#ive had too much angst in one sitting with dr who i need some fluff and humor to keep me going

[thekingofspin]

when your stressed and sad do you ever just think "I'm due a ____ phase again" like I'm due a night at the museum phase again I was so happy back then and I need the stress relief right now

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 16

<- Part 15 | Part 17 ->

Summary: A flirtatious moment in the hospital garden turns sour. 

Warnings: Brief nsfw themes, injury-recovery angst, post-traumatic stress/flashbacks, graphic past injuries, KISSING, hurt/comfort. Love and fluff. 

3,700 words

After being gutted left him with a limp, a cane, and an overbearing sense of weakness, Frederick Chilton began copying Hannibal Lecter. His patterned suits, his clean-shaven face. The mimicry wasn’t deliberate exactly, but he looked to a man who radiated calm dignity and strength, and tried to capture some of it for his own.

It didn’t work. Frederick Chilton was still Frederick Chilton.

But shaving the beard did make him look younger. The razor glided over his smooth cheek as he cut through the facial hair that had grown unruly in the hospital. A new man stared back at him. One not traumatized by Gideon’s knife.

Only a few months later, he was shot in the face, and let the stubble grow back to distract from the scar. To obscure the hollowing where maxillary bone was missing. Like a chameleon, Frederick was always changing—hairstyles, wardrobes, colognes—always imitating someone, drawing the eye away from a flaw, never comfortable with himself. Ever improving. Refining. Hiding.

Every day, the burn ward’s physical therapists had him using one exercise machine or another. A pedaling machine lowered over his bed so he could build muscle while lying on his back before he was able to walk. The next step was a tall, rolling frame that he strapped into like a fighter pilot hanging from a parachute harness, which allowed him to take a few weightless steps. His legs shook. His feet did not know how to align themselves on the ground anymore. He hissed curses when you cheered him on just for shuffling one foot forward along the smooth grey linoleum.

One damned foot.

As if he couldn’t walk before. As if one shaking, machine-assisted step was an accomplishment. He was an overgrown baby in a Jumperoo.

While he could not walk on his own yet, he could get into and out of a wheelchair without screaming bloody murder. This allowed him a new level of freedom, if not autonomy. He still required two nurses to lower him into the chair. Still needed help getting to the bathroom. But he could at least use the bathroom instead of a bedpan and catheter.

Healing came at a cost.

Until now, he had caught flashes of his reflection in polished surfaces. Warped teeth in a metal IV pole. The fuzzy silhouette of a mask in the black of his computer screen.

He stood with his hands on the bathroom sink, staring. The nurse at his left elbow tugged him, told him it was time to sit back down in the chair. He needed support to stand, a babysitter to ensure he didn’t fall, and she was tired of waiting.

The thing staring back at him did not move.

When he took the compression mask off for the one hour per day he was allowed to remove it for cleaning, he somehow expected to find his own face beneath it. Skin. What he saw was a stranger. Gnarled scars made an uneven backdrop for one dead blue eye and a skeletal grimace. His own bones were buried somewhere underneath like bedrock, but the flesh was rearranged and distorted.

If he had met this man a year ago, Dr. Chilton would have felt inward pride at his ability not to sicken at the sight. He would have shaken his hand with a smug, professional detachment that said, “I am accustomed to horrific things in my line of work—abnormal psychiatry. This does not shock me as it would a layperson.”

He was a creature to be pitied.

Then a familiar reflection appeared out of the blind spot of his left side. Your image wrapped its hand behind the broken stranger, and he felt it land on his lower back. Warm. Comforting as your face, which was knit with worry. You told the nurse you could handle it from here, and she retreated out to his room.

When she was gone, Frederick began to laugh, dark and cruel, eyes never leaving the matching set staring cruelly back.

“What is it?” you asked, tightening your grip on his arm as he began to tremble.

“Do you think I look younger without a beard?”

The laugh cracked in his throat. His shoulders heaved as he finally looked away. It was too embarrassing to watch a grown man cry.

***

The heat of July was not easy on a body that could no longer sweat and was covered head to toe in a compression suit, but Frederick Chilton was thrilled to be outside. As the automatic sliding doors opened, he breathed in deeply through the nose and exhaled the spinning summer fragrances with a blissful sigh.

You resisted the urge to tease him. Of the pair, you were the more outdoorsy by far, and the last time you dragged him camping, he’d managed to complain the entire two days. He was not, generally, one to appreciate sunshine and birdsong. But this was different.

It was his first time away from the lifeless hospital air—the same smells day after day—in four months.

Now a breeze hit his face—a breeze! He had forgotten what that felt like—and brought with it the smell of cut grass and flowers, and exhaust fumes from the nearby roadways. The scent of gasoline urged his stomach to wring itself empty, but it was faint and easy enough to shake off as sparrows chirped and flitted about the hospital’s “meditation garden.”

Gently curving paths snaked through the landscaping of lush greenery and small trees. Few flowers were planted, out of respect for patients with allergies, but a fountain at the center babbled soothingly. The walkways were wide and smoothly paved, so the grey wheels of the hospital-issue wheelchair rolled over them easily, performing their function despite being over-worked and worn down, not unlike the staff. The black rubber handle grips had a dull patina from hundreds of hands, yours being the latest to circle around them as you pushed.

It was nice to have a private courtyard to enjoy the fresh air without the eyes of the general public watching.

Frederick was able to wear clothes from home now, but they had to be loose-fitting and short-sleeved to not interfere with his treatment. In a navy polo shirt and athletic shorts, he felt horrifically under-dressed, and did not want to be seen that way. The fashion crime was almost as bad as the face he could not bear looking at.

An elderly patient and what appeared to be her adult daughter sat on one of the benches between two daylily patches, blooming garishly cheerful red and gold. The daughter looked up, and Chilton looked away.

“You are certain you checked the bedroom closet? Left-hand side, second drawer to the bottom?” he asked again, agitation rising.

He was looking for the more fashionable Chino shorts he rarely wore, preferring to overheat in long pants than expose his pale, door-knob knees to imagined ridicule. You told him the housekeeper must have misplaced them.

He clenched his fist as tightly as the pink, shiny-scarred claw could manage and went on a gruff, impotent rant about the help growing careless without him to keep them in check. (If anything, the “help” were desperate to keep you in check without him there to manage your habit of leaving everything out—your clothes on a chair, the cereal box on the counter.)

“I know, I know. Awful,” you nodded along to the music of his words, if not the lyrics. You wished he would change the subject, but he pressed on with his investigation of the Case of the Missing Shorts.

“Mrs. Pérez brought a load of laundry down from the bedroom last Wednesday,” he noted. Frederick had taken to watching the security feeds remotely from his laptop. “Has she been using the cheap dry cleaner on Cherry Street instead of the good one so she can skim the difference? I have explicitly instructed the staff not to use them—they have lost or ruined several articles over the years. Inform Mrs. Pérez that I will not stand for lazy—what?”

Your tense smile began emanating a tenser whine.

It was rather suspicious.

Frederick watched you for a moment, puzzled, and then resumed, “The new security guard shares my pant size. Perhaps—”

“I DID IT. I brought them to Good Will.”

“You what?!”

Clicking the wheelchair brake, you doubled over the back of it, laughing at your childish ruse and how seriously Frederick had taken it. God, the man could never let anything go! “Over a year ago! You never wore them!”

“Come here.” His clipped tone did not invite argument.

You walked around to the front of his chair, the repentant pout on your face strongly undermined by rounded cheeks that were barely holding back a chuckle.

He growled with affectionate anger—the kind where he wanted to grab behind your knees and pull you into his lap, telling you with a low purr exactly how much trouble you were in. Except at the moment, your weight crashing onto his skinny, bony lap would have bruised a femur and torn five stitches. And if he was not confident enough for a kiss, he was in no condition to promise punishments of that nature.

So he gave your rump a sharp smack and tried to make his mouth smirk in that playfully disdainful way that said, “I love you, but I am going to kill you. You know that, right?” Sometimes wanting to kill someone can be such a personal, intimate love language.

“Doctor Chilton!” you gasped, feigning shock. “Such a naughty patient. I have told you time and again, this is simply unprofessional.”

The old woman and daughter had moved on, leaving you alone in the garden.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, catching on to the new game you were playing. Back when he was the administrator of the BSHCI, you would often saunter into his office playing the oversexed patient to his sleazy therapist. Now the roles were reversed.

“You protest,” he said in a low, lecherous tone, “and yet you continue to lavish extra attention on me. Do not think I have not noticed.”

“I don’t know what you could mean,” you deflected coyly. “Please keep your hands to yourself, sir.”

He grabbed your hand and spun you to face him, skeletal fingers interlocking with yours. Even through the compression glove, you could feel how skinny they had become, knobby knuckles protruding.

“Doctor,” he corrected.

You swallowed. “Doctor.”

“Why deny it? You guard all my treatments for yourself like a prize when other nurses could do it. You crawl into my bed to warm me with your body heat—hardly standard practice. I think you like the attention,” he said, giving your ass another lurid slap.

“D-Doctor! I’m not supposed to—we’re not supposed to…”

“If you worked at my hospital, I would fire you for such fraternization. Yet you call me unprofessional.” His hand still rested on your ass.

“You would fire me, doctor? Why fire me when there is so much I could offer?”

“And what is it you would offer me?” he asked, voice thick with meaning. His fingers kneaded the fat of your ass gently. It would have been harder, more possessive, if his hands were at full strength.

Not long ago, getting an erection had been painful, though he’d had several corrective surgeries since then, and the grafting had time to heal. Perhaps the sunlight was sparking him back to life. He was in a flirtatious mood—more excited than you’d seen him in a long time, and you were not about to tell him to slow down.

“Anything you want, doctor.” You lowered yourself in front of his chair, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him expectantly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

No one else was in the garden, and statues and shrubberies hid it from the road, but it was not entirely private. Anyone could walk in or see from a window of the tall buildings. You were just pretending. You weren’t going to slip his cock out right there and suck it for all the world to see. And yet… it had been so long. The thought of your moist lips closing over his lonely, aching hardness, your head bobbing in his lap…

“You… are fascinated with me, nurse,” he observed, licking his non-lips. His composure was holding, but barely. “You have seen many patients, but never one as badly burned, have you?”

“No.”

“Does it excite you?”

You took a moment before answering. Part of him resented you for still finding him attractive. At his lowest, he even blamed you for wanting these brutal injuries to happen. A bird sang a few metallic notes on a nearby branch before fluttering down to drink from the fountain. You stroked the top of his narrow thighs, careful not to push too far by going near his cock, but he showed no sign of hesitation today. The heat in his eyes as he watched you was not accusing, but hungry.

“Yes,” you panted. “You are striking. I��ve never met anyone so strong, so resilient.”

“Do you dream of kissing me? Your most striking patient?”

“Yes.”

The sun beat down hotter, but it was only your own internal temperature rising. The birds seemed to pause in their songs, and the leaves on the trees ceased to flutter.

You had waited so long—was he really asking?

His gloved hand reached down between his legs, and nailless pink fingertips stroked the side of your face thoughtfully a few times. Then he motioned you to get up off your knees, offering his hand as a symbolic gesture only. You put some of your weight on the padded rubber armrest as you stood.

“It will not be pleasant. For either party, I imagine,” he said, breaking character.

“It will be for me.” Your voice was soft.

“I do not know what to do like this. Mash my teeth against your face?”

You laughed a little. It was probably more nuanced than that, but that sounded basically accurate. “We’ll find out together.”

He looked off into the distance, toward the humming road weaving through the city. A warm breeze brought the smell of sea off the harbor: salty, humid, and stagnant with rotted fish and garbage. “The memory of your lips against mine is already fading,” he said. “That memory is all I have left of them. Whatever this will be, it will not feel the same.”

“I know.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. The dark blue polo was informal for his old life, but the woven cotton texture was rich compared to the thin hospital gowns you were used to him wearing. The last kiss you shared with Frederick was preserved behind a glass display case in your memory palace. A new kiss might break the hermetic seal. You could forget what it felt like to kiss him before. But it seemed worth the price to build new memories—a future just as full of love as the past.

He looked up at you like a broken ceramic being pieced back together with gold. His eyes shone with love, but his shoulders were slumped low.

“You may say I’m a slutty nurse for wanting to kiss my patient, but you’re to blame!” you said, playing the game again. “How could I resist your charm? I bet you seduce every nurse—I’m only your latest conquest!”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“No, my dear,” he purred, grabbing your arm and pulling you down to him until your face was inches from his. “Only you. I only want you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathed in. He nodded.

You leaned the final inch down, and pressed your lips to his teeth.

The Red Dragon’s teeth sunk through flesh and tore deep. Coppery blood flooded his mouth, the taste so metallic and strong it drowned out almost everything else out—the pain, the unnatural tearing, little pops of veins, ligaments, and muscles stretching to their limits before giving up, his own screams. The truth of his face with all its illusions of grandeur was revealed before him: it was just meat. Nothing but raw, shredded meat.

“NO!” he screamed, and pushed you hard.

It was different than the peevish denials other times you’d tried to kiss. He pushed you away with so much force you staggered backward, and his wheelchair nearly tipped over. It reared on two wheels like a panicked horse and would have fallen except the worn brake gave way, and he shot backward several feet until the vacant bench stopped the chair’s momentum.

“No, no! Get away! No!” he begged no one, shaking and thrashing so violently he risked ripping his healing scars.

His back, legs, and arms were glued to the wheelchair, and he couldn’t escape. No—could have if he were desperate enough, strong enough. But he was terrified of ripping his skin off. The thought made him break out in a cold sweat and made it difficult to think straight. Dear god, he was afraid something happened to his back. Of being disfigured again.

He was afraid to die, but he dreaded even more the thought of surviving yet again to find another piece taken from him.

Not another. Not again.

If he cooperated, he had to be spared this time. He would cooperate. Do everything The Red Dragon said, and fate would be merciful. He had to go home. He had to go home. To see you again. It was not fair that he survived two attempts on his life only to die here. It was not fair! He was going to get married to the love of his life. Things were finally going right. The Dragon’s shadow fell over him. The acrid stench of his breath as he leaned down toward Frederick’s mouth—

“Frederick!”

You ran after him and tried to restrain him before he climbed out of the wheelchair and fell to the pavement, but it only made him struggle harder. Fuck. You weren’t sure if touching him again was a good idea, but you didn’t know what else to do. He was going to hurt himself.

“Shh, I’m here.”

Crouching next to him, you tried to keep him seated, murmuring soft, reassuring words. Eventually, he stopped thrashing to escape, his jerking limbs resigning themselves to passive trembling. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see you. They didn’t see anything but a dark room with a flickering projector.

You laid your head on his lap. “I’m right here. It’s OK. You’re safe, Frederick. You’re safe. Shh, shh...”

It took several minutes, but his breathing began to slow, and he began to calm down. His fingers found your hair and stroked it, mindlessly running over the contour of your scalp. Familiarity. Recognizing you, he grasped at your shirt to draw you closer, clutching you like a teddy bear to his chest. It was an awkward angle, but you shifted so your butt was partially supported by the bench he’d crashed into, and used the chair’s armrest to hold yourself in the bent position. Frankly, even if every muscle in your body cramped up, you weren’t going to leave him as long as he needed to hold onto you.

Finally, he whimpered your name and asked what happened.

“I… kissed you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

He sniffed and wiped his face, which he discovered was soaked with tears, and looked off into the trees. You sat back onto the bench, straightening your crooked spine, but keeping a firm hold on his hand, staying close as he returned to reality. He would be embarrassed. Add this to the growing list of Ways Frederick Chilton is Broken and Useless. But for now, the humiliation was dulled by the fact that he was not in that room again, with the projector flickering. You stayed that way for a while, sitting in the dappled shade of the garden and the warm breeze, the fountain burbling a constant, relaxing, tuneless song.

“The last man to bring his lips to mine bit them off.”

“I’m so sorry, Frederick. I shouldn’t have been so stupid...”

He squeezed your hand. Straightened up in his chair. “I heard the FBI has the video. Have you watched it?”

You shook your head, then quickly added, “No,” aloud, knowing his vision was poor and still focused on the tree branches swaying and morphing in the wind. Jack Crawford had offered, but you didn’t want to see it. You couldn’t bear to.

It had been hard enough hearing him describe how Francis Dolarhyde glued him naked to his grandmother’s wheelchair and made him watch macabre home movies of the families he had slaughtered. His voice was too calm, too distant from the memory as he dictated graphic details for the Journal of Psychology, desperate to tell his story, grab his fame before he died.

You should have known how your mouth coming at his would make him feel. You were so caught up in your romantic imaginings, you forgot how kiss-like that moment of horror must have been, just before the pain.

The nightmare his life had been for months already, and would continue to be. The scar tissue that wouldn’t fully mature for two years. Two years wearing a compression suit to help them heal. Years of follow-up procedures so that he can continue to move. To breathe. To hear. Longer until he could get a new face. His entire life altered forever.

It started with a kiss.

“We don’t have to kiss. I should never have pushed you to,” you apologized, wincing preemptively.

You expected him to be angry. To sarcastically tell you, “Now you decide we don’t have to? Now that it is too late? What fine timing.”

“I am not weak,” he bristled instead, but his agitation only spanned the length of a breath. He squeezed your hand softly, and pulled you halfway into his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and back. “I did not think that would happen either,” he spoke comfortingly into your hair. “Attempting it for the first time in a wheelchair was a mistake. I should have been more aware of that, but I grow tired of not being able to show my affection. You are not the only one impatient for my recovery, darling. I want to try again.”

“Now?” You pulled back, widening your eyes at him.

“No,” he said plainly. “I think not.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

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[eloquent-vowel]

Part 4 "Type of" Bucky x OFC (#043)

Description: After two years of upgrades, #043 is finally woken up permanently. Just in time for her fight with the Winter Soldier.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy the first meeting between #043 and the Winter Soldier. <3

Part 3

The lights were bright. Too bright, the ceiling was blindingly white and it burned. The light burned. Her eyes were dry, so dry, blinking hurt but having her eyes open hurt.

Everything was loud, not everything, some things were quiet, the things that were loud were meant to be quiet. The buzzing of the air conditioner, the static sound of electricity, footsteps that sounded close but felt far away. It was overwhelming but she couldn't speak, there was something in her mouth.

A high pitched whine filled her ears, they began to ring, louder and louder, until it drowned out the buzzing.

"#043, you have finally woken up."

The ringing in her ears ceased and she could now hear the chatter in the room. A face blocked the light from her eyes, a familiar one.

"It is likely you don't remember but you have been up before." Dr. Leeb began to fiddle with some restraints on her wrists. "We had to wake you up to test if the enhancements worked. It may have taken two years but I believe we have made the latest breakthrough in mechanical enhancements."

#043 was finally able to sit up, disorientated and confused. She had never seen the room she was in yet it felt familiar. White walls and medical equipment surrounded her, there were a couple of men in white coats chatting by the door.

"You are a stunning success #043, almost enough to atone for your previous mistakes." Dr. Leeb undid the restraints on her ankles, as #043 sat up to face him. "Now I want you to do something for me. Listen to the men over there." He pointed to the men in lab coats. "You can't hear them now but perhaps if you just focused, you may be able to."

#043 didn't quite know what focusing your hearing felt like but she did was Dr. Leeb said and focused. Her ear began to burn slightly as she focused in but eventually she could hear the two men talking as clear as day.

"... chip in the Occipital and Frontal lobes, replacement of the Stapes, enhanced prosthetics and enhanced senses, what type of monster is..."

#043 tuned out, before nodding at Dr. Leeb.

"What were they talking about, dear?"

"Me." She paused before staring right at the Doctor. "What did you do to me?"

"We have simply made you better now! Enhanced sight and hearing. I upgraded you prosthetics to fit your fully grown form and added some extra bonuses in them! #043, click your heels together."

#043 slowly stood up from the bed, Dr. Leeb seemed much smaller than she remembered. Her knees almost gave out when she put her full weight on them but she caught herself on the IV pole beside her.

"We haven't got all day!"

Struggling, #043 balanced herself the clicked her heels together. There was a slight hissing noise and two small blades perturbed from her feet, from the heel on her left leg and the toe of the right. She clicked her heels again and they retracted.

"Brilliant aren't they. Come on now, its time for you to get used to these new legs and then it is time for you to fully atone."

Although he wasn't mentioned by name #043 knew that her atonement was in the hands of The Winter Soldier.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Soldier stood on the edge of the fighting ring. It was a large concrete circle with walls built up around it, high enough to prevent escape but low enough to allow scientists to stare at him from above. He knew little of why he was here, other than to fight yet another contender. He was tired, tired of the endless fighting, he always won in the end and those who would lose to him would be taken away for more enhancements or to be disposed of.

For this fight, however, there was a palpable tension in the air as the men above him whispered to each other. He was unarmed, except for a small knife which he was currently flipping between his hands. He was unsure how long it had been, how long he had been waiting for but just has the knife in his hands flipped at the fastest it could the doors on the other side of the chamber opened.

The doors parted to reveal a tall figure, probably as tall as him. She was dressed in a similar fashion to him, black vest and her hair pushed out of her face. The Soldier analysed his opponent. She rivalled him in stature, and her eyes were just as sharp as his as he saw her sizing him up as well.

His eyes flicked down to her legs, he felt his arm whirr slightly as he recognised the same mechanics used in both her legs. They were made of interlocking metal parts that glinted in the florescent lights, with every step she took there was a slight whirring as the metallic joints folded over each other.. Her right leg still had her own knee and was made of metal from there down in contrast her left has an artificial knee joint that clacked slightly when she straightened it, the metal plates going far enough up to just brush her hip.

He walked towards her until they met in the middle. He was right, she was the same height as him and almost as broad. Once she was closer to him, he saw that her shoulder's were littered with scars. They were uniform and regular in their placement, perhaps they were a weak spot of hers? He followed her arms down to see the knuckle dusters clasped in her fists. He looked down at his small knife, this was to be a game of wits as well as strength.

All in all he saw her as a threat, he knew he would have to avoid her legs. Now that she was close enough he looked right into her eyes. They were empty. While her eyes moved over him in a clearly assessing way there was nothing behind them. She was devoid of emotion, his heart beat loudly in his ears as he felt pity. Pity and sympathy. A voice came over the intercom

"#043 meet the Winter Soldier, Soldier meet #043."

They nodded at one another.

"#043, you are to defeat the Winter Soldier. This is the only way you may become Eris. Make me proud, my dear, destroy him."

The Soldier looked as the empty eyes of #043 turned from emotionless to anger, she gave no warning before she attacked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't personal, the Soldier was just a target. #043 thought as she launched forwards. Despite not remembering the past two years her movements were the same as always. Chaotic and destructive. She felt her arms moving before her brain and watched as the Soldier jumped to block her.

