#top security device

[spyshop1989-blog]

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[caterpillarinacave]

i saw in the tags of your henry and mortmain posts that you’d like people to ask you about them :) — and tbh i’d love to hear more about the parallels between them that you mention in the post :D

Before I begin, I’m so sorry I took so so long to answer! I have been pretty busy and could definitely do a longer breakdown of all this but it’s already been a month and it’s going to drive me insane if I leave thing unanswered any longer. 

I’ll need to do a full re-read of the trilogy to really answer the questions but here are some thoughts that are very interesting to me. Please excuse any incoherent-ness, (and grammar issues, and repetition issues, and poor citation, and spelling, and rambling, etc, etc) i have spent so long staring at the document i wrote this on trying to get my brain to work I may have totally lost the plot. Just trust me guys I’ve got a PhD in Henry Fairchild.  

Lets start off with the most obvious parallel, that being their work. On a strictly physical level the work they do is very similar- they both approach magic through science and vice versa in a notably unique fashion. Stylistically and functionally the things each of them create has a decently sized overla and Henry has no problem understanding Mortmain’s creations. Mortmain favors clockwork for his creations and while Henry doesn’t specifically focus on such things he is very familiar with them, and interested to boot. 

Mortmain is quite brilliant, in multiple ways. Most people could not manage the type of thing he pulls off consistently; Henry *probably* could. It’s worth noting Henry is severely limited by Shadowunter laws; in the third book we see the only reason he hasn’t invented a portal entirely by himself is because he can only work with a specific set of runes (Clockwork Princess, pg. 282). Even working in the tight restraints of Shadowhunter resources, and only being around 21 in the books, he’s extremely competent. 

Furthermore, Henry does not approach things with the period typical Shadowhunter judgement; as a matter of fact he essentially does not function within society as a Shadowhunter. To unpack that lets look at where Mortmain and Henry stand in relation to broader society. 

The London Shadowhunters in this time period can be described, for lack of a better word, as pissy. Judgmental, bored, aggressive, whiny, chronically dissatisfied, dramatic, dismissive, sometimes downright cruel, etc, etc. Pissy. They’re really pissy. 

Henry, objectively speaking, does not fit into all this, and is punished for it (see pgs 281-283 CP3). The general public treats him horribly. Recall in Clockwork Angel Charlotte tells Tessa that Henry was the one who told Mortmain what a Pyxis was (which is, again, a different rant), that he wants her to tell the Clave and that she won’t because “they already treat him so badly”. And they do- nearly every single interaction involving him and broader Shadowhunter society involves some sort of insult, mockery, slight, etc. Almost nobody but Charlotte ever objects to this behavior and her objections have zero effect. “Making fun of Henry” is pretty much an unopposed standard. 

There’s no fair reason for this. Henry is, by all accounts, an extremely pleasant person. He’s repeatedly described as “kind”- Tessa has him pinned as a trustworthy person almost immediately (“it’s only Henry, after all”). He’s rarely upset, laid back, well intentioned, and generally polite. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Imo he probably would have been treated better if he did respond in kind- or even if he had just fully withdrawn from Shadowhunter society. His persistent refusal to hold a grudge, a generally positive trait, shoots him in the foot. This is only compounded by his general disinterest in things like physical fighting, politics, and social structure. He hasn’t done anything wrong- quite the opposite- but he’s being punished by his peers for the crime of being earnestly odd (coughhasblatantlyautisticcough). 

Mortmain, being a human child raised by warlocks, obviously does not fit into any particular standard. He doesn't have any particular loyalty to a party. Rather, he mostly defines his identity with his hatred for Shadowhunters, and connects with other groups transactionally with this in mind. 

He has been wronged by the Shadowhunters, when his parents were killed and then in the aftermath. The Clave denying his request for reparations and, by extent, denying any wrongdoing in their actions, is a smack in the face from a powerful society. 

With this in mind they would be both well within their rights to resent the Shadowhunters and they respond to that in fully opposite ways. 

Henry doesn’t resent them- at all. Despite how horribly he is treated, which, one can note, does not stop after the battle of Cadair Idris, he chooses to let it go and actively work to make life better for those same people. (Clockwork Prince; “You know it isn't just tinkering for me. You know I want to create something that will make the world better, that will make things better for the Nephilim.”), He views that cruelty as a part of life as a Shadowhunter but not the defining part of that society. It’s just a thing that happens- it sucks, it hurts, but he’s not going to blame or punish the whole group because of it. 

Mortmain’s is entirely the opposite. He hates them and views all the Shadowhunters as irredeemably wrong, fully deserving of a violent fate. All of them. He’s obsessed with destroying all these people despite most of the individuals who hurt him directly being gone. He blames them all, intends to carry out a mass punishment and doesn’t care about anything else.

He is deeply resentful, yeah, but he also wants more for himself. He doesn’t just want revenge, he wants a disgusting amount of power, a total victory over anything he choses, power mainly for the sake of having power. 

Now we can circle back to that earlier point- Henry could be like Mortmain. 

Recall in Clockwork Angel when they first bring back the automaton for Henry to examine in his lab he’s not just interested in the machine- he’s excited about it.He recognizes it to be a brilliant work of science and design, something incredibly impressive and compelling. This is not the sort of thing anyone sees everyday and it’s certainly not the sort of thing a Shadowhunter would interact with. This is exactly the sort of thing he loves, the sort of thing nobody else ever brings up, and it’s exciting to see. 

As the books continue nobody else is ever caught up on the functional skills of the machinery itself. People talk about Mortmain, about what is happening, what to do, etc, etc, but the fact that the automatons are a feat of engineering is just not on anybody's radar. It’s not the sort of thing any Shadowhunter gives shit about, save Henry. 

So Henry has the same intellectual capacity as Mortmain, the same scientific and magical capacity, and a not dissimilar approach to thinking. 

He could pretty much disappear and do whatever he wanted forever. He could ditch the Nephilim. He could walk off without telling anybody and never bother with the Clave’s again. He could go off and study all the things Shadowhunter’s are banned from. He could create whatever he wanted completely unencumbered by the restrictions of the Nephilim (see pg.283 of CP3). Chances are nobody would pick up on it. One of the major flaws of that group of Shadowhunters is that they’re very self focused. If someone they aren’t particularly fond of, who doesn’t fit into their narrow view of someone that deserves respect, stops showing up and interacting with them they are not gonna make any real effort to figure out where they’ve gone. If Henry wasn’t around to “annoy” them none of them wouldn't go looking for him and they don’t have enough respect for innovation to wonder what he’s up to. 

Remember, nobody cares about what he does (Clockwork Princess: Henry blushed a scarlet color. It was clear that no one had ever complimented his inventing before, except perhaps Charlotte. Pg. 282 ) 

He could have a whole new world of resources without having to deal with a society that thoroughly rejects him. He could do the one thing everyone thinks he loves the most. Hell, from an outsider point of view, the only thing he loves. He’ll happily spend days straight working, forgetting to eat, sleep, or anything else.

It’s theoretically not difficult to imagine a universe where he skips out of Shadowhunter society completely and has been wandering around the same circles as Mortmain for forever. 

(He doesn’t ofc because that would be betrayal. It would require breaking the law, throwing away all social and civic responsibility, abandoning the whole kit and kaboodle, blah blah, certainly not related to other very elaborate thoughts I have about this character.)

The point here is that they are so similar save that fact. Their scientific approach to the world, which absolutely defines that way Henry exists and, at least at some point in his life, probably defined Mortmain, are so similar. If you laid the basic facts all out to someone with no context other previous knowledge on the characters (here is what they do, here is what they’re best at, here is what they bring physically to the table etc and exclude personality, morality, relationships, etc) and asked them to point out a character most like Mortmain they’d probably point to Henry. 

Hell, I’d point to Henry. I’d say yeah, that’s a set up for someone to go full mad scientist and wander off to do whatever he wants. I’d say that's the character most likely to agree to use human bodies to power machinery. 

Recall back to Clockwork Angel (and like, two paragraphs ago) about the automatons that are so fascinating to Henry. The beginning scene is the most exciting he  ever is about this incredible tech:

“[The automaton] is not precisely a living creature at all… A mechanical creature, made to move and appear as a human being moves and appears. Leonardo da Vinci designed one. You can find it in his drawings- a mechanical creature that could sit up, walk, and turn its head. He was the first to suggest that human beings are only complex machines, that our insides are like cogs and pistons and cams made of muscle and flesh. So why could they not be replaced with copper and iron? Why couldn’t you build a person? But this. Jaquet Droz and Maillardet could never have dreamed of this. A true biomechanical automaton, self moving, self directing, wrapped in human flesh.” His eyes shone. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Henry.” Charlotte’s voice was tight. “That flesh you’re admiring. It came from somewhere.” 

