, though?" Spencer stared back at you, a challenging tone laced his voice.

"It's not fun..." You started, unable to look at Spencer any longer. "I don't do it for fun or because I want to stay high. I don't do it for the feeling it gives me. I do it because I feel like I have to."

"What do you mean?" Spencer tilted his head like a puppy who was trying to understand a new word.

"After I broke my ankle, I was prescribed these... Off brand pills. They didn't really help unless I snorted them. And even then, they didn't help my ankle or me. So I found something stronger. A friend of mine is a doctor and when I go to see him, I'm able to... I guess manipulate him into giving me the good stuff, the stuff that makes my thoughts slow down, calms the voice, gives me a sense of peace and not this constant anxiety." You said, hands tapping the table.

"Oh..." Spencer said, taking in what you were saying.

"I'm an addict not for pleasure but for pain. And my struggle is no greater or lesser than yours." You said, fingers still tapping away. "I struggle, like you, except the difference is I'm newer to the team so they don't know what it's like to see me in my chaotic neutral state. What did you do when you had cravings before? You must have been clean for a couple years now, right?"

"I went to Emily... I always went to Emily. I play back these moments when I snapped at her for wanting to help and I wish I just..." Once again, Spencer's voice was caught in his throat.

"She was your safe space when you felt like you couldn't turn to anyone else." You said, understanding. "You don't have to be romantically inclined to have a safe space with someone. It's whomever you find solace in, for any reason under and over the sun."

"I wouldn't feel this way if she were here..." Spencer said, more to himself as if he were trying to be convincing.

"Spencer, you have to be honest with yourself. If it wasn't this, it would be something else. And that something else might not have landed you with someone who was willing to assist you in your recovery to stay clean." You said, finishing your pancakes.

"What?" Spencer did a double take. No one had ever offered to help him. He always had to be the first to make the move but even then, everyone was reluctant to take on the responsibility of Spencer.

"Isn't there an unspoken rule about addicts not being with each other?" Spencer asked, genuinely concerned.

He hoped not because he would love to have someone he could finally confide in, someone who wouldn't make him feel like a burden.

"No, that's about addicts not dating each other. But I think that as friends, we can understand each other in ways others cant. We can fight together. Have you notiiced the craving is gone, for the most part?" You asked, sure that Spencers single slice would be gone in a moment.

"Okay. Deal. We can confide in one another and maybe it'll help us get a grip on reality when we feel ourselves slipping.”

“Okay.”

—

taglist: @goldentournesol @averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch39: The Reunion Part 1: As Long As There’s Hope, We Have A Chance.

Intro: As the remaining Avengers continue their search for Tony, Steve and Natasha take a trip to Clint’s farm to find out what happened to the Archer and his family.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Discussions of miscarriage- if this is a trigger please stay away)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Please heed the warnings…biggedy up to my girl @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 38

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

It was eleven days post the Snap when Nat decided she couldn’t take it anymore and told Steve she wanted to go to Clint’s.

“I have to know.” She pleaded, looking at Steve. He sighed and glanced over her shoulder to Katie who merely shrugged offering him no back up. She knew where Nat was coming from, it was killing her not knowing what had happened to Tony.  

“Alright.” He acquiesced. “Let me grab a jacket.”

“I’ll meet you on the jet?” She asked. Steve nodded and watched her go before he turned to his wife who was studying him over her coffee. “If Barton was alive he would have been here by now.” Steve dragged a hand down over his beard as he dropped onto the sofa next to Katie. “I don’t understand why she doesn’t see or get that?”

"Put yourself in her shoes.” Katie sighed as she curled in on herself under a blanket on the sofa as a particularly nasty cramp hit her stomach. “You’d do the same thing for Bucky, or Sam, or me.”

"You know that I would.” He replied, noticing her shift in position and he frowned, but before he could say anything she placed her hand on his bearded cheek.

“Then just go, let her see. Plus, you could be wrong.”

“I suppose it’s happened from time to time.” He quipped and Katie smiled as he leaned over to press their foreheads together.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Not really.” She replied honestly, “But I’ve taken some painkillers, and Dr Kellet is coming over later. Thank fuck she wasn’t snapped.”

“I can ask Thor to go with Nat instead.” Steve looked at his wife who shook her head. “She asked you for a reason.” Katie said gently, “She trusts you. And I think if its bad news, she’s gonna need you, not Thor.”

“Are you sure?” He looked at her again and she nodded. He gave her a soft kiss, bumping his nose against hers, a soft smile on his face. “I love you, Doll.”

“I know.” She smiled back. “And I love you too, Soldier. Now go.”

As Steve had predicted, Barton’s farm was deserted. The two of them walked around, checking for any signs of life and Steve found his attention drawn to the picnic table not too far from where they had landed. It was loaded with condiments, plates, cutlery and scraps of food as a squirrel darted off the top from where it had been scratching through whatever other animals had left. Steve couldn’t help but remember the first time he had visited, when he had marvelled at the normality of Barton’s life outside the Avengers. Clint had kids, a wife, a complete alter ego. At the time Steve had almost been jealous, wondering if he and Katie could ever get that life. And then he’d gone and caused them both to be on the run, essentially ending that domestic dream.

And if he hadn’t, then Thanos certainly had when he’d snapped away their baby.

Natasha, meanwhile, had stalked straight into the house. Steve, hearing the door snap shut behind her turned and watched as she stomped straight back out and over to the barn at the far side of the yard

“Natasha?” he called.

She didn’t respond. With a sigh, Steve jogged after her, his boots slapping the damp grass of the lawn as he followed her into the barn. She dodged round the tractor in the middle, making her way to a door at the far side. Steve noticed a key pad at the side and Natasha clearly knew the code as a moment later there was a beep and it swung open to reveal what he supposed could only be referred to as an office of sorts, or as Katie would call it, a ‘man-cave’. There was a desk which sported some hi tech coms devices along with a computer. At the other side was a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall, a small couch, a stereo but none of that was what Natasha was looking at. She’d headed directly to some form of smaller room at the back and opened that to reveal a shelving unit of sorts. On one of them was an empty case that had clearly held a bow and arrow. Natasha then bent over and when she stood up Steve noticed she was holding a government issued ankle bracelet that had obviously at one point been around Clint’s ankle.

Not anymore, it was in two pieces.

“He’s alive,” Nat’s voice cracked. “Steve. he’s…he’s alive"

It was good news in a way, but then again, where was he? Surely if he and his family had survived then Clint would have brought them to the compound to find the rest of the team. But this looked like he had left in a hurry. Alone.

Which made Steve think that his family hadn’t been so lucky.

Natasha, satisfied that Clint was alive but clearly nowhere to be found at the farm, suggested they head home and see if they could track him from the compound. Steve hadn’t the heart to tell her that he didn’t think they’d have much of a chance and he knew deep down that if she was being honest, she probably thought the same thing. Instead, he nodded and they headed back over to the jet, which is when the pair of them heard something skulking around the side of the house. Natasha whipped out her gun as Steve spun, drawing himself up to full height. Exchanging a look, they both rounded the porch, cautiously approached, but as soon as Steve saw what it was, he relaxed.

“Hey buddy.” He courched down to pet the sandy coloured one-eyed dog that belonged to Clint, scratching behind his ear as the dog gave a little, desperate whine.

“Clint just left him.” Nat sighed, blinking back her tears. “He loved that dog, I don’t understand.”

“He won’t have been thinking straight, Nat.” Steve looked up at her, then around slightly, chewing the inside of his cheek before he made a decision. “We’ll take him home with us.” He stood up and, giving a sharp whistle, he was pleased to find the dog simply trotted behind him, up the ramp and happily curled up in a corner on a fleece Steve laid out for him.

“Do you know how old he is?” Steve asked, scratching the dog who rolled over, offering up his belly for a rub.

“Well when they found him the vets estimated he was about six months old…so seven now, give or take.” Natasha watched Steve who smiled, and made a cooing noise at the dog as he continued to pet him. “Never had you down as an animal lover, Rogers.”

“Always liked dogs.” He smiled. “I used to beg Ma for one all the time when I was a kid so she let us dog sit the neighbours. It set my asthma off, damned near killed me. So that put paid to that.” He took a deep breath and stood up, looking down at Lucky who flipped himself the right way up, pulling himself to a sitting position, his head cocking to the left. “Besides, I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“Katie’s right about you.” Natasha smiled. “You’re nothing but a huge softy under all that muscle.”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone.” His brow raised. “I got a reputation to uphold.”

As they settled into the cockpit, Steve glanced at Natasha who was looking at the pieces of Clint’s ankle tag which she’d brought with her for some reason. But as he watched her turn them over in her hands, he had a sudden thought that there was someone else they should probably check in on as well. He voiced his thoughts to Natasha who nodded, and plugged in the co-ordinates for an airfield in San Francisco which was about thirty miles away from the address Scott Lang had listed on his house arrest details.