The two super soldiers battered at each other. #043 felt her arm getting bruised each time she countered the metallic arm. She stared into the eyes of the soldier and he stared back each trying to predict the others moves. They danced around each other. Exchanging pummel after pummel, the brass knuckles caught the Soldier's temple, tearing it. In retort the knife caught #043's cheek. Blood flowed down her cheekbone and she paused.

The Soldier paused too.

They stood for a moment, fists still raised, eyes still locked. There was a hint of recognition that passed between them. A familiarity of shared experience, a moment of finding someone who could finally understand.

"Do I need to remind you what will happen if you lose this #043."

It was enough for #043 to be spurred into action once more. The Soldier was immediately back on the defensive as she attacked him continuously. He couldn't predict a pattern in her blows. She seemed to move with no thought, no direction other than to harm. Her legs kicked out with shattering force and he soon learned it was better to dodge than block. She was unrelenting, while his body was not as tired as hers his mind was beginning to lag. He had to focus, he had no time to switch to the offensive. He had to wait, to wait for her to get tired, for her to slip up.

She punched, he parried. She kicked to his chest, he sidestepped, His eyes narrowed. She was going to kick, with her left, no RIGHT. A deafening clang rang out as he blocked her leg with his arm. Her foot was an inch away from his head. They were both breathing heavily, neither of them having fought someone as similar to the other. Once more their eyes met, the Soldier hesitated- under all the anger and hatred in her eyes was a desperation- fear. She was scared. Not of him. Of consequence, of losing.

She began to push against his arm. The scrape of metal against metal sent shiver's down #043's spine. But she kept pushing, she couldn't lose, she refused to. She grunted out at the effort it took to break the Soldier's guard. She gritted her teeth, she felt his arm give way, she relaxed and was swiftly thrown off balance by the Soldier throwing her leg away. He took the opportunity to run at her.

She was now on the defensive. Using her arms to block in coming knife swipes. Using her legs to parry his own kicks. She tried to get a jab in. Only to have the knife slash across her knuckles, causing her to drop on of her brass knuckles. They clanged against the floor, forgotten as she had to double her efforts to concentrate. She ignored the shooting pain over her hand and continued to block punch after punch.

#043 was tiring. She knew this. He knew it. She felt him doubling his efforts to trap her. Sweat was dripping down her brow. Her usual ability to predict her opponents movements was gone, her brain too focused on surviving. The Soldier drew closer. She blocked a final jab with the knife but he grabbed her. He grabbed her wrists and twisted. She dropped the other brass knuckle. He pulled her close, twisted so that her back was to his chest, and placed his metal arm around her throat. He squeezed.

"Yield." His voice was quiet in her ear, low enough so that Dr. Leeb would not hear.

She struggled, clawing at his arm. She thought of Dr. Leeb, of the chair, of consequences. Black spots began to dance around her vision. She would not go out like this. She focused on her left leg. The chip in her brain that lead directly to her left leg. She really did not want to be disposed of.

Dr. Leeb watched with barely veiled excitement as #043 let out a guttural scream. He watched as her left leg began to twist, it rotated against her skin until it was facing backwards, the foot facing the Winter Soldier. The leg reared back, unnoticed and kicked. Dr. Leeb laughed as that single kick dislocated the soldier's knee. The Soldier loosened his grip and she escaped. They faced each other once again.

The ache in her leg was almost impossible to ignore as it twisted back to the right place. Much to her annoyance the soldier was still standing. They were both breathless, bloody and bruised.

The Soldier grimaced before snapping his knee back into place, he had given enough for it to be considered a fair fight. It was time to end this fight.

They both moved at once. Their dance resumed. This time they were both switching from attacking and defending every other hit. #043 began to launch a series of kicks. The Soldier kept deflecting them. She knew she was becoming predictable but every inch of her hurt. Her knuckles were bleeding. Spraying red droplets everywhere as she continued to punch. In desperation she began to launch a final switch kick. It felt obvious, she saw the soldier's eyes flick to her feet. He knew what she was going to do. It was too late to change. She launched her right leg towards the Solder's temple. He raised his arm.

There was a thud as the Soldier hit the floor. Unconscious.

#043 blinked. He had seen it coming. He had raised to block it. Had he been tired? Was he too slow? Her win felt wrong. She stood frozen over his form. She had won. She was Free. She was Eris. So why wasn't she happy?

"What type of monster have you created Dr. Leeb?"

Dr. Leeb turned to face the General, a joyous smile on his face.

"I have created an unstoppable tide of chaos, General. I have created Eris."

Part 5

[mgg-theprettiestboy]

beauty and the beast (part 2)

spencer reid x fem!reader

fluff and a lil angst

in which spencer is the now angry one out of the pair, because she got hurt

warnings: usual criminal minds violence, hospitals, gunshot wound, mentions of blood, etc

Y/N groaned as her eyes opened. Her vision was fuzzy, and no matter how much she blinked, it wouldn’t clear.

“Agent Y/L/N? Can you hear me?” All she could do was groan in response. Words didn’t seem to want to come out of her mouth, and all she could feel was pain, everywhere. Her whole body ached. And the way she was jolting around wasn’t helping.

“Y/N? Come on baby, keep your eyes open,” Derek’s voice came from the other side of her. She could vaguely him out, her vision still blurring, and someone else on the other side of her.

“We need to get her into surgery straight away, the bullet might have hit a vital organ, and she’s losing a lot of blood. Keep pressure on her wound, Agent Morgan,” the voice ordered, and Y/N could see Derek nod, before he grumbled under his breath, “man... Reid is gonna kill me.”

an hour later

“Morgan! Where is she, tell me she’s okay?!” Spencer’s frantic voice came from the hospital hallway. Derek looked up from his phone to see the rest of the team pile into the waiting room behind Spencer. The genius’ hair was sticking in every differen direction, and his eyes were ablaze, with a fire that Morgan knew was directed at him.

“She just got out of surgery. The doctor said he would come to me with any updates,” Derek said, raising his hands in surrender, “let me explain—“

“Explain?! You think I wanna hear–“ Reid began to snap, but Hotch interrupted him with a scolding tone, “Reid. Calm down.”

Spencer quietened himself as Derek began to speak, “she had her vest on, I swear. I didn’t see what happened. I took two cops to the front door, and she took the other two around the back. Next thing I know, bullets go flying and someone’s calling for an EMT over the radio, that there’s an agent down. By the time I reached her, the unsub was dead as she was down. Two bullets. One to the arm, the other to the chest. The unsub had good aim, and when Y/N lifted her gun, her vest shifted and he shot her.”

The team jumped in surprise as a loud thump echoed through the room. They turned to the source of the sound, which was Spencer’s fist against a vending machine.

“Reid,” Emily said calmingly as he turned to face away from the group, shaking his head. It only lasted a second, though, because he then turned to face Derek, “why weren’t you with her? You-you should’ve stayed with her.”

“It’s protocol for at least one agent to enter through each entrance, you know that Reid. I didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I know you’re mad, but she’s going to be okay,” Derek tried to reason with the angry doctor, who just kept shaking his head.

“Agent Morgan?” A nurse peaked her head through the door, gaining everyone’s attention, “oh, I presume you’re all here for Miss Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N,” Spencer grumbled, and the nurse smiled apologetically, “my apologies. Agent Y/L/N is out of surgery. It went well. She should be awake any minute now, and I’ll tell you when she is.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nodded, looking to Reid after the nurse left. He just shook his head, as the whole team made themselves comfortable in the waiting room. Derek’s eyes were on Spencer as he watched the doctor sit in the chair nearest the door, his leg bouncing as his eyes stayed on the floor. He moved to sit beside him, before sighing deeply, “I said I’m sorry, Reid. I don't know what else you want from me. I was only doing my job, and I did nothing wrong.”

Spencer let out a shaky sigh, his voice quivering as he spoke, “I can't lose her. We were so far out, and when we got the call that she got shot, the whole drive I had to imagine what would happen if she didn’t make it. And that's not a world I would ever want to live in.”

“But she’s okay,” Derek reassured him, and Spencer sniffled slightly as he nodded, “yeah. Yeah, she’s okay.”

“Agent Morgan? Agent Y/L/N is awake and asking for you. She’s also a little bit...uh...” the nurse said from the door way, and Derek sighed, “hostile? Yeah, that’s Y/N alright.”

The team all stood and made their way to Y/N’s room, where a nurse was scolding her as she reset her IV, “you can’t just yank this out of your arm.”

“Listen, the surgery went well, I’m fine now, I just want to go home, lady. I hate the hospital with a passion. No offence,” Y/N whined, before perking up as she saw Derek, “Morgan! You’re okay!”

“Yeah, I’m okay pretty girl. How you feeling?” He chuckled, smiling as she grumbled, “like I got shot. Twice. Now my arm is gonna hurt like a bitch every time I gotta wipe my ass.”

“Just... use the other hand?” Derek suggested, unable to figure out if she was high on painkillers, or was being herself. She smiled slightly as the rest of the team looked on, “you guys look so gloomy, like I’m on my deathbed. The wounds were minor, no major arteries or organs were damaged.”

“We were worried. I was worried,” Spencer said softly, going to stand beside her bed. Her smile widened, and her fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to take his hand, “I’m fine, Spence.”

“The fact that you’re in the hospital right know instantly eliminates you from the term ‘fine’,” he said, moving to sit in the chair beside the bed, “and the two bullet wounds agree with me.”

“You’re insufferable,” she quipped, to which Spencer replied with a smile, “you love me.”

She smiled softly, before pointing accusingly at him, “you’re lucky I do.”

An awkward silence was quick to fall over the room, before Hotch cleared his throat, “well, you obviously can’t fly back, and you’re not going to be able to drive, so–“

“I got it,” Spencer said, shushing Y/N as she began to protest, “this is me paying you back for taking me home after I got abused by a baseball bat and a psychopath.”

She huffed, watching Hotch toss Spencer the keys. Derek folded his arms, “I’m gonna stick around for a while.”

Y/N knew Morgan felt guilty for what happened, even though it wasn’t his fault. But his hero complex made him believe that it was his fault. That it was his job to save her. She raised a brow at him, before sighing, “no way, get your ass home. It’s bad enough I got stuck with a babysitter with a PHD, I can’t get stuck with you too.”

Derek’s lips quirked into a smile, “he’s got three.”

Spencer smiled as Y/N just flipped him off, “shush, I’ve been shot, which means I’m always right. I mean, I’m always right anyways. Just go home, Derek. I got Dr. Reid here, he’ll take good care of me.”

Derek looked between Y/N and Reid, trying not to smirk at the blush on Reid’s face. He sighed, pretending to begrudgingly agree, “fine. But you text me when you get discharged, and when you get home. I’ll bring you some groceries or something.”

“Thanks, Morgs,” Y/N smiled, “now get lost. I need a nap”

He laughed, as he and the rest of the team filtered out of the hospital room. Y/N smiled before shifting to get more comfortable. She winced as she did, and Spencer was instantly on his feet to try help. Once she was comfortable, she smiled up at him, but his face was still laced with concern as he looked down at you. His hand moved without his permission, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, his hand lingering there, “how are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” she grinned cheekily, managing to make his lips quirk slightly, “how have you been worse?”

“You forget this isn't my first rodeo. I’ve been shot plenty before,” she said, and his faint smile was quick to drop. She sighed when she noticed, “will you stop worrying so much? Spencer, I’m fine.”

“I know,” he was quick to reply, before sighing as well, “I just don't like it when you're hurt.”

She felt her heart warm, as his hand cupped her cheek softly. Spencer sat on the edge of the bed gently, looking at her as he spoke softly, “can I get you anything? Do you want some jello?”

And she laughed. BAU badass, Supervisory Special Agent Y/N, laughed. Grinning up at him, she shook her head, “the only thing I want right now is for you to stay with me. And tell me some real interesting facts.”

Spencer grinned, and she shuffled over in the bed and patted beside her for him to lie down. She rested her head against him and he carefully wrapped an arm around her, uttering facts about anything and everything, just to make her happy. And they both stayed like that for hours, until the nurses came in to find them both asleep, in each other’s arms, pretending like they both weren’t in love with the other.

[aries-writingblog]

Atlas (8)

Summary: After years of being imprisoned on the Raft, Tony negotiates freedom for his sister Tessa. When she’s free- so is her past, and it will never stop hunting her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC(Stark)

Chapter Word count: 1810

Warnings: PTSD (subtle ish), trauma, torture (in later parts), suicidal behaviors and thoughts, mentions of death, character death, injury, violence, angst, and a lil bit of fluff in there

Disclaimer: Atlas is my own, original work with characters belonging to Marvel (except Tessa and Dr. Clifton). Plagiarism is not cool kids.

A/N: this is my first work I'm posting to this platform and I’m really excited and nervous about it. Hope you enjoy- constructive criticism is always helpful as well!!

She couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure building on her left side, an itch she couldn’t scratch. Her eyes were dry, like her mouth. Tessa peeled her eyelids open, having been cemented shut, it took tremendous effort- effort she barely possessed. She couldn’t hear straight, it sounded like she was underwater. A muted beep from a monitor. Rain pelting the windows of the white washed clinical room. Something tickling her forearm. She looked down. Tony.

He was grasping her hand, resting his head beside them, hair tickling her skin. She then moved her eyes to her side where a tube was running from a patch of white bandages. Along her right arm, bandages were wrapped around raw flesh. She could still see the burn marks on her wrists. In her left arm, an IV filtered blood and fluids into her system, repairing what had been damaged. She groaned as she rested her head on the pillow.

She wasn’t supposed to make it out of there. None of this had gone according to her plan. Tessa wasn’t stupid. She knew Clifton would be on her as soon as she stepped foot out of her cage on the Raft. She knew she would have to make a choice, a choice of repentance. So, when she noticed the trap he’d set for them, she couldn’t help but take the bait. Part of her wanted to flip the script and take revenge on him. But then... then Bucky happened. He’d been so kind to her- accepting her. She felt that she owed him a truth- even if it was in the form of a dead man’s ramblings. And so she did just that- confided in him, knowing that one way or another, she was never going to come back. He wasn’t supposed to be collateral damage.

Tony shifted, his head turning further away from her. She bit her lip, sinking down deeper into the sheets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y’know, if you cooperated with the professionals, things would go a lot smoother.” Tony snipped at her. Tessa scowled deeper, turning her head to the side. It had been a week since the mission, since everything about Tessa had been made public amongst the team. Since Tony had released the files to the whole team, Tessa had been ignoring him every time he visited her. She was angry- the emotion palpable in the air. She had even begun to be irritable with the nurses and her doctor. Of course, they associated it with her being on bed rest for a week- knowing it would get worse because she was meant to stay there for a whole month.

She refused to allow any of the team members entrance to her room- even Bucky. Tony was only allowed in because he told Friday to over ride her command. News of her slow response to treatment had to come from the nurses or the small bits that Tony would share- which was always begrudgingly. Her therapist and parole officer were also allowed in for their visits. There had been talk of moving her back to the Raft, but Tony had shot it down, explaining in colorful detail how she hadn’t done anything wrong. Ever.

But Tessa was becoming restless. She could no longer stand the sight of the hospital room. When she was trapped within the four walls, she could only think about the botched missions and what Clifton said. She was trapped. So, she decided to take things into her own hands. Painstakingly slow, she got up from her bed, a tube no longer in her lung but it was still stitched up and painful. Most of her wounds were well on their way to healing but her mind was still fragile.

Tessa had been immediately changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt as soon as she regained consciousness. So she simply unhooked her heart monitor, taking her IV of fluids with her to the door.

She hadn’t realized Bucky had done nothing but sit outside her medical room for the past week, waiting to be able to slip into the room to talk to her. Tony had been guarding her, keeping him away. Unlike his sister, Tony held a grudge. So when Tessa’s door opened and she stepped out, he was surprised. She looked like she hadn’t slept since she came back- undoubtedly plagued by nightmares. Her skin was pale, under eyes dark. When her eyes landed on his, she stiffened, her whole body freezing. They stared for a long moment, neither of them giving in.

“If you’re breaking out of your room, you’ll need to move a little faster.” Bucky quipped, a teasing tone overtaking the concern. Tessa started to take off, her gait a small, shuffle toward the elevator. Bucky stood up, stretching his arms out before sidling up beside her.

“What do you want?” She muttered, slightly annoyed and embarrassed by his presence. She almost stumbled, her left foot catching on her right. She cursed lowly, while Bucky simply hooked an arm around her waist, steadying her. She tried to push away but Bucky had an iron grip, keeping her where he wanted. He was done waiting around. He was going to talk to her whether she wanted to or not. She was going to listen to what he had to say.

“Well if you’re going for a little sight seeing- might I suggest the floor ninety? It’s got a lovely view and- bonus: less of an elevator ride.” Bucky steered her into the elevator and locked her down, his hand drawing smooth circles on her hip.

“Isn’t that your floor?” She grumbled, leaning against him to relieve some of the weight on her feet. He hummed in response and looked down at her. She was scowling, eyes glued to the floor.

“See, I’ve been waiting outside that room for a week now. I’ve had time to think about everything that was said while we were in captivity. Don’t think I’m an idiot, by the way.” Bucky watched her begin to shut down at the mentions of the cell. The mentions of her admitted transgressions. “I’ve been where you are, where you’ve been.” Tessa scoffed as the elevator dinged open.

“You don’t know me.” She bit back, eager to be out of his hold, out of his sight. She couldn’t hold herself together around him anymore. Telling him everything- trusting him with that information... she didn’t want to see him now, not when he could judge her for it. Because all she wanted from him was to be accepted. Not pitied, not scorned, not disgusted. Loved. She didn’t know what the two kisses were on that battlefield, she didn’t know what any of it meant.

“Don’t I?” He asked, opening the apartment door. The pair quickly pushed through the living room, bypassing Steve who was sat on the couch, watching the news. He had heard the door open, figuring it was Bucky so he didn’t turn. Until he heard the roll of wheels.

“Is that Tessa?” He called, watching the receding backs of the two. His brows furrowed as Bucky’s bedroom door slammed shut, cutting the pair off from the rest of the world.

“Oh, well please, enlighten me on how you know every thought I’ve ever had.” Tessa sat down on his bed, the white cotton sheets felt much better than the stiff medbay fabrics she had been confined to.

“Alright, fine,” Bucky began shuffling around his room, seemingly in search of something. “You shut yourself off from everyone, you think it keeps us safe but really, it’s just a way of excusing your pity party and prolonging suffering you feel you deserve. You keep everything to yourself, no matter how much it pains you to do that. You don’t sleep well, nightmares keeping you up. You don’t eat much- if you do it’s at random times at night, where you don’t have to interact with us. You let one person in and immediately shut them out because you felt that you could hurt them before even giving it a chance.” Bucky stopped his search, turning to look at her over his shoulder. “Am I par for the course?”

“Shut the hell up.” She growled, gently laying back on his neatly made bed. “So what if i don’t want to hurt you- why is that a bad thing? I want to keep you all safe. What’s the harm in that- what the fuck are you looking for?”

“Got it...” Bucky stood straight again before walking to her. He knelt down on the bed beside her. “It isn’t a bad thing- it’s just that you’re going about it in a destructive way. You can keep us safe and live too. The way you’re going now, that’s not living. You’re just floating from day to day. Here. They found 'em last week and sent them to me. I’ve been waiting to give them to you.” He held a hand out, intending to drop the object into her palm. Tessa sighed and held it out flat. A cool metal grazed her palm and she broke her gaze off from his to look at it. Dog tags. She held them in front of her face to read them more clearly. They were slightly rusted, but the name was still clear: James Buchanan Barnes. “I’m not judging you for a mistake made six years ago. A mistake that was made with the best intentions in mind. With the best resources you had at the time. The Tessa I want to know is still in there- I’ve seen her during those late night talks in the light of the fridge. I’ve heard her when you talked about growing up with Tony or your early days in the military. And I’m gonna do everything I can to make her happy, because she’s gone through enough.”

Tessa swallowed, feeling the beginning of tears pricking at her eyes. She was speechless- her own mind waging war on itself.

“You know just what to say to make a girl blush, huh?” She sniffled, trying to laugh through it. Bucky grinned and took the tags, slipping them over her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Stay here for the night, please? I know that you shouldn’t really be out of the med bay yet but... I want to talk to you- I want to be around you. Please?” Bucky asked, his bottom lip pouting slightly and his blue eyes shining with hope. Tessa pretended to think it over, pressing her hand to the dog tags that occupied her chest.

“Okay. I’ll stay here. Only for tonight- and no funny business, Barnes.” She winced, sitting up. Bucky was quick to press a hand to her back, helping her sit. He gave a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat bashful.

“No promises, sweetheart.”

[achaoticeternal]

For Life

BUCKY BARNES X READER

masterlist // taglist

request from anon: prompt #82 "I wouldn't have made it this far without you" and #84 "you and me? it's for life baby" with Bucky Barnes, please?

Summary: When Bucky returns from a mission in a coma, you must find an antidote. When he wakes, he’s in a rare, love-struck state. Word Count: 875 A/N: I wrote this while taking a bath. It’s totally not proofed. I just want Bucky fluff because he’s baby and I liked the prompts :) Warnings: Verbal attacks at Captain America. Very little angst. Fluffy ending

82) "i wouldnt have made it this far without you" 84) "you and me? its for life baby"

“Bucky...” You sighed as you saw your boyfriend as sleep in the medical bay, “Dr. Banner, what happened?”

“(Y/N)-” Steve attempted to interject, he didn’t want you to blow anything to far out of proportion.

“Can it, Rogers,” you pointed a finger at him without you eyes leaving from Bucky’s frame, “Banner, please. I’ll find out eventually, and you know it will be better if I know everything upfront.”

“He went to clear out a room, and there were at least 30 soldiers waiting for anyone to enter. From what we know, it wasn’t an attack purposefully meant for him since they were regular pirates without any HYDRA affiliation. It would have been a difficult situation for any Avenger to handle, he’s lucky that it was only some dart that put him out.”

“Do you have the dart? Have you begun analyzing the chemical compound within it?” You paused, your mind drifted to the worse. You’re head finally turned from Bucky to look at the Doctor, fear evident in your eyes.

He knew the unspoken question, “All we know is that it isn’t lethal. But we haven't finished the analysis yet. For all we know, it could be a simple amnesia dart.”

You shook your head and returned you gaze over to Bucky and approached the cot he lay on. His looked surprisingly peaceful in his little coma, much different than the twisted facial expressions caused by nightmares. It was almost calming, except for the fact he had been drugged, “I’m not leaving his side until he wakes. Who knows how he’ll react when he wakes up?”

“No, you need to get sleep too, (Y/N),” Steve spoke up, “I can stay and keep watch. I’m the only man who could stop him in case of a relapse.”