Henry passed the back of his hand across his forehead, the light dying out of his eyes. “Yes- those bodies in the cellar.” (pg. 160-161, Clockwork Angel. )

That characteristic earnest excitement that he displays towards nearly everything new dies on the spot. “Miranda” and the other automatons are not less interesting because they’re made with human body parts- if anything that should make it more interesting. But the scientific brilliance is negated by the cruelty associated with it. It’s impressive, it’s “beautiful” and it’s not worth it. Innovation that opposes life, as opposed to promoting it, doesn’t count (see tags). 

So their work, especially in this context, is interchangeable- it’s their intentions that make the whole difference. 

Tessa says it best in Clockwork Princess; Henry brings things to life. Mortmain destroys. Where one of them has devoted his life to protecting people, regardless of how he’s been treated, the other one has devoted himself to slaughtering people, because of how he was treated. Where one invents with the specific intention of protecting life 

In other words, two very very similar people differentiated by a fundamental love for humanity and a fundamental disregard of it. 

TLDR: I need to reread the books to make this post but their style of work, approach to science and magic, and interests parallel. Also I have no idea if I’m coherent anymore please ranting in the tags for thoughts on everything here. 

TLDR the TLDR: They’re both inventing shit in a series hinged around these things that have been invented

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Ack I just discovered that the app I use to change the LED light settings in my room has unlimited permission to turn my Bluetooth on "as needed," which in effect means i literally can't turn it off Ever when im in my house

[intelisync]

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[tanadrin]

@grimogretricks

For people saying that airport security is wholly theatre and that it doesn't do any good- certainly it seems they've gone overboard on certain things, but what is your explanation as to why hijackings and terrorist attacks involving planes are MUCH less common than they used to be?

Sorry that this is mostly off the dome, and has less references than I would like. We argued this stuff to death in the aughts, though ultimately the political incentives in favor of security theater were just too great. Everyone is terrified of the potential backlash of not being seen to do enough in advance of the next big terrorist attack, I guess. And to be clear, we are talking mostly about post-9/11 airport security measures as being security theater. Some degree of airport security has been necessary since people started getting on airplanes with guns and informing the pilot that, hey, guess what, we're going to Cuba instead of Miami today.

But the big reduction in airplane hijackings came with the institution of metal detectors to keep guns off airplanes after a couple high-profile hijackings in the 1970s. But remember that these incidents were of a very different character than what we now think of as the risk to airplanes: they were certainly a problem, but the modus operandi of hijackers in this era was to force the plane to fly to a non-extradition country and land safely. 9/11-style hijackings, that used the plane as a bomb and killed everyone aboard, were on nobody's radar--when the goal was blowing up the plane and killing passengers, bombers generally used bombs planted in checked baggage, which requires different security measures from passenger screening.

Two security changes occurred after 9/11 that made future such hijackings basically impossible: one, probably most importantly, was that passengers understood they no longer could count on hijackers having an interest in surviving the hijacking. This change in passenger behavior was immediate: later that same year when a guy tried to bomb an airplane (using a really ineffective device hidden in his shoe) passengers immediately acted to restrain him. The second important change was reinforcing cockpit doors and keeping them locked: this makes hijacking airplanes with knives (the only major modality left to most would-be hijackers) functionally impossible.

All the other intense passenger screening and security measures implemented after 9/11 has been repeatedly shown by security researchers to be pretty ineffective, not even very reliable at stuff like keeping knives off airplanes. For years after 9/11 there were endless news stories about law enforcement running drills at airports and weapons making their way through security. A lot of later security measures, like liquid limits in carry-on baggage, came from terrorist plots that didn't even make it off the drawing board (and are unlikely to have ever worked anyway), and seem mostly to be overzealous ass-covering by transportation security officials.

And, finally, we should note that the real security threats to airplanes in the post-9/11 era seem to have come come from two sources that are basically impossible to protect against using traditional security methods, and for which passenger-based security screening is useless: anti-aircraft missiles and suicidal pilots (plus an honorable mention to aircraft companies trying to skirt certain regulatory requirements).

Despite what decades of American media would have you believe, elaborate plots targeting transportation infrastructure and involving like a dozen people are actually not at the top of the list of terrorist methodologies--why time and money training members of your organization to fly planes into buildings, when you can just use social media to convince a guy to drive a car into a crowd of bystanders, or stab somebody on the street? It's much cheaper, and much, much harder to guard against. Random lone-wolf terrorism is, unlike the kind of elaborate plots portrayed on TV, and one-off real-life examples like 9/11, basically impossible for security services to guard against in advance. But in order to justify the war on terror, and large budgets for security services on anti-terrorism grounds, it was necessary to play up the threat of such plots, even if by its very nature 9/11 was impossible to repeat. For similar reasons, the post-9/11 era also played up the threat of Islamic extremism and large overseas terrorist networks, even though far-right extremists acting in small groups also have managed to kill huge numbers of people in spectacular ways.

So for all these reasons, and those noted at the top, the political incentives around transportation security means that passenger screening measures in airports are almost guaranteed to be a one-way ratchet, even if they don't work. It's a bit like the fabled anti-tiger amulet--it's easy to say the lack of tigers is proof it's working! Even if the real reason there are no tigers about is that you live in Ohio. The media environment post-War on Terror helped create a public appetite for and approval of such anti-tiger amulets, too, of course. This was not by any means a purely top-down phenomenon.

[invoncible]

HII!!! YOU HAVE SUCH AN UNIQUE STYLE OF WRITING, I LOVE IT!!! :D

Could you perhaps.... write some jealous Invincible Variants scenarios???? :3

MARK GRAYSON (& VARIANTS) being jealous ✧˚. ft. og!mark, mohawk!mark, nogoggles!mark, viltrumite!mark, sinister!mark w/ gn!reader cw. canon typical violence

— oh yes anon. yes. come here lemme kiss ur brain. — yippeeeee one more variant added to the roster!

OG!MARK

out of all the marks, he's the most boyfriend out of them all. if that even makes sense.

he's just happy to be by your side.

he knows you attract attention—why wouldn't you? you're smart, funny, and gorgeous. but he's secure in your relationship.

when mark is jealous, it's like.... he just doesn't understand why people would make moves on you when they know you're taken. if they try something in front of him he'll straight up ask, "...why?"

like he genuinely cannot comprehend the notion of going for someone who is so clearly in a relationship??

and he makes your relationship pretty clear so he knows there's no excuse

sometimes he just gets so pissed off he does things impulsively. punching someone, for example.

"i have a boyfriend." you denied the guy in front of you, sharing a look with mark.

"who's standing right here." mark added, hand possessively squeezing your waist. "for the third time," he muttered under his breath.

"okay, but if things fall through, though." the guy pressed, offering his phone to you. "you might like—"

the guy couldn't even extend his arm all the way before mark snatched the device from his hand and chucked it to... who knows where.

the guy spluttered angrily, grabbing his head as he watched his phone drift away into the blue sky. mark smiled as he watched it get smaller, and smaller, and even smaller... ah, justice was sweet.

"that was my phone?!"

"this is my partner?!" mark mocked his incredulous tone, rolling his eyes before, nudging you. "come on."

he shoved past your unwanted suitor, perhaps using a bit more force than needed.

"mark." you couldn't hide your smile.

"what?" he said, suddenly the picture of innocence. but that glint in his eye told you he knew better. you just shook your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he preened under your attention.

MOHAWK!MARK

this man is sooo problematic. i don't know if you've seen that comic panel of him and his entourage of scantily-clad girls, but yeah. he can be a flirt but you can't.

anyone who tries anything with you is getting killed! dead and buried.

he likes to play with his food first, though.

"i'm gonna take that one home before the night ends," he heard someone hiccup, drunk on booze as their wobbly finger pointed you out in the crowd.

mark raised his eyebrow, his calculating eyes drifting between you and the guy who was trying to put moves on you. he smiled to himself as he walked up to him.

"cute, huh?" mark's eyes were intensely trained on you, watching you over the rim of his glass.

the guy lazily acknowledged him. "huh? oh, yeah. real cute."

"did you know they're taken?" he chirped happily, his voice and face betraying the bubbling annoyance he felt inside.

"wha—"

"did you know," mark repeated, snatching the cup of alcohol from the guy and pushing himself into his space menacingly. "they're taken?"