In little over an hour and forty later they pulled up outside Lang’s house and both hopped off the bike. No one answered so Steve simply kicked the door in and, once they were inside, they found it had been deserted some time ago. The remnants of a breakfast lay on a plate on the side growing mold and there was a mug and a plate in the sink. Natasha headed up the stairs, as Steve checked around the ground floor to see if there was anything that might give them a clue. The only thing he noticed was a calendar. The date of the Snap was circled, 23rd April, and next to it was written ‘QR- Research’. He didn’t have a clue what that meant. Letting out a deep breath he walked back into the hall and Nat came back down the stairs.

“No sign of anything being packed from his closet and his bed wasn’t made.”

“Well, his calendar seems to suggest he had a research date or something but other than that…” Steve trailed off as he spotted the red-light on the answer phone was blinking. He glanced at Natasha who inclined her head towards it and he reached out hitting the play button.

“Hi, Daddy” a little girls voice spoke and Steve and Natasha exchanged a look. Steve knew Scott had a daughter, but it struck him then that he had never even bothered to ask her name. “I tried your mobile but you’re obviously busy doing cool stuff with Hope and Dr Pymm…Mom said that you should come over tonight for five now your tag is off and it’s your favourite for tea. Oh and I got a new ant farm for you to try out. I love you, byeeeee!”

“Scott took two years house arrest to be with his daughter.” Steve shook his head, raising his eyebrows. “He wouldn’t just run out.”

“Think we’ve seen enough?” Nat sighed.

“Yeah.” Steve looked at her. “Let’s go home.”

***** “Well,” Dr Kellet looked at Katie as she sat up on the bed in the medical area of the compound, “there’s nothing physically wrong. Everything looks okay. I expect the cramps will settle down soon. It’s not uncommon with miscarriages, Mrs Rogers to feel some discomfort, especially when there’s been a procedure involved. And this, well, it wasn’t a normal miscarriage either so…”

Katie nodded and looked at her hands.

“How are you?” The Doctor asked and Katie looked up. “And I don’t mean physically.”

“I’m okay, I suppose.” Katie let out a deep breath. “I mean, I know there’s nothing I can do about it but it doesn’t stop me wondering you know, if I could have done something or-”

“Even in the case with normal miscarriages there’s nothing that anyone can do.” The Doctor spoke softly. “It’s a natural reaction, Mrs Rogers, you’re still in the grief cycle.” She clicked her bag shut. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Give it time.”

“That’s what Steve keeps saying.” Katie mused, softly.

“How has he been?” “Amazing.” Katie smiled instantly. “He’s been an absolute rock, I know he’s upset himself but he just…” she trailed off. “It’s good that you have one another.” Dr Kellet smiled as she handed Katie her bag containing her pill. Neither of them spoke much, it was a silent gesture that made them both feel a little strange. They hadn’t even discussed the subject of her birth control going forward, but with everything that was going on Katie was suddenly struck with the thought that even the simple things like obtaining medical treatment was going to be much more difficult as they’d lost half the people that kept medical centres open.

Doctors, Nurses, receptionists, porters…

“I’m going to be meeting with the Local Authorities.” Dr Kellet looked at Katie as if she had read her mind. “All the remaining specialists have talked about how we need a, well, sort of a how we go forward planning session.” “Let me know if we can help in anyway.” Katie nodded. “That’s what we have the Stark Relief fund for.” Dr Kellet smiled before the two exchanged goodbyes and the Ob-Gyn left, leaving Katie alone with her thoughts which were disrupted when she heard her phone going. It was a message from Steve to tell her they were on their way home with good and bad news. Katie wasn’t sure if she wanted to know, to be honest, but she assumed the good news was Clint was alive, the bad news well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Deciding she would rather hear it in person, she replied and told him she’d leave some dinner for them both in the communal kitchen, and with that she headed off to find something he could cook.

****

Steve and Natasha landed home at just gone eight in the evening. And, given that they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, they headed straight to the kitchen with Lucky in tow and found two plates of lasagne waiting for them in the fridge, one substantially larger portion than the other. Whilst it was warming up. Steve gave Lucky a drink and then found some left over chicken and scraps of vegetables from the roast dinner the night before and placed them down in a dish for him to eat. Lucky wolfed his make shift dinner down, and so did they. Between them they ate their helpings, plus the leftovers, along with a helping of salad and then walked down the dimly lit corridors, dog on their heels. It was completely deserted.

“Feels odd doesn’t it?” Nat remarked “I mean it was always so busy.” “We will fix this Nat.” Steve spoke, and he wasn’t sure where his optimism was coming from, but seeing Clint was alive gave him more hope than he’d had that morning.

“Thank you for coming.” She said as they stopped by the stairs that led to her apartment.“I really appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Nat.” Steve smiled, giving her a hug.  “Do you wanna take our guest or should I?” he gestured down to the dog. She shook her head. “Katie has a soft spot for that dog, plus you said yourself you’re a dog person. I prefer cats.”

That didn’t surprise Steve in the slightest and he found himself smiling slightly as he replied. “Alright, see you in the morning,” before he watched her up the steps and was pleased to see some of her usual Black Widow swagger had returned.

“Come on, buddy.” He turned to the dog which obediently trotted besides him, tongue lolling, his one eye trained on the super soldier.

Katie was awake in bed, the speakers in the room playing what sounded like the Trouble Man soundtrack as she lay on her side, facing the door, her hands absentmindedly playing with the pillow she had clutched to her chest.

“Hey.” he said as he walked in and she looked up, smiling softly. He leaned over to give her a gentle kiss before he frowned. “You’re crying.” It was a statement, not a question, as it was something she seemed to do quite a lot of recently. He sat on the edge of the bed and with tender hands, wiped her tears away with his thumbs as she sat up. “Is everything okay, I mean with…”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking about Sam, that’s all.”

Steve bowed his head, swallowing a little. Sam had been such a constant in their lives since they’d met him some four years previously, and two of those years they’d basically spent as house mates. It felt strange not to have him round, laughing and joking. Quite frankly, Steve felt like someone had ripped away his arm.

“I miss him too.” He admitted gently, and Katie looked at him, reaching up to cup his face. Steve sniffed a little before he shook his head.

“So, what did Dr Kellet say?” He changed the subject. “Nothing much. Says I’m physically alright, any discomfort I’m feeling should be gone soon.” “Do you need anything? Pain relief or…” She shook her head “I’m okay, honestly.” She took a deep breath. “So, what did you find?”

“Clint’s alive.” Steve stood and shrugged off his jacket, laying it on the back of the chair by the dressing table. Katie gave a sigh of relief which was short lived as she spotted the look on Steve’s face.

“What is it?”

“There’s no sign of him. He’d bust off his tag and left. I don’t think his family made it.” Katie bowed her head “They’re gone? All of them?”

“I think so yeah.”

“Fuck.” Katie screwed shut her eyes as her head fell back and she looked to the ceiling.

“We do, however have a guest.” Steve added, looking over at her.

“Who?”

“Lucky.” At the sound of his name the dog came pounding into the bedroom and jumped straight up on the bed.

“I couldn’t just leave him there.” Steve explained as Katie smiled and leaned over to scratch the dog behind his ears, promptly causing him to lay down, his head in Katie’s lap. She wrinkled up her nose.

“He stinks!”

“Yeah well he’s been alone since Clint left, God knows what he’s been up to or eating.” Steve shrugged as Katie looked down at the dog who rolled over for a belly scratch and she obliged. “And it doesn’t look like Lang made it either.” Steve finished heavily, watching as Katie tickled the animal.

Katie shook her head sadly, a tear falling onto the bed as Lucky rolled back over and moved to lick the side of her face before he jumped down on the floor.

“Nat wants to give Barton a few more days to cool off before we look for him but I’m not sure he wants to be found.“  Steve dropped back onto the side of the bed, removing his shoes and then his shirt thinking back to what he had seen at Clint’s. He laid his palms flat on the bed and dropped his head gently, letting out a sigh. He heard the sheets rustle as Katie edged her way closer to him, leaning her head on the back of his shoulder, nuzzling her cheek against him.

"How is Nat?” She asked.

“A little bit better now that we know he’s alive.”

Katie nodded as she dropped a kiss to the back of Steve’s shoulder before he stood up, “I’m gonna take a shower, I won’t be long.”

“Okay. Where’s Lucky gonna sleep?”

“I dunno.” Steve eyed up the dog who was now led on his back on the floor as if he’d been with them all his life “Looks like he’s comfy there.” “Yeah, it does.” Katie smiled.

Whilst Steve was in the shower Katie went into the closet and pulled out one of the old duvets for Lucky to sleep on, folding it up and placing it at the end of the bed. Steve was out of the shower shortly and climbed into bed besides Katie, reaching over and turning off the light before he settled down on his back and Katie cuddled up to him, head on his chest

“So what have you been up to today?” He asked gently, his hand rubbing her back.