“Absolutely not, Rogers,” You glared at the blond man, tired of how he seemed to always pull the best-friend card on you, “You were gone for 6 hours and come back with Bucky in a coma. I begged you to watch his back if you two were going to chase after HYDRA agents and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had orders-”

“No, Steve. I don’t give a damn about your orders. If you want to chase HYDRA, that’s fine. That’s fantastic! But if you want Bucky to help, if you want to drag him through hell again, you better keep your eyes and ears open. I trust you as my superior, but you are a rather shit friend. I’m staying, and you better not test me.”

“I- I’m sorry, (Y/N)”

You took a deep breath and returned to Dr. Banner, “I’ll take the dart into my lab. I have my Ph.D. in both Organic Chemistry and Human Medicine. I doubt this will be hard to crack.”

                                                             -   -   -

It only ended up taking you 45 minutes to figure out the chemical makeup and another 30 minutes tow whip up a simple antidote. After injecting the antidote into Bucky’s IV, it took four hours for him to wake up.

You were reading a book about the advancements of weapons and technology through the World Wars when you noticed a stir in the bed. You lowered your book to see Bucky smirking at you as he took you in.

“Good morning, doll.”

Quickly, you rose from your seat, checking each monitor for any warning signs. When everything checked out, you bent down by his side and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “Thank the stars your okay.”

“Did you happen to figure out the dart?” You giggled and nodded, “Of course, you did. That’s my smart girl.”

“Oh, stop being such a flirt. You only just woke up. And I just happened to crack it a little sooner than Doctor Banner did.”

HE shook his head and pushed himself to where he was sitting up. HE patted an empty spot beside him, “Well if it weren’t for you being the best doctor and the best agent I’ve ever met, who knows what trouble I’d be in. You’re too good for me, doll. Hell, I wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“I bet you say that to all the pretty, young doctors here,” you tease him and take your seat next to him, taking his hand in yours.

“Only the ones that I plan to marry,” he lifted your hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“Alright, but save the proposal for a night where I don’t have to fret over and save your ass, Barnes. It’ll be more romantic,” You blush at his comments and kiss, before standing to go discuss a small treatment with Banner, “But for now, you need some good, natural sleep. Then you can talk about the future of our relationship, Bucky.”

You walked over to the door and opened when he spoke up. A lovesick expression had washed over his face. One that only showed when he felt safe and true happiness. It absolutely warmed your heart.

“I’m serious (Y/N). You and me? It’s for life, baby.”

“I love you, Buck. To the moon and back.”

“I love you too. To the moon and back”

                                                             -   -   -

WINTER SOLDIER TAGLIST: @melannie77​ @elsasshole​ @anhelz​

click the link at the top of the post to add yourself to the taglist!

[the-omni-princess]

Silver and Gold

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: Soulmate!AU, The first words spoken to you by your soulmate are written on your wrist. What happens when two super soldiers say the same thing at the same time?

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Injuries, blood, a bit of angst, bit of fluff

A/N:

A request by @darknessdaughterr for some soulmate confusion between Steve and Bucky and a “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

-

[Masterlist]

----

Soulmarks. That's what they called the words etched onto your wrists. They first appeared when you officially hit puberty, and they were the lifeline to your soulmate. Your other half, your perfect half. The first words your soulmate would say to you (once you had your mark) would be the words etched onto your skin forever. They would change colors, from the brown-grey they started off as, an ugly dull color, to a beautiful rainbow and array of colors.

Some people found their soulmates right away, your best friend in middle school let out a small gasp when the heartthrob of the school asked her for a pen. Her wrist busted into beautiful shades of green like a forest etched into the writing. Some people got lucky with their marks, and their colors always meant something to their other half.

When your mark first etched into your skin, you were thirteen. Womanhood gave you cramps and a soulmark. Despite how elated your family was that your mark appeared, they always teased you about your soulmate's choice of first words. "What the hell are you doing?" Etched in cursive, dull, brown ink. You used to get excited whenever someone spoke to you for the first time. Now, much older than your friends, you felt left out. You were one of the few people with a boring, lifeless, and haven’t-met-my-soulmate-yet-grey mark. You've been pointedly ignoring it for years.

You became a practiced surgeon. The long shifts at the ER helped ease your mind that you were one of the few people without your soulmate yet. Your family worried about it constantly. Maybe your other half was dead, maybe they aren't even from the same country as you.

Pushing all those thoughts aside, and begging to get away from your overbearing family, you moved to New York, and were approached by a Stark representative to work as the Avengers' personal surgeon. It took months of preparation under Helen Cho and Bruce Banner, learning exactly what ailments and enhancements every Avenger had. Super soldiers, gamma radiation, a telekinetic witch, it was a lot to learn, but you took it in stride.

Now three months into the position came the first challenge, a mission gone sideways. You grabbed your stethoscope, wrapping it around your neck as FRIDAY's voice appeared. "Your presence is requested in OR 2, Agent Barton has deep lacerations and multiple bullet wounds."

"On it!" You called out to the AI, already heading in that direction. You rushed in, noticing Dr. Banner already attempting to take a bullet out of the still awake Hawkeye. "Jeez, ever heard of anesthesia Bruce? And stop pulling on that bullet in his leg, it could be lodged in his femoral artery and he'll bleed out before you can toss the bullet into waste." You gloved up, shooing the doctor away who held his hands up in surrender. "Hello, I'm Dr. Y/n L/n, and excuse my forgoing of formalities, Agent Barton, but the bullet in your shoulder looks to have nicked something major and I'd rather make sure you live than introduce myself." He responded with a groan, nodding. You now noticed the redhead he was gripping hands with, who you recognized as Natasha Romanoff before you rushed to help him.

You quickly went to work, asking Bruce for gauze when needed and taking out bullets, green eyes watching you like a hawk, which you found ironic. Four bullets later you sutured the bullet wounds, then the laceration, effectively cleaning up the blood and bandaging him up. You clapped your hands faintly, smiling. "Done!" You grinned up at the two. Clint was out of it, staring up at Natasha who was staring at you. "Make sure he rests, and he should be up and running in a few weeks."

"You're new," Natasha stated, still eyeing you warily.

You nodded, "Still getting the hang of it, but I know what I'm doing, usually at least. But what's a little adventure into the unknown?" You smiled warmly, noticing she loosened up a bit.

"Thanks for patching Clint here up," she sighed softly, still holding onto the Archer.

"Of course, kind of my job to make sure you are all patched up. Tell him to try not to hit anything too major next time though," you teased.

She chuckled, "Will do, till next time."

"Hopefully you guys stay safe enough there aren't too many next times, besides, I have to take Robin Hood here to a room to rest," you cleaned up the station, before transferring Clint to his own room to rest. Natasha and you kept talking, and by the time you had to leave, she had started warming up to you.

You had found out she was so wary since the two were soulmates. Her soulmark was shades of purple, and Clint's was in shades of black and red, you noticed as you worked on him, but you knew not to ask what the words said. She had found out more about you and had seen that you haven't met your soulmate yet.

-

About a month later you had met or patched up most of the Avengers, and Natasha and Clint were the closest to you, as well as Bruce since you saw the most of them. FRIDAY had alerted you that the Avengers were back from another mission gone bad, this time it was Sam Wilson who was hurt, he was unconscious, and his vitals were dropping fast. Steve and Bucky were running in after him, just as you got to work. You patted your scrubs down, the bright orange and pink Ombre was a bold choice but you wanted a splash of color against the white sterile walls of your lab and operating room, as the Avengers tended to let you do what you wanted.

You silently went to work, washing hands, pulling on gloves, and wordlessly grabbing what you need to save his life. You groaned aloud, grabbing the bandages and cauterizing tool, but you weren't able to do your job due to the two towering super-soldiers blocking your way. Unable to push them away from you instead opted to jump on top of the patient. Terrible procedure? Definitely. But you had two super soldiers that wouldn't move, and you had a patient dying.

Both men simultaneously cried out, "What the hell are you doing?"

You were already starting your cauterizing tool, cauterizing the artery that was the cause of the blood loss. "My job, if you don't let me do it, he'll die from blood loss. So, get out of my way!" You pushed one of the soldiers out of the way, Steve you think, grabbing the gauze and patching up Sam. Once you were finally done, you jumped off of him, he stabilized halfway through your work, so you hooked him up to an IV and stood back at your handiwork. You ripped your gloves off, tossing them away as you washed your hands. You froze, your mark was now a splash of color. Navy blue ink etched in silver and gold. That only meant one thing, one of the super-soldiers behind you was your soulmate. But they both said it at the same time, which one was your other half? Could you survive having an Avenger soulmate? You had patched them up enough to know how many close calls they tended to have.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Of course, one of the very same men you were thinking about was concerned about your sudden shyness.

"I'm not quite sure, Captain Rogers," you turned back around. "Your friend will be alright, just needs to rest and heal, but he'll be fine." You smiled brightly at the two super soldiers looking at you warily.

Captain Roger's mark was already colored in, you could see the peaks of bright red just peeking out of his uniform. Sargent Barnes, however, didn't have any color peeking out of his right hand, and that's when you realized his mark might have been on his left wrist before it was torn off. That meant you had to outright ask the two intimidating men about their marks, something only children did.

"Are you sure you're okay, doll?" Barnes was the one that spoke up this time, both men weren't quite sure what to make of you. You were pushing them out of the way to do your job minutes ago but now seemed shy.

You took a deep breath, "There’s no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it, I think one of you two is my soulmate." You said it quickly, looking absolutely anywhere but them.

"What do you mean?" That time it was the Captain.

You exposed your wrist, the brilliant shades of Navy lined in gold and silver. The silver and gold seemed to shimmer, and even without their enhancements, both men could make out the writing. Both men shared a look, and you noticed you had gained an audience. Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Tony were now standing at the room, you were too preoccupied panicking to even notice their entrance to check in on the now waking up Falcon beside you.

"You two said those words and my mark gained color, one of you is my soulmate," a groan from beside you diverted your attention. You went to work, making sure Sam was comfortable as he started to become aware of his surroundings.

"I wake up and one of the fossils gets a soulmate? I should get injured more often, maybe they'll both get lives before I die," he joked in a weak voice.

"I have limited patience with someone who tried to get shot, Wilson," you rolled your eyes, checking to make sure he didn't rip his stitches as he sat up. "And you shouldn't be sitting up, you've lost a lot of blood," you tried reasoning, but he just waved you off.

"Na, I've got to see this. Aren't you the new doctor Tony hired? You're cute, too bad I'm not your soulmate, smart and pretty," he rambled on, the medication starting to kick in.

"I've been here for four months, you just manage not to get as many bullets in you like the others," you made sure his IV drip was working before turning to your audience.

Steve spoke up first, "It’s not me," he exposed his mark. "My soulmate was Peggy Carter," his mark was bright red, the color of bright lipstick. He had left his soulmate back in the forties, that had to suck.

His eyes went to Bucky, as did yours. He looked a little stunned. "Repeat what you first said to me," he said it softly, almost hesitant.

"Well, I can't remember! I was trying to make sure Birds of Justice here didn't die!" You gave him a pointed look, Sam laughed at that, and you shot him a glare, "No laughing, you'll rip your stitches and if you do something stupid I'll kick your ass myself."

"Oh, feisty, I like her," a loopy Sam Wilson giggled like a school girl beside you.

"FRIDAY, please repeat the audio of what Dr. Y/l/n said when Sam first came in," Natasha stated, making you roll your eyes.

"Nat, I'm just Y/n to you," you mumbled, but otherwise kept quiet, needing to know the answer to the riddle written in ink around your wrist.

"Certainly, Agent Romanoff," the AI replied before the audio played.

The two super soldiers’ voices rung out first, "What the hell are you doing?"

Before your voice replied in the audio, "My job, if you don't let me do it, he'll die from blood loss. So, get out of my way!"

You looked towards the former Winter Soldier. "Does Navy Blue, Silver and Gold mean anything to you, Sargent Barnes?" You held up your wrist, and he gently grabbed it with his right hand. His thumb brushed across the ink etched deep into your skin.

"Navy Blue was my uniform color when I was a Howling Commando, silver was the color of my first metal arm, and gold is currently in my metal arm. And call me Bucky," he held up the black and gold vibranium arm for you to inspect. "I always thought my soulmate would be a nurse during the war, one I flirted to at the wrong time, or got in the way one too many times. I guess I was partially right," he kept his voice soft, the two of you locking eyes.

"You're my soulmate? I never thought I'd find you," you mumbled softly, getting lost in his blue eyes.

"My left wrist had those words, and I lost it in the fall of the train, and I'm actually glad I did because Hydra couldn't find you that way, and I'm sorry you have me as a soulmate, and I'm sorry you can't even get to see the colors my mark would have, and-" he rambled on, making you smile, gently taking his hand and interlacing your hands together, promptly shutting him up.

"I'm not sad you’re my soulmate, Bucky. I was just confused is all. I had basically accepted I'd never find mine, I've had dull brown ink on me since I was thirteen. But it's you. I found you," you couldn't stop smiling up at him.

He gave you a bashful smile, "I'd like to think my mark would be the colors of your scrubs. Orange and pinks like a sunset," he explained.

"Or a sunrise," you spoke up, "New beginnings and all."

Natasha made a retching sound behind the two of you. "Absolutely adorable and disgusting. We'll watch over him, y/n, he's already falling asleep, and we'll have FRIDAY update you if needed. Go on break," she shooed you out of the room, Steve already tossing Bucky out with you, Sam making cooing noises behind you as he fell asleep. They shut the door, effectively giving you not much choice.

"Well, I guess that settles it," you turned to Bucky, who looked towards you a little skeptical. "Let me formally introduce myself, soulmate. I'm Dr. Y/n y/m/n y/l/n, but you can call me y/n/n." You put your hand out, your mark on full display.

He gave you a goofy smile in response, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles before kissing your wrist right over your mark. "Why hello, soulmate. I'm Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky."

-

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings

-

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

okay okay okay i LOVE your works can i request a greys anatomy where the reader is best friends with jackson and she knows about jackson and april and she's really jealous and so she avoids him until he confronts her and she confesses her feelings and he confesses too? this would happen like around the ennd of season 8/start of season 9 thank youuuuuu

Give Me a Reason

Fandom:  Grey’s Anatomy

Pairing:  Jackson Avery x Reader, Jackson Avery x April Kepner

Characters: Jackson Avery, Reader, April Kepner, Y/N, Meredith Grey, Mark Sloan

Word Count: 1529 // Rating: Teen

Summary:  Jackson needs to make a decision

Tags/ Warnings: Fluff, Friendship, Angst, Arguing, Admittance of Feelings, Board Certification, Season 8, Changed Timeline, Not Canon, Requested, Requested Fic, Holding Hands,  Seattle Grace, Seattle Grace/Mercy West, Pac North, Laughing, Degloving, Surgery

Notes: Thank you! [updated 9/22]

‘So have you got all your offers in yet?’ Jackson said leaning on the counter next to where Y/N was charting. ‘Yep,’ she said curtly as she snapped the chart shut and passed it to the nurse who was sitting behind the desk, ‘I’ve written Mr Gaunt up for some IV fluids he looks a little dry.’‘Thanks, Dr Y/L/N,’ the nurse said, checking the prescription. Y/N nodded at her and then walked off down the hall with Jackson at her heels.‘You okay?’ he said as she walked ahead of him speedily as if she was trying to lose him.‘Fine.’‘Oh, okay,’ Jackson said, ‘so come on. Your offers, what are you going to do?’‘Haven’t decided yet,’ she said with an edge. They had reached the end of the corridor now and Y/N pushed the elevator button and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the light above it to change to their floor.‘Oh,’ Jackson said, ‘I thought you were set on staying here?’ ‘Yeah well like I said, I haven’t decided yet,’ Y/N said as she stepped through the now open doors of the elevator. As she did Jackson looked down at his beeper which was buzzing from where it was placed on his hip. ‘I gotta go,’ he said, pretending not to notice Y/N’s indifference, ‘see you in the cafeteria later?’ The elevator doors shut before Y/N said anything.

Jackson made his way to the pit where he helped Hunt with the multiple traumas that had just come in from a major accident. Jackson spent most of the morning helping with a degloving accident with Mark until his attending was happy for the patient to have a moment to recuperate before they prepped and took him to surgery later that afternoon. Jackson made his way to the locker room and grabbed some cash before he headed down to the cafeteria. It was full though he could see no one he wanted to sit with. He and Y/N always tried to get down there at the same time every day as their schedules never seemed to overlap much since he joined Mark Sloan’s service. He grabbed some lunch and sat down at an empty table before pulling out his phone and scrolling through his prospective offers for attending positions at various hospitals. He couldn’t deny that he loved being at Seattle Grace/Mercy West but there was just something appealing about the offer from Tulane. Jackson Avery, Head of Plastics at Tulane had a nice ring to it. He would never be head of plastics here. Mark had too much of a tie to Seattle so would never step down and so he would be stuck with being an attending instead. Though he would miss his friends so much. They were like his second family now. Y/N was his best friend, he didn’t know what he’d do without her. That’s why he wanted to know where she was off to. He knew she also had an offer from Tulane and that would definitely be an added bonus to the offer he already had. 

‘Hey,’ said a voice from the other side of the table, ‘Mind if I sit here?’ ‘Oh..erm, no of course not,’ Jackson said as April sat down opposite him with her lunch tray. ‘Meredith said she was coming down soon,’ April said trying to deflect the awkwardness that had lingered since they had slept together away, ‘she’s just been on a really interesting case.’ ‘Yeah?’ Jackson said, chewing with his mouth open making her grimace, ‘I’ve been working on a degloving all morning.’ Though any normal person wouldn’t want to speak about a gruesome flesh wound over food April gushed and wanted to know everything. They chatted amiably and Jackson was mid-explaining how he was going to operate later when he noticed a figure standing with a tray behind April looking at them curiously it was Y/N. He waved at her but she didn’t come any closer instead she stalked off across the cafeteria and out of sight. 

‘What’s up with her?’ April said, watching where Jackson’s eyes trailed. ‘I don’t know,’ Jackson said. ‘Aren’t you like her best friend? I thought you two knew everything about each other,’ April scoffed. ‘You’re right,’ Jackson said, ‘see you later.’ 

Before April could protest Jackson stood and picked up his tray as he walked off and dumped it in the trash. He decided he’d scout out the hospital until he found her. He hunted every floor without hope until he found her eating her lunch in the tunnels under the hospital where all the old beds were stored. 

‘Hey,’ he said sliding onto the bed and sitting beside her. She made an audible sigh as he did, ‘so you’re not even going to speak to me now?’ ‘I never said I wasn’t speaking to you,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that kinda the point?’ ‘Whatever,’ she said biting into her apple. ‘Is it boards?’ ‘No, why would I be bothered about them? I aced them.’ ‘Well, you’ve been weird since then. You’ve barely spoken to anyone since we all got back.’‘Yeah, well maybe I just don’t feel like it,’ she said, ‘besides not like you’re gonna be here much longer anyway why would you bother about that?’ ‘Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to leave,’ he said as she scooted off of the bed and deposited her trash in the gigantic waste bin a way up the corridor. ‘Well, aren’t you?’ she said coolly. ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ he said echoing her curtness from before. 

‘Well, you better do. Can’t have April hanging on too long,’ she said turning and walking off. Jackson was hot on her tail though and grabbed her by the elbow spinning her around. ‘What are you talking about?’ Jackson said, ‘April and I-’‘Oh trust me I know all about you and April.’ ‘Wait you do?’ Jackson said, looking confused, ‘how do you-’‘Does it matter how I know?’ ‘Okay,’ he said, squaring up to her, ‘yeah I slept with April. Yeah, I’ve already gotten offers to go to other hospitals and I’m considering them but so are you. Do you think that either of those things is going to stop me from being friends with you? What does any of that matter?’‘It matters Jackson! It matters to me!’ she said pushing him back from her but he grabbed her arms so she couldn’t leave.‘Why?’‘Because if you were going to sleep with anyone around here why couldn’t it be me?’ she said. It was too loud. It was too late. She clasped a hand to her mouth as if she could stop the words from reaching his ears. Jackson looked stunned, he moved back - away from her and perched on the side of one of the empty beds in the tunnel. Y/N sighed and followed suit deciding there was no point in running now it was out in the open. She could feel the prick of tears in her eyes as she did and the pit in her stomach grew bigger the longer Jackson stayed silent.  

‘Jackson-’‘Y/N,’ they said in unison before looking at each other and smiling, ‘why didn’t you say anything?’ ‘What was I supposed to say?’ she asked, ‘sorry I know you’re my best friend but I sorta got feelings for you and I want to tell you even though it might ruin our friendship. And it doesn’t matter anyway because you’re obviously going to take the head of plastics job at Tulane. And even if you don’t there’s no way I can compete with April’s doe-eyed naive pure girl angel.’‘I never said I was taking the job in Tulane.’ ‘Oh please,’ Y/N scoffed, ‘it’s head of plastics. Your dream job.’‘So, I would be happy as an attending here. Besides I’ve got stuff to keep me in Seattle.’ ‘Yeah, like what?’‘A job, good teachers, friends. Anyway, I thought you had an offer at Tulane too?’ ‘I did,’ she sighed, ‘but I don’t want to leave my mom. I’ve too much stuff here, I can’t leave it.’‘Maybe I have stuff I don’t want to leave too,’ Jackson said, reaching out to hold her hand. She looked up at him and smiled as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. ‘What about April?’ she said though it was barely more than a whisper. ‘What about her? There’s no me and April. Not like there’s you and me.’‘What about Tulane? You’ll never be the head of plastics here. Mark’s not going anywhere and-’ she said starting to ramble. ‘There’s plenty of hospitals Y/N. There’s always Pac North,’ he said making them both chuckle.‘Jackson-’ she whispered but he shushed her. ‘We don’t have to decide right now,’ he said, ‘our boards haven’t even come in yet.’‘Right,’ she said, ‘we could be planning for no reason. We could be working at Starbucks this time next week.’‘I’d work anywhere with you,’ Jackson said.

[kilibaggins]

Murven Idea! Murphy gets really really hurt and loses his ability to use one of his legs, and theres lots of angst and fluff when Raven tries to help (They are already in a relationship when it happens). (Bonus if Murphy gets really hurt when trying to save Raven in some way.)

I'm Sorry

A/N- This idea was so angsty/cute/everything and i really wanted to do it so i did. I hope this is okay, it's not the best writing ive ever done but oh well i guess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been working on the new houses for months so far. lifting the heavy metal walls and keeping them up as others tried to put them together. It has gone well honestly, Murphy was on Wall duty and nobody has gotten hurt yet. That’s until today, at least. Kane had specifically told everyone who wasn’t on wall duty to stay back, but stupidly one of the young kids who survived the Ark falling came in and broke some tech that they needed, SO Raven had to come and take a look at it. 