"i—"

"i—i—i—" mark taunted, twisting up his face as he ridiculed the guy. "yeah. taken. by me, dumbass. get the fuck out of my place."

the guy scrambled past him to run out the exit, suddenly aware enough to realize who he was hitting on and who they belonged to.

mark watched him scramble across the shiny floors like a deer on ice, chuckling to himself before flying towards him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt. he soared higher and higher before he just... let go.

the guy's screams were music to his hears all the way down. mark returned to his party, giddy.

"where did you go?" you pouted as you walked up to him. he took you in his arms, squeezing you tight to his chest. he rested his cheek on the top of your head, rubbing your back.

"nowhere."

"i just saw you."

"shh, pretty girl, i'm back now, aren't i?" he tilted your head upwards and pressed a kiss on your pursed lips. "come dance with me, seems we gotta remind people that you're mine."

NOGOGGLES!MARK

they're also dead. LMAO don't try anything with this one. he's the definition of loose cannon

he'd be insulted if the person trying to hit on you was weaker than him, because... why do they think they have a chance ���

"aw, come on. on your feet." mark swiped at his nose, a deep frown on his lips.

"who are you talking to?" you sighed, arms crossed over your chest as you stared at the body on the ground. "you punched his brains out."

"nah, he's got some fight left in him." mark bent over and hoisted the guy back up by his shirt, trying to get him to balance on his own two feet. "oh, shit."

the second he let go, the unfortunate person who tried to hit on you wobbled back onto the floor.

mark kicked the guy's head like a football, sending his body crashing into a nearby wall. "fuck, that was lame."

you rolled your eyes and pulled him away from the pool of blood on the ground. "one normal date. just one, that's all i ask for."

he grinned at you, pulling you close, uncaring of his bloodied hands. "he had no chance, huh?"

"no chance." you agreed, smiling when he peppered your face with kisses. "mark—!" you giggled.

"you know i'd do anything for you, right?" he hummed, holding you tight and pressing a big fat kiss to your cheek. "i'd kill for you."

"i know," you answered. yes, you knew very well.

VILTRUMITE!MARK

this one isn't popping a sweat in some elaborate fight with someone that dared to push themselves between you.

everyone else was wrong for you. he was the only one deserving to be by your side and he's gonna let people know

i.e. he's gonna let people know exactly how and why they're beneath him and thus, undeserving of your affection

"maybe i could... i dunno, maybe we could go out sometime." the guy across from you shrugged.

you raised your eyebrow, barely sparing him a glance over your book. "no."

"not even gonna give it a try?" he pressed, scooting closer to you. "hmm?"

you grimaced and shifted away from him. "i have a boyfriend."

"he's not here, is he? we can have a little affair going on, it'd be exciting."

you scoffed, half-laughing at the audacity. "you think i'd cheat with you? have you seen my boyfriend? in what world would i ever leave him for you?"

the guy huffed a short breath, brows furrowing in offense. "how fucking dare you. here i am, being nice and the first thing you do is insult me? your man is probably just as chopped as you are—"

"ermmm, no, i would not say that." you rolled your eyes, uncaring if you antagonized him further.

"—yeah well, i am saying that, so—"

"what's going on here?" mark floated from above, a bewildered look on his face. he grabbed the guy by his throat and squeezed, lifting him off the floor and enjoying the way he gasped and choked for air.

"was he bothering you, love?" mark asked you softly. sweetly, even.

you smiled and nodded. "bugging me for a date."

mark turned his attention back to the red-faced guy squirming in his hand. he clicked his tongue in disappointment as he scanned the man's figure. "this... this unsightly specimen thought they had a chance with you?"

"looks that way." you hummed, turning a page in your book.

mark scoffed to himself, dropping the guy to the ground. he gracefully lowered himself as well, staring down the unwanted suitor. "unbelievable. weak and whiny." mark shook his head, bringing his foot down on the guy's chest to prevent him from squirming away. “pathetic.”

mark studied the guy as he begged and begged, crying tears and apologies before he finished the job with a sickening crrrrack.

mark sighed and dropped into the seat next to you. he leaned over and rested his head in your lap without another word, eyes fluttering shut as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

SINISTER!MARK

that unlucky bitch is getting their ass ate. in the bad way. simple as that. mark might even try to serve them to you for dinner.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

okie so lando fic, where he refuses to hug anyone after getting out of the car before he hugs y/n. no one is an exception the first person he celbrates always is with y/n...?? KSHSJSNSMSDN mclaren, media and fans reaction to that being a staple for lando too?

winning hug ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

☾ ln x reader 𓆉

☾ fluff 𓆉

masterlist ☾☼

just as lando crossed the line, you couldn't stop the screams that erupted from you. cisca, his sister, had jumped with you as the two of you celebrated lando's win. not just lando's win, but also mclaren's world constructors championship that lando helped secure in the race.

the mechanics, the team, everyone rushed out, and you followed. you always did. they were all crowding against the fences, and you caught glimpses of lando as he got out of the car.

there were too many excited, jumping people in your line of vision to see lando. all of them were cheering and all of them were so so happy. you could relate to their feeling, as you cheered as well.

"y/n? where's y/n?" you heard lando scream from the other side.

the crowd turned, looking for you, screaming your name.

in the mass of people, your hand reached out, and people cheered again. different hands pushed you forward, and then someone grabbed your hand and pulled you up on the fence.

you were thankful for wearing jeans instead of a skirt or a dress, because otherwise, standing on the fence like this would have been embarrassing.

hands held onto the back of your thighs and your back, pushing you up, as you climbed onto the fence.

lando stood on the other side, helmet still on his head, the hans device still there.

"y/n! i did it!" he screamed as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you from the fence and directly on him.

your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, as you wrapped your arms over the hans device.

"i did it, baby, i did it! we won the championship!" lando said softly. his voice was muffled from the helmet, but you could hear him just fine.

you pulled back, "i'm so fucking proud of you, lan. so goddamn proud, you beautiful man,"

you leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his helmet where his lips would be. his hold on you was tighter than ever, and you never wanted to let him go.

you pulled back, and lando laughed, "are you crying?"

you laughed as well, throwing your head back, despite tears streaming down your face, "shut up, you muppet! i'm happy!"

he laughed, and you marvelled at his eyes and the happiness in them through his helmet. god, you were so proud of him.

"do i finally get a hug now?" zak's voice rang from behind lando.

lando turned, with you still in his arms, before the two of you laughed, and he let you down.

immediately, he removed his helmet and his hans device, which you took from him, and he wrapped his arms around zak, as the two laughed and cheered.

you stood at the side, with his helmet and hans device in hand as you watched lando greet and hug every single person of the team. you watched him jump and try to touch every person on the team.

carlos approached you, in just his fireproofs, his helmet and hans device nowhere to be seen. you quickly kept lando's helmet and hans device on the floor, before you hugged carlos as well.

"oh, im so proud of you too, carlos," you said.

"thank you,"

the two of you pulled back.

"how are you feeling?" you asked.

he laughed, although it seemed forced, as he looked away, "im proud of p2. i'm proud of lando and i'm proud of mclaren."

"but?" you knew carlos well enough.

he sighed, "but, i'm gonna miss ferrari. and i'm gonna miss podiums and the feeling of winning. i'm gonna miss charles,"

"that's understandable," you whispered, "just know that you're an amazing driver and you're going to bring williams back on top. we all believe in you,"

"thank you, y/n," he said, just as lando came rushing towards the two of you, wrapping an arm around your waist, and an arm around carlos' waist.

carlos immediately wrapped an arm across lando's shoulders, while you leaned into lando.

"you did it, lando! you fucking did it!" carlos exclaimed.

lando was still smiling brightly, "i fucking did it!"

letting go of you, lando hugged carlos for a brief second, and you heart warmed at the sight.

carlando were each other's biggest cheerleaders, weren't they.

the two pulled back, and carlos tapped lando on his chest twice before walking away.

lando turned towards you, and wrapped his arms around your waist again. this time, it was a softer hug. his arms were tight around your waist, his face pressed into your neck.

your arms were around his neck, your fingers in his hair.

"world champions, baby. we're back on top. papaya on top," he said softly against your neck, squeezing you to him.

"you deserve this and so much more, lan. i'm so proud of you, my love,"

lando pulled back, pressing a kiss to your lips. he pulled back, and then pecked your lips once, twice, thrice. his forehead rested against yours as he just breathed.

"i'm so relieved. i'm so tired and so relieved. we finally did it, baby. we finally got mclaren back on top," he whispered.