“Still trying to get a lock on where Tony is. Other than that, well, I saw the doctor,  made dinner and then I wasn’t feeling great if I’m honest. So I came back here and Thor sat with me for a while, just talking.”

Steve took a deep breath, pulling her a little closer as they both fell silent for a moment, before she broke the silence.

“You now, knowing Clint is alive makes me feel a little more optimistic.”

“Optimistic?”

“Yeah, think about it.” Katie’s hand traced hapes on his bare chest “That’s six out of seven of the original Avengers confirmed alive. Tony has to be as well, it makes sense.” “I’m not following.” Steve frowned. She propped herself up, so that she was leaning on his chest, her eyes locking onto his.  “Thor was talking before, those stones, they have a magic beyond anything we know. Thor doesn’t believe for a second that who’s left is merely a coincidence and neither do I. It’s happened for a reason. Tony’s out there, I can feel it. We just need to find him.” “Honey, I understand what you’re saying-“ Steve started, he wasn’t sure he agreed. He didn’t believe in fate, it was bullshit. But before he could say anything else she cut him off.

“Please don’t.” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t what?”

“Take this hope away from me.” She whispered, her eyes still locked onto his in the dim light of the room “Apart from you it’s all I have right now.”

He sighed and nodded, chastising himself. If it made her feel better who was he to try and make her think any differently just because he did? Eventually they would have to face facts but now, well he just wanted her to get through the next few days, one at a time. With that in mind, he bit back his response and kissed her head.

“Sorry, you’re right. As long as there’s hope, we have a chance.” She kissed him gently before settling back down, and it wasn’t long before she drifted off. *****

A week or so later, Thor returned from another scouting trip with no news or sign of his people and this time he set deep into a brooding depression, appearing only for meals. Not even Katie could talk him round. Pepper was keeping herself busy liaising with who was left at Stark Industries, turning her attention onto how they could help after Katie had told her about Dr Kellet and the Health Authorities. It kept Pepper busy and gave her something to focus on.

Steve, Natasha and Rhodey spent most of their time talking to the people who were conducting the census and the authorities, whilst Katie buried herself away with Rocket and Bruce trying to calibrate the scanners to reach further into space, bouncing off the NASA satellites to boost their range. But they continued to get nothing. The elephant in the room, however, remained Fury’s pager. In the two weeks they’d had it no one had managed to get working, not even Rocket, despite his attempts to fix the booster that was attached to it.

As the Nineteenth post snap afternoon drew to a close, the Racoon let out a frustrated sigh and downed the small screwdriver he had been using and shook his head.

“If I had the right parts I could sort this easy, but without getting up to Contraxier I wouldn’t know where to start.” “What’s Contraxier?” Katie asked.

“A market-slash-junk-slash-booze hole” Rocket shrugged.” You can find most stuff there. That’s where I stole Thor’s eye.”

Katie knew better than to ask.

“It’s so goddamned annoying.” Rocket continued. “I mean it’s a simple technology too, they’re ten a credit. All it needs to do is produce a magnetic field across each of these coils and bingo.” Katie looked at Bruce whose head had instantly shot up.

“Say that again?” The Scientist instructed gently. “These coils.” Rocket pointed to the item as Bruce walked over. “Each of them needs a magnetic core and then all of the little individual magnetic forces add together and it powers the…what?” He asked as Bruce looked at Katie and she grinned.

“An electromagnet?” She shook her head, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. “That’s all it is?” “I’ve no idea what you Terrans call it, but if that’s what that does then yeah.” “I can’t believe it.” Bruce picked up the device and slid it under the large magnifying glass Rocket had been using, letting out a groan of frustration. “I took my eye off the ball, I could have sorted this straight away…” “You’re kidding me right?” Rocket sighed “Seriously?”

“Bruce, we’ve had a lot going on, don’t...” Katie began to sooth the man who was now frantically rushing around, grabbing various bits of material as he continued to curse his stupidity.

With a final curse, he settled down at a seat, bending over the device, his nose barely an inch away from it.

“It was an electromagnet. A god-damned electromagnet.” Bruce shook his head as he stood up and placed the Pager on a plinth inside one of the glass cases he used to experiment in. He fiddled around with some wires, muttering to himself before standing back. As the three of them crowded round, the screen on the pager lit up and the word “SENDING” flashed across the screen.

Katie looked at Bruce, her face splitting into a smile as he looked at her, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards.

There was another glimmer of hope…

**** Chapter 39 Part 2

[themetaphorgirl]

imagine in the boarding school au reid gets hurt or sick and takes pain medicine that makes him all loopy and the whole time looks after him

hopefully this is a good balance of silly and cuddly!!

(who are we kidding it’s mostly cuddly because cuddles are my favorite thing)

----------

“Okay, guys, I know you’re really excited to see Spencer, but you have to be gentle with him,” Hotch warned, blocking the door.

“We will, we will!” Penelope said.

“No, I mean it,” he said. “He’s got stitches and he’s drugged up to his eyeballs. No yelling, no jostling him, no getting him riled up. Understand?”

“Of course we understand,” JJ said. “Can we see him?”

Hotch hesitated, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms. “It’s my room too, you have to let me in anyway,” Derek pointed out.

He sighed. “Yes, but I reserve the right to kick you guys out,” he said. He opened the door and let the three of them inside. “Hey, Spencer. You’ve got some visitors.”

Spencer was tucked into bed and propped up with his pillow and one of Hotch’s. “Hi,” he said, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hi, sweetheart!” Penelope said. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “I have stitches,” he said. “Wanna see?”

“No, no, no, don’t mess with your stitches,” Hotch said. 

Spencer tried to sit up, tugging on the hem of his tee shirt. “They’re on my tummy…”

“Nope, nope, they don’t want to see,” Hotch said, catching Spencer’s wrist gently. “Lie down.”

“Oh, man, you really are on the good stuff,” Derek laughed. He sat down on the edge of his bed. Hotch took a step back, watching them like a hawk. “Are you feeling better, kid?”

Spencer scrunched up his face. “I don’t know,” he said. 

“You gave us a pretty bad scare,” JJ said.

She wasn’t wrong about that. Somehow none of them had realized that Spencer was sick until it was too late, and he was being rushed to the hospital with acute appendicitis. They’d been reassured over and over again that he was going to be just fine, but now that he’d been moved out of the hospital and back to the dorms, Hotch couldn’t help but feel like he needed to keep a close eye on him.

“How long do you get out of classes?” Derek asked.

Spencer opened his mouth to answer, scrunched his face in confusion, and looked up at Hotch. “At least a week, maybe two,” Hotch answered for him. “After he gets his stitches out.”

Spencer brightened. “Yeah, I got stitches!” he said, pulling on his shirt again. “Wanna see?”

“No, no, that’s okay,” JJ said.

Derek squeezed Spencer’s ankle. “What do you want to do, kid?” he said. “I bet you’re bored already. Want to play video games?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” JJ said. “Spencer doesn’t play video games when he’s feeling well.” She shot him a side-eye glance. “I think you just want to play Madden.” Derek shrugged.

“How about a movie?” Penelope suggested. “Oh! Derek, can you grab my laptop from my desk? I have so many options.”

“What? You live on the second floor and we’re on seventh!” Derek complained.

“Please?” Penelope said. “Oh, and can you can get some of the pillows off my bed too? I think Spencer could use some of them.”

“Not the ones with the sequins, though, he won’t like them,” JJ said.

“Fine,” Derek huffed. “But this is the only trip I’m taking, okay?”

JJ sat down next to Spencer. “Are you hurting at all?” she asked, stroking his hair off his forehead.

“I don’t know, really,” he said. He leaned into her gentle touch, a dopey smile on his face. “My tummy feels weird.”

“I remember getting my tonsils out, I was loopy for days,” Penelope said. 

“Yeah, he’s on the highest level of painkillers they can give a ten-year-old,” Hotch said dryly as he sat down at Spencer’s desk.

“My legs feel funny,” Spencer announced. 

Penelope patted his knee. “You’ll feel better soon,” she reassured him. 

Derek stomped in, laden down with pillows and Penelope’s laptop under his arm. “All right, I hope I got everything, because I’m not making that hike again,” he huffed.

Penelope caught the laptop. “Thank you, chocolate thunder,” she said sweetly.

JJ gathered up the pillows- all three of them garishly colored and incredibly fluffy- and tucked them around Spencer until he was propped up in a little nest. “There,” she said. “Are you comfortable?”

He tentatively patted the pillow closest to him. “I’m sinking,” he said. 

JJ laughed. “You’re not, you’re fine,” she said. She climbed up on the bed and settled down behind him. “Here, I’ll keep you from sinking. Better?”

“Better,” he echoed, nestling in the pillows and resting his head on her lap.

Penelope took a step back from the TV. “All right, I got it hooked up,” she said, clearly pleased with herself. “Spencer, my angel, I have just about every movie and TV show you can think of. What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He sank farther back into the pillows and giggled a little bit. 