Raven walks up to the construction area and kneels down to start working on the tech. She has to put her Braced leg stretched to the side while her other leg is under her. Murphy is watching her and smiling as he stands a few feet away under a tent that Kane put  there so The workers wouldn’t sweat to death, and could take breaks when needed. Murphy has found himself under this tent many times when he works himself a bit too hard and Harper would end up having to drag him under the tent and grabs him water. Raven yells at him a lot for that, honestly.

Murphy looks away for a second and he hears it before he sees it, a loud clanking noise coming from where Raven just was, and he quickly looks back. His one smiling face, turns to one of horror in a second before he’s bolting towards raven and yelling for her to move. 

Raven didn't even notice the clanking noise, too focused on her work to worry about outside distractions but then she hears Murphy yell for her.

The metal wall had started falling down, so He came to push her out of danger, only to get caught under it himself. His entire bottom half gets stuck underneath it,face down, and he’s yelling and moaning in pain. She looks at him as Voices start yelling around them and she Quickly Pushes herself closer to him petting his hair. She then leans over and tries to pull the metal wall from him but does not even come close to succeeding. She goes back to Murphy’s head and slowly runs her fingers through his hair. 

“Murphy, hey, it’s okay, i-it’s alright big guy, Breathe for me.” Rave says frantically trying to calm the boy under her down. Murphy lets out a whimper and yells trying to pull himself from the pain but Raven holds him down slightly so he doesn’t cause any more damage. 

“Fuck! It hurts so bad, Raven please.” Murphy says barely knowing what he’s saying. Raven hears Kane yelling to a bunch of guards to come help lift the metal wall from him. Raven feels tears prick her eyes as She hears Murphy begging her to help him, when she knows she can't do much from her spot. Guards come rushing over, as Monty goes running off to find Abby bringing her, along with Clarke, back over to them. The guards lift the metal wall just to slip and have it land back on him again from the inch it had gotten up before. Murphy screams and passes out, causing Raven to look at him in fear. She looks at Abby who is now kneeling down next to them. 

“What the fuck happened, why did he pass out?” She yells at her and Abby puts a reassuring hand on Raven's arm. 

“He passed out from the pain, Now everyone get the wall and pull it up!” She yells at them and the guards listen immediately. When the wall is up just enough to pull Murphy from, Abby grabs his arms and pulls him out, immediately going to check his lower half. She looks up and yells orders to a few people standing by. Raven barely hears her and just stares at Murphy’s face, hoping he doesn’t wake up anytime soon for the treatment because she knows it’ll hurt like hell.

Soon he's being picked up and carried to the Med bay with Raven behind them. She keeps asking a million questions as Murphy gets there. Murphy is put on a bed in the med bay and she yells to everyone to get out of the room, including Raven. 

“Oh, Hell no, You can NOT be serious!” Raven yells getting into Abbys face. Jackson comes and Pulls Raven away whispering in her ear about how it’s for the best, and locking her out of the room. She yells out and sits on a bench in the waiting room. 

2 hours later Raven hears Murphy’s voice coming from the room. and Raven gets up immediately opening the medbay door. 

“I- A-Abby, i , uh i mean Dr. Griffin. I can't feel my Leg.” Murphy says in fear as he looks up at her. Abby quickly picks up a small needle and walks to Murphy's leg. 

“Which one, John?” Abby asks softly and Murphy gestures to His left leg, causing Abby to softly poke it with the needle and Murphy shakes his head Quickly, Raven can see Murphy’s eyes are filled with fear and sadness. Her heart breaks as she watches Murphy completely deflate and break. A few tears fall from his eyes and Abby leaves the room to give them some time alone. 

“F-fucking poetic huh? The asshole who made a girls Left leg stop working, gets his leg paralyzed.” Murphy Choked out and slams his head back on to he bed. Raven walks up to him and puts her hand on his chest. He look sup to her with pain in his eyes. 

“I would have never wished this upon you. Even back when it first happened.” Raven says, her eyes getting misty. Murphy takes a deep shudder breath than whimpers on the breath out. He looks up at Raven and She leans down and kisses him on the lips softly. 

“It’ll be okay, Murph. Don’t worry okay? You’ll learn to live with it just the way I have. Soon enough you’ll Probably feel normal with it this way.” Raven says laughing softly, though a few tears are still running down her cheeks. Murphy nods and sighs. 

“My body still hurts.” He groans out softly, looking up at her with pain evident on his face and Raven pets his hair. 

“Get some rest, Cockroach.” Raven says sweetly and Murphy smiles softly and closes his eyes, his body slowly falling asleep. Raven watches Murphy sleep for a bit, then goes to her workshop. She grabs all the materials she needs and gets to work. 

Two weeks later when Murphy wakes up one morning Raven is sitting next to him in a chair, with something red in her lap. He looks at her in confusion and She smiles Standing up and she moves to Murphy’s left leg and slowly starts to put a contraption on it. He slowly starts understanding and tears up. 

“Raven, What... When?” Murphy is just watching her when he tries to speak, watching her hands move so softly as if she’ll hurt him, even though he can’t feel a thing. She slowly puts it all in place, wrapping the straps around his leg slowly, probably trying to show Murphy every step. 

“I made you a brace! It’s almost identical to mine, I just painted the straps and everything Red because i know it’s your favorite color!” Raven says and finishes strapping it to him. She smiles down at him and slowly grabs his hand pulling him into a sitting position. She helps him get both his legs off the bed and she reaches for his hands. He grabs her hands and gets pulled up to stand. He smirks when he realizes he could actually walk with the thing and leans down to kiss Raven softly. 

“Thanks, Grease Princess It's going to work so well." He says and Raven nods. 

“It’s the least I could do when i'm the one who got you to be this way.” She says and looks down frowning. Murphy closes his eyes and shakes his head. 

“No, Dont do that.” Murphy says cupping her chin and angling it towards him. “Don’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault. Wrong place wrong time that’s all this was.” He says seriously and leans down to bring Her into a kiss. 

“I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention, i should have paid more attention...” Raven says sadly but Murphy just pulls her closer and deepens the kiss. They have no clue how long they kissed, a few seconds? A minute? Hours? They don’t know and they honestly don’t care. Raven pulls away and grabs Murphy’s hand slowly taking him to their room. Murphy smirks and follows closely behind. 

They enter their room and Raven slowly pushes Murphy down onto the bed laying next to him. 

"Y'know. Ever since we started getting closer you'd tell me that it  wasn't my fault i did it to you. But at the end of the day I'm the one who shot you. It was my fault. This though?" He gestures to his leg that's still in its brace, "This wasn't something you did to me. It just happened." Raven looks up at him and smiles softly running her hand down his clothed chest. 

"I forgave you a long time ago. You were terrified. You didn't want to die and you felt like everyone was going to Hurt you. It's okay. Yes, you made those mistakes but now? You're a better person." Raven trails her hands down Murphy's body down to his leg. She unstraps the brace and sets it next to the bed. She runs her hand up his leg slowly watching Murphy's face as he sadly watches, not being able to feel anything. Her hand runs higher and higher until her hand touched the part of his body between his hip and his thigh. He gasps and shudders and then smiles down at her. She smiles back and keeps touching the area he can feel. 

"R-raven? What are you doing?" Murphy asks her softly. She smiles back up at him and she leans up to unzip his pants and slowly pull them down his legs. Murphy watches her biting his lip. When his pants are off and out of the way, Raven leans down and kisses Murphy's left leg. Murphy swears he can feel it. It's a phantom touch he knows it is. From hours of Raven kissing every single inch of his body, he has basically memorized the soft touch of her lips. She softly runs her lips along the leg he can't feel and Murphy thinks that this isn't really for him. Well, It is slightly. He knows she's doing this so he knows that she loves him no matter what, But he also thinks it's more for her to feel better about the situation. He did the same thing to her leg when they started dating. 

"Let me take care of you. And no, you cockroach, I'm not being sexual." Raven says smirking up at Murphy before he can say anything cocky. Murphy sighs loudly and lays back on he bed completely realizing his body. Raven continues kissing his leg, then she makes her way to his other leg, which he can most definitely feel, and it feels so soft and gentle. He feels himself fall asleep as Raven slowly raises his shirt kissing up his stomach, 

"Raven... I love you." Murphy says softly before his eyes slip shut, obviously still exhausted from all that he's been through the past two weeks. Raven smiles up at him and finishes trailing kisses up his chest, slowly raising the shirt along with her movements. She slips the shirt up and off of him as he lays there limp and asleep. She lays down next to him and lays her head on his chest. 

"I love you too Murphy... I'm Sorry."

-Tags-

Permanent

@livinglikepogues @httpxsiren

[hopeworldfan]

summary: you and yoongi have been best friends since you were kids, being hopelessly in love with each other was never part of the plan. aka, the typical cliche.

pairing: yoongi/reader

chapter one

word count: 6k+

genre: fluff, smut, angst, college!au, friends to lovers

warning: angst, depression, self-harm, suicide attempt, alcoholism, divorce

a/n: ive been working on this for a very long time and decided i had to split it up because shes a big one. let me know what you think!

The early hours of the morning had always brought a sense of comfort with them. The world was so quiet, so still, so peaceful. Being in the last year of your undergrad meant that you were intimately acquainted with the early hours of the morning; when the sun was just starting to shine through the blinds,  the birds were just starting to chirp, the world was just starting to wake. You wished you could enjoy it, enjoy the quiet, but you were six cups of coffee deep into your Psychology of Counseling textbook and more than ready to jump off a bridge if it meant you didn’t have to take your midterm in three hours.

“You need to get some semblance of sleep Y/N, you’ll be too tired to concentrate on your midterm if you don’t.” A soft yet stern voice commented from your doorway and you sighed before leaning back in your chair -wincing as what felt like your whole spine cracked-, before spinning around and squinting at your best friend.

“Did you know that our awareness of death is the source of zest for life and creativity and that we can turn our fear of death into a positive force when we accept the reality of our own mortality?” Yoongi just continued to lean against your doorway, fixing you with an unimpressed stare and you sighed. “This chapter on Existentialism is really putting me through it, the death stuff isn’t even the worst of it. Did you know that having some anxiety is perfectly normal-”

“Y/N.” He interrupted and you sighed again, sliding your reading glasses up to where they were sitting on your head and rubbing your face.

“If I go to sleep now I won’t wake up, and I don’t have all the details of the six propositions down yet. I just know Bridgette is going to make that the essay question.” Bridgette, formally known as Dr. Coddou, had emphasized them way too much for them not to be the discussion question, and the discussion was worth half the points on the midterm.

Your best friend, however, didn’t budge, keeping his arms crossed and giving you a reproachful look. “You have work right after your midterm, you’ll be dead on your feet if you don’t get at least a few hours. I’ll wake you up on time for your test, so get in bed.”

“You’re being such a hypocrite,” you mumbled but closed the textbook regardless. Arguing with Yoongi would be a useless venture, it always was.

“What was that?”

“Nothing Yoongi-oppa.” You smiled brightly while he rolled his eyes, noticing the small upturn of his lips.

“Okay koreaboo.”

“You like it.” You sang before collapsing on your bed, disgruntling the black cat that was already sleeping there. Despite your previous protests, you were out like a light the minute your head hit the pillow. Yoongi just fondly shook his head before walking over and gently removing your glasses from the top of your head and setting them on your nightstand.

The first time you met Yoongi was in the third grade. It was one of those weird, super vivid childhood memories that seemed engraved in your brain, right along with your fifth birthday party. The school year had been well underway when he was brought into class, something that already made his presence exciting. His family had just moved from Korea to the states and he stumbled through his introduction, not quite having a solid grasp on the English language. Your classmates had laughed, finding his struggle and heavy accent hilarious. It wasn’t funny to you though, even at such a young, impressionable age because your abuelita didn’t speak a lick of English and your own mom’s heavily accented Spanglish was often ridiculed at school events. 

He sat alone at recess that day and you were the first to approach him, a bright smile on your face and the offer of friendship hanging from your outstretched hand. Yoongi had been so incredibly shy at first, but you didn’t let it deter you. Instead, you stayed stuck to his side like glue, always with a bright smile and eager to help him learn English. By the end of the year, the two of you were inseparable and the rest was history. 

Yoongi kept a diligent eye on the time while he worked on the composition in front of him. He knew he was prone to getting lost in his work without caring about the world around him, but the last thing he wanted to do was lose track of time and be the reason you missed your midterm. Especially after insisting that you sleep and promising to make sure you didn’t miss it. You would never let him hear the end of it if he this up. 

Thirty minutes before your class, he got up and gently pushed open the door to your room. His breath caught in his throat when he saw you lying there. He’d seen you sleeping more times than he could count throughout the years, saw you lying there with your mouth wide open, drool on the side of your face, and the smallest snore coming from your sleeping form. It never failed to take his breath away. You never failed to take his breath away. There were no false pretenses when you were sleeping, no sign of the cheerful mask he knew you worse to make it through the day, the hardened armor you donned to protect yourself. When you slept there was a vulnerability you showed so rarely, even to him.

Yoongi had been in love with you for years. Maybe since that first moment in third grade, before he even knew what love was, but he knew you had a pretty smile and you were the first person to make him feel like moving away from everything he knew wasn’t the end of the world. There was just something so captivating about you, so endearing, it was unrealistic to think that he ever stood a chance. When you smiled at him, eyes squinted and barely visible, he knew without a doubt that he would do anything to keep that smile on your face, and that’s why he was okay with just being your best friend because that’s what made you happy. 

Still, it was moments like this that he took for himself; approaching your sleeping form and gently brushing his fingers against your cheek. You unconsciously leaned into his touch and his heart skipped a beat. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you. The number of times he’d fantasized about it, about pressing his lips against yours was honestly ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. It was something he’d dreamed about since he was thirteen. 

You muttered something unintelligible in your sleep and Yoongi retracted his hand. He knew he had to wake up. He was being more than a little creepy and crossing a multitude of lines. The two of you were best friends, nothing more. 

“Wake up, Y/N.” He said, bringing a hand to your shoulder and gently shaking you awake. Your eyes briefly fluttered and you groaned, trying to snuggle deeper into your bed to catch a few more precious moments of sleep. Yoongi smiled fondly and shook his head. “Nope, you have to get up and go take your midterm.”

“Midterm!” You yelped, shooting up in such a panic that Yoongi instinctively took a step back. “I have to go take my midterm!”

“Relax,” he instructed calmly. “You have thirty minutes and I brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”

You sighed, letting your shoulders drop and willing your heart rate to slow. “Ay dios mio, whew, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more in my entire life.”

His heart rate spiked at your words, eyes glued to your form as you stretched out on your bed, arching your back and groaning. Less than innocent thoughts were playing through his mind and he willed them away. You weren’t being serious, it was commonplace for you to say suggestive things, but a large part of him always hoped. 

“Do you work tonight?” You asked, finally getting to your feet and rolling your neck, wincing at the distinct popping. The question broke him from his reverie and he mentally slapping himself.

“No, I tried to but I’m already in overtime for the week so Jin wouldn’t let me.”

You pouted and lightly hit his shoulder. “What did I tell you about overworking yourself? Between the two of us, we make enough to pay the bills without killing ourselves.” Your eyes softened when you took a longer look at your best friend. The bags under his eyes were an even darker shade of purple and his skin was an even more ghostly pale than normal. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your head against his chest. “You need to take care of yourself Yoongi, there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you, remember?”

The words were muffled against his chest, but the way his arms wrapped around your form was enough confirmation that he had heard. Being so sleep deprived made you overemotional, but that didn’t make it any less true. Over a decade of friendship made Yoongi a fixture in your life. When everything was crashing down, when everything was going wrong, when your abuelita and dad both died in the span of a year, when your mom turned to alcohol to numb the pain, it was Yoongi who was always there for you. He was the only stability in your life, and that was why you’d never tell him how you really felt, how you were desperately and hopelessly in love with him. 

“You’re sappy when you’re tired.” He commented dully as he gazed down at you, praying you couldn’t hear how his heart was ready to jump out of his chest.

“Please, I’m sappy all the time.” You shot back, pulling away to get on your tip-toes and place a soft kiss against his temple. He had to fight every cell in his body to keep from blushing at your show of affection because it was so common that it shouldn’t even affect him anymore. The man was convinced you were the most affectionate person he had ever met; it was something he learned early on, so he knew not to read into it. However, the temple kisses were the one thing he could never get used to. While the hugs, hand-holding, and cuddling made his heart race, there was something about the temple kiss that was so tender, so intimate, and he’d never seen you do it with anyone else.

That was because you didn’t. It was selfish and stupid, but the temple kiss was the one thing you’d allow yourself. You could sweep it under the rug of showing platonic affection if anyone questioned it, but you knew that it was different. 

“Alright gotta blast, see you later Yoongles, don’t forget to feed Noodle!” You smiled, already halfway out of the door, your backpack sling over your shoulder and a full tumbler of coffee in your hand. “Love you!”

“Love you too.” He replied softly, but the door was already swinging shut.

Relief flooded through you as you handed in your midterm, giving Dr. Coddou a polite smile before jetting out of the classroom. There were other midterms to study for, other things to stress about, but that was for a later date. The only thing currently on your mind was treating yourself to your favorite takeout to celebrate before going into work.

“Y/N!” Someone called out from behind you and you immediately whipped your head around. “How do you think you did?”

“I’ll be pretty upset if I didn’t make at least a ‘B’, what about you?” Namjoon smiled down at you, shyly adjusting his glasses.

“I’m pretty sure I made an ‘A’.”

“Of course, you did, you’re literally a genius. I really only asked in the interest of being polite,” you teased, noticing the way his cheeks flushed the most endearing shade of pink. Namjoon was cute in a nerdy, bookworm, librarian way with his wire-framed glasses, grandpa cardigans, and adorable dimples.. The two of you shared a class together your sophomore year and were partnered together for a project. You really hit it off and stayed friends, though you’d never interacted outside the context of academia. It had been a surprise when you walked into your psychology of counseling class and saw Namjoon already sitting in the front row, being that he was a Philosophy major and you were positive psychology of counseling wasn’t required for that degree plan.  “I’ve been meaning to ask, but why did you take this class anyway? Planning on doing some philosophical counseling?”

Namjoon’s cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink. “Oh, uh, I mean, no uhm, I just well, I really like,” he paused and his eyes only met yours for a second before he looked away, his blush managing to deepen even more. “Psychology! I really like psychology! It’s really interesting.”

“Right!” You agreed enthusiastically, completely oblivious to the boy’s panic. “It’s all just so intriguing to learn about how people think and why. This chapter on Existential Therapy was so fun despite how much it blew my mind. I mean, our awareness of death being the source of our zest for life and creativity? Whew. Do you think you’ll end up with a psych minor?”

Namjoon just stood there with a dumb smile on his face, not realizing you had asked him a question. He’d been distracted by your rambling, the way your eyes lit up and you gestured wildly with your hands. It was the cutest thing he had ever seen. You were the cutest thing he had ever seen, and that was why he found himself in yet another psychology class that he had absolutely no need for.

“Hellooooo, earth to Joon?” You asked, staring up at him with your head tilted and one eyebrow raised.

“Oh! Uhm, yeah, I’ll probably end up with a psych minor.” He said in a rush, trying to downplay his embarrassment.

“Fun!” you glanced down at your phone and swore. “Shit, I have to get to work, see you later Joon!”

Namjoon sighed as you bounded away. Would he ever work up the confidence to ask you on a date? It didn’t seem likely.

Work was exhausting, per usual, but tips were decent so you weren’t complaining about that. What you were complaining about was just how bad your feet ached. Despite how many times you complained to Jin, he liked the uniforms the was they were, so you were stuck with stupid shoes that offered no support or comfort.

By the time you were gently closing the front door, it had to be close to two in the morning and you were ready to crawl under the overs and sleep like the dead since tomorrow was Saturday and you were off of work.

“Hey Noodle.” You greeted softly when the black cat made his presence known t you with a loud ‘meow’ before rubbing himself against your legs.

You were mid-yawn when you trudged into the kitchen, content to just drinking some orange juice because finding something eat would take entirely too much effort. It was by chance that you noticed the post-it on the microwave, Yoongi’s messy handwriting sprawled across it.

mac n’ cheese in here, just heat it up

Your lips upturned in a gentle smile. For all his talk, Yoongi was one of the softest, most thoughtful people you had ever met. His love language was in the small things. Sure, it was just mac n’ cheese, something that didn’t take longer than ten minutes to whip up, but it was ten minutes he knew you weren’t going to take. While the macaroni was heating up, you added a little something to the bottom of the post-it.

remind me to put a ring on it in the morning

Loud. That was your first thought as you were choke-slammed into consciousness. There was a very familiar, very loud voice carrying through your apartment and you groaned before grabbing your comforter and pulling it over your head, trying in vain to delay the inevitable. 

You weren’t the slightest bit surprised when your door was slammed open and the person squealed “Y/N-ie” before jumping on top of you.

“Ay dios mio, get off Hobi,” you grumbled, trying -and failing- to push the older boy off of you.

Said boy just laughed. “Not a chance! I haven’t seen you in so long. I’ve missed you!”

You stopped struggling, content to accept your fate of being squished. “I missed you too, Hobi.”

“Why don’t you ever call me oppa?” Though your head was still buried underneath your comforter, you could hear the pout in his voice and knew he was making a devastatingly cute face.

“If I call you oppa will you get off of me?”

“Yes!”

“Okay...Hobi-oppa.”

Hoseok kept his promise and promptly rolled off of you, grabbing the covers and pulling them off in the process. You knew you should probably be at least a little embarrassed considering Hoseok now had a pg-13 rated view of your body since you only ever slept in a big t-shirt and underwear, but modesty was never one of your strong suits. Instead, you rolled over in a desperate attempt to sneak a few more moments of sleep. “Nu-uh, you’re getting up and coming to get lunch with me, Jimin, and Yoongi-hyung.”

He was equally as unaffected by your lack of clothing, having gotten used to it. “Hobiiiiiiiii.” You whined.

“Don’t make me tickle you.”

That was enough to make you jump out of bed. He didn’t bluff when it came to tickling, something you knew all too well. The redhead cheered before pulling you into a tight hug.

Hoseok was the first friend Yoongi made freshman year and became your friend by association. You couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that Yoongi attracted extroverts like moths to a flame because Hoseok was the textbook definition and while you weren’t quite on his level, you were up there.

“Ah, good morning Y/N.” A serene voice greeted from the doorway and you glanced around Hoseok’s frame to grin at the fourth member of your ragtag friend group.

“Hey Chim.” While Hoseok was the first friend Yoongi made in college, Jimin was yours. The two of you shared a hellish 7:30 your first semester and bonded over wanting to die every morning and keeping each other awake during the lecture. The four of you meshed together unsettlingly well, and Hoseok and Jimin ended up as roommates before the end of freshman year. You privately thought it was hilarious that your three best friends were all Korean, maybe Yoongi was right when he called you a koreaboo.