"you finally did it, my love. you finally got mclaren back on top."

he pulled back, pressing a final kiss before he ran to his team, celebrating with them. he celebrated with his family as well, and you followed, to stand beside cisca again.

she wrapped an arm around you as well, and the two of you stood there, heads touching as the both of you watched lando smiling and laughing and celebrating.

he was so loved. you just hoped he remembered that.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

i just had to write this one before the rest! i hope you enjoy this! i think the twitter images are blurred, but after multiple attempts, its still the same, so idc anymore 😭 this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

[shujichii]

he hadn't been the same ever since you made him try a period cramp simulator a month ago.

it all unfolded during one ordinary morning— until it ended up being anything but ordinary— when you presented the device to him like an ancient relic uncovered from the deepest depths of the earth, all while saying something along the lines of, “it's a social experiment. a precious opportunity to strengthen our bond and explore the art of empathy."

him, being the ever-dutiful husband, naturally found himself agreeing to try it.

long story short, it humbled him deeply.

you thought he was already attentive during your cycle. which, to be truthful, he was. but now? you realised that you were wrong. very, very wrong.

and now, you were being greeted by your husband's face in the wee hours of the morning through one cracked eye, the mattress dipping with his weight as he stared at you with concern etched into his features.

then came the first inquiry.

“good morning, sweetheart. are you in pain?”

you blinked, groggily sitting up, an ache beginning to form in the deep depths of your system. “oh… i guess so?”

affirming that you were indeed going through that time of the month—courtesy of him having tracked your period— he gave you a solemn nod before standing up, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with a trey in hand.

you squinted. a fully prepared breakfast that looked too beautiful to consume. a heating pad. tea. water. chocolates. painkillers. and… a checklist.

you took a peek.

heating pad prepared. favorite blanket and pillows fluffed up. comfort snacks placed in her favorite bowl within reach. romance dramas queued. sanitary products restocked. chores cleared.

your gaze darted between him and the trey, your mouth closing and opening as your brain scrambled to process the situation.

“here, use this,” he moved forward, fluffing up the pillow you were sleeping on from behind before gently nudging you back, securing the heating pad against your stomach. “there.”

you didn't know which one to do first. shed a few sparkly tears of gratitude or laugh and lung forward and drown him in kisses.

“y-you didn't have to do all that—”

“i wanted to. i must. you can't be saying outrageous things like that.”

he didn't allow you to lift a single finger throughout the day. checked in from time to time to make sure you were okay, brought you whatever you asked for, gave you a message even though you didn't ask for it, dropped everything to cook for you, and came in with tissues, perfectly brewed tea with your exact preferences, vitamins and an even fluffier blanket when you sneezed once. at some point, he asked if you would like him to carry you around the house—even the bathroom, by the way— because “why waste your energy when I'm here?”

by evening, you were lounging like the queen you are, surrounded by all the things needed to make your period session bearable and one prepared-and ready-to pamper-to-the-max husband.

you paused the drama you were watching, yanking him down towards you from where you were curled up on the couch, his warmth immediately wrapping around you.

his hand instinctively found your waist, the other braced beside your hip. “hey— what's up?”

you grinned, lifting yourself just a little to place a featherlight kiss against his jaw. “baby, thank you. i'm fine now. why don't you relax with me?”

he hesitated for a moment, although his hands betrayed him by tightening around your waist just a fraction.

“are you sure? what if—”

“no buts. i demand cuddles. right now.”

he chuckled, the sound coming out breathier than intended as he settled down beside you before pulling you on top of him, securing you against his chest, his fingers already gently combing through your hair. you sighed contently, nuzzling deeper, all while his heart nearly gave out at the gesture.

after a moment, he spoke.

“if you ever need anything, just tell me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“then stay here. with me.”

you didn't have to repeat that. and you never had to doubt the royalty treatment coming up every month. although he'd still make sure to treat you like a queen outside of that month, too.

♡ nanami kento, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, zayne, caleb, sylus, ishida uryuu, kuchiki byakuya, ishida ryuken, brant, xiangli yao, jiyan, rengoku kyojuro, tomioka giyuu, himejima gyomei, sung jinwoo, wriothesley, armin arlert, reiner braun, barbatos, simeon, satan, your favorite.

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[cllightning81]

Best Friends [OP81]

Summary : You and Oscar are childhood best friends and maybe a little more but that's something the grid has missed

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Wife!Reader, Logan Sargeant x reader, F1 Grid x Reader

Warning/s: None

Word Count: 1.6 k

Masterlist

Oscar Piastri Masterlist

You and Oscar had started out as childhood best friends. You even moved to England with him because you just couldn’t be separated. As Oscar went through the different ranks of motorsport you decided to do a Sports Science degree and when Oscar got signed for Prema he made sure you were his personal trainer and you’d just follow him into his F1 career.

You and Oscar were now walking through the paddock with his arm around your shoulders. It started as a habit when he started his rookie season to calm his nerves with your warm body, and it gave you comfort at the same time. When he started his rookie season, you were still only best friends. Neither of you had confessed how you felt, but now you had yet, everyone still believed you were still only best friends. 

It hadn’t been on the top of either of your lists to correct people when they called you best friends because even though you were more than dating now, he was still your best friend. Walking into the Mclaren garage, Oscar spoke to a few mechanics. 

“Osc we’ve got to get you warmed up” You smiled, and you both walked through to his drivers room. As Oscar got changed into his fireproofs and race suit, you grabbed the equipment to get him warmed up. When you turned around, his race suit was resting on his waist before you talked him through some stretches. After Oscar warmed up, you moved out to the main garage with him. Mclaren had some guests in the garage that Zac wanted Oscar and Lando to talk to and maybe do some training in front of them.

“Let’s use the bands to stretch your arms” You smiled, handing him one of the bands, and he nodded. You grabbed your headphones, resting them around your neck. Your hands are coming up to his back a little bit for comfort and a little to correct his posture. 

“You okay?” Oscar asked, and you smiled 

“Yeah, just correcting your posture while doing this” you hummed, walking back around so you stood in front of him

“You’re gonna do great today. You’re starting in a great position, and the car is brilliant” You smiled, resting your hand on his chest. You and Oscar had always been touchy for as long as people knew you both. The only person knowing the truth about your relationship was Logan and maybe Arthur. He seemed to be good at finding out relationships between random people. Oscar took your hand, holding it in his own larger hand. 

“I’m gonna do even better because you’re wearing this thing” He whispered, running his hand over your engagement and wedding ring. 

“Well I’m fed up with watching random women flirt with my husband” you hummed, rubbing his shoulders as you walked behind him. He was stressed about today. His home race meant he wanted to do really well, and you could feel the stress in his shoulders

“Relax baby” you whispered, massaging the knots out of his shoulders and necks. Soon, Oscar was getting ready to get in the car. You smiled, standing next to him. 

Mclaren social media team had a camera recording Oscar so they could post some behind the scenes of the garage. Oscar handed you his hoodie, and you folded it up, placing it upon the pile of his clothes. Oscar pulled his race suit up and onto his shoulders, turning to you so that you could zip it up something that you’ve been doing since you first became friends all those years ago.

Handing Oscar his balaclava, he pulled it on his head and tucked his hair into it, sending you one last smile as he stepped out of frame to press a kiss to your lips. He took his helmet, placing the HANS device around his neck before pulling his helmet over his head. You secured his helmet strap and corrected the HANS device before tapping his helmet and walking over to the car with him.

“Be safe out there” You smiled, holding his hands, and he nodded 

“I’m gonna get a podium so we can continue that celebration from last time” You smiled, looking up at him. The celebration was you, Oscar, and Logan finishing the movie while you helped their aches and pains from the race, although Logan was talking about going out with a couple of other drivers depending on the outcome. 

Oscar did get on the podium, and you couldn’t have been more proud of him. Making your way out of the garage with the rest of the Mclaren team. Lando got P2, and Oscar got P3. It was the best result anyone could have asked for. You stood at the front of the barricades, and after Oscar got weighed, he walked over to the team. 

The difference between Oscar and Lando when celebrating was quite funny to watch. Lando jumped into the team's arms as he celebrated with pats on the back, shoulder, and helmet as Oscar just thanked everyone before stopping next to you and wrapping you into a hug. Your arms rested around his neck as he rested around your waist. 

He had left his helmet on the stand for it, looking into his eyes with a smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss as the cameras flashes up 

“I love you so much wife” He whispered against your lips 

“I love you too” You smiled as Lando cheered from next to you. You laughed

“Go get your trophy. I’ll be watching” You pushed Oscar away as Logan walked over 

“Movie night or drinking?” He asked, wrapping you in a side hug 

“Movie night. Well done on the points” You smiled, turning to watch the podium with him. You were so proud of him. A podium at his home race is something he’d been wanting for a long time, and he’s finally achieved it. After the podium, you walked back to the garage, collecting all of Oscar’s belongings and taking them to his drivers room. 