Derek laughed and sat down at the foot of the bed. “Just pick something, I don’t think he can pick anything on his own,” he said.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Penelope said. She pulled up a movie on her laptop and scrambled to join the other kids. “I think you’ll like this one.”

“Don’t smother him,” Hotch warned.

“We’re not, we’re not!”

Hotch hauled his backpack up and dug his math textbook out. “Looks like you’re smothering him,” he mumbled under his breath.

But Spencer seemed calm, watching the movie with his eyes half-lidded as JJ stroked his hair, and he reluctantly turned his attention to his trig homework. As long as the kid was okay, and the others were watching him, he could probably get some work done.

“Spencer, are you hungry?” Penelope asked. He shook his head sleepily. “Are you sure? Derek can go get you something.”

“Why does it have to be me?” Derek complained.

“Oh, stop whining, Mister Big Strong Football Player.”

“Guys,” Hotch warned.

“All right, all right, fine,” Penelope said, settling back down.

Things were relatively quiet and peaceful after that; Spencer fell asleep despite the other three talking and jostling him. Hotch managed to get most of his trig homework done before the movie was over. And good thing, too, because the peace didn’t last.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Emily said cheerfully. 

Hotch put his pencil down. “Why do they always do this?” he mumbled.

Spencer sat up and yawned, then immediately winced. “Did I sleep?” he said, pressing his hand against his stomach.

“You were asleep,” JJ said, shooting a pointed look at Emily.

Emily stuck out her lower lip in a fake pout. “Sorry,” she said. She joined the other kids on the bed. “I heard they gave you the good stuff, squirt. What’s he been doing? Have I missed anything hilarious?”

“No, he’s been sleeping,” Hotch said flatly. 

“And trying to show everyone his stitches,” Derek added.

Spencer scrunched up his face. “I have stitches?”

“Oh, well, maybe he does something interesting soon,” Emily said. She ruffled his short hair, leaving it a hopeless mess. Spencer shivered. “Hey, what was that for? What’s wrong?”

“‘m cold,” he said. 

“I can fix that,” JJ said. She carefully climbed off the bed and took Spencer’s blanket. He whined, trying to grab it back.

“What are you doing?” Penelope asked.

“Just trust me,” she said. She turned to Emily and held out her hand. “I need a quarter.”

“Why do you think I have money on me?” Emily said. JJ raised an eyebrow and she sighed. “All right, fine.” JJ took the quarter, gathered up the blanket, and left the room.

“Okay, everybody off the bed, there’s too many of you,” Hotch said. “No, Spencer, stay where you are, you get to stay in the bed.” Spencer blinked in confusion; Hotch picked him up carefully and placed him back in the bed, moving around Penelope’s pillow collection to make room for him. “Stay there.”

JJ walked back in with the blanket. “Here you go,” she said, draping it over Spencer. “I ran it through the dryer for a little bit. Is that better?”

“Yeah!” he said. JJ smoothed out the blanket and he cuddled up in the warmth. “Yeah, that’s better, I think. I’m warm now.” He frowned. “But my stomach feels funny.”

“That’s why you need to stop moving, pretty boy,” Derek said. “You need anything?”

Spencer leaned back against the pillows, drawing the blanket up to his chin. “Huh-uh,” he said. “I’m okay.”

Hotch leaned over him and checked his forehead. “You’re sure you okay?” he said. “If you’re running a fever we have to take you back to the hospital.”

“Noooo,” Spencer protested, trying to shake off his hand. “I’m okay, I promise, I promise. I don’t wanna go back.”

Hotch tucked him in. “Then stay still,” he said.

“You’re no fun, Hotch,” Emily said. 

“I’m trying to be responsible,” he said. His phone beeped and he checked the screen. “And it’s time for your medicine, Spencer.”

Emily clapped her hands. “Ooh, I’m hoping for some quality ‘David After Dentist’ content,” she said.

Hotch rolled his eyes; he picked up Spencer’s hand and placed a pill in his palm. “There you go,” he said, handing him a water bottle. “Drink slow.”

Penelope took the water bottle when he was done. “Do you want to watch something different?” she asked. 

Emily pulled a deck of cards out of her jacket pocket. “Let’s play a game,” she said. 

“I don’t know-”

Emily was already dealing them out. “Aces are high, no wilds,” she said. She pulled a massive bag of M&Ms out of her other pocket. “We’ll all start with twenty.”

“Guys-”

JJ peeked at her cards. “I raise,” she said. Hotch rolled his eyes and went back to his homework. If they wanted to play, they could play. 

“Spencer, no, you have to hold your cards up, we’re not supposed to see them,” Penelope whispered.

“They’re too heavy,” he whined. He spread them out over the blanket. “They’re so heavy, I don’t wanna hold ‘em.”

Emily laughed. “Ah, yes, this is what I was hoping for,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Hey! Spencer, you can’t eat my M&Ms,” Derek protested, trying to block the M&M pile away from him.

Spencer tried to reach for them anyway. “Where are the blue ones?” he asked. “The blue ones taste better.”

“They taste the same,” JJ said.

Penelope elbowed her. “No, he’s got a point,” she said.

Spencer popped a handful in his mouth. “I like the blue ones, but the red ones are...are too red,” he said. “They’re just too red.”

“Hey, Spencer,” Emily said, holding her phone closer to film him and biting back a giggle. “How do you feel about the yellow ones?”

“They suck,” he said solemnly, and the other kids burst out laughing. “What? The yellow ones suck. They do.”

Hotch put down his pencil and turned around in his chair, laughing. “The meds are hitting pretty hard, aren’t they, buddy?” he said.

Spencer frowned. “Hotch,” he said. “I can’t...I can’t find my hands.”

Derek howled. “They’re still attached, don’t worry,” Emily said. “They’re there.”

“Hotch?” Spencer said, a little louder.

Hotch rolled the desk chair closer and squeezed his hand. “Right there, buddy, I promise,” he said. “Both hands, all ten fingers.”

He looked up, startled. “Ten?” he repeated. “Is that right?” He looked down at his hands. “That can’t...can’t be right...”

Penelope was almost crying. “I hope it wears off before he has to go to class,” JJ laughed.

“Class?” Spencer repeated. He scrambled off the bed. “I forgot!”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Hotch said. “Stop that, you’re going to pop your stitches.”

Spencer was clumsily digging through his messenger bag. “I didn’t do my homework!” he said. “I forgot!”

Emily set down her phone. “Babe, it’s okay, you’re not supposed to be in class,” she said. 

“I’m gonna be late!” he said desperately, and he tried to bolt for the door.

Luckily, the three oldest kids were in the hallway, just about to knock. Spencer collided with James and nearly fell back on the floor; James caught him by the arms. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be up.”

Spencer burst into tears. The younger kids all immediately looked to Hotch; he swallowed hard. He wasn’t good with crying, no matter who it was. Not even himself. (Especially himself.)

“Hey, caro, none of that,” David said. “Don’t cry.”

Spencer fell against him, pressing his face into his ribs. “I’m...gonna...be...late...and...I...didn’t...do...my...homework,” he sobbed. 

David smoothed Spencer’s hair and looked up at Hotch. “Ah, the pain meds are getting to him, aren’t they?” he said.

“Hit him like a semitruck,” Hotch said.

Alex knelt down next to him. “Spencer, you’re not late, and you’re not in trouble,” she reassured him as he sobbed into David’s stomach. “All you need to worry about is getting better.”

He lifted his head. “I’m not late?” he said.

“Not at all,” she said. “Do you want to go back to bed now?” He nodded.

Emily shooed the younger kids off the bed. “All right, all right, scatter,” she said. “Make room.”

James picked Spencer up and set him down on his bed. “You’ve got to be careful with your stitches,” he said gently. 

Spencer sniffled hard and JJ handed him a tissue. “I forgot,” he said in a small voice.

“Hotch, how about you stay with him, and James and I will herd the rest of these youths out of here,” Alex said.

“We want to stay with him!” Penelope protested.

“He needs to rest, and I think you guys are getting him worked up,” Hotch said.

David scooped up the scattered playing cards and popped a handful of M&Ms in his mouth. “Yeah, let’s give him a little space,” he said. “Let’s go get dinner.” He brightened. “Or...let’s go to town and get ingredients, and we can make dinner ourselves. I’m sure Hotch won’t mind if we take over the Lincoln House kitchen.”

“Just clean up after yourselves,” Hotch said. “But yeah, go have fun.”

Alex tucked Spencer snugly into bed and kissed his cheek; he was already beginning to doze off. “Text us if you need anything, Hotch,” she said. 

“Will do,” he said. Thank you, he mouthed silently.

Alex grinned. “All right, who’s riding with James, and who’s riding with Rossi?” she asked.

“Shotgun!” Emily and Derek shouted at once. They paused, then glared at each other. “Shotgun with Rossi!”

“Hey!”

“I said it first!”

James and Alex herded the kids out of the room and closed the door. Hotch sighed deeply. “Peace and quiet,” he said. “Nice, huh?”