You meandered over to Jimin and wrapped him in a tight hug before brushing past him and noticing Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. “Is Yoongi still sleeping?”

“Mhm. You know you’re the only one who can wake him up without putting him in a bad mood.” Jimin said lightly and you rolled your eyes.

“I gave you guys that spare key to use for emergencies, not to break in and force us to eat lunch with you.”

“Eating lunch with us is an emergency!” Hoseok protested.

“Ya, ya, ya.” Regardless, you were awake, and if you had to be awake, so did Yoongi.

Creeping into his room, your heart skipped a beat when you saw him lying there. He looked so content, so peaceful, it warmed your heart. You knew how deeply Yoongi hid things, how he always put his own feelings last when it came to the people he cared about. It was only through years of friendship that you were able to discern when he was putting up a front, when he was putting on a brave face for your sake. Both of you had baggage and issues and things that were hard to talk about, even with each other. However, at that moment, you knew none of that mattered to Yoongi, he was at peace, and a part of you hated to ruin that.

The other part of you wanted to jump on him the way Hoseok did to you.

That part won out.

“Rise and shine sleepy head!” You giggled, throwing your body on top of his and gently patting his dumpling-like cheeks as you straddled him. He groaned, the same reaction you had to Hoseok, and you shot him a beaming smile when his eyes fluttered open. “Good morning Yoongi-oppa.”

Something strange flashed across his face at your words but you were too busy poking his squishy cheeks to notice. “What are you doing?”

The question was entirely for his own sake because he was becoming increasingly aware of the position the two of you were in, something you were completely oblivious to. He could tell you had just woken up since you only seemed to be wearing a big shirt -one of his-, and a pair of underwear. That alone was enough to make his cock twitch, seeing you in his clothes always had an effect on him, especially when the only thing you paired it with was underwear. Then there was the way you were straddling him, knees on either side of his torso, completely unaware that your crotch was directly over his. Usually, he had self-control, he could squash down the indecent fantasies, but he was still only half-awake and all he could think about was how easy it would be to grab your hips and thrust up. He knew it wouldn’t take him long to cum, even if there were three layers -his boxers, the comforter, and your panties- between his cock and your pussy. God, the fantasy of you placing your hands on his chest and grinding down on him was too delicious. He already had an idea of what you’d sound like, the small whimpers, the soft gasps, he’d heard it all before when you thought you were being discrete late at night. He wanted to hear those sounds when he was the one causing them, when his cock was-

“Hobi and Jimin are here and forcing us to go eat lunch. You should be grateful I’m the one who woke up and not Hobi.”

Yoongi mentally slapped himself. His cock was growing harder and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He prayed to every god in existence that you didn’t decide to press down on him because there was no way you wouldn’t know his dick was hard. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

You giggled before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and hopping off his bed. “Hurry up and get ready, I’m starving and I’m pretty sure I can scam Hobi into paying.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned and danced out of Yoongi’s room, missing the way his eyes stayed glued to your barely covered ass.

“See, completely unharmed. He probably would have killed Hobi-hyung.” Jimin pointed out from the couch, happily petting Noodle and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh,” you paused, an innocent smile slipping on to your face. “Hobi-oppa?”

Said boy’s face lit up and you internally smirked. A part of you would have felt bad for scamming one of your best friends, but it wasn’t like he didn’t -frequently- do the same thing to you. When he hit you with a pout you were helpless. “Yes, Y/N-ie?”

“Well, since you’re my oppa and all, does that mean you’re paying for lunch?” You tilted your head and stuck your bottom lip out the tiniest bit in a pout. Jimin ducked his head to muffle his laughter.

“Of course, leave it all to me!” Too easy.

“This so good I am going to bust the fattest nut.” You moaned between mouthfuls of lo mein noodles.

Hoseok had decided on Chinese and you weren’t complaining, especially when it was on his dime. “I second that.”

“Here Yoongi, you have to try this.” You insisted, gathering a hefty amount of noodles on your fork and turning your body sitting next to your, expectantly holding the utensil up to his face. He gave you an unimpressed look but the smile on your face persisted and it only took seconds her him to cave and take the offered bite. “See! Amazing, right?”

“Feed me next Y/N-ie!” Hoseok pouted and you rolled your eyes before gathering more noodles.

“Here you go Hobi-oppa.” You teased and he gladly wrapped his lips around the fork.

“I, for one, still can’t believe that you can’t use chopsticks,” Jimin commented and you groaned.

The three boys were all using the provided chopsticks while you didn’t even bother opening your set. “Let me live Jimin.”

“Just saying.”

“I’m not required to know how to use chopsticks just because the three of you do! Stop peer pressuring me.”

“It’s really not that hard Y/N-ie.”

“Look, Yoongi’s mom spent many a dinner trying to teach me, I’m just hopeless!”

“It’s true, she’s a terrible student.”

You immediately punched Yoongi on the shoulder, but his gummy smile erased any thoughts about even pretending to be angry. Before anyone could say anything, your phone started ringing and you only hesitated for a second before pressing the device to your ear after seeing just who was calling you.

“Hola mamá,” you greeted cheerfully, ignoring the concerned look Yoongi shot your way. “¿Qué pasa?”

The smile on your face slipped when you heard the drunken slur of her words. It slipped even more when she popped the inevitable question.

“¿Cuanto?” You asked, trying to keep your voice even, to not ruin the atmosphere because this was the first time the four of you had been together in forever and you wanted to enjoy it. You didn’t react when your mom listed off the number, despite the sinking in your stomach. “Bueno...sí mama...esta noche...sí...te amo.”

“Back to our previous conversation, all I have to say is that learning how to lose chopsticks is a lot harder than it looks when you’re not born into the culture, and it’s also harder to learn as an adult because your brain has less plasticity.” You rambled, forcing a smile as you logged into your banking app to transfer the money to your mom’s account. Yoongi tensed and you knew he was watching you, could practically feel the disapproval radiating off of him when you transferred the amount from your savings to her checking. You knew he understood the short conversation you had; he’d picked up his fair share of Spanish throughout the years. It would be an argument later. You could already feel the headache.

The rest of the lunch was fine. Hoseok was even louder and more ridiculous than usual and Jimin kept reaching across the table to fiddle with your hands, your hair, your face, all in an effort to make you feel better, seeing right through the smile plastered across your face. They knew you too well for it to fool them. Yoongi, on the other hand, was silent, he was stewing.

“Six hundred?” He asked the minute the two of you were alone in the apartment, barely giving you time to shrug off your jacket. You just collapsed on the couch, feeling all your energy leave you in an instant thinking about how much you were going to have to work to make up the funds.

“And what about it?” You sighed, too tired to muster together any anger.

“That money is for grad school, what did your mom need it for? Couldn’t pay rent because she spent all her money on alcohol again? Couldn’t pay her light bill because she keeps funneling money into poker machines?” In a turn of events, you actually weren’t too tired to muster together any anger, because Yoongi’s cold words brought it right to the surface. Mostly because he was right.

“And so what if it is? What am I supposed to do Yoongi? Let her get evicted? Let her power get shut off? It’s my money, I can do whatever I want with it.” 

Your mom never did shake back from the alcoholic hole she fell into when your grandma and dad died and Yoongi resented her for it. It had broken you because you didn’t just lose your grandma and your dad, you lost your mom too, and Yoongi almost lost you. He’d been so caught up in his angsty teenage bullshit, hating the world because of his parent’s divorce that he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice when your smile became tight and forced. He didn’t notice when you started wearing long sleeves despite the unforgiving heat. He didn’t notice when the light started to fade from your eyes. It wasn’t until he broke down your bathroom door junior year of high school because of a goodbye text that he finally noticed.

Yoongi had never been one to cry, but he cried then, finding you crumpled on the floor, a knife in one hand and blood running down both arms from the cuts lining them. He carefully took the knife from your hand and threw it out of the room before sinking onto the floor next to you and wrapping your trembling form in a tight hug. He apologized as he cried, over and over again, for not realizing sooner, for not being able to take your pain away. It was then that he knew that he hated your mom because you were his sunshine, his light, and that was what she had reduced you to, because even then, the only thing you could manage to say besides ‘i’m sorry’ was ‘please don’t tell my mom’.

He hated that even now, even though you were so far away, she still had such a grip on your life. You were supporting yourself and supporting her. 

Though you understood why Yoongi felt the way he did, though there were times when you resented your mom, at the end of the day she was still your mom. She was the woman from your childhood who was full of warmth and laughter, and there were rare times when she still was, when the old her shined through in her even rarer moments of sobriety.

Yoongi wasn’t fuming, but you were. His anger ran cold where yours ran hot. “How much more are you going to let her take Y/N? That’s all she does.”

“She’s my mom Yoongi! Fuck! I’m not having this argument with you again!” You shouted, throwing your hands in the air and storming out. It was such a pointless fucking argument to have, the two of you would just run around in circles, getting angrier and angrier until you inevitably stormed off. The two of you didn’t argue often, you hated arguing with Yoongi, he was your best friend in the entire world, but you knew the topic of you mom would never be something you agreed on.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were storming off to, the destination wasn’t the point, you just needed to clear your head and get away from Yoongi. Somehow you ended up at a little park that you didn’t even realize was near your apartment complex, so you sat on one of the benches and groaned. It was cold outside, it was getting dark, you were alone, and you didn’t have your phone, keys, or wallet. You really were a genius.

“Y/N?” A soft voice called and you yelped, jumping up and ready to run if the person was going to try and murder you. “Sorry!”

Whipping around, you visibly relaxed when you took in the boy in front of you, cardigan and all. “Whew, you almost gave me a heart attack Joon.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again and you waved it off, finally noticing the white dog curiously sniffing your shoes. Your response was instantaneous, dropping into a squat and gently petting the dogs fluffy head.

“Who is this cute little baby?” You cooed happily, laughing when the dog playfully jumped on you, causing you to fall back on your ass while being assaulted with kisses. Namjoon was literally melting.

“Oh, uhm, his name is Rapmon.”

“Hi Rapmon,” you greeted cheerfully, planting a kiss on the top of his head before getting to your feet and wrapping your arms around your torso. It definitely wasn’t the smartest move to run out without grabbing your jacket when winter was right around the corner.

Namjoon noticed and immediately shrugged off his cardigan. “You should put this on before you get sick.”

“Ahh I can’t take that! You’ll be cold!” You protested.

“I’m wearing long sleeves, and my body temperature naturally runs high.” You wanted to put up more of a fight, but the temperature was dropping as the sun sank below the horizon, so you gratefully took the offered clothing.

“Thanks,” you smiled as the boy’s cheeks warmed, seeing you in his clothes having an enormous effect on him. “Do you live around here?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah, my apartment is right across the street actually.” He replied sheepishly and you whipped your head around to the fancy ass apartments across the street.

You couldn't keep the amazement from your voice. “What the fuck, Joon, those are so nice.”

“Ahh, my mom picked it out, they’re alright.” He said, clearly embarrassed. “What about you?”

“I think my apartment is somewhere around here, I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going.” You admitted, it being your turn to be embarrassed. “I had a fight with my best friend and kinda just...ended up here.”

“Oh.”

The two of you just stood there for a solid minute, Namjoon trying to work up the courage to say something and you just not really knowing what to say for once in your life. It was Namjoon who finally spoke. “Do you...uhm...do you want to come up to my apartment? It’s getting dark and it’s cold out, once we bring Rapmon in I can drive you home...if you want.”

He trailed off, obviously flustered and you giggled. “I’d love to come up to your apartment Joon.”

It was exactly as fancy as you expected and you had to physically stop yourself from gawking like a tourist. However, you were doing a poor job and Namjoon secretly thought it was adorable how your eyes were the size of tennis balls.

“Alright, I can bring you home now.” He said after letting Rapmon off of his leash and grabbing his keys. You hesitated though. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go home, per say, but you didn’t want to go home. Yoongi’s temper had a tendency to stick around, taking a while to defrost, and you didn’t have the energy to go another round.

“Is it okay if I just...chill here for a while?” You finally asked, nervously fiddling with your thumbs.

“Yes!” He answered immediately because he was ready to give you the world on a silver platter if that was what you requested, especially when you were standing in front of him in his cardigan.

“Thanks Joon,” you smiled, missing the blush that painted his cheeks.

You made yourself comfortable on his couch and he followed suit. It took a few minutes for the ice to break, but once it did, you couldn’t stop talking. Namjoon was hands down the smartest person you had ever met, and he had such interesting viewpoints on so many things. He was incredibly easy to talk to and you had to admit that he looked so fucking cute when he was rambling about a topic he was passionate about. It was the only time you’d ever seen him look confident about something and it was really hot. Namjoon had always been filed away as ‘cute’ in your mind, but seeing him in his element, completely at ease in his fitted long-sleeved shirt, hair in disarray from how he kept running a hand through it, well, you had a different perspective.

Almost unconsciously you gravitated towards him until your knees were touching and his cheeks were rosy, hyper-aware of the contact.

“What time is it?” You suddenly asked, realizing it was completely dark outside and you’d been talking for so long that your mouth was dry. Namjoon glanced at the watch on his wrist -it looked like a Rolex- and winced.

“It’s two in the morning.”

You immediately shot up, eyes wide in panic. Fuck. Yoongi was probably worried sick, you had stormed out without your keys, wallet, or phone and it was two in the morning and you weren’t home. “Fuck.”

Namjoon brought you home immediately, spewing apologized for not paying better attention to the time. You reassured him that it wasn’t his fault and you had gotten equally lost in talking to him, thanking him a million times for bringing you home. 

Your stomach was in knots as you climbed up to the third floor, just knowing Yoongi was going to be even more furious with you. God, you were such an idiot.

You’d only managed to knock on the front door twice before it was yanked open and you were pulled into a bone-crushing hug, letting out a squeak of surprise.

“Y/N.” Yoongi breathed and your heart clenched painfully at how relieved he sounded.

“I’m sor-”

“No,” He interuppted, still holding you tight against his chest. “I’m sorry okay. I know, I know she’s still your mom and that will never change no matter how much I resent her for the hell she put you through. I’m sorry, just please, fuck, please don’t leave like that again.”

His voice shook the smallest bit and your heart broke. He must have been so worried about you.

“Hey,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around his frame and gently rubbing his back. “I’m sorry Yoongi. It was really stupid of me to run out like that. I ran into a friend and we lost track of time, don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, sorry to tell you.”

He took a deep breath, his face still buried in your hair, and loosened his grip just enough for you to reach up and place a kiss against his temple. Just like that, everything was right again.

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Perfectly Confused Angel- Part 9

Warnings: A a little bit of angst, lots of fluff, mentions of sex but no details on it. Reminder: I don’t write smut.

A/N: I wanted to do something a little more to celebrate my 100 followers! I still can’t believe I’m already over 100. And that so many of y’all are into my stories! This week I worked 5 days (full time) and today let me beat! However, I had to leave a little surprise in the Castiel x Reader love story

As always, the previous chapter can be found here

Masterlist is here

Feedback is appreciated and requests are open! Let me know if you want to be added to my forever tag list or the perfectly confused angel tag list!

-Monique

 It’s been a week since Castiel’s accident and unfortunately, he still wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital. Every day over the last week, you would come and see him as soon as visiting hours started and would stay after it was over. Eventually, the nursing staff had set up a bed in his room so you could stay with him as long as he was going to be in the hospital, which was going to be awhile still. His stats weren’t where the doctors wanted them to be and he needed surgery for his chest. That was all the first day and since then, his body was rejecting the medication they had proscribed for him. He was in constant pain, not being able to relax and heal, his body wasn’t strong like it once was. It only made your heartbreak seeing your boyfriend so broken and you, so helpless, not being able to do anything for him. You start your day like you normally would; coffee, light breakfast and chit chat with Sam and Dean before heading to the hospital. They would join you too occasionally but there were cases that still needed to be solved and the Winchesters felt they had a duty to the world to fight back.

“Hey, babe!” You say to Cas, who is sitting up in his bed, the first time since he was admitted.

“There’s my baby girl!” Cas says, beaming when he sees you.

“Oh there you are, Y/N. This one has been asking for you nonstop but, you knew that already.” The female nurse on Castiel’s case winked at you.

“Well now that you’re here, we can get started.” The doctor said, coming in the room upon being called by the nurse.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

“Johnson.” The doctor says to a younger-looking doctor next to him and she begins explaining.

“Castiel, age 40, post-op day 8. His vitals are good, bp 128 over 45. Chest wound is still infected but his body is working overtime to get him back to normal.”

“And when will he be able to go home?” The other doctor, Dr. Peters, asks.

“As soon as the wound heals and his body gets stronger, he should be able to go home. Should be within the next week.” Johnson explains.

“Another whole week?” You whine, just wanting to go home, with Cas.

“Unfortunately, he is not where we want him to be quite yet. He has come a long way since we admitted him, but he has a bit more healing to do.” Dr. Peters says.

“Thanks doctors.” You say, and bid them farewell, leaving you and Cas alone.

“Well, what now?” You ask, looking over to Cas to see a mischievous looking grin plastered on his lips.

“I thought they’d never leave.” He says, leaning over the bed to pull you to him. You squeal at his sudden action but snuggle in close to him, careful not to knock any of the wires out of him.

“I want you to come home Cas. I need you better. We need you at the Bunker. The boys, they’ve been driving me up a wall and I cannot handle them on my own.” You admit, sighing heavily as you think of the two hunters back at home.

He chuckles slightly, knowing exactly what you were talking about, so he promised you he would talk to them in prayer and tell them to leave you alone. That was the cool part about having an angel boyfriend. He can step in and change the minds of anyone with enough persuasion and that is what he did. Told Sam and Dean to leave you alone for a while so that you could be at ease as you made sure Cas stayed alive.

“It’s okay Honeybee, I want to come home too. This hospital is getting kind of crammed and all I wanna do is go home and cuddle with you properly.” Cas admits shyly and you chuckle at how cute he is. “Not that I can’t give you a good cuddle now but, it’s a small bed and we need a bit more space if you know what I mean.” He adds, wiggling his eyebrows. You laugh at his dorkiness, your heart swelling at the sight before you.

“Babe, if this is your attempt at being sexy, you have quite a bit of work to do.” You joke but suddenly, his demeanor changed. He slowly reached up to pull you down closer to him as he went to whisper in your ear.

“If you wanna see sexy, just you wait.” And with that, he nipped at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. You pull back to look at him, and there was a darkness to the blue of his iris. Your own eyes widened as you took him in, surprising yourself when you leaned over to kiss him. It immediately felt needy, like it was the first kiss you two had had in a very long time. His grip on you was strong, afraid to let any space be the reason you separated. He adored you and you knew that, letting all your pent-up emotions finally be released. Before things got too heated, you pulled back, struggling to catch your breath, and said,

“Is it okay for us to be kissing with all these wires attached to you?”

“Yeah, about those.” He said, starting to peel off the wires that kept him reliant on a machine. He winched as each one left his soft skin, and the IVs hurt worse than anything he had experienced in his human time, well since he’s been in the hospital anyway.

“Cas, what-what are you doing? You can’t take those out!” You say, shocked by what he was doing.

“Y/N, baby. It doesn’t matter what happens. I want to be with you, I want this relationship to mean something.” He says, holding your cheek.

“Cas, my sweet love. Our relationship means everything to me. What are you talking about?” You say, not believing what he was saying.

“I mean, I want to take this relationship to the next level. Physically. I want to make love to you, Y/N.” Your eyes had widened even more, afraid they were going to fall out of your head. But you knew you wanted it just as much as he did. What better way to make your relationship completely known then this? You were scared that it would be bad for him since he just had surgery, but the need for him, to be one with him, was far more pulling on your heart than anything else.

Without thinking twice about, you lifted your shirt up over your head and let your bra fall off your body. His eyes had widened themselves, taking in the sight of your exposed chest in front of him and he smiled.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, kissing you before lips fleeing yours so he could remove his shirt. For some reason, his chest was well defined, pecs and abs easy to see. You wondered if he worked out or if he was able to get a good body because his vessel had one. Still, you felt your heart race as he brought you in for another kiss. Your head spinning as he flipped you over so you were under him.

“I love you so much, my beautiful Honeybee.” He spoke, looking down on you and he smiled. “Please tell me if I’m hurting you okay?” He asks.

You nod and say, “you can never hurt me, Cas. I love you so much too.”

Forever tag list: @simpleboox @grace15ella @marvelfansworld @juju-la-tortue

Perfectly Confused Angel tag list: @fandom-princess-forevermore @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @markofdean79

[justimajin]

Catching a Case of the Doctor Blues ⌠Part 2⌡

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (2.8k) Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye…

⇢ Warnings: some swearing 

⇢ A/N: Surprise, surprise an update! I pushed the release date up ahead because friday has been reserved for screaming about persona :D

⇢ Moodboard Prologue Part 1

⇢ Next Update: Tuesday, April 16

The flipping of pages echoes through the room as you rummage through the hoard of new patient names that had just recently arrived at the hospital; the severity of the cases greatly ranging. You raise an eye at a particular case that didn’t sit very well with you – the boy was involved in a dancing accident that caused a bad sprain on his ankle but was now showcasing alarming symptoms that needed further interpretation.

You decide its best to first make your rounds with your current patients but visiting the boy once you receive more documentation about his symptoms.

“Jin.” His head jerks up when you briefly stop by your shared office and you hand over the file, “I need to check on my patients but see if you can find more information about him.”

Jin quickly skims through the pages before he looks up to you and nods, “Will do.” He gives you a thumbs up and you try to ignore the hoard of chips lying in his bottom drawer with a roll of your eyes.

The check-ups go by smoothly with the occasional requests from nurses about changing patient diets or if IV’s should be refilled. You dismiss majority of them based on your own logical reasoning with each situation and swiftly decide to head back to your office to see what Jin was able to come up with after eyeing the time on the clock.

“E-excuse me?” A small voice asks you and you promptly turn around at the young girl patiently waiting for your attention. You recognize her sitting next to one of the patient beds where a women, appearing near her late 40s, resides.

“Yes?” She fumbles with her hands when your scrutinizing stare lands on her, but your gaze softens when she meekly requests.

“I-Is my mom going to be okay?” She asks, hopeful and young eyes boring into your solid ones and you take a short glance at the woman again, re-forming the association.

“She seems to be doing progressively better than when she first arrived here. But we continue to monitor her in case of any complications.”

The girl nods and she lets out a deeply relieved exhale; to which you don’t fail to notice how much her scrunched shoulders finally drop down or how the fumbling of her hands becomes slower until they completely stall. A small smile tugs at your lips when she thanks you for giving her a quick update and she trails back to her mother’s side, attentively attending and organizing her food for her.