As Oscar did his post race interviews and debrief, you decided to stretch yourself, having sat tense watching the whole race, and there was nothing else to do while sitting waiting. Logan was sending you random tweets and tiktok videos as you sat a lot of them about the fact you and Oscar were finally together, causing you to laugh. A set of arms tackled you onto the beanbag in Oscars' drivers room as your neck was covered with kisses, causing you to giggle, knowing it was Oscar. 

“I did it! I got a podium” He cheered, and you laughed, turning your head to kiss him 

“I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it. You’ll always be a winner in my heart” You smiled, and he kissed you again. 

“Come on, I want to go celebrate” He pulled you up 

“Baby you need to get changed” you giggled, pushing his helmet hair out his face 

“Okay right yeah, I’ll do that” He nodded 

“Logan keeps sending me tweets and TikToks about us revealing our relationship. They’re quite funny, to be honest” You giggled 

“Our son” He chuckled, and you nodded 

“He really acts like it sometimes. His mum messages me every so often to make sure he’s actually doing how he says he is” Oscar nodded, taking your hand 

“How does he say he is?” He asked 

“He’s struggling with the fans for obvious reasons. I’ve been told that he greatly enjoys our movie nights and they allow him to relax with people he fully trusts” Oscar nodded, kissing your head 

“Then we never stop those. Maybe we should start inviting him for dinner when we’re not racing?” He suggested 

“I think that sounds like a good idea but as your trainer I’ve got to remind you to stick to your diet plan” You giggled while jogging through the garage as he chased after you for that comment. Picking you up and spinning you around. You smiled, pressing your lips to his as he placed you back on the ground. Walking out of the paddock, Oscar had his hand rested around your waist, but you were soon stopped by a grid of drivers standing at the paddock exit with their arms crossed. 

“Hey everyone” You smiled, looking between the eighteen other drivers standing in front of you

“Hey everyone” Lando mocked, and you frowned now, very confused about what you had done wrong 

“What’s going on?” Oscar asked, also confused. Charles pointed between the two of you, and you looked up at Oscar 

“What?” You whispered, and he shrugged 

“Can someone use their words and explain what you mean?” You asked as Logan wrapped his arms around you both 

“They’ve only just realised that you’re together after your kiss” He explained, and you frowned, turning back to the crowd of people 

“Want to explain then?” Max asked 

“We’ve been married for four months. Dating for nine before that” you explained, still really confused 

“What?!” They chorused, and you looked between them all. Oscar is now holding your hand up 

“She’s been wearing these for the last three months around you lot" He exclaimed as you both laughed, turning to Logan 

“You going back to your hotel room before movie night?” You asked, and he nodded 

“If you two don’t mind waiting a little to start?” He asked, and you shook your head 

“Gives me time to cook some dinner” You smiled, walking past the rest of the grid, leaving them all standing shocked at your announcement.

Tag List

@bearryyy

@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

[usnatarchives]

Revolutionary War Pension Files Seals ✒️🪙📜

Official American 19th century records have fascinating visual features and many remarkable examples of those can be found in the Revolutionary War pension files at the National Archives. 

During the conservation stabilization treatment of these records, the conservators come across watermarks, ribbons, wood engraving illustrations, historical repairs, and of course various seals and wafers.

Guest Post by

Paper Conservator (Document Conservation Laboratory, RXC)

Ewa Paul (National Archives)

The term “seal” can be confusing because it refers to both the impression and the device which produces it. Early documents or letters were secured with resinous sealing wax impressed with a stamp seal and were reserved for officials or aristocrats. Later on, in the 19th c., the majority of the literate people used circular paste wafers and paper wafer seals which were much cheaper and easier to use. Wafers are “thin, flat, baked adhesive discs” made of flour paste. They would be moistened on both sides before being pressed to seal a letter or a document. Wafers came in different sizes and colors, and were used as adhesive joints or for affixing paper seals on official documents as shown below.

The wafer made from red colored paste is underneath the paper seal stuck on top. It is the same seal shown on white and blue wafer paper seal.

 Sometimes the wafer paper seals would be made to purposefully emulate the appearance of the older wax / resinous seals as illustrated below (NARA records).

The paper seals found on the Revolutionary War documents vary in color, style and type and can have eye-catching, intricately carved designs.

The Revolutionary War pensions records bear many types of seals: hand-written seals, ink printed seals, embossed paper wafer seals and “Scherenschnitte” hand-cut seals.

The image of the beehive in the inked seal above illustrates the importance of  agriculture, as does the plough in the paper seal below, featured in the Revolutionary War pension file of James Scott, TN.

Hand-cut  Scherenschnitte seals found on the American Revolutionary War pension records. Scherenschnitte paper seals are one of a kind. Scherenschnitte means “scissor cuts” and is a traditional folk-art brought to Pennsylvania in the 18th century by German immigrants.

As other methods of document protection became common, particularly the self-sealing envelope, the use of wafer paper seals declined and by the end of the 19th century the wafers and seals became obsolete.  

These days the seals remind us about the importance of privacy and the need to guard our information, and how tricky it must have been to keep things private in the days past.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Forbidden - Part 2

In which you go to Max's hotel room to watch a movie. And only watch a movie. ;)

Warnings: alcohol use (but really only if you squint), steamy but not smutty, use of pet names.

Word Count: 2.6k Part One

Master List

AUSTRIA 

You knew you were playing with fire when you sent that text to Max. Judging by how Charlie’s head had nearly exploded when he (quite innocently) caught the two of you catching up on the couch a few weeks ago, you knew that he would lose his mind if he knew you were in Max’s hotel room late at night. Even if it was with the purest of intentions. Because of course it was. 

But, Charlie had left you alone in Austria on a Friday night without anything to do other than watch Austrian TV so really, this was all his fault. Alexandra was at home in Monaco, having some work to finish up at the new art gallery she’s curating. Pierre’s girlfriend Kika, who was fast becoming your other best friend in the paddock, wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow before qualifying, so you were left to your own devices. 

Which is exactly why you found yourself standing outside Max Verstappen’s hotel room at 8 o’clock at night, arms overflowing with snacks and a bottle of wine, knowing that you had everything but watching a movie running through your mind. 

The thing was, you had spent the entirety of today trading glances with Max from his garage three doors down from Charlie’s. It seemed like every time you looked towards the Red Bull garages, Max was already looking at you. He even managed to manufacture a lunch invite from Charlie and Carlos while you were standing right there, so the four of you had gotten lunch in Ferarri’s motorhome today. You were quite pleased that Charlie spent the entire time looking like he had swallowed a lemon every time you and Max even looked at each other. Even Carlos had noticed, asking your brother several times if he was okay. Every time, your brother’s response was a strained ‘yes’.  

But you weren’t teasing Max just to make your brother mad. You knew that. You were genuinely interested in the driver. Ever since the afternoon you two spent catching up in Charlie’s apartment in Monaco, the two of you had been trading random text messages and had even run into each other while out. What started off as an innocent crush had spiraled into something more, even if neither of you had voiced it quite yet. You knew Max was quite shy when it came to his feelings, side effects from growing up as Jos Verstappen’s son you supposed. You’d always been able tell what he was thinking though, ever since you were kids.  

Which landed you here. Tonight you had been bored and feeling a little attention starved, so you had been thrilled when Max invited you up to his suite for a movie night. It was something you had done frequently with friends at the track when you were younger, those movie nights being some of your favorite memories from growing up. 

It took Max a few moments to answer the door when you knocked that evening. He had to psych himself up for it, finding himself suddenly nervous about having you over. It felt like every time he looked towards the Ferrari garage today, he had instantly found you. And more times than not, you caught him staring. Gone was his usual cool facade that he kept so securely in place when it came to you and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t unnerve him. 

“I brought snacks!” You proclaim the moment Max opens the door and he can’t help but feel all the anxiety he’d been feeling moments before evaporate into thin air with a single look at your pretty face, hair tied up in a messy top knot, oversized Ferrari sweatshirt hanging so low just the bottoms of your sleep shorts poked out. It took every bit of control Max possessed not to bit down on his knuckles and groan then and there. 

Max chuckles and you try to ignore the shimmer of pleasure that danced down your spine at the sound. It doesn’t work though. Probably because making him laugh was one of your favorite activities lately and it had all started that afternoon he showed up at Charlie’s door. 

Your brother was going to be so mad. 

“Did you think you were feeding the entire grid, beestje?” 

You shove the bottle of wine at him while rolling your eyes. “Hopefully you have a bottle opener, Maxie or else we’re going to have to go on an adventure.” 