“You promise I’m not late for class?” Spencer said sleepily, hugging the blanket to his chest. 

“Absolutely,” Hotch said. “And your hands are still attached too.” 

Spencer nodded and rubbed his eyes. “You’re going to stay with me though, right?” he said. “Right here?”

“Uh-huh,” Hotch said. He closed his math homework, turned down the volume on the TV, and moved the desk chair next to Spencer. “How’s that?”

Spencer smiled at him, hazy and sleepy, and before long he dozed off, his breathing slow and steady. Hotch stayed beside him, arms folded over his chest, watching TV but checking every so often to make sure he was still safe.

[fairytsuk1]

falling back to peace (a)

part of the autumn experiences collection.

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, angst

warnings: suicide, blood

words: 2.2k

summary: i miss our warm bed and the cuddles in the morning.

prompt: apocalypse

     Blood splashed noisily on the wall. The drips and the sound of the initial slap were absolutely disgusting; you'd grown used to it. Todoroki yanked the dagger out swiftly and shoved it into its casing before turning to you.

     "How's your ankle? Can you keep going, or do you need to rest?" His eyes flitted down to the foot hovering just above the ground and frowned.

"It's tender. But I can keep going!"

     Your boyfriend crouched down and took hold of the tip of your shoe. He flexed your foot back towards your shin and shushed you when you gasped. The back rooms of the mall you'd been wandering were mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. Obviously, you didn't want to bring unnecessary attention to yourselves if you could avoid it.

     "It's warm. You're working too hard. I told you to tell me if it got worse."

     His tone is sharp and has a slight edge to the natural baritone. He's stressed, you're both hungry and haven't found a single crumb. He didn't want to return back to your newly found group empty-handed. They were already wary of you two. Plus, the streets were not safe to be walking out and about like before.

     He sighed and looked up at you, heterochromatic eyes boring into yours to guess how he was feeling. You looked at the cracks on the ceiling and counted how many stains littered the beige roof.

     "Please look at me," Todoroki felt like he'd go insane if he didn't see your eyes. They were so warm and carried so much humanity, he thought he might seriously lose it if he didn't look at something alive within the next minute, "please."

     Guiltily, you look down at your lover. There's a glassy film that clouds the orbs, and it just barely shines under the light. He offers a small smile before kissing your bruised bone, mindful of the dirt and grime before standing up. You're so little. When you blink, fat tears roll down your cheeks. Quickly, he tugs you into his shirt; he smells so clean.

     Todoroki had made a decision at the very beginning of this nightmare that no matter what, he'd smell the same. It was hard to carry so many bottles of the comforting scent of amber cologne, but he did it for you. You liked the smell of autumn, he figured he would try to be a pillar for you.

"You smell good."

     "I know. Please don't cry anymore."

     You sniffled once, then two times more before pulling away and rubbing at your eyes. He cringed and pulled a tissue out of his bag before patting the sensitive skin. A smile tugged your lips, and he swore his heart jumped. 

"You baby me, you know that? The girls at the camp gave me a hard time for it."

     Snickering, he pecks your nose and turns around, "you are my baby. They must be really jealous if that's what they want to talk about."

      You covered your laugh with your hand and grabbed his own with your free one. You let out a loud final giggle before quieting down and beginning to walk side by side.

      He slowed his pace down for your sake, and you were immensely grateful. Your ankle really did hurt quite a bit. You two were connected though, the same thoughts circling each other like a schoolyard game. The group you two had found was okay, not too small and not too big, but it was harsh. They expected a lot from you two, and you felt sorry watching your Shoto do so much labor while you washed clothes.

      The fact that they wanted you two to prove yourselves was irritating too. Naturally, both of you were hardened and healthy survivors. You didn't need to prove yourselves to anyone! That wasn't how things were dealt with, though; the constant scrutinization was almost as bad as the lack of rations you received.

      Things just weren't fair nowadays, watching all your hard-earned canned goods get used for a stew that you only got a cup of. The anger inside you bubbled once again. You were stuck doing the womanly activities but then expected to pick up the slack and then be told to deal with the unjustness of it all?

"It's bullshit."

     "Huh?"

"The group's shit. I hate it." You spoke with the voice of someone who had felt indignation to the highest degree with a splash of sadness. You were so tired.

     Todoroki sighed and nodded. He felt the same. He was keeping you safe, but that didn't mean it was easy to wake up at five in the morning. He barely saw you as well. Some days, you were stuck inside till the sun went down. Other times, the strain they put on you was too much, and he begged them to ease up. This group had a lot of expectations.

     He missed Midoriya. He just wanted to sleep.

     Your ankle...that was another story. He'd been stealing medicine for you. He'd used to be a good person, to know right from wrong and that stealing was bad. When it came to his girlfriend, he'd kill for her. He knew this, and she knew this. So when he saw the painkillers sitting so openly on the shelves, he took them. He was relieved to see how much better you felt, but he knew that they'd be onto him soon. Naturally, he'd deal with that situation when you two got to it. For now, he needed a map of the mall so he could figure out how to get the fuck out of here--

"Is this a coffee shop!?" Todoroki hadn't even realized he'd spaced out till he saw you peeking your head through a door.

     "What? Hey, be careful!" he grunted and grabbed your waist to support you before opening the door fully.

"Look, it is! There's coffee machines and tons of cups!"

     The simple things nowadays were the best. Forgoing the pleadings of rest from your ankle, you ambled forward and picked up a bag of beans.

"They even have the ones I used to use for coffee nearly every day! You were more of a tea guy, maybe they have a few spare packets…" trailing off, you began to open cabinets like second nature to find food, "I'll try and look for stuff that might have lasted!"

     "If they have black tea, grab me some, please."

     Todoroki let his hand rest on the small of your back before walking past the counter. It seems these people had used their common sense and closed the security gates, effectively locking out the dead. He frowned when the smell of rotting bodies permeated through the air when he passed by the bathroom.

     "Bathroom's out of order, so if you want to go…"

"Hah, you sure that's all you wanted to do in a bathroom?"

     He smirked and winked before turning to the counter of creams and sugars. Nothing useful.

     You, on the other hand, swear that opening the cabinet of boxed mixes might have been like discovering America. Without the genocide, of course. There were tons of mixes for sweets and different types of bread. Pushing them aside, cold metal shocked you as if it was burning hot. You reached in and pulled out the can, a grin taking over your face and your stomach grumbling the loudest it's ever had. 

"Shoto, have you ever had cherry pie?"

     "...Like once or twice, I think. Why?"

"Well, it'll be my job to make it for you then!" you turned and held the can out, the bright red packaging matching his dual-toned hair, "cherry pie filling!"

     For the first time in a minute, his smile matched yours as he quickly rounded the corner. He took the can, and for a second, you saw the boyish grin he used to sport in high school. So genuine, there weren't many happy moments in this life anymore. That's why you treasured every time one showed up. You drank in this moment and seared it into your brain. You didn't name it then. Only later.

     You decided that moment was called, "The last time you were happy."

     Getting out of the mall was easy when you had a seasoned fighter by your side. You swear that your boyfriend could've been an actual samurai with the way he swung zombies out of the way with ease. You had taken brief looks at him as you did your best to run alongside him, the cherry tin bouncing around in your bag.

     His hair bounced with every step, and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. Why did you want to cry so bad? He looked at you and gave you a confused look.

     "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know."

     Perhaps it was the preparation for what would come when you arrived back at the safe zone. There was no warm welcome or claps on the back. It was silent. Though their eyes did the talking for them. The tension in the air was overpowering.

     "You're back," Ryuji stalked forward and crossed his arms, "I'll let you tell us first. If you're honest, I might be lenient on you."

     Shoto stared and narrowed his eyes before using his forearm to prevent you from standing next to him. He was in protection mode. He didn't break the soul-sucking stare with the leader, but his trembling hand let you understand all you needed to know. This was bad.

     It happened in a flash. Ryuji's arm swung up, and guns were aimed from every direction. His yelling was garbled, and you knew Shoto was panicked from the way he kept spinning and spinning. There was no way to escape. The pain in your ankle throbbed. You could practically hear the pulsing in your skull.

"We can compromise this, Ryuji! We got food too! Just stop it with the guns!" You broke through the disassociation and cried out towards the enemy. Didn’t he have any sympathy?

     The gunshot that dug into the ground just next to your feet made you scream and back up into Todoroki's hold. If they kick you out, what about your picture of your class? That's yours in your room. You brought it everywhere. The promise ring that you didn't want to get dirty too. The pressed leaves in your old journal and--!

     "Get the fuck out!"

     You two had slowly begun to back up since the very beginning of the confrontation. You hadn't even realized how much you’d retreated until your back hit the entrance door, causing you to stumble. Your anxiety was through the roof as the guns came closer, you swore you could see down the barrel.

     The doors had opened, and you turned to see...so many. It was like all the zombies in the world had been waiting for a feast. There had to be at least one hundred of them. Shoto squeezed your shoulder, and you flinched when your bag was thrown beside you. They weren't really human, were they? These people were monsters.