Your eyes latch onto the two, not wanting to quite look away when the mother wakes up with a tired smile at her bright daughter being eager to feed her. It’s a warming gesture, one that seems to pull at your own heart strings, before you eventually break the lingering stare to get back to work.  

It was clear in circumstances like this though, where the fine line of being professional and being a human being were drawn in your field of work. It’s a very delicate line that you must uphold, but you are greatly aware that the strict line does not separate the two topics in any form, but rather that there needs to be a steady blend of them within your occupation.

However, this moral was definitely not upheld by a certain individual.

“You will need to find a donor soon for his failing kidney.” Dr. Kim states, briefly scribbling down notes on his plastic clipboard. He remains stoic to the woman in front of him, who seems to be in a frenzy with her dishevelled appearance.

“A-a donor? But he’s in pain! Can we just bring him home already?” She desperately asks, but Dr. Kim’s eyes narrow and suddenly you want to look away from the situation.

“He needs to find a donor. Both his kidneys are failing and there’s no way telling how much longer we can keep him sustained without them.” The words come out as stern and direct but you can already see his dwindling patience.

“Please.” The woman begs, reaching out to faintly touch Dr. Kim’s arm but the action doesn’t disrupt his heavy gaze in the least, “I-I don’t want to keep him here much longer…”

“That doesn’t change the situation. He needs a donor, find one or he’ll suffer the consequences.” Dr. Kim swiftly removes his arm from her, his loud footsteps distantly echoing when the woman is left in distraught.

It takes every one of the composed cells in your body to watch the situation unfold in front of your eyes and you shake your head when the suspicion in your mind does receive conformation.

The woman paces back and forth, the constant chewing abuse on her bottom lip not disappearing alongside the trembling of her hands. You carefully watch when she makes a couple of quick phone calls and they end abruptly with an even more distressed expression on her face. She eventually places the phone away, before wracking through the torn wallet of hers in desperation. After a couple minutes of repeatedly digging into it, sparks of water accumulate in her eyes and soon she buries them in the palm of her hands, silently hoping for some sort of miracle.

The faint whisper escapes her lips but it draws a conclusion that was so utterly evident to you the moment she decided to take the misfortunate chance in attempting to converse with Dr. Kim about the matter, “H-How are we going afford a donor…”

You take a deep exhale, very well aware that the obvious fact had completely slipped over the stubborn man’s head when you turn to follow in the direction he left in. He hadn’t gone too far by the time that did pass, so you rush to plant yourself right in his pathway.

“Are you blind?” You question, the pent-up frustration beginning to unwillingly surface when you automatically clench your fists.

“You’ll need to double check your own eyesight Dr. L/N.” He taps the dark frame of his glasses, “I wear glasses.”

“Are you sure you do? Because you couldn’t even see that woman wasn’t going to be able to afford a donor.” You know he isn’t one to overlook something like that, especially when he was so good in announcing his observational skills diligently about your work.

“I am aware of that.” He states, the blanked expression still being plastered to his features.

“You could have said something! She was crying when you left.” It’s almost like you’re talking to a brick wall, the fact nowhere being neatly drilled into his mind. It’s hopeless, thanks to previous tedious encounters with him, you know that Dr. Kim didn’t contain a single ounce of compassion in his body for his patients. He deals with them as they go and any of there concerns are considered simply irrelevant to him.

But you cannot easily brush away the aftermath that his mind-set leaves behind, not when they are forced to hide themselves with tears due to his own lack of basic morality.

He doesn’t answer you back, but you place yourself right in his direction of view and you can see the growing irritation blazing in his eyes when he abruptly stops his elongated strides.

“Dr. L/N.” He states with gritted teeth, “This is a hospital. And I am a doctor, not some kind of magician.”

“And what people need in this hospital,” He raises a brow, leaning closer to you, “Is the truth. Not an illusion of hope.”

His typical answer doesn’t faze you, not even when he moves around you in order to leave and you turn around, staring at his fading figure. You do know that there is a certain level in the depth of his words that you can comprehend, but you still cannot bypass the harm that can come with even a single potential burst of sympathy that he fails to demonstrate.

This wasn’t about being a magician per say with his own words, it was about being a doctor who is able to understand their own patient accordingly – both logically and emotionally.

You remain standing in the void hallway, the infuriating thoughts racing in your mind at an alarming rate until you decide to move and are welcomed to the familiar black tousled hair paired with an intrigued gaze.

“So…what just happened here?” You hadn’t realized you were standing outside of Jimin’s office when the scene ensured and he gives you a curious look as your aggravated expression.

“Nothing happened.”

“Were you guys fighting? Like again?” You exhale and he nods understandingly.

“What was it this time? Did he say something stupid to you?” Jimin questions when you slowly walk back to your office alongside him.

“He wasn’t being considerate to patients.”

“Ahh of course,” He clicks his tongue, “Dr. Kim isn’t so bad though Y/N.” You immediately glare at him and he hesitantly cowers at the stare, suddenly regretting his words.

“I-I mean like, maybe he’s not as bad once you get to know him…” He squeaks but you narrow your eyes.

“Where is this new profound love for Dr. Kim coming from?” You suspiciously lean forward but Jimin furiously shakes his head.

“Well, we are the same age and it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to the guy…” He simply shrugs but it doesn’t wave off your suspicion.

“Are you sure its only for that reason?” You wiggle a suggestive eyebrow and Jimin’s eyes widen.

“Hey!! It isn’t like that! You know I like girls, okay?”

“Is that why your recent intern is a guy?”

“What?! Of course not, I took Jungkookie under my wing because his adorableness makes me want to adopt him in the future! I’m sure he even looks up to me as a role model!”

“Are you so sure about that?” You arrive back at your office to find the implied person conversing alongside a man whose laughter ironically sounds similar to windshield wiper against a car window. A snicker escapes you when you see the horrified expression morph onto Jimin’s features when he hurriedly steps in between them, dragging Jungkook back to his side.

“W-what’s going on here?!” Jimin frustrating says, to which you roll your eyes.

Ignoring him, you walk over to Jin, “Did you get anything on him?”

He nods, handing you a file and you begin inspecting it while Jin argues with Jimin about being ridiculous with his doting on Jungkook. You drown out their voices when you carefully observe the now detailed symptoms and you shake your head at them once again, their appearance only seeming to further increase the concern dwindling inside of you. They had consisted of descriptions of a lack of appetite and mucus-filled coughs – both symptoms that would never be associated with something minor like a sprained ankle.

However, your eyes land on the particular ward the patient would be moving into when they skim over the words: immediate care.

You’re glad that they were being transferred over before you issued in a request so you decide it’s best to discuss the concern over with Yoongi who specializes within the department.

Closing the file, your eyes flicker over the raging dispute still continuing to ensure in front of your eyes before you promptly reach out and grab the coat of your dear intern, whose face was the colour of strawberries because of his over bearing yelling.

“We need to get going. Jungkook, take care and be careful of Jimin. Apparently he likes Dr. Kim.” And with that you exit the room, to which Jungkook turns to Jimin with widely confused eyes and Jimin is cursing under his breath at the broadcast he gets for trying to convince you otherwise.

“Why did you need information on the patient?” Jin asks, rushing to keep up with your quickened pace when you try to locate the ruffled blonde hair with your scanning eyes.

“His symptoms are not matching up with his case. Usually that implies that either the patient has been misdiagnosed or that they perhaps developed something from there time spent here.” Jin cocks his head to the right, a little alarmed with the information but you simply shrug.

“We’re doctors but we’re only human beings. That means that sometimes even we can make mistakes.” You explain, “It’s not preferred to do so, but if it happens then it needs to be dealt with immediately.” You rack a frustrated hand through your locks, not seeing Yoongi around anywhere. Luckily that means he’ll most likely be doing his rounds and not preoccupied with one of his frequent office naps he likes to take.

You enter into the immediate care wards and thread through the abundance of patients before your eyes finally land on him. The white bed is located inside a separate individual room and your eyebrows furrow when you catch Yoongi adjusting the IV for the patient; eyes crinkling when he lets out a small laugh.

You cautiously stroll over, still bewildered by the display, but your eyes move upward to the room number and widen when they realize it was the exact patient that had been recently transferred over. You linger at the door, carefully tapping against it and Yoongi’s smile instantly disappears, surprise replacing it instead at your abrupt appearance.

“Dr. L/N.” He states, always uttering your professional name in front of patients.

“Dr. Min, I see you’ve met the new transfer.” You give the boy a small smile and he instantly beams at you, pure light radiating the room.

Yoongi nods, ”He’s been put in my care from now on.”

“Hello!” The boy eagerly says, “Thank you for looking after me Dr. L/N.” A giant heart-shaped smile crosses his face and it catches you off guard that he already knew who you were despite only ever coming across his files. Jin soon enters through the room and joins you before the boy greets him as well.

“Hi! Are you a doctor too?” He points to Jin’s coat but he shakes his head.

“Not yet, but hopefully one day I will be.” Jin shrugs and the boy pats him on the back.

“You can do it.” He clenches his hand into a fist and firmly nods, small dimples creasing the edges of his mouth. Both you and Yoongi simultaneously let out a small laugh from the gesture, suddenly exchanging a glance.

“Hoseok I need to talk to Dr. L/N, but I’ll be back soon.” Yoongi states, gently putting a hand on the boy’s orange head and he nods with a smile. Jin remains with Hoseok when the two of you exit and its strange to you that Yoongi would even consider re-visiting a patient like that. The man thankfully did not lack the compassion that was required for him for the line of work, but Yoongi had always found his rounds to be quite exhausting to go through none the less, so purposely coming back arises questions from you.

“You seem happy.” You comment when Yoongi walks into a corner with you, away from any ease dropping ears.  

“He’s a nice kid…” Yoongi says, gaze concentrated on the white tiled floor beneath him. It’s amusing in the least because you know Yoongi to always be completely honest and forward with you, so seeing him lose that composure suddenly was a nice change.

“He is. But a sprained ankle…?” You tilt your head and Yoongi’s gaze suddenly moves to you, acknowledging your questioning with a brief nod.

“I have my suspicions already, I’ve run some tests on him and I’m waiting for the results to come in.” He states, pausing for a second, “But this doesn’t seem to be something he recently developed…”

A surprised look adorns your features, “A persistent problem? But why hasn’t he received treatment then?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “That’s what I’m not sure of yet. It doesn’t make sense to me.” Yoongi waves a hand, “We can’t tell until I get his results in, but I definitely do think it’s a lot serious than he says.”

You nod, from what you could already tell, Hoseok seemed to be a patient which looks towards the bright side of things. It isn’t a bad quality at all, but potentially ignoring severe symptoms until a visit to the hospital is not the ideal situation a person would want to be involved in.

Yoongi smiles again, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Usually it’s the most hopeful people, that go through the roughest of times.”

[katsens-writing]

Bumpy Night, Part 8

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves one of the Avengers fighting for their life and the rest fighting time to save them.

Pairing: A little Bucky x reader maybe?

Content: A little injury, a tiny bit of angst but loads of fluff and feelings and relief and happy stuff.

Word Count: About 2k (Does not include recap)

A/N: This is it, the last part! Thank you so much to everyone for your support! I honestly didn’t think this would get nearly as much interest as it did. I’m going to have another story ready to run soon, so keep an eye out, I may do a preview! Special thanks to @whiskey-cokenfanfic for hosting the challenge!

---

     Peter lowered his gaze guiltily. “Ok,” he mumbled reluctantly. He lifted his moist eyes to meet Tony’s hopefully and Tony’s heart ached for him. “But can I come back and see her when I’m done?”

     “Of course kid,” he smiled warmly, touched by the kid’s concern. He pulled Peter to him and hugged him tenderly. He felt a pang in his chest as his misty eyes came to rest on your motionless form lying in the bed. “Of course.”

---

     Darkness was the first thing you were aware of as your consciousness returned. Why was it so dark? The next thing, almost immediately, was pain. You felt a prickling, sharp pain in one hand and a throbbing pain in your ankle but you couldn’t tell which one. You couldn’t feel your other hand at all. Your eyes opened into slits and a blinding light split through the darkness.

     Ow. You shut your eyes against the searing light. That’s why it was dark, you thought ruefully. You lifted your hand to shield your eyes against the light but stopped when you felt a tugging on your skin. You opened your eyes again and looked around. Once your surroundings came into focus, your memory came flooding back.

     “Y/N?” A familiar voice broke through the haze. You turned your head slowly and the face beside you came into focus.

     Steve’s face flooded with relief and joy as you tried to sit up before he jumped up to help you. You winced at the pain that shot through your ankle as you moved your leg, but you tried to hide it. You felt Steve’s warm hand on your back supporting you and his other around your forearm. You smiled at him gratefully as you settled back on your pillow. He returned your smile before something dawned on him. His face slowly fell with a soft groan.

     “What’s wrong?” You frowned, your concern cutting through your grogginess.

     Steve opened his eyes and smiled wryly at you. “Bucky is going to be so pissed. He’s been sitting here waiting for you to wake up all afternoon. I finally managed to convince him to get some rest, maybe take a shower. I told him that if you’d been asleep this long, you wouldn’t wake up in the twenty minutes he’d be gone...” Steve rubbed his face with his hand, lamenting. “He’s gonna kill me.”

     You chuckled at the captain in spite of yourself. “Well if you want, I can pretend to wake up when he comes back.”

     Steve looked up at you with his eyebrows raised sarcastically. “Could you?” You both laughed at that, but your smile quickly vanished as more of your memory came back. Your heart raced. Peter.

     “How’s Peter?” You asked, your brows pinching together, worry quickly filling your face.

     “Well you, Banner and Cho got him stable. He’s due out from testing soon, but the docs are optimistic. If you want, I can go check...” Steve’s voice trailed off as he turned back to you and met your gaze. You sat there and stared at him with slightly wider than normal eyes and he could see the plan forming behind them already. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You aren’t going to stay put, are you?” You just shrugged lightly in response and he sighed again, shaking his head. “Fine, I’ll help you up. That way I can keep an eye on you,” he looked at you sternly. “But if Banner and Cho find out, you’re on your own.” He raised his eyebrows in emphasis.

     “Deal,” you agreed as you swung your legs out of the bed, your hair falling in your face as you did. You reached up to brush it back, wondering what happened to your hair tie when you discovered why you hadn’t been able to feel your hand. Your right arm was in a cast from your elbow to your knuckles.

     “Lovely,” you muttered under your breath. You turned your attention to your left hand and carefully removed the IVs sticking out of it before looking around. Your gaze fell on a roll of medical tape on a tray beside your bed. You grabbed it and, with only a little difficulty, you tore a piece off and stuck it to the back of your hand where the IVs had been to stop the trickle of blood. That’ll do, you thought.

     “Careful, you broke your right ankle too when you jumped out of the quinjet.” Steve cautioned, giving you his arm to use as leverage to stand up.

     “That explains the throbbing,” you flinched. You let out a small gasp and quickly pursed your lips against a profanity that was reduced to whimper and bulging eyes.

     Steve glanced down at you. “Maybe next time you’ll wait ‘til the plane lands,” he teased with a smirk.

     Not likely, you thought, remembering Peter’s limp body hanging in Tony’s arms. “You’re not one to talk,” you snorted, causing Steve to crack into a grin. You two slowly made your way to the door. Steve opened it and you hobbled outside, leaning on the frame for support. You found most of the Avengers gathered outside, talking quietly to each other.

     “Hey guys,” you greeted them sheepishly. They all turned and looked at you with mild surprise but mostly relief. You began limping painfully toward the group without waiting for Steve, who lingered a few steps behind. You looked around the room with a small frown. “Where’s--”

     “Miss Y/L/N!” A cry at the far end of the room drew your attention. Peter stood in the doorway that led to another part of the medical floor with Tony and his aunt right behind him. “You’re ok!”

     Your eyes widened in surprise as a wave of emotions hit you. Joy, shock, but mostly overwhelming relief. “Pet-oof!”

     The wind burst out of your lungs as Peter plowed into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly and hugging you. For a second you were stunned, more from surprise than being winded. You were shocked to see Peter not only awake after how you had last seen him, but up and moving around on his own. His words also stuck with you. You’re ok. He must have seen you before you woke up and had been worried about you. After all that he had been through, he had been worried about you. You quickly recovered and wrapped your arms around the kid, one around his back and one around his shoulders.

     “Thank you for saving me,” Peter’s voice was muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder.

     A lump formed in your throat and tears brimmed your eyes at his sweet words. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that, kid,” you murmured softly.

     “I know,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to.” You smiled into his curls and hugged him tighter, your hair falling over your left shoulder and around Peter. You felt a damp spot forming on your shirt from a few silent tears the kid shed and your eyes watered even more. “Thank you,” he repeated.

     “Peter?” You and Peter both turned at the voice, pulling away a little. Bucky stood in the wide entryway behind the other Avengers, his mission gear replaced with a medium grey, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. His eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted.

     “Bucky!” Peter cried. He immediately ran over to Bucky, throwing his arms around the surprised super soldier. You imagine he looked about as shocked as you had. A soft grunt escaped Bucky as Peter ran into him. “Thank you for saving me, Bucky.”

     Bucky hesitantly lifted a hand and patted Peter on the back, his eyes misting. After a moment his shoulders relaxed and a faint smile found his lips as he wrapped his arms around Peter. “Don’t mention it, kid.”

     You smiled softly and approached them quietly. You gently slid one arm around Peter and the other around Bucky. Bucky looked up at the sensation and was surprised to see you. “Y/N?”

     “Oh, Miss Y/L/N is awake too,” Peter murmured, briefly opening his eyes before closing them again. He shifted an arm from around Bucky and placed it back around you. You shook your head tenderly with a soft chuckle.

     “Miss Y/L/N?” You glanced at Bucky, noticing the confusion in his voice.

     “Oh, sorry,” Peter mumbled an apology, closing his eyes again. “Agent Y/L/N.”

     You chuckled lightly again, resting your chin on the top of his head, your face settling into a small, content smile. “Just call me Y/N.”

     “Peter?” All three of you looked up at the voice to see May approaching, with Tony right behind. Tony’s lips twitched into a faint smirk when he noticed you. “The tests all came back clear, but the doctors said you need to get some rest. Dr. Cho and I already spoke with your principal, she assured us you can take as long as you need off from school to recover.” May spoke gently.

     “And if you need anything at all, you have Bruce’s number. He’ll call every couple of days to check in.” Tony turned to fix Peter with a stern gaze. “You are going home to rest,” Tony spoke firmly, not giving Peter any room to argue.

     “Yes, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled dejectedly. He was too tired to protest anyway. He shuffled over to his aunt who wrapped an arm around him lovingly and guided him toward the door.

     As soon as they left, Tony turned his attention on you. “And don’t think you’re getting off so easily, agent,” Tony crossed his arms with a scowl. You flinched under his stare. “Be happy Banner and Cho aren’t here right now, otherwise they’d have you put in restraints.”

     “But...” you began to protest before pausing in thought. “... yeah, ok. That’s fair.” You mumbled reluctantly. You heard a snicker and shot Bucky a glare but he just shrugged. You realized you still had your arm around him and you let it fall to your side.

     “Come on, Y/N,” he gently tugged the same arm toward your room, looking over his shoulder at a noise he heard coming from the hall behind him. “Let’s get you settled back in before the docs show up.” Bucky’s gaze fell to your hand and the medical tape on it before he glanced up at you questioningly. You just shrugged like you didn’t know what happened. He sighed before turning to Tony. “You can redo her IVs, right?”

     Tony glanced at your hand with a raised eyebrow before rolling his eyes in annoyance, trying to hide his amusement. “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he scoffed.

     Bucky nodded toward your room. “After you.” You took a step and winced in pain. Bucky noticed and, before you could protest, he took your arm in his.

     “So... what happened?” You asked as soon as you turned away from the others, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly with your casted hand. You were a little embarrassed to admit you didn't know.

     “What happened?” Bucky scoffed. “What happened is you forgot to eat for three days,” he raised an eyebrow at you. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to not skip breakfast?”

     You put on a thoughtful expression, pondering his question. “It does sound vaguely familiar...”

     Tony snorted behind the two of you and Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Steve,” he muttered. You chuckled tiredly at his exasperation and as hard as he tried, Bucky couldn’t hide the smile fighting its way to his lips. You were clearly ok, and against all odds, Peter was going to be fine as well. After you were settled back in your bed and Tony redone your IVs, Bucky pulled up the chair again and sat down at your side. He stayed there, keeping close watch until you drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on your lips.

     He thought of everything that had happened over the past several hours. I can’t believe it all happened in less than a day, he thought. He let out a sigh as he leaned back into his chair, his gaze resting on your face. You were finally at ease after spending the whole night worrying about Peter and himself as well as the others. He made a silent promise then that he would help take care of you until you were better, no matter how hard he suspected you would make it. He quietly thanked whatever led Peter, you, and everyone else safely through the long night before finally drifting off to sleep himself.

---

Tags: (Thank you all so much for your support. I love you guys!) @xmarveled @parkerspicedlatte @sunmoonandbucky @southerngracela @jll72-blog @evanstush @bla-369 @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @supermoonchildbroski @ihopeyousteponarosepetal

LAST PART   SERIES MASTERLIST   Buy me a coffee?

[dulharpa]

this is for hayley! @whistlingwillows a dear friend <3333

it’s meant to be a birthday present haha. i just want to shower you in love;;; so thought maybe i could go through as many of your fics and comment on them :^)))

(TO EVERYONE ELSE: please go to @whistlingwillows blog and read her fics!!! they are SO FCKIN GOOD AND AMAZING AND UGH HER MIND (it’s a lot of mcu and her bucky and steve fics are a*. i DEFINITELY RECOMMEND))

i wish you a VERY happy birthday and i hope we stay friends for many more years <3333333333 

i’m going through your masterlist heehee ;)))

ah first off, nice theme! i never could rlly see it before because i’m always on mobile heehee. also sorry for not reviewing them before??? i don’t usually read fics on tumblr as you’ve probably guessed;;

anyways, IM GON REVIEW THE SHIT OUT OF THESE >:DDDD

far from home -  bucky x stark sister!reader

firstly, i like how youre introducing the reader from buckys pov, like you can sort of already gather what shes like from them

‘Bucky can hear Tony’s soft inhale, feel the intensity of the man’s glare directed at Steve. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but a twitch of muscle would be enough to alert both men that he’s here. With the amount of tension crackling in the air, a brush against the wall would be equivalent to a thousand cymbals crashing in cacophony.’