“That sounds like a terrible idea. You out in public without your brother to control you?” 

Max expertly dodges the pillow you lob at his head before taking the bottle of wine to the little kitchenette in his suite. “I’ll have you know I am a whole grown ass adult that has lived on my own in a big city for the last six years, thank you very much.” You snip. 

Spreading the snacks out on the bed, you do your best to ignore the fact that Max is looking so very attractive in a pair of grey joggers and black t-shirt. Seriously, what was it about a pair of slutty grey sweatpants and tight tshirts that got you all worked up? 

“I’m surprised you don’t have a sim rig set up somewhere in this giant room.” You tease, settling down on the large king sized bed that takes up most of one side of his suite. 

Max looks at you, a bit puzzled before saying, “That race isn’t until tomorrow night after quali, I just haven’t set it up yet.” 

The laugh that leaves your lips sets Max’s skin tingling with pleasure and he tries to remind himself that Charles would quite literally kill him if anything happened between the two of you. But with each passing moment, watching you settle back into his pillows on his bed, he’s finding it harder and harder to really care what Charles thinks. You’re a grown woman, after all. Max’s eyes drag over your body, admiring the miles of legs on display for him. Yep. You certainly were very grown up, that’s for sure.  

“Just don’t stay up all night. I don’t want Buxton to have an excuse to call you out in post-race interviews again.” You smirk. 

“That was one time and it hasn’t happened since.” He argues, shooting you a glare that has you giggling under your breath.

You hum in response but don’t respond, needing to focus your attention elsewhere now that Max is searching for the bottle opener and the concentration on his face is making you squeeze your legs together just a bit. 

Max does, in fact, locate a bottle opener and before you know it you’re both settled on his bed, side by side, wine glasses in hand, bag of chips open between you. You try your hardest to ignore the head radiating off of Max and Max tries his hardest to ignore the fact that you’re wearing the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen. Neither of you do a very good job of it. 

“I’m surprised you’re not out with Lando and the rest of the boys tonight. Getting a little tired in your old age?” You tease (always with the teasing, you two) as Max scrolls through Netflix, trying to find something you can both agree on to watch. 

“I went out with him and Carlos last week.” 

You pop a chip in your mouth before responding. “And from what I saw on Instagram, you’re probably still recovering from it.” 

You remember the night he was talking about. The jealousy that washed over you when you saw his private Instagram stories from that night, girls falling over him in a dimly lit Jimmy Z’s, him and Lando on stage with the DJ clearly wasted on his favorite G&T’s, was a feeling you were entirely unfamiliar with. You never got jealous, not over someone you were dating and certainly not over someone like Max Verstappen. Absolutely not. 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, beestje?” Max bumps your shoulder with his as he hits play on the OG Jurassic Park movie. 

You can’t help the pout that materializes on your face. “Stop calling me that.” You whine, unashamed at how bratty you sound in the moment. Frankly, you were tired of being treated as the little sister of the group, never being taken seriously and always being teased. “If you’re going to be mean to me, I’m going to leave.” 

You lean forward to go, not really intending on leaving but wanting to teach Max a lesson. A strong hand wraps around your wrist before you make it off the bed though and he pulls you back so quickly you nearly end up in his lap. “Don’t leave, schatje.” 

Schatje? Oh. Oh. 

Your heart hammers in your chest as you realize Max hasn’t let go of your wrist. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s pulled your wrist closer to him so your hand is resting on his thigh and he’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon. He’s only ever called you beestje before. His little beast. You never really hated it if you were being quite honest, thought it was quite cute actually. A name that Max reserved only for you. But he’s never called you schatje and he’s absolutely never called you schatje in that tone of voice before, all husky and raspy like just saying the word does something to him. 

All at once, there’s a fire in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Something akin to a lion stalking his prey. He knows what he wants and it’s like something finally clicked for him. You sitting there, pouting away at the nickname he’s always only reserved for you, plump bottom lip popping out, just asking to be bitten. He follows your gaze to where you’re staring at your hand in his, giving your wrist a little squeeze to get your attention back up to his face. “Don’t pretend you came up here just to watch Jurassic Park with me tonight.” He murmurs, leaning in incrementally more. He’s so close now you can feel his heated breath fan out over your cheeks. 

“Max.” You whisper, thoughts moving a mile a minute and sluggishly slow all at once. You’d been wanting this exact thing for weeks now, his hands on yours, hadn’t you? So why were you suddenly so unsure of what the fuck you were doing. 

When he tugs you into his lap, bag of chips crunching under your knees, you feel a flush creep up your neck. Knees straddling his thighs, you’re suddenly in a very compromising position and feeling something very…thick pressing into your center. A single roll of your hips is enough to have Max tipping his head back on a groan. 

“We shouldn’t Max.” Where in the hell did that protest come from? Your body practically screams, desperately needing your mind to shut the fuck up just this once.  

“I will happily stop if you want me to, schatje but your hips are telling me a very different story right now.” Max stares up at you and almost shudders at the look on your face. It’s a look he’s never seen on you before, all unabashed want and need and heat and fuck if it does something to him seeing that lusty gaze aimed his way. 

The two of you stay like this for several moments, the movie long forgotten, Max’s hands resting on your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. It’s almost like you’re both daring the other one to make the first move. You both know you want it, the tension thick in the air. Energy crackles between you as Max drops his gaze from your eyes down to your lips and then back up again. You find yourself slipping deeper into those icy blue eyes of his, unable to tear your eyes away from how he’s looking at you. Like he’s seeing you all at once for the very first time. The sheer awestruck look on his face has you catching your bottom lip between your teeth, a smile begging to be released. 

“I want to kiss you.” Max breathes, voice barely audible but in the silent room, you don’t miss the whispered confession. 

“What’s stopping you?” You probably should be embarrassed at how breathy your voice is, how needy your hips are as they roll into his again. 

And then, it’s happening. He’s leaning in, eyes never leaving yours as your breath catches in your throat, dizzy with anticipation. You’ve kissed people before, of course you had, but never in your entire life has the moment before a kiss been this torturously pleasurable before. 

And if the anticipation of the kiss is enough to have you groaning with pleasure, the moment his lips connect with yours is astronomically better. A spark ignites when he presses a kiss to your mouth, one hand snaking up your body to frame your face as you tip your head down to allow a deeper kiss. The sound that you make when he licks into you the first time is obscene, a throaty purr rumbling out from you. 

Max can’t help but smile against you when he feels you try to press your legs together, the fact that you’re straddling him completely lost on your distracted thoughts. The way you tasted was something straight out of a romance novel and he instantly found himself addicted. He could win every fucking Grand Prix for the rest of his career and it still wouldn’t compare to the first time he got his lips on you. His other hand skates up your slender back, finding heated bare skin under your Ferrari sweatshirt. 

“We’re going to need to get you something Red Bull, I can’t have you in my bed wearing Ferrari colors.” Max grumbles, mouth barely leaving yours. 

You giggle, “In your bed, huh? Someone’s cocky.” You lift an eyebrow at him, liking the frown that tips down at the edges of his mouth when you pull away. 

“Confident, schatje. I’m confident.” 

Your lips find his again and they continue the exploration Max started, your tongue slipping between his lips, teeth first nipping at his lush bottom lip before sucking it back into your mouth. The soothing sensation on his swollen lips has Max’s hips tipping up towards yours, seeking more friction than your grinding hips are already causing. 

When you reach for the hem of your sweatshirt, intending to take it off so you can get your skin closer to his, Max lifts a hand to stop you. The confusion that clouds your face has him shaking his head, “We should stop before we get carried away.”

“What? Why?” You pout. 

Max brushes a calloused thumb over your swollen bottom lip before looking at up at you. There that look was again. Only this time it was like you’d hung both the moon and the stars and were trying to give him both. “Because if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” 

You blink down at him, somewhat surprised and very caught of guard. “And what exactly is this?” You’re almost too afraid to hear his response, not sure if it’s the one you need to hear. 

“I don’t know but I know that it’s not a one night thing. It never could be with you.” 

You melt into his arms, your head finding its home in the crook of his neck. Dragging in a steadying breath, you allow the clean, sharp scent of Max’s shirt bring you back down to earth. He was right. You knew that. It would be a monumentally bad idea to sleep together so quickly.

“Oh Maxie.” You sigh, wondering what the hell you’ve both started here tonight. 

[fanaticsnail]

Apologetic Valentine

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: Doflamingo has missed another Valentine's Day alongside anniversaries, holidays, and birthdays. He decides to make it up to you by gifting a variety of presents and indulges in watching you attempt to open it while his hands become a welcome distraction.