     This was cruel and mean. There was no way you'd be able to survive this. Shoto beat down on the doors and screamed for mercy, but you could only focus on one thing. The photo of your classmates smiling and cherry pie. The zombies grew closer. You felt so bare and empty. You knew you didn’t have the strength to keep going. Not like this. 

     You also knew that Shoto had aimed a gun at your head whilst you sunk to the ground. He couldn't, wouldn't, watch you turn. Never in a million years did he want to see those dead eyes. For the first time in a while, the tears started to flow. He'd cried so many times, but he always kept it to himself. 

"I love you, Shoto,"

     "...I love you too."

     Acceptance is the first step. Then you don't feel anything after that. Shoto doesn't feel anything once the shot rings out. The tears drip onto the ground but his head is blank. He supposes he should feel something. Anything. He's done this a few times and always felt awful before. Though he can't find the energy. Motivation. He'd worked so hard in his life, he just wanted to rest. How badly he wanted to close his eyes and sleep. 

     Besides, a part of him had died with you at that moment. He supposes that at least he didn't have to see your eyes. He turns the gun on himself.

     Acceptance is the first step. Then, he doesn't feel anything after that. He's had a long life even if it didn't seem that way to those who thought of age as linear. But he'd lived for a long while. Now, he'd have a long rest.

     When Ryuji came outside later that night, the two bloodstains remained, but the bodies were gone. Burning somewhere, he assumed. The photo stuck out at him. He crouched down and picked it up. You two looked so in love.

     "Too bad. Could've been really helpful."

     The picture falls into the dirt, overtaken by nature. Utterly forgotten.

"Shoto... I'm so glad we can rest."

     "Me too."

[mother-snake]

Both? Both.

-----------

Mistakes.

Everyone has made mistakes before, Patton has burned cookies beyond recognition, Logan has used the word infinitesimal wrong, Roman has tripped during a huge performance he was doing for the sides.

But Virgil's mistakes were inexcusable.

Virgil had took a side. Took him from his rightful place in the mind. Could only watch as the child grew up traumatized and abused. And then he left that same child to safe himself some minor discomfort.

How could Virgil live with himself after that? He abandoned Janus. He abandoned his baby

That's why the tension in the mind was high. It was barely two weeks from when he told the others why Janus had blond hair like them.

Virgil was sitting on the couch, TV playing absently in the background, his own sleek black hair falling over his dark grey eyes. When the door busted open and got slammed shut shortly after, along with deep heavy breathing and a thump against the wall.

Jumping off the couch, Virgil turned to see Janus.

Janus was slumped against the wall, heavily favouring his left leg as the other ankle was bent at a odd angle, his hat was gone and the blond curls that haunted him is entire life were on full display.

One of his yellow suspenders was snapped in half, the other fell of his shoulder. Blood pouring out of a cut above his right eye, along with a few glass pieces shuck in his left arm.

"Jan... What the fuck happened?" Virgil's voice sounded breathless, his own face growing paler just looking at the yellow side.

Janus drew another pained breath, "Apathy."

Virgil nodded before his parental instincts kicked in once again. Picking the yellow side up bridal style, noting the flinch when Janus' arm hit his chest, a small squeak left the youngers lips. Virgil sat him down on the kitchen counter.

"Stay, Don't move" Virgil went to grab the med kit under the sink

Soft laughs escaped from the injured side, "Like I even have a choice here da-" Janus paused, "Ve-" pause, "Virg-" Janus looked to the floor, unsure on what to call Virgil.

Walking back to the counter, med kit in hand, he smiled sympathetically at his child. "Call me whatever you want to. You are always going to be my child to me, if you want me to take the parental role or leave it, is your choice. Not mine."

With a small nod from Janus, Virgil unclasped the kit and handed two painkillers to his baby.

"painkillers?"

"different from the other med kits, I know. But it'll make this a lot less painful."

Janus took the painkillers and swallowed them with huge gulps of water.

Virgil grabbed the tweezers and started on removing the broken glass. Uttering comforting words in between.

Janus slowly stopping flinching and swearing between removing the glass pieces. The meds must have kicked in.

Virgil removed the suspenders and unbuttoned the black dress shirt, throwing them both out as they were soaked in blood.

Janus' chest was covered in blood and burns. The cuts were presumably from the glass and the burns... They were small, circle shaped and there was hundreds

Janus' eyes were drifting closed slightly as Virgil wiped some tears from his own eyes. Virgil grabbed the best bandages he could find, along with some disinfectant and burn cream, and started to clean the wounds. He started to sing a small song to distract Janus, who was starting to stir again from pain.

"Little do you know, how I'm breaking while you fall asleep~"

Janus was calming

"Little do you know, I'm still haunted by the memories~"

There was so many burns-

"Little do know, I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece~"

What have they done?

"Little do you know, I need a little more time~"

Those.... Those bastards.

"Underneath it all, I'm held captive by the hole inside. I've been holding back for the fear that you might change your mind~"

"I'm ready to -" Virgil's voice cut out. Was Janus ready to forgive him?

"Ve- Vee?" Janus' voice was small and hardly audible. "Why'd ya stop?"

"No reason baby. Voice cut out." His chest was all bandaged

"I'm ready to forgive you, but forgeting is a harder fight~"

The cut above his eye was an easy fix.

"Little do you know, I need a little more time~"

His ankle was twisted badly, but that just needed ice and rest.

Summoning one of his black sweaters, Virgil guided Janus' arms through the sleeves. Zipping up the sweater, Virgil picked back up Janus and started towards the couch

"I'll wait~ I'll wait~ I'll love you like you've never felt the pain. I'll wait. I promise you don't have to be afraid~"

Sitting down of the couch. His child curled on his chest.

"I'll wait~ Love is here and here to stay~"

"So lay your head on me~"

Janus went limp on his chest. Lips parted slightly

"So lay your head on me~"

this makes me want to write some father virgil and son janus. this is amazing and i wish i had a bigger vocab so i could say it in different ways. THIS IS AMAZING AND I LOVE THE ANGST.

[allegra-writes]

"Sunflower vol. 1"

Peter Parker x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none

Series masterlist

Just a little drabble in the "Fine line" verse. This takes place before "Lights up" so you don't need to have read that first. Much like Sharon Carter in CATWS you're an undercover agent assigned to protect Peter. This is what happened the first time you met 🌻

He was... Cute. Normal. Unassuming. That was your first thought as your eyes found him in the crowded classroom. You could see the poorly hidden muscles under his ill fitting plaid shirt and dark hoodie, but the untrained eyes of his schoolmates were probably oblivious to them. He made a face at something a dark haired boy was saying and for a split second you saw the sassy Spider-Man from your footage but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. 

"Ok, Y/n… let's see where we can put you" The teacher, Mr. Warren, you reminded yourself, scanned the room for an empty seat, "Ah, there, you can sit next to Mr. Davies over there" 

"Can I sit next to Peter?" You interrupted the guy, making it sound like Peter Parker was your friend already. Director Fury had been clear: You were to keep a close eye on Parker, befriend him, protect him… and report his every movement back to him. And you couldn't very well do that from half a room away.

"I want you to be his shadow, his bestie, his freaking conjoined twin. If that boy sneezes, I want to know. If he tweets something, I want to know. If he makes a bad taste joke, I want to know" Fury had told you, pinning you with an intense look, "This isn't just a surveillance mission, I want a full on personality profile. Stark left him a way too powerful weapon, I'm not taking any chances, I need to know if he can be trusted with it before Mr. Hogan hands it to him"  

"A weapon?" You snorted, "What, Dumbledore left him Gryffindor's sword?" 

Hill scoffed in annoyance, but Fury smirked.

"See? That right there, agent, is why it has to be you, you speak the language"

"What language?" 

"The same Stark used to speak," The director clarified, "the one Parker still does..."

"With Peter? Why?" The teacher's sceptic voice brought you back to the present. You lowered your gaze, trying to appear suddenly shy. It seemed to work because Mr. Warren's eyes widened in surprise, "Oh...oh! Parker? Really?" 

God, what was wrong with everyone in this school? How come all the girls (and some of the guys) weren't crushing on Peter Parker? Were they blind or something? The teacher shrugged, 

"To each their own I guess… Mr. Parker" he called out, "Make room on your station, you have a new lab partner" 

Peter looked up, visibly startled. His deer-in-the-headlights face was adorable, and you genuinely smiled as you took your seat beside him. His cheeks turned pink.

"Hi, I'm y/n"

"Pa-arker. Pe- peter," his blush deepened, "Parker. I'm Peter Parker" he wanted to punch himself in the face. Why did he have to be such a loser? But you just smiled brighter,

"Hello, Peter Parker"

…

Peter was trying to keep his mouth shut, less he made a fool of himself again. Mr Warren was droning on about something in front of the whiteboard but he couldn't get himself to listen, you were just too distracting. And it wasn't even as if you were doing anything to attract his attention, you had long ago given up your attempts at conversation after one too many monosyllabic replies, and were currently doodling on your notebook. 