IM CRYING ALREADY. the imagery in here is GLORIOUS. your tone here is so fitting! oo and the alliteration here is perfecto

ooooooo!! the backstory coming in  👀👀

‘despite what some people think that Steve and Captain America are two different personas, there will always be parts of Steve in the Avenger, and parts of the Avenger in Steve. They both want to believe in something good. They are, after all, one in the same.// Just as how Bucky and the Winter Soldier are the same man despite everything. HYDRA simply amplified the hate, fertilized the seeds of rage, curated the quiet thunder within his soul, within James Buchanan Barnes so that the Winter Soldier could thrive.’

yIKES! lol this is very character study like! nICE. it hurts tho, my poor children, i love you both 

oo ‘starlight eyes’ that is a very nice way of describing them

‘“Then what was London?” The protesters. “São Paulo?” The earthquake. “Vancouver?” Freezing cold water.//“Look, I care if Stark’s gonna run us over trying to find her. I care enough because she’s part of our team. Come off it, Steve. I know she can take care of herself. I’m gonna take a nap. Dr. Cho said no partying post-Singapore and what do you know, we throw the biggest party ever.’

ooo singapore uwu and london? (coincidence? haha jkjk) and the hints abt reader and buckys background are so good?? but so annoying??? like i just wanna KNOW yknow?? 

‘The water runs copper and the sting bites at his palm as he tries not to think. Tries to focus on the numbing cold that runs over his skin.’ 

your imagery is so vivid?? im actually in awe??? i am so regretful i havent kept reading your fics. like i know they are amazing, i just keep putting them off??? idk man. hopefully this makes up for it (gd tho, im still not done with commenting on one fic. this is what im doing with my motivation teehee ;)

‘ He feels weak. Tired. He wants to go back to bed but he also wants to stay out in the sun for a few hours more. The sun kisses his skin through the windows and he squints against the blue sky, wondering ‘

mood during this quarantine lol

‘“Oh, right.” Your voice is flat, uninterested, cold, as you stare at him. “You killed my parents.”Shit.‘

 OUCH LMAO THATS C O L D, O GOT +100 PHYSIC DAMAGE FROM JUST READING THAT

ooo robin as a nickname noice. very much gives me batman vibes lol

oh! and the way of doing the ‘flashback’ is neat! very original. it both tells us what happened AND buckys reaction to it again. he can re-analyse himself and reader. very cool

‘If you walk away now, don’t bother coming back!” Silence. Bucky can hear his own strained breathing, your soft sigh as you soaked in his ultimatum.’

👀👀 yikes that ultimatum. :// not good bucky. tbf theyre both trying to hurt each other but Yikes

eyy!!! readers pov!! finally! and the switch after we find out the outsiders pov? brilliant

oh no :(( more angst

‘When’s the last time you saw your therapist?”“Don’t have one. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”’ they BOTH need therapists;;;;

very good fic!!! :DD they rlly do hate each other! i definitely like how you went back and forth with the timeline! it gave me a v strong idea on what yn was like even before we rlly got introduced. i am now very curious on where reader is? i love your characterisations! 

i will read the 10k+ fics but heck the last one took me ages lolol (i will comment in the future tho!! i promise <3 ) (that took me over an hour jjhghgdjh)

slipping away- amnesiac modern bucky x reader

omg,,, AMNESIA! >:DDDDDD

‘ Put your fucking seatbelt on’

oh no, istg theyre going to have a car crash arent they (’ doesn’t put the seatbelt on to spite you.’ NO PLEASE PUT IT ON U DUMBASS)

ok,,,,, at LEAST he put it on before he got hit, thank heck. but still. youre so cruel to your poor characters lmaoo

oh gosh

‘You fall apart slowly, like pieces of you peeling away until you’re nothing more than your broken heart. The sobs that wrack your body are relentless and you shove your forearm into your mouth to muffle your cries. You want to bite into your skin. You want to distract yourself from the agony tearing you to shreds. You want to feel anything but the pain.///Tears sweep into your hair, cloud your vision and your whole face floods with heat as you try to breathe through the pain. You’re cleaved into pieces on that bed, eyes squeezed shut as the tears keep flowing, and your throat burns’

this hurts damn, it is so vivid?? i can really feel it 

i am so glad you got into writing yk?? so glad

NO PLS, TELL HIM. TELL HIM :((( ‘shes nice once you get to know her?? shes known nat for years now!! years!!

oh god ‘he looks younger without the burden of your time together’ this is so angsty omg

‘Well, he was stumbling through his apology and I just let him finish.” Your body fills with warmth as you remember his embarrassed smile, the way he shoved his baseball cap farther down his head, chin tucked to his chest, trying to hide that face. “When he was done, I opened my mouth to say something polite but what came out was ‘You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss’.”

this is so soft i stg im crying in the club

OH SHITTTTTTTTTTT , you left it off like that!!! thats so cruel!!!! i can’t!!! how dare you!!!! :””””””((( im typing this with tears in my eyes ill have u know!!

anyway!!! very good fic!! you could honestly make that into a longfic very easily lol. i felt too many emotions :(( 

i was just about to say where is the fluff!! where is it!! when i saw the next one and yay :))) pls i cant have more angsty stuff rn

.

cookies and rings and things bucky and reader

‘how much do you love me?’ ‘count the snowflakes, multiply by a million’

did you have to start the fic off with such a SOFT line? its so soft! so TENDER 

‘He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.’  jesus, the soft moments filled with love are the greatest <3

you can write fluff so well, whyd you have to pain me with all that angst ;””””) (1/10 hurt, 9/10 comfort is the way to go lolol) (jkjk ill read the angsty ones too when i have the spoons) (gonna reread that hydra steve one and ik thatll fuck me UP)

‘ Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are. ‘

you literally brought me to tears reading this softness, you have truly found my weakness

‘ She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst ‘

he already likes her so much! i can’t believe this is affecting me so much :’)

‘Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky’

this is so soft??? sam loves reader bc reader loves bucky sm. pls my hear <3333

you do fluff SO WELL DAMN 

‘F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission. ‘

yike bringing back that reminder oof

but thats so soft??? (i am def overusing soft but,,,,, i love it and the vibe) she sent him cookies! god i can feel the love  

‘She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.’

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 my hEART

you show how much they love each other in so many ways??? i am dying

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.//”“What?”//Oh.Shit.

oh my god! i am literally tearing up!!! AGAIN!!!!!!!!

oh shit o am literally crying

your fluff got me crying harder than your angst i hope youre happy

I really hope you enjoy reading this?? i keep forgetting to like text you but i wanted to do something for your birthday. especially in quarantine when everythings gone crazy. one year i swear ill do something REALLY good for you. not making promises bc i hate if i dont. but ill like, learn how to podfic because you D E S E R V E  I T 

ive spent like three hours doing this lolol 

thank you so much for everything hayley!

[artificialqueens]

Powerless Part 8 (Branjie) - athena2

A/N: Thank you to everyone that’s still reading! I’ve finally fed the children some fluff after all this angst! This chapter has so much fluff it lowkey made me wish I could draw so I could draw some parts of it. Thank you so, so much to @youre-a-kite, for your support and amazing feedback with this. I would appreciate and love any comments or feedback you have!

Brooke has been asleep for three days.

The doctors at the base removed the bullets from her abdomen and thigh. They found and removed a GPS tracking chip in her left shoulder after Vanessa mentioned it. They controlled the bleeding, stitched her up, put her on antibiotics. She’s hooked up to monitors, her life reduced to lines and beeps and numbers, and her chest rises gently, but she still won’t wake up.

Vanessa shivers as she remembers holding Brooke in her arms as the blood gushed out of her and her breathing got faint and her eyes slid shut and didn’t open again.

No one knows what the latest shot from the lab might do to her. Vanessa’s ears shut down at Silk’s long-ass explanation of the drug and its possible effects, and all she got out of it is the worry currently buzzing inside her.

She’s taking a break from the crime-fighting and part of her is relieved. She honestly doesn’t care if the world goes to shit when the world did this to Brooke. Let the burden of protecting it make someone else’s shoulders tense. She spends every second next to her bed, chatting about everything and nothing for Brooke’s deaf ears, her own form of whistling in the dark, so Brooke doesn’t wake up alone. A’Keria stole Silk’s prized comfy chair for her to sit in, both of them acting appropriately puzzled and innocent when Silk chucked a soda bottle across her office in anger and led a witch hunt, complete with pitchfork, for the thief.

She’s dozing in the chair, which is truly worth anything Silk could do with that plastic pitchfork, forcing her eyes back open because every time they close she sees Brooke bleeding in her arms, only this time Vanessa didn’t get her to base fast enough. She ignores her heavy limbs and tells herself she’s fine, that she’s used to little (or no) sleep, and this way she’s guaranteed to be awake for Brooke.

“Vanessa?” A’Keria patters across the floor. “Silk wants to talk to you. It’s important.”

“But Brooke-”

“It’ll only be a few minutes.” A’Keria is apologetic, and Vanessa understands there’s not a question involved.

She huffs and puffs her way to Silk’s office like a middle-aged white lady whose coupon was expired.

“This better be good.” She crosses her arms and digs her heels into the ground.

“Vanjie, we can’t find anything on Brooke.” There’s a tone to Silk’s voice that Vanessa doesn’t like.

“What are you trying to say?”

“It’s just a little…suspicious.” Silk ticks points off on her fingers, and Vanessa knows she’s been sitting on this a while. “She wakes up in the lab with no memory. She said the lab ‘helped’ people like her, but where are they? She never mentioned anyone else, and there’s only a few costumed villains in this city. We can’t find anything about this lab, and don’t you think it’s weird they’re not looking for her? We found one recent report of a plane that crashed in an ice storm, but she’s not on the flight manifest. Facial recognition got nothing. Not to mention all we have to go on is a first name–”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t get her social security number when she was bleeding to death in front of me!”

“Vanessa,” Silk tries. “I’m just saying, how do we know she was on the plane? What if that’s another lie the lab fed her and told her to use when someone questioned her? How do we know everything she told us wasn’t just lies they made her believe?”

Vanessa’s stomach churns. She doesn’t like what Silk is implying, but she has to admit it could be possible.

“Are you saying we can’t trust her?”

“All I’m saying is I haven’t made it this long in the game by believing everything I hear.”

She thinks of Brooke sleeping in her arms, gulping hot chocolate like a little kid, smiling like she was afraid to. The way Brooke’s eyes fought through their shadows of pain and lit up like the sun when she remembered her name. That Brooke would never lie to her. But if she didn’t know she was lying…

Vanessa distracts herself with the plane diagram on Silk’s computer screen.

“How many people were on the plane?”

“Sixty, all with some ballet company.”

“How many does it hold?”

“Sixty-one.”

“But you don’t think that’s suspicious?” Vanessa demands. “One empty seat. What if it was Brooke’s? She said they took her from the crash. What if they deleted her records? The whole plane went down, and with the record gone, no one would know she was there! That empty seat was Brooke, it has to be.”

“The plane crashed last March,” A’Keria cuts in. “Frost appeared eight months ago, at the end of November. They could have kept her there, training her, making sure their drugs worked, before they set her out. It fits with the time frame,” she concludes and Vanessa could kiss her.

She can tell they’ve swayed Silk, or at least given her some doubts, which is sometimes the best you can hope for.

“Keep looking. Please, Silk, I…I love her.” It’s the first time she’s told anyone else, and any doubt she might have had is gone as the words leave her. She loves Brooke, and she doesn’t care who knows it.

Vanessa speeds back to Brooke’s room, trying not to be disappointed when she’s still asleep. She’d had some overly hopeful fantasy that Brooke would be wide awake and ready for another kiss when she got back.

She drops a careful kiss on Brooke’s forehead. “Please wake up, Brooke,” she whispers. She nestles into the chair, praying she won’t fall asleep, but she does. —

Vanessa shoots awake in the semi-darkness, wall clock reading 6:17. She’s unsure if it’s morning or night until a shaft of morning sun breaks through the window and punches her in the face. She gets up to close the curtains when Brooke’s finger twitches.

Brooke’s eyelids are fluttering, breath quickening, and Vanessa’s heart leaps when those green eyes meet hers for the first time in four days.

“Where…” Brooke rasps. Her eyes flit around in fear, and Vanessa understands at once. Waking up in a strange bed with no memory of how she got there…

She repositions herself so Brooke can see her. “You’re not at the lab, I promise. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Brooke looks wearily at her, fingers fumbling at the IV. “No, you wanna leave that in, okay?” Vanessa takes her hand before she does any damage to herself. “That’s helping you, I don’t know doctor shit, but it’s okay.”

“V-Vanessa?” she asks, voice sounding like she’s had a cocktail of gravel and broken glass, breathing still ragged.

“It’s me. I’m here. You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you.” She gives Brooke’s hand a light squeeze and grabs a water bottle from the nightstand. “You want some?”

Brooke nods and Vanessa holds it to her mouth while she sips slowly, breaths calming.

“Do you remember what happened?” She knows she has to call a doctor, but it’s been four lonely days and Vanessa just needs to hear Brooke’s voice, needs to see that she’s okay.

“I…my name. My name is Brooke.”

“That’s right,” Vanessa lays encouragement over her desperation. “Anything else?”

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration, but she seems dazed, and there’s a glassy, far-off look in her eyes making Vanessa’s chest tight with worry. She’s about to press the call button when Brooke’s shoulders heave.

“I remember he hurt me and I…I…”

“Oh, Brooke,” she soothes. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Vanessa blinks back tears, her heart sinking. She doesn’t know how she was naive enough to think Brooke would wake up with a perfect memory and her trauma wiped clean. Brooke will need help to get through what the lab did to her, she knows that.

“Vanessa, I don’t feel good,” Brooke says quietly, lowering her head.

“I’m gonna get someone to check on you, alright? I should’ve called sooner, I’m sorry. Does anything hurt?”

She shakes her head. “It’s too hot.”

Vanessa has Silk and a doctor in the room in seconds. Brooke flinches away and curls in on herself when she sees the doctor, breath catching in her throat and soft whimpers falling from her lips as she trembles.

“It’s okay, she won’t hurt you. I’ll be right here with you the whole time. I got you, I promise.” Vanessa squeezes her hand tighter and Brooke grips back like Vanessa is her lifeline.

“I trust you,” Brooke replies, an echo of days and several lifetimes ago, and Vanessa’s heart lightens.

“Heart rate’s a little elevated,” Dr. O’Hara explains the monitors for Vanessa’s benefit as she pulls a thermometer from under Brooke’s tongue.

“99.7,” she announces, shooting a glance at Silk that Vanessa can’t read.

“That’s not too high, right?” Vanessa asks hopefully.

Then Silk informs her that Brooke’s normal temperature is 95.6, and Vanessa allows herself to panic. —

“There’s no infection. Doctor thinks it’s a residual effect of the drug. It’s like it needs to burn through her system before it’s gone. Her bloodwork is different from the first sample we took, so this must be a new formula. Probably why she’s reacting to it like this,” Silk explains as Vanessa applies an ice pack to Brooke’s forehead.

She nodded off just after Silk left this morning and has been asleep since, drenched in sweat and mumbling unintelligibly as the number on the new monitor rises steadily, currently hovering around 102.

“I think it should pass in a few days,” A’Keria muses. “When she talked to us, she said the drugs made her feel weird at first, which is why she was so out of it when she fought you. Then she would sleep, which she’s been doing. This is the rest of it. Since she went every week, I’m figuring this’ll wear off by Sunday.”

“She’ll get through it. She can take higher temperatures because of her powers like you can, Vanj,” Silk pats her shoulder in a rare display of comfort.

It’s nice to think this could all be over soon, but that still means days of sitting here uselessly, watching Brooke thrash around and sweat and futilely putting ice packs on her.

Shooting fire out of her hands has never seemed so stupid.

She is powerless. —

A’Keria was right. The fever starts to break Saturday afternoon, hours after it hit 105 and A’Keria had to drag Vanessa away from Brooke’s bed while the doctors put ice on her.

By that night she’s back at safe levels, and it’s another waiting game. Vanessa wears out the tile floor wondering how much Brooke remembers and is still up when Brooke coughs awake, instantly holding water to her lips and gripping her shoulder comfortingly.

“Vanessa, I remember something else,” Brooke says once she’s able to talk.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

Vanessa leans down as Brooke stretches up and their lips meet after what feels like years. Brooke’s lips are cool and yet Vanessa melts at their touch. She shivers with delight as Brooke’s hand roams down her spine. Brooke is here, she’s alive, and whatever happens, they’re together. She perches on the edge of the mattress and lays her hand on Brooke’s chest, feels her heart race with excitement beneath her touch.

They’re interrupted a few minutes later when Brooke’s heart monitor goes off. —

Brooke is released Tuesday night, and Vanessa takes her to the safe house Silk set up for them. A’Keria even went to their apartments and stocked the cozy space with their own stuff, and Vanessa collapses onto her familiar brown couch with a sigh.

Brooke stands in the doorway, picking at her nails.

“Hey, you wanna sit down? Or we could go to bed if you’re tired,” she offers. Brooke is like a skittish animal, eyes darting around nervously, and Vanessa keeps her voice low and even.

“Um, bed is okay. Can I get changed?”

“Of course you can. A’Keria brought your clothes, they’re in the second room down the hall.”

Vanessa changes into her own pajamas and raids the kitchen, drooling at A’Keria’s chip selection.

Brooke comes back in gray pajama shorts and a white T-shirt, and again Vanessa marvels at how much smaller and more vulnerable she looks when she’s not in her suit.

“Anything you want to eat?” Vanessa asks as she rips open a bag of chips.

Brooke shakes her head.

“How about toast? You really should eat something,” Vanessa insists lightly. Brooke has lost weight, not just over the past week but in the months since they first met, and Vanessa can feel Brooke’s ribs whenever she rubs her back.

“C-Can I have hot chocolate too?”

“You can have all the hot chocolate you want.”

Brooke eats her toast while Vanessa crunches on chips. They’re in her bed that A’Keria had moved in (she conveniently only had time to bring one bed, not that either of them has complained) and it’s so much like that night Vanessa is half-expecting the lab to burst in and take Brooke away from her again. She forces the thought away. They’re safe now. The silence is comfortable, and peaceful, and Vanessa lets out a breath she’s been holding for well over a week, feels the tension slowly dissolve from her limbs. On Friday they’re meeting with Silk to indulge her love of “debriefing”, but they had the next two days to themselves, and Vanessa could be content with this for two days, maybe even for her whole life.

“You doing okay, Brooke? Anything you need?”

“No, I’m good. Um, Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, but are we…what are we? Like, you know…”

Vanessa’s been asking herself that same question, and she honestly doesn’t know the answer. She’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she is in bed with a woman she would’ve happily punched in the face a month ago.

“I know what you mean. We can be whatever we want to be. If you want to go slow, get to know each other better, we can do that. If you want to go fast, we can do that too. I love you, Brooke, and I’m comfortable doing this either way.”

“I love you too,” Brooke breathes. “I think…I think I want to go slow.”

“Then we’ll go slow. Take it a day at a time. We don’t need all the answers right now. We’ll do what feels right, okay?”

Brooke nods, stifling a yawn.

“Get some sleep, Brooke. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Brooke nods again, burying her head in the pillow. She’s asleep in minutes, and Vanessa puts her chip bowl on the bedside table (you never knew when a midnight craving would hit) and quickly follows suit. It’s been a long day.

She feels like she’s barely closed her eyes when a shout lurches her awake. Brooke is thrashing around beside her, asking someone to please stop hurting her, and Vanessa places a cautious hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re not there. It’s just a dream.” she repeats softly until Brooke bolts up in the bed, panting, shirt damp with sweat, cheeks wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“No, Brooke, don’t apologize. It’s okay.” She holds Brooke to her chest, puts the blonde’s head on her shoulder until her breathing becomes steady again. She falls back to sleep with her arms wrapped securely around Brooke, ready to fight her nightmares away. —

They live the next two days like royalty, laying in bed and eating chips, taking breaks for soft, salty-lipped kisses. It’s not until she’s in bed with Brooke, their legs tangled together, Brooke laughing at something she said, that Vanessa realizes she wasn’t entirely happy before. She wasn’t miserable, exactly, but she knows she hasn’t cared for another person, or for herself, really, since before the fire.

Now that the drug is out of her system, Brooke’s head is a little clearer, and between her glimpses of memory and Vanessa filling in the blanks, she is able to reconstruct the night before the lab’s ambush.

Vanessa remembers every second of that night, the image of Brooke beside her and the softness of Brooke’s hair as she ran her fingers through it permanently engraved in her brain. She knows Brooke is still a little fuzzy on some of the details, but she also knows that Brooke still loves her, and she lets it be enough for now.

The debriefing goes on far too long, in Vanessa’s opinion, and Silk has a mile-long list with Brooke’s answers to her questions, which probably aren’t as helpful as she hoped.

Brooke was allowed on one floor of the building. She only interacted with the doctor and the General. She doesn’t know anyone’s real names. She never saw other people there. She knows there was snow on the ground when her plane crashed and that the leaves had changed colors when she started doing her missions.

The legal issues are taken care of. Under the Superhero Protection Act, Brooke was within her rights to defend herself against the General and the doctor, even though Brooke, who has her knees up to her chest the whole time, goes rigid in her chair and keeps muttering I’m bad as they explain this. She didn’t sleep at all last night, and Vanessa hopes seeing Dr. West on Monday can help her.

Dr. West–Nina–used to be a superhero herself, West Wind, back in the day, but retired to practice psychiatry and spend time with her wife. She’s dealt with cases similar to Brooke’s and A’Keria had recommended her, knowing she’d be gentle enough for Brooke.

Vanessa runs her thumb over Brooke’s hand. Things are going to get better for them. She knows it. —

Vanessa wakes up to an empty bed and the scent of vanilla wafting through the apartment, which means Brooke had a nightmare. She’s taken up baking when she can’t get back to sleep after. She says it helps calm her, and gives her instructions to follow, which she likes. She’s gotten better the past few weeks, and Vanessa smiles as she remembers the disastrous first attempt when the smoke alarm woke her at 3am and she had to defrost their stove after Brooke panicked and shot ice at it so it didn’t catch on fire.

There’s vanilla cupcakes on cooling racks, and even though Brooke has deep purple bags under her eyes and her cuticles are chewed up, Vanessa waits to mention it.

“Cupcakes, huh? She fancy. You stepping up in the baking world, boo.”

Brooke’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

Brooke’s face falls. “Yeah. I’ve been out here since 4,” she admits.

Guilt washes over her as she realizes that she slept through it, that Brooke had to deal with it alone, but that could mean the nightmare wasn’t intense enough to wake her, which is hopeful.

“You know you can wake me when it happens. You don’t have to suffer alone,” she puts on her concerned voice, making sure to never yell at Brooke or make her feel bad for this.

“I bother you almost every night. I wanted to let you sleep.”