Themes: Doflamingo x afab!reader, MDNI, NSFW, 18+, smut, cockwarming, domflamingo, established relationship, overstimulation, love, kisses, lots of pet-names.

Notes: Massive shout out to @loganwritesprobably, @mermaniaa, @queenmimi2817, @thietanavenus and @vaadalt for keeping me company and giving me ideas for this one last night 🖤. Happy belated Valentine's!

The vast array of gifts littering the ensuite table was in hues of deep red up to pastel pinks. Crete paper and ruby-stained tissue was thrust amongst the peonies, roses and tulips: all a healthy dedication depicting the love from your partner sitting beneath your lap. Reaching towards the velveteen box clad in ribbons and tulle, your breath caught in your throat and a shocked moan tugged its way from your chest to your lips.

“Eyes on the gifts now, my sweet,” Donquixote Doflamingo’s voice poured like molasses down at you, “Open the next one of your many trinkets from me.” Your hands shuddered as they lingered over the fabric, your entire body being struck alight and unravelling beneath the skilled hands of Doflamingo while you shifted through your gifts.

Valentine’s Day had come and gone, birthdays were of a similar regard. Doflamingo was a busy man: king, warlord, and pirate captain all in one, giant, feather-clad form. As his spouse, you were accustomed to being left to your own devices while he sought out his orders and took to his mighty kingdom.

However, he regretted not spending every waking moment serenaded by your smile and illuminated with your laughter - which was why he spent so much time purchasing thoughtful items and an amassment of flowers for your enjoyment.

As you made to unravel the ribbon, a whine spilled from your lips as your hips rolled against your will, relishing in the contact of his hand against your bare cunt. Doflamingo’s cock pulsed deep within your abdomen, impaling you and holding you hostage to your whims while keeping him warm and secure inside of you.

“The next one. Please, mi amor,” he whispered softly while using his index finger to swirl against your clit. “Tug the ribbon and tell me what you think of it.” He rocked his hips against yours, allowing a small groan of his own to join with yours before remaining completely stationary seated within your pussy.

Slowly withdrawing the ribbon, you tugged at the cloth and reached for the fastening holding the box closed. While you opened the velveteen surface, your fingers halted while you attempted to ignore the call into bliss founded by the skilled fingers of Doflamingo. The pad of his index finger continued to drive you to the brink of insanity the longer he held you hostage on his cock, but the smooth pour of his voice lingering in your ear from behind kept you grounded.

“What is it, little dove?” his voice caressed the shell of your ear, “What can you see, hm? Talk me through it.” As his warmth spread from the nape of your neck down, igniting pebbled goose-flesh along your spine, you clenched hard around his shaft and arched your back while rolling over the box between your thumb and forefingers.

“I-I see,” you stumble over your tone while you open the box. The rolling of his fingers grinds to a halt, holding you stationary within the cusps of falling over the edge of ecstasy.

“Words, dove. You have them, you can use your pretty little tongue to draw them up and over your palate,” he whispered down into your scalp, flicking his lengthy tongue against your earlobe, “Try for me.” His fingers once again moved against that pebbled pearl at the top of your glistening cunt. His own voice constricted around his shuddering groan as he gazed over his rose-tinted glasses down towards the box in your hands.

“It’s-It’s-,” you again tried to elicit sounds to depict your insight, opening the box and peering down within its plush surface. Your fingers reached forward, caressing the interior of the silken padding of the gift as a cool metal caressed your skin. Each small divot was both smooth and rough within your hands, a ribbon of gold with a small, balled, spherical object at the base of the box.

Doflamingo purred through his soft mewl, his quivering cock pulsating thickly inside your cunt while he listened to you struggle to get the words out. He revelled in the flutter of your walls sucking in his length, gasping out at every soft quiver while he held you on that edge without ever letting you fall.

“I-It's a necklace with a b-ball on the end,” you whimper, brows furrowing in the centre of your forehead while you struggle to contain yourself. Doflamingo’s hand momentarily left your pussy as he reached up with the other to collect the charm from your hand. He rocked his hips to and fro to keep you right on the cusps of your release, biting back his own needs in order to tease you further.

Gently raising the chain, he draws it around your neck while he continues to gently rock his hips. His cock pinpoints your g-spot, dragging against it and forcing your jaw to draw slack at the intensity. He placed the necklace around you and joined the clasp at the nape above your spine. The large hands then resumed their position: one against your clit and rolling the pert bud in time with his gentle rocking, the other drawn over your chest and bracing your shoulders into his chest.

“The ball has a small port you can see into,” he hummed down against your smaller frame, “I had an image placed within of when we first began seeing one another.” He picked up his pace, finally bouncing you atop his lap and seeking out that familiar grip and contraction of your pussy sucking greedily on his thick cock. He grunted while listening to your gasps and mewls spill from your lips, holding you firmly against him while the crude ‘plap, plap, plap,’ of his hips meeting yours grew in relentless intensity.

There were no thoughts behind your eyes while your spouse continued to tug you towards that edge he had held you hostage to from the moment you first started this small gift exchange. Only pleasure seeped into your veins and ignited your blood with sharp and unyielding euphoria. Your abdomen pulsed and began to simmer with popping flashes, like water in hot oil fizzing on a cast iron surface. The gateway into bliss had parted, and that familiar desperation had reared its face in the tingles expanding from your cunt to your toes.

“Say: ‘Thank You, Doffy’, little dove,” he moaned down onto the crown of your head at every bobbing pass, “‘Thank you for your gift’.”

“Thank you, Doffy!” you cried out, lips parting as your pussy gushed over his cock. The pulses of your ring of muscle sucking on him was enough to push the king behind you over his edge, flooding your cunt to the brim with heavy bursts of his thick and pent-up ecstasy.

He groaned your name, revelling in the small world the two of you had set aside with one another as he drove your body hard to ride the waves of bliss together. Your body desperately convulsed in a bid to curl inwards, legs shuddering to winch themselves closed. Doflamingo angled his legs to hold yours open, shepherding you both through overstimulation while you churned through babbles of incohesive pleas.

Doflamingo finally relinquished his assault in holding you hostage to your pleasure as you both slumped forward against the pink-shrouded table. He chuckled deeply against your neck as he pressed his lips in a lengthy line of kisses from your spine up to your temple. Each kiss depicted his apologies, his gratitude, his lust, and his pure, unbridled devotion to you and you alone, all while dwelling in the afterglow of your accumulated passion.

“Okay, little dove,” he whispered softly, “Only five more gifts to open. Go on, my darling. Slowly use those little fingers to open the packages, and I expect a ‘thank you, Doffy’, after each one.”

You panted and heaved, sweat beginning to drop from your forehead as your glossy skin recuperated from a glimpse of the heavens by his skilled hands. In lieu of reaching for another gift, you tilted your head and drew your hand to his cheek from behind you.

Slowly drawing his face closer to yours, you joined your lips against his and slowly bled your emotional outpour in a timid and intentional kiss. Tongues only floating together momentarily, you focussed on depicting your love and gratitude that he spared a moment of his busy schedule to do this with you. Your breaths became one while your bodies were still joined at the hips, your kiss lingering on his skin as you pulled away from his face. Darting your eyes between his own, your lips shared an outpour of soft and pure love in the formation of three words.

“Thank you, Doffy.”

“You're welcome, little dove.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @mermaniaa @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[wandaslovey]

how about a short wandanat fic/hc of reader being nerdy in secret. like playing fnaf, eating weird food combos, talking to themself like a video game character and owning kpop merch etc and wandanat LOVE IT SOO much but they never bring it up because they know r will get embarassed (fluff and teasing ples!!)

okay i’m gonna take some major liberties here and just say that in vii, bunny’s secret nerdy interest is the twilight series. she’s utterly obsessed, but hides her love for it cause everyone makes fun of her for it.

one day she was snuggled up reading a twilight fanfic on the couch and natasha walks past from behind, glancing at her phone screen. “what’re you reading?” natasha asks lowly next to her ear as she bends down to see what she was looking at.

“nothing!” bunny is quick to hide her phone, pushing the lock button and shoving the device under her leg. natasha’s interest is piqued in an instant and she walks around the edge of the couch before she plops down right next to bunny.

“oh, come on now, bunny. you know we don’t have any secrets..” she taunts as she leans forward, her arm extending outwards in the direction where bunny stuffed her phone. she was trapped. physically, there was nothing she could do to stop natasha from grabbing her phone. her toned biceps were evidence of that as they flexed ever so slightly with her arm raised above bunny’s body.