"You're not paying attention" He kicked himself internally, that sounded like an accusation. But far from offended, you simply smiled again.

"Nah, I already know everything about sunflowers. Here, let me show you" You turned his forearm on the table, rolling up his sleeve. The soft tip of your pen tickled his skin as you started to draw on the inside of his wrist, "The petals around the outside, are called ray florets. And the ones on the center of the flower… " He almost giggled as you started filling the center with a million little dots, "are actually hundreds of tiny flowers called disc florets. Some are male flowers, some are female, that's why they can self reproduce"

The word 'reproduce' shouldn't have sent a tingle down his lower abdomen, he knew that.

"You mean self-pollinate?" 

"Yeah, that…" you murmured, suddenly noticing how close you had leaned towards each other.

Peter cleared his throat,

"So… are they like, your favorite flower or something?"

"Damn right they are!" You laughed, the spell broken "They're badass: They are awesome painkillers when you're out in the field. And did you know they can remove heavy metals, and even radiation from contaminated soil? People planted millions of them in Sokovia after, well, you know…"

Peter frowned in confusion,

"Out in the field?"

Fuck! You had really said that. What a rookie mistake to make! But something about Peter just made you let your guard down.

"Yeah, like, in a sunflower field in the middle of nowhere." You scrambled to cover up, "Once I got lost in one while visiting my grandma, in… Kansas. Yeah, in Kansas. Twisted my ankle real bad, spent the whole night there actually"

Kansas? Try Argentina. It also had been a little worse than a sprained ankle. And you had spend days there, on the run after a mission gone wrong. Hadn't been for the flowers you would have starved to death.

The bell rang just as you were finishing your drawing, complete with a path of ants and everything. 

"You should text me sometime, I'm on Telegram" You said, grabbing your backpack and practically running out of the class. Peter looked down at his arm. Upon closer inspection, the ants were minuscule numbers. A huge, dazzled smile broke on his face. He dug out his phone, entering your number before it could get smudge or erased or something. On the contact name, he entered a single emoji: A bright yellow sunflower. 

To be continued...

[uraharasandals]

How about a fluffy (or perhaps smutty) scenario where the reader comforts Akutagawa in regards to the shit Dazai put him through? I want my edge Lord to realize that he doesn't need Dazai's praise because he is amazing and beautiful on his own. Make our boy feel loved 💜

Uhhh, so this kinda got out of hand at the end, but I hope you like it! I have a terrible grasp of Akutagawa's personality AND how his fluff would manifest with a partner but somehow I appear to write fluff with him the best? Anyways enjoy! 

   Lazy July afternoons were the epitome of bliss. It was a brief window of time in which the world wandered by without a care, in which, as the sun sets and tendrils of sunlight trickled through the window, the summer heat gets into everyone's head and frankly, no one has the energy to do anything except take a nap. 

   And that was precisely what you ended up doing. Cocooned in a nest of blankets and nestled in a warm bed with the air conditioning on full blast, there was no other place you would like to be right now. Add to the fact that Akutagawa's body temperature was a default freezing, it was a nice past-time for a summer afternoon; it was as if you had no care in the world. 

    Shifting across the blankets to find a cooler spot, you were about to fall back into dreamland when you heard a wince from Akutagawa. Normally you would have ignored it and went back to sleep, but the moment there was a tight grip on your arm draped across his abdomen you knew something was wrong; Akutagawa may be hostile to touches from time to time, but he had never stopped you in the middle of something. 

   "Are you okay?" Alertness started coming to your brain, though it was still slow; there was still a hint of sleepiness coating your tone as you sat up, taking care not to brush against him, lest you trigger something else. You weren't sure what had happened, but you guessed it may have something to do with the scars blooming all over his body. He had willingly exposed himself to you once, when you dressed a flesh wound on his chest, and noticed the network of criss-cross scars, as well as what looked like small punctures on his skin (quick research made you realise that those were bullet marks, and you were shocked at that). Experience taught you that scars tend to leave ghost trails of pain even long after the wounds have closed, and judging from the extent of injuries Akutagawa suffered from, your accidental brushes might have forced a dizzying wave of pain back into his system. 

  "Fine." Despite his words, you could see the flash of pain that went across his face, and you sighed. "I'll go get some painkillers; wait here." As you prepared to - unwillingly - get out of bed, Akutagawa caught at your hand, managing to hold onto your little finger, giving a small tug; this was a clear sign he wanted you to stay, so you did, though kicking the blankets away to watch over him properly. 

   A quick glance at Akutagawa's face made you realise that it was no longer contorted in pain anymore, and he was just lying there, as if contemplating something. You raised your eyebrows at this, but said nothing, letting the silence be broken by occasional splutters of the air conditioner and the spilling of sunset into your bedroom; the sunlight fell short on his face, but illuminated his cheekbones and eyelashes, startling you with the seeming display of youth. 

  Had Akutagawa really been this young? His mannerisms and speech frequently persuaded you otherwise, but after you reasoned that there was no way you would've chosen someone notably more mature than you, you realised that he was. His time in the mafia had hardened him; his mentions of his superior, a man named 'Dazai', reflected to you a certain degree of hardship and torture he was subject to in the organization, which would likely have forced him to grow up as well.

  For that moment, you found yourself bearing hate for a man you haven't even met, much less having a grasp of his personality. 

  "What's wrong?" You were the first to break the silence, as always; the words escaped from your mouth quietly, as if you didn't want to break the sudden tranquility in the mood. The singular moment that took your eyes to meet his was enough to catch you off guard, and another insistent tug made you fall back onto the bedsheets with a small groan. Before you knew it, his eyes were inches away, the tip of his nose - cold - brushing against yours, in a distance close enough to kiss. Heat crept up your cheeks, but you forced yourself to maintain eye contact with the man in front of you. Then, he opened his mouth and a single statement tumbled out, "You're too fragile." 

  "Says you?" Eyebrows raised, you ran the pad of your thumb lightly down the hidden scar on the column of his neck. Immediately, he gave a small wince. "Since when did strong and tough mafiaso get triggered by scars, I wonder." You shouldn't tease him like this, cruel words with a sarcastic edge, especially not about his scars, but you couldn't help it; the more you thought about who inflicted those on him, and how he still suffers from them, the more you feel anger rising within you -- and somehow you had decided to take it out on him. 

   The effect told hold -- too well, you thought bitterly -- and his eyes narrowed at you, the fire kindled within them again. Just as you were bracing yourself for the onslaught of Rashomon, he suddenly deflated, and guilt crossed his face. "You were right." 

    "I - I am?"

    "Yes. If only I was as strong as Dazai-san - " 

     His words were immediately cut off. Akutagawa's lips were still freezing beneath yours, which sent a shiver down your spine, but it was worth the surprised - or what passed for surprised - look on his face as you pulled away. "What was that for, _________?" 

     "You're already strong enough, Ryunosuke." You probably shouldn't, after a narrow escape from the tiger's fangs, but you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, where another criss-cross patch of scars sat. Luckily, he only stiffened under your hold. "Remember? Otherwise I would've died." Untangling an arm, you pulled down a corner of your shirt to reveal the thin strip of white skin tissue running across your shoulder, shivering slightly from the sudden exposure.

      His face was hidden from view, but you could feel his icy fingers fluttering above the wound hesitantly. "The bullet...." One of Port Mafia's enemies had decided to take down Akutagawa - their so-called 'trump card' -- sometime ago by kidnapping you, his dearest person, holding you hostage, and intending to kill him as soon as he showed up. Little did they underestimate their power, and he had wiped them out in a matter of seconds, though one last brave attempt by the sole survivor had left you a souvenir dangerously near your neck; a true shot that missed thanks to Akutagawa. "Does it...still hurt?" 

      "A little." You admitted, and was about to pull away from him when you felt a pair of -- still freezing -- lips press onto the wound. An embarrassing gasp escaped from you as your hands tightened around his neck, which turned into a moan as he diligently worked his way up the column of your neck, ending with a sharp nip right behind your ear. "R-Ryunosuke!" 

      "And aren't you just like me, __________." You thought he was mad, but a look at his face revealed the beginnings of a smirk tugging at his mouth. "At least I wasn't the one attempting to be strong," You huffed, sitting up. "I, unlike a certain someone, know my boundaries." 

      "Do you?" 

      Akutagawa, magically, lost the staring contest. 

      "Anyways, I was serious about what I was saying earlier, Ryunosuke." You leaned back against the headboard, shifting a little to let him have some sitting room next to you. The fading sunset traced out a line of sunlight right across his shoulder, which ran across the scar on your still exposed shoulder. "You don't have to compare yourself against anyone else because you're already strong enough." Reaching over, you clasped his hand, feeling your warmth bleed into his. When he attempted to open his mouth -- no doubt the beginnings of an argument -- you immediately cut in. "Especially not against Dazai-san. I don't care how good he might be, he'll never be you, Ryunosuke." 