Vanessa goes quiet. She knows Brooke has been working on this with Nina. Trying to understand that she’s not a burden and she’s not a bad person for asking for help. She also knows that, even though Brooke is doing a lot better with the therapy, the lab’s cuts run far too deep to be healed so quickly.

“Well, let’s try one of these cupcakes,” she puts on a smile and stuffs one into her mouth. —

“Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“So, Nina said it might be good for me, but I wanted to ask you, um…”

“What is it, baby?”

“Do you think maybe we could get a kitty?”

“Of course we can. I’ve always wanted a cat, actually. We can go to the shelter tomorrow if you want.” —

A colorful ball of fluff masquerading as a cat paws at the front of his cage when Brooke walks by. The shelter worker lets him out, and he immediately latches onto Brooke’s leg. She sits on the floor and reaches out a hand, then hesitates, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she looks at Vanessa questioningly.

“Oh, you can pet him,” the worker thankfully supplies before Vanessa has to explain that Brooke is still used to asking permission for everything she does.

She strokes his fur tentatively, smiling as the cat begins to purr.

“I think he likes you,” the worker says. “His name’s Henry. He was brought in with another cat, and they’re kinda friends now. This here is Apollo,” he explains, opening another cage for a gray cat to strut out. This one also nuzzles against Brooke, who pets a cat with each hand and grins in a way Vanessa has never seen.

“They like me,” she whispers incredulously.

Vanessa smiles at the worker. “We’ll take them both.” —

The next month passes by both slowly and quickly. The days seem long and indistinguishable when living them, but when Vanessa looks back at the end of the month, she sees how much things have changed, how different every day has been leading up to now.

Brooke is understandably wary of taking medication, and Nina says they can ease into the idea later if needed, but even just being away from the lab, going to therapy, and taking care of herself is working wonders. She makes it through the night once, then twice. She eats more. She talks beyond just answering questions. The skin around her nails begins to heal.

She still has her bad days. Still has nightmares, still says I’m sorry more than one person should, still calls herself bad for things she’s done. But when they finally have a Sunday where Brooke doesn’t jump out of bed and scramble to go to her appointment, Vanessa cries tears of joy in the bathroom.

And Brooke is making her better too. She goes to her own session with Nina. She starts to think about her mom more, and even talks about her. She digs the memories up from where she’s buried them and lets them see the sun. Nina mentions that helping at the animal shelter might aid Brooke’s progress, and Vanessa goes with her because she’s not quite ready to do something like that alone yet. She institutes Sunday brunch, which her mom did when she was a kid, and she creates her own sort of family, Silk the grumpy uncle who yelled on holidays and A’Keria the cool aunt that always got you the good presents.

They take things slow, like Brooke asked for. They talk for hours at night, Brooke listening intently to stories about Vanessa’s family, helping alleviate some of the ache. They cook dinner together, and Brooke massages her shoulders, and she eases Brooke into sleep with gentle neck kisses and holds her through the nightmares. Vanessa’s never taken a relationship this slow. Usually she ran through them like a blaze, the heat and passion consuming her while the flames grew, and if she happened to make a few girlfriends (or buildings) crumble from her heat, so be it.

But Brooke is a cold winter snow, a slow and quiet chill fiercely penetrating through your heavy coat and bulky layers of clothing straight to your heart, taking your breath away if you weren’t used to it.

Vanessa hasn’t felt this kind of joy, this pure bliss, in years, and she knows Brooke feels the same way. Which only makes it that much worse when Silk corners her with an idea one day.

“Vanjie, I have a plan but we’re gonna need Brooke. Frost, really,” Silk begins.

“I have a bad feeling about this, but what is it?”

“Well, I think we need to destroy the lab. If you and Brooke went in together, we could get records, information, we can get those doctors in custody and make sure there’s no building to return to. So they don’t do to someone else what they did to Brooke.”

Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, mind already weighing the dangers of this. “What makes you think she would want to go back there? Do you really think she should go back?”

“That’s up to her. We could really use her knowledge on this. Doctor says she’s okay physically, but I don’t want her health at risk, and if her or Nina don’t think she’s ready, we can wait. Just ask her.”

And Vanessa says she will, but the days go by and she still hasn’t. Brooke has been doing so well. The nightmares have been less violent, and she’s happy. They’re both happy. Will bringing this up ruin it all? Steal her happiness, make her get bad again? How can she even ask Brooke to go back there?

Over two weeks later, when Silk brings it up again, Vanessa knows she has to ask. But that night Brooke has a nightmare so bad she shoves Vanessa off her and it takes her torturous seconds to realize she’s not the doctor, she’s not trying to hurt her. Brooke’s tears soak into her shirt, Vanessa’s heart rips in two, and she knows the question won’t make it past her lips. —

She is able to keep the question secret, planting it down deep and ignoring it in favor of Brooke’s safety and contentment, but all it takes is one moment, at a godforsaken debriefing, for it to break through the dirt, demanding an answer.

“So, Brooke, what do you think of the plan?”

“Silk,” Vanessa hisses, but it’s too late.

“What plan?”

Vanessa sighs as Silk ducks out of the line of fire. “Brooke, Silk wants to infiltrate the lab and destroy it. I was supposed to tell you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brooke sounds hurt and Vanessa never wants to hurt her.

“Brooke-”

“C-Can we talk about it later?” she asks, and Vanessa nods.

“Okay. Um, Silk, I want to hear about this plan. Please.”

Silk never passes up an opportunity to lecture, and Vanessa gets herself comfy before she starts. Silk should really pass out snacks if she wants people to pay attention for this long.

Brooke’s face is blank and unreadable as Silk drones. She nods once it’s done, eyes downcast and bottom lip between her teeth. She lifts her head up when she’s ready, and Vanessa isn’t sure what she wants Brooke to say, but she’ll support her either way.

“I want to do this. Let’s bring down the lab.”

[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Chapter 13]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 3.7K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings: Mentions of injuries/torture, fluff, a smudge of angst, mention of a panic attack

A/N:

Here it finally is, lol, I’ve been sick so oof.

Beta by the absolutely amazing @annaloveloki

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[Series Masterlist]  [Masterlist]

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There were a few things you knew were certain. That every day the sun would rise in the East and set in the West. That every night, if the skies were clear, you could name the constellations set in the sky. That your favorite constellation, secretly, was the same one that was around your neck until Rumlow broke your necklace. That your favorite flowers were the ones Bucky helped you first plant in your greenhouse. That you didn’t mind the cold because it meant Bucky would hold you closer and wrap you in blankets while drinking hot cocoa. That no matter what, you absolutely loved Bucky. And that that insistent beeping you could hear was utterly annoying.

Just on the edge between consciousness and unconsciousness, the beeping sped up faintly, and you realized it echoed the beat in your chest. You groaned softly, the dull pain registering as your body starting to connect with your mind. Straining to open your eyes, you felt the furs of your favorite blanket wrapped around you, you could smell your favorite oils that Wanda would use in your hair. Then the scent of Bucky’s cologne surrounded you, making you unconsciously smile weakly. Bucky’s bed. You were in Bucky’s bed.

The shuffling beside you captured your attention, your eyes struggled to focus on the figures beside your bed. Bucky caught your attention first, you numbly realized his hand was laced with your right hand. Steve was sitting on your other side, his hand laid on top of your wrist lightly, a bandage wrapped around that hand. They both didn’t look away from you for a second, scared that if they looked away you would disappear again. They both still looked grimy and tired, dark circles and longer hair then when you last saw each of them. At least they both looked like they took a shower.

“You two look like hell,” you joked in a raspy voice. The tension was thick in the room, your comment making the men relax ever so slightly; you squirmed faintly, uncomfortable as you attempted to sit up.

Bucky shot forward, his right hand pressed to your stomach, his left on your shoulder, “No, no, you shouldn’t be sitting up now, y/n/n.”

Groaning, you shook him off, sitting up, ignoring the pain shooting through your body. “I feel like I was hit by a train,” you mumbled, before your hand flung to your stomach, the past two weeks flooding into your memory.

Steve saw the panic rush your face, “You’re home, and the baby is okay. Dr. Cho gave you an ultrasound to check and everything.” His clarification calmed you, before you gently laced your hand with Bucky’s.

“I want to know everything, don’t keep me in the dark about what happened,” your voice was clearer now, locking eyes with Bucky.

“My Dove, you don’t want to know everything we did-“ He started, but you promptly shut him with a glare.

“I killed Rumlow. I know of everything those monsters did to both of you, I want to know everything else. Is Pierce dead? Is Zola dead? What will happen to the people of their kingdom? How long was I asleep? Is Aura okay?” You started to ramble, your dry throat decided to close up, making you cough. Bucky rushed forward and helped you drink water, soothing your throat.

“Stubborn,” Steve teased, smiling sadly at you as his thumb rubbed circles onto your wrist. “We’ll tell you, but please relax.”

You sighed softly, nodding as you laid back down. “Well? Go on,” you squeezed Bucky’s hand.

He gave you a small smile in response, “You’re incredible, y/n/n,” he spoke softly, hesitant to speak towards you. He looked like the man he was a few months ago, scared to tell you his nightmares, afraid you would run away from the monster he was. The truth was, he was petrified of what you would think. He broke his promise. Nevertheless, he continued. “Your messages were the reason we could even find you. Zola’s dead, Pierce is in a cell until he signs off his kingdom, which will be renamed, and we are trying to find a new ruler for it, and you’ve been asleep all night and most of the day. Aura is fine.” You spared a glance towards the clock, seeing it was almost 3 in the afternoon. “You were given an IV,  bandaged, and your wounds cleaned. Luckily nothing got infected, I don’t know what we would have done if we didn’t notice your codes. You were gone for two weeks! And gods, you’re a genius for the codes, and it took me so long to realize it, and it’s my fault you were even taken, and-“

“Bucky,” you interrupted, squeezing his hand. “I chose to be taken.”

It was apparently Steve’s turn to interrupt, “Why would you do that?”

You sighed softly, worrying your bottom lip, “He cornered me in my room, he said there was already an assassin who could hurt Bucky, so I sent Aura. Then at the balcony, there were more guards behind the doors. If you came closer, they would have taken you too. I made a choice. I don’t blame you for my own decisions.”

That seemed to satisfy Steve, who stood, “Well, you’re home now, so I’ll let you two catch up then.”

You tugged on his sleeve weakly with your injured hand, halting his movements to leave. “I missed you, Stevie,” you gave him your best ‘I’m your baby sister’ voice.

He turned back around, letting you tug him into a careful hug. He held you close, making sure not to put any pressure on your still injured body, careful of the wires attached to you. “I missed you too, y/n/n,” he murmured softly, sighing softly before pulling away from your arms. “Catch up, I’m staying until after your coronation anyway, so I’ll be around,” he teased, kissing your head. You gave him your best reassuring grin as he walked out the door, leaving you and Bucky alone.

“I also missed you, every day,” you whispered, looking back towards Bucky. You let yourself take it all in, the past two weeks felt like a blur.

“You did it to protect me?” his voice broke, making your heart drop. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I love you. I’d do anything to protect you, especially from those monsters.” You gently cusped his jaw in your hand, and despite the voice in his head, he leaned into your touch, desperate for the comfort.

“I’m not worth your life, My Dove, I’m not worth anything.” You gasped softly, tugging him closer.

“James Buchanan Barnes, you don’t need your father’s name, or to slay every dragon to be worth something. You’ve done enough, you are enough. You deserve some happiness of your own, My Love.” You finally had him close enough to kiss him. He keened for your kiss, not hesitating to push himself closer to you. One more tug and he found himself practically on top of the bed; you deepened the kiss, sucking on his lower lip, proud of yourself as he groaned softly. He held himself at an angle to not hurt you as he kissed you senseless.

You both broke the kiss, breathless, and he grinned like an idiot. “I think I’ve found it in you, My Queen,” he whispered softly, letting his eyes close as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I was so scared, watching you just being taken, and how were you so brave?”

“I was terrified,” you admitted, letting yourself finally feel everything you were ignoring for two weeks. Tears started to prick at your skin, your sniffling made him open his eyes. Disregarding his own problems, he held your face gently, frowning as he wiped your tears away. He got into the bed with you, letting you bury yourself in his arms, the flood gate opening. “I felt so helpless, but I didn’t focus on them, or the pain. I focused on coming back home, coming back to you.” You smiled, a wet giggle escaping your lips. “You’re my Northern Star, Bucket,” he felt his heartbreak at your words; only wanting to see you smile, he showered you in kisses as he murmured pet names and sweet nothings.

“My strong, intelligent, beautiful, amazing Queen,” he murmured. You buried your head into his chest, letting yourself break down.

“They made me feel dirty, used,” you closed your eyes, blocking out the painful memories, “They barely touched me, and yet…” you shuddered, “I couldn’t stop them.”

“None of that was your fault, My Love,” he gently pushed a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear, tenderly holding your face in his hands. “You did absolutely wonderful. You’re absolutely wonderful.” He smiled sadly, sniffling as he let his own tears fall. “I missed you so much.”

You held yourself even closer, desperate for his comfort, “I missed you even more,” you smiled faintly, letting yourself finally break down in the only place you felt safe. He simply held you tighter as you cried into his shoulder, kissing your head lovingly.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” you smiled warmly.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you teased, relaxing in his arms. You let the moment pass, the two of you silent in each other’s arms, just wanting to reassure yourselves that you two were really there, that this wasn’t some dream. “Steve said you guys did an ultrasound?” you whispered softly, moving your head slightly to look at him.

He nodded, picking up an envelope from the bedside. “Dr. Cho said the baby was perfectly healthy, that the mysterious blue liquid they kept giving you was a mix of hormones and chemicals to keep you weak, sluggish, as the opposite of an adrenaline shot. It didn’t hurt the baby though, and she told me not to open this until you were awake and responsive.” He handed you the envelope, which you opened quickly. “Didn’t give me much hint as to why,” he mumbled, watching you open it.

You pulled the small picture out, an ultrasound. The baby was only a small dot on the grainy picture but that’s not what caught your attention. You gasped softly, looking up at Bucky, how just look plain confused. “Do you see that, My Love?” you asked gently, squeezing his hand lightly.

He shook his head, “Dots? And numbers?”

You giggled, smiling up at him as you took his hand. You pointed at one small circle, “Baby 1,” then you moved your hand to another small circle beside the first. “Baby 2,” You spoke softly, pulling the small parchment that was also in the envelope, Dr. Cho’s writing simply telling you what you already figured out. “Twins, Bucky. We’re having twins.”

Amused, you watched his eyes widen, taking in the new information. “Twins?” he whispered softly. You nodded, grinning as you saw his smile grow. “We’re having twins!” He launched at you in a hug, setting you off in a fit of giggles. “Gods! Twins!” He mumbled against your skin, and you buried yourself closer.

“Definitely going to need some help. We’re going to have two mini-us running around soon enough, and I could barely deal with you and Steve when we were younger. How can I deal with two us?” you started to ramble.

Bucky simply placed his hands to cup your jaw, effectively shushing you. His smile crinkled his eyes, and you couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes like you had wanted to for weeks. “I’ll be there to help, My Love. We can do this. They will be absolutely perfect,” he kissed your nose playfully, chuckling as you scrunched your face up in response.

“You’re going to spoil them rotten, aren’t you?” You teased, smiling up at him as you leaned into his touch.

The hand that you weren’t leaning against moved to your stomach. “Without a single doubt,” he teased back, his fingers tracing patterns into the fabric above your stomach. “And you are also getting spoiled rotten, My Love. I have two weeks to make up for, Courtship-wise, and it starts the second you are clear to leave this bed.” His mischievous smile was back, and you were a bit nervous as to what he was planning.

You buried yourself into his arms again, yawning faintly as you closed your eyes, nodding. “Can’t wait,” you teased, voice dying as you easily fell asleep in his arms. Safe, content. Home.

-

Turns out, it was about a week and a half until Dr. Cho let you leave your bed for more than small exercise or bathing or food. Most of your bruises were faded, almost completely gone; the smaller cuts only had pink scars left to heal; the small fractures in your bones were almost completely healed over; and the worst of your injuries, the stab wound to your hand, was only a bad scab still healing over now. It was more for the babies’ health and keeping you hydrated and well-fed than anything. You were dehydrated, and malnourished, all your vital nutrients going directly to the fetuses growing in you for the two weeks you were held captive. But now you were alright, and finallycleared to roam the castle again.

You noticed the difference immediately. Bucky, most likely with some help, had been upkeeping the flowers in your greenhouse, as well as the rest of the castle. The only guards near you anymore were the ones you’ve trusted for years, no more new guards. Aurora and Raine and Dermot were all excited to see you – Raine having practically tripled in size since the last time you saw the pup.

Life wasn’t perfect right now, and there was more than one slip up, including the other day when a loud noise outside your room that sounded so similar to your former cell door being slammed shut caused you to have a panic attack. Despite both you and Bucky having backward steps in your mental health, you always leaned on each other. The more you confided in him with what Hydra did when the cameras were off, the more he was upset he killed them all so quickly.

But it was over now. The former King Pierce signed away his kingdom, and after much debate, it was given to Lady (now Queen) Brunnhilde. Formerly of Asgard, and one of the Valkyrie warriors that fought in the War, the Avengers council thought she would be a good Queen for the masses. Tough, yet with a gentle heart. Plus, she would have the help of Asgard and the rest of the Kingdoms, whenever needed. Once that was official, the executioner, Nick Fury, took great pleasure in killing Pierce. You found that a bit archaic, the idea of the South’s favorite executioner killing the man, but it was a more humane death than the one Natasha told you Bucky had suggested. Release him into the woods and let the wolves hunt him down. With Hydra dead, your own people joyful for your return, and everything set for the winter, you and Bucky focused on the wedding as well as your coronation. And that’s where you currently found yourself.

A new snow storm had settled into the mountains surrounding the castle, and you were in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, waiting patiently and reading. Bucky looked a mess, covered in flour and icing, trying to perfect another Southern cake for you. He wanted to make the cake for the wedding, although you knew despite his best attempts, he wouldn’t be able to make a cake for the hundreds of royals, nobles, and commoners that were planning on attending. He wouldn’t let you see the cake, quite yet, very adamant that he wanted to perfect it first before he let you try it. His brows were furrowed, eyes crossed in concentration as he frosted his latest attempt. He groaned in frustration, tossing the icing bag aside. “What’s wrong, My Love?” you put down the book you were reading, now focused on the upset king in front of you.

“I messed up,” he murmured in a soft voice, looking closer to a kicked puppy than the 6-foot man he was.

“Aw, that’s alright, My Love, I’m sure it’s fine,” you coed softly, tugging him closer, ignoring the mess of flour on his apron. He leaned his head onto your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist, standing in between your legs. You wrapped your legs around his hips, locking your ankles together, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing wonderful, Buck, I’m sure it’s a barely noticeable mistake.”

“I want it to be perfect though,” he whined softly, making you chuckle.

“You made it and you tried your hardest. That’s what counts,” you pulled him back enough to tilt his head up to look you in the eye. “It doesn’t need to be perfect to be marvelous.” He smiled faintly, looking up at you as if you hung the stars in the sky. “There’s that smile I love so much,” you teased before leaning the last inch in and kissing him soundly on the lips. Firm yet gentle, everything yet never enough. You smiled against his lips, pressing your forehead against his. Recently your kisses always ended like this. Wrapped in each other’s arms, Bucky’s hand protectively on your stomach, and you two grinning like idiots.

“I think I should leave the baking to the professionals for the wedding,” he whispered softly, his breath fanning across your lips as you stayed close to him.

“That sounds like a smart decision, My Love,” you teased, unable to wipe the smile off of your face. “Wouldn’t want you too worked up before the ritual.” You kissed him chastely, before he was the one to smile.

“That reminds me, I have something for you.” He pulled away, that charming smile back on his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two velvet boxes, a longer rectangular one, and a small cube shaped one. You gave him a playful look, having told him hundreds of times that he didn’t have to get you anything, but after the whole Hydra deal, you decided to let him pamper you for the next few weeks. “Don’t give me that look, this one I already know you’ll love,” he teased, opening the rectangular box. Inside was the constellation necklace Rumlow had ripped off of you, the one you thought had been lost forever. “Thought you might want it back, My Love,” he whispered softly.

Smiling excitedly, you tugged him into another kiss, more passionate and hungrier than the last. You broke away for a second, “I didn’t even know you had found it, I thought it was gone forever, lost in the snow.” You admitted softly, leaning against him as you let him put the necklace in its rightful spot around your neck.

“When you were gone, it was one of the few things I could look at of yours without going crazy. Took me a while to fix it, the clasp and some parts of the chain were broken, but here it is,” he grinned, and you noticed the ticks he had when he was nervous start to flare up as he fiddled with the smaller box in his hand.

“And what’s that, My Love?” You asked softly, tenderly running your thumb across his cheek.

“Well, I know our cultures are different, but there’s one tradition that we haven’t quite done, and I know it’s less important in the South, but I still wanted to do it, though here in the middle of the kitchen looking like a mess is hardly the way you deserve-” you could practically see the cogs turning in his head, the rant spilling from his mouth.

“Bucky,” you whispered softly, pulling his attention back to you. “Just show me.”

He nodded, hesitantly pulling away from your arms. He tugged you to your feet, tenderly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, making you blush. “Y/n,” he started, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ve been in love with you since we were children, before I even knew the meaning of forever, I knew I wanted to be by your side for the rest of my life, for forever. Whether that was as your friend, a confidant, or as your husband, I knew I wanted to desperately be with you in any way you would allow me. Now, I know how right younger me was. I crave you in every sense of the word, your very touch grounds me to this world yet sends me to heaven every time. You are my guide, my way back home because you are my home. My Love, My Queen, My Northern Star, will you do me the absolute blessing of being your husband, and marry me?” By now he had opened the box as he sunk to one knee, showing you a diamond ring in the velvet box. It was a starburst floral diamond, surrounded by a halo of diamonds as well.

You felt your breathing hitch, your hand covering your mouth. You couldn’t think of a proper reply, so you let your first thoughts be your response. “I thought I had already agreed to that, My Love?” you mumbled, letting a smile overtake your lips.

“Is that a yes?” he shot back, his responding nervous smile made your heart flutter.

“Of course, it is!” You lunged at him, attacking him in a hug, which sent both of you tumbling to the ground. You were both laughing, grinning at each other like idiots as he placed the ring on you, before eagerly kissing you again. And again. And again. Covered in flour and icing, on top of each other on the kitchen floor, smiling at each other. It was perfect. It was home.

-

Tags:

Frozen Heart Tags:

@jsmith509 / @lumar014 / @littlemissporter / @kaylaphantomhive  

@damnbuckyishot / @aveatquevale- / @booksbeforebois  

@marvelgirl7 / @minetticatinwonderland  / @irreplaceable-spacexual / @mallorydoesstuff / @heartislubbingdubbing

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3