       "Me." There was a hint of bitterness underneath. "What about me?" 

       "You're amazing." You shifted closer to him, and began to pick your next words carefully. "You were able to survive his training. I don't think anyone else would've been able to do that so well. You also have proof to show for it, see?" Bringing his hand up, you started tracing his scars. "The fruits of your success." Turned over; the star-shaped paleness inside his wrist. "The proof of your hardship." One jagged line running up his arm and disappearing into his shirt. "The - " 

       "Was that the prelude to your testing my resolve?" Somehow, you found yourself pinned underneath him, his knees holding your legs firmly in place; his ankle dug sharply into yours, but the suddenness somehow made your brain register only the proximity of his face from yours, allowing for a tiny 'oh' escaping from your mouth. 

        "I didn't - " A small voice at the back of your mind was reminded vaguely that this scenario had played out only seconds ago, but they soon faded into nothing as his tongue worked roughly against yours, forcing its way into your mouth and effectively cutting off the stem of words you were about to say. "If that was a test of strength, I would say I passed it successfully, no?" Mind still spiralling into a whirlpool of confusion, you barely registered his words and the fact that his fingers tilted your head so that your eyes bore into his, which had turned dark. 

       "Or do you need more proof of my so-called power*?" 

         Brief note: Because the word for 'power' and 'strength' in Japanese can be used interchangeably, Aku could also have said 'strength', which may have another meaning ;) 

[bluesfortheredj]

Hop to it.

For the oh so lovely @drivenbybri

Your fingers grip tightly onto the lamppost as you will yourself to move now that you’d finally made it back to your street, but the pain shooting through your ankle whenever weight was put on it was positively unbearable right now, and you stand on one leg as you fish around in your pocket for your phone with your free hand. Finally you retrieve the device then call Gwilym to come and help you as you let out a sigh at the sight of the shopping bags that were sat on the ground in front of you.

“Hey, I was expecting you back ages ago, everything okay?” Gwil says as soon as he answers the phone.

“Erm, actually no,” you admit, “I’m at the end of the road that takes you towards the school and I’m in a bit of trouble, could you come out and help me please?”

“Are you okay? What’s happened?!” he asks in a panic as you hear him running through the house to the front door.

“It’s nothing bad, don’t worry! I just slipped off the curb and I’ve done something to my ankle. I tried to make it home but the pain is far too bad now, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! Oh, I see you, hang on.”

He ends the call and comes running towards you down the street, his hair bouncing with each long stride he takes, and when he reaches you he’s quick to get down on the ground and inspect your injured leg.

“Ouch!” you hiss as he feels around the ankle, “bloody hell that hurts.”

“Oh sweetheart, what did you do? It’s already swelling up.”

“I don’t know, it just sort of fell off the curb then went sideways and it just really really hurts now,” you wince.

“Right, stay there then and I’ll run down with the shopping bags then come back for you.”

“Come back for-? What?!”

He’s already got the bags in hand by the time you question what he’s saying then he soon disappears down the street to put the bags in the kitchen before returning with a sympathetic smile gracing his lips.

“Come on you, let’s get you home,” he says, scooping you up into his arms as you let out a squeal.

“Gwilym! Put me down! I’m too heavy and if you drop me it’s going to be more than my ankle that hurts!” you protest, automatically wrapping your arms around his neck to make sure you didn’t fall forwards onto the floor.

“Stop squirming and I won’t drop you!” he laughs.

“You’re going to throw your back out.”

“The only thing I’m throwing is you on the sofa when we get inside,” he smiles slyly.

Thankfully you don’t encounter any of your neighbours on the way home and Gwil shuffles you both sideways through the front door before kicking it shut and heading straight for the living room where he gently lowers you down onto the couch, and after giving you a swift kiss he goes off to find some painkillers and grab you a glass of water.

“Here you go,” he offers the pills with an open hand then passes you the water.

“Thanks,” you say, a little embarrassed at what had happened.

“Rest up for the remainder of today then we’ll see how it is in the morning and whether you should get it checked over by the doctor,” Gwil states, already having the plan set in his mind, “can I get you anything?”

“A cuddle would be quite nice...”

He chuckles as he walks towards the sofa with a nod then you sit up to allow him to settle in behind you before he wraps his arms around your waist and helps you up onto his lap with your good leg giving you a boost against the cushion it’s laying on. You nestle your head into the crook of his neck with a content sigh while his fingers stroke your arms lightly as he rests his head on yours and closes his eyes to savour the moment. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you and as you think about how lucky you are to have him, your arms automatically tighten around his back to hold him that little bit closer.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.

“Mhmm,” you hum happily.

“How’s your ankle feeling?”

“In constant pain but I couldn’t care less right now.”

“I should get you some frozen peas to put on it and help with the swelling,” he worries, his eyes darting to the other end of the sofa where your enlarged ankle rests.

“Just five more minutes like this,” you plead, “please?”

“Five more minutes,” he agrees, his body relaxing beneath you.

As soon as the five minutes are up Gwilym is quick to help you back onto the sofa and grab a bag of frozen peas to lay over your ankle with a tea towel protecting your skin, and you get a cushion to prop your head up as you lay there feeling completely helpless.

“I’m going to go upstairs and do a bit of work, will you be alright?” he checks.

“Of course I will, you go do what you need to and I’ll shout if I need anything.”

“Okay,” he nods, then kisses your forehead before disappearing upstairs.

You let out a puff of air to move some stray strands of hair from your face then you look around you to see what’s within reach, and stretch your arm out towards the coffee table so you can pick up the TV remote to try and find something to watch while you keep your leg still. With it being a weekend you were surprised at the lack of decent shows or films to watch, so quickly switch the telly off and push the remote back onto the table, now trying to grab your phone instead which was a little further away.

“Oh come on,” you groan as you get nearer to the edge of the couch, “shit!”

There’s a dull thud as your top half lands on the carpet and your injured leg stays stuck straight up in the air for fear of hurting it any more, then Gwilym comes running into the room panting from the dash down the stairs at your shout and the sound of you obviously not resting your ankle. He shakes his head as he sees you now wedged between the sofa and the coffee table with a very shameful look on your face and he puts his hands on his hips with a scoff, completely at a loss at what to do with you.

“So this is what they call resting up, huh?” he asks with an accusing eyebrow raise.

“I was just getting my phone...”

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes can I?” he says with a roll of his eyes, “right, stay where you are.”

He moves the coffee table away from your side and you prop yourself up on your elbows so he can slide his arms underneath yours and lift you back up onto the sofa, then he rearranges the frozen bag of peas and pushes the table right up against the couch to prevent any further accidents.

“That’s so you don’t fall off again, and to stop you from even attempting to get up,” he frowns, “actually, I might bring my laptop down here so I can keep an eye on you.”

“No! You don’t have to bring that down here, just… how about I come up and lay on the bed? Then I’ll only be in the next room.”

“And how are you going to get up the stairs?”

“Hop.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“That’s why you love me,” you grin, wrapping the peas in the tea towel and lifting it off of your ankle.

Gwilym wasn’t entirely happy with your suggestion but at least you would only be a few feet away and he could quickly pop his head around the doorway to check you were behaving.

“Come on then,” he relents, pulling the table away once more.

You sit up first then put all your weight on your good foot as Gwil holds his hands out for you to take and steady yourself with, and you get up off of the sofa in one swift movement with only a slight wobble. You give him a smile but he’s still not sure how you’ll tackle the stairs and as you hop towards them you realise you’d been a little over optimistic with the thought of hopping up them.

“Ah,” you grimace, “okay, bum it is then.”

You move around so your back is facing the stairs then he helps you sit on a step before you use your arms to push you up onto the next one with your good leg giving you a strong boost from the floor. Gwilym can’t help but laugh at the sight of you bouncing from step to step on your buttocks and he has to get his phone out so he can replay this moment over and over much to your annoyance, so you try and hide your face by letting your hair fall in front of it.

“Little help please,” you grumble from beneath your locks.

He slips his phone back into his pocket then helps you stand when you finally get to the landing, and within a few hops you’re finally falling onto the bed with an exasperated sigh after all of your hard work getting there.

“I’m not moving until tomorrow now,” you exhale deeply.

“Well that suits me fine!” he chuckles, “you need to rest your leg!”

He places the cold tea towel onto your ankle after you get under the covers then as he backs out of the room he points his forefinger and middle finger to his eyes then to yours to let you know he was going to be watching you, and you narrow your eyes playfully at him before he blows a kiss your way which you immediately return. Maybe resting up for a day or two with Gwilym looking after you wasn’t the inconvenience you’d feared it would be after all.

I was wondering if you’d write a lil something about Gwil taking care of injured!reader with lots of cuteness and fluff.

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn @godohammers @timeandpixiedust @lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @the-baby-bookworm @chlobo6