“it’s nothing natty, please drop it.” bunny pleads, leaning away from her and securely grasping her phone under her thigh.

“detka if you don’t tell me what you’re looking at, i’ll have no choice but to grab your phone and look at what you were reading. you know i know your password.” it was true. natasha did know her password. so did wanda.

“promise you won’t make fun me..” bunny tries to sound stern, her eyes narrowing, but her cheeks now blooming a shade of pink ruin the whole ‘warning’ look.

“you know i won’t promise that. tell me.” natasha insists, an amused smirk on her face. she grabs bunny’s legs, pulling them close together so their bodies were flush with one another.

bunny sighs loudly, looking off to the side as she swallows her nerves. “i was reading twilight fan fiction…” she mumbles quietly. her muttered response didn’t go unheard though as natasha’s ears were honed in, eager to hear the little secret.

“twilight?” natasha echoes, her smile utterly regale. “like sparkly vampires twilight?” she laughs freely, poking at bunny’s side when she doesn’t join in on her amused reaction. she tries to squirm away from natasha’s teasing but nat is having none of it. she keeps her body firmly pressed against hers.

“i didn’t know people still read that stuff!” natasha adds, only making bunny’s cheeks flame hotter. all she could do was half shrug, her face in a full pout now.

“awww, are you that embarrassed about it?” natasha’s tone is softly now albeit still amused. she maneuvers bunny so she was on top of her lap, her chin held firmly between her fingers so they had to look at one another.

“it’s okay, silly girl. i always knew you were a nerd.”

[avecra]

Dosed

summary: When you are laced with a deadly pathogen, the team finds themselves working endlessly to find a cure. Only it might not be enough.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.7k

warnings: canon level violence, illness symptoms (fever, cough, vomiting), angst on top of angst with a happy ending, bucky goes through many emotions

a/n: hi hello it has been a hot minute since I have been active im so sorry :( i had a lot of personal issues to deal with but now im hoping to be a little bit more active and post more stories :)

You could feel the heavy rumble of the jet as it landed on the muddy grounds. An overcast covered the sky and emitted a soft grey through the thick glass of the display of the jet, the light pitter of rain tapped against the window. 

Bucky’s gentle touch stole your gaze from the window to the super soldier, his fingers wrapped around the Kevlar vest and he began to tighten the straps around your shoulders, pulling them into place. 

“Do I really have to wear this? Steve said that the building is supposed to be empty,” you said, trailing a finger along the front of your vest, over the stitched ‘Barnes’ that sat over the thick fabric. 

“Yes, honey,” Bucky chuckled, tightening the straps over your back. “Just cause Steve says it’s empty doesn’t mean it is. I can’t risk anything happening to you, therefore you get to wear my vest.” He winked at you and tightened the last strap across your abdomen. “Gotta keep my girl safe, now don’t I?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, continued to watch him strap a few guns and knives to his body. Exhaling a tense sigh, you ran your sweaty palms down the side of your tactical uniform, Bucky noticed. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you whispered, grabbing his hand. “I’m not exactly equipped for these types of missions, I’m just a little nervous.” 

Bucky’s eyes softened when he heard the small crack in your voice, his hands encased around yours and he tenderly pressed a kiss to the back of your palm. “I’m gonna be right by your side the entire time.”

You bobbed your head, taking in a deep breath as Bucky gently slid a gun into the holster on your thigh. “But just in case.”

The two of you had been assigned to track down a lone mercenary in the middle of western Canada. The stormy weather had made it difficult for the jet sensors to get a read on the building that sat in a nearly empty forest.

A mercenary hacker under the name Roman Donovan had been on Tony Stark’s radar for quite some time, after noticing the many sudden security pop ups, indicating that Donovan had smothered his way into Tony’s tech. Both Steve and Tony had been working relentlessly to find a position on him, until a sudden location popped up. 

You had your doubts, whether you were the best candidate for this mission, but Steve had reassured you with your technical and computer knowledge that you were the perfect fit.  A squeeze to your hand reminded you that Bucky would be with you every step of the way.

With a nod from you, Bucky placed the small comm device into your ear, tapping it a few times so he could hear the breaths that left your lips. He slipped one into his ear as well, tapping it a few times until he could catch the chatter of the two agents in the cockpit of the jet. 

“Prescott and Logan, stand by. We’ll radio you in case we need backup,” Bucky announced, pressing the button that opened up the ramp of the jet. He turned to you with a soft, comforting smile. “It’s just a simple extraction of files,” he reminded with a gentle hand to your back. “Ready?”

A final nod of your head, you looked at him. Ready.”

---

The building had been vacant this far, Bucky had led the both of you to the control room where you rapidly typed on the main computer. Bucky stood by the door, sending cautious glances over his shoulder every few seconds to survey the dark hallway. 

“I’m almost done,” you called out to him, fingers dancing across the keyboard, desperately pushing into the numbers and letters faster. “It had more firewalls than I expected.”

Bucky glanced over in your direction, a frown taking over his features. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. Just means this guy wants to keep people like me out of his stuff,” you mumbled. Bucky chuckled under his breath.

A few more clicks to the keyboard, you powered off the system and the flash drive ejected  out of the main computer. Stepping back, you watched the monitors as the files slowly disappeared from folders and main screen savers, until all the screens went dark. 

“I think I got it,” you muttered, eyes wide as they focused on the screens. The flash drive began to flicker a blue color, indicating that the files had transferred successfully without a trace of Stark technology.

The loud slamming of a door alerted Bucky, as he raised his rifle up, pointing towards the sudden sound. You pocketed the flash drive and raised your head at the sudden sound, eyes filled with confusion as they flickered over to Bucky’s alarmed blue ones.

“Get behind me,” You quickly made your way over to him and his hand immediately darted out to grab your wrist. Though you could feel the tension riding off his body in waves, his hold on your arm was gentle. “Stay low.”

You nodded and grasped the back of Bucky’s tactical vest, fisting the thick fabric. With a cautious foot forwards, Bucky stepped out into the hallway, taking slow, steady steps into the dimly lit corridor. 

Your hands made their way from the fabric of his shirt to his vibranium hand, and you gripped as tightly as you could, in a way to ground you. He couldn’t feel the tight pressure, but he could feel the weight of your hand in his. 

The two of you stealthily made your way through sets of hallways and stairwells, inching closer and closer to the doorway, until the loud slamming of boots against the tile floors halted you in your stance. Fear corrupted every fiber of your body, you couldn’t take your eyes off the panicked look in Bucky’s blue ones. 

You felt Bucky push you away behind him, before a sudden force knocked him to the ground, grunts passed through his lips. 

“Y/n, run!”

Not looking back, you trusted Bucky enough to know that he would make it out unscathed, with only a few scrapes and bruises. You, however, were not a field trained agent, with little  combat knowledge. You bolted the other direction, on the way to warn the two agents standing by in the jet.

“I need backup! Logan, Prescott, to the northeast side of the building, now!”

It wasn’t until you felt the pull of your vest and the weight of someone did you register your head slam against the ground, rather harshly. A strangled cry left your lips when you felt a needle puncture your skin, just at the conjunction between your shoulder and neck. 

His hand pressed down on your neck harshly, cutting off your air supply, but you were frozen in fear - he head injected something into your skin. You did not find the strength to fight back.

Fear paralyzed every fiber of your body.

Grunts and strangled screams were heard, you didn’t know if it came from you, but suddenly the weight was lifted off you, though you registered nothing of it. A few greedy breaths of fresh air. The pulsing of your heartbeat rang out in your ear, chiming and pudding against your skull. You laid frozen.

“Y/n is down, I have Donovan apprehended. I need backup, please!” Bucky spoke into the comms a moment later as he threw the hacker on his stomach and pinned his wrists behind his back. He was tempted to sap his wrist, but he held back. 

“Roman Donovan, you are a hard son of a bitch to find,” Bucky growled in his ear, reaching into his vest to pull out a pair of wrist restraints, tightening them to Donovan’s wrist. The man yelled in pain and discomfort.

Bucky glanced over to you, eyes softening when he took in your fragile form on the concrete. You just laid there, almost lifeless, but once Bucky saw the rise and fall of your chest, only a little relief came to him. It quickly rushed away when blue eyes focused on the empty syringe near your foot. 

“There’s a lot more pain coming your way. What did you inject her with?” Bucky yelled viciously, grabbing Donovan roughly by the hair. But the man simply let out a dark chuckle, eyes narrowing on you. The way weak coughs passed through your lips, the way you burrowed deeper into yourself.

“I know your weak spots, James Barnes.” was all he said. 

The hurried footsteps of Prescott and Logan reached his ears and Bucky abruptly stood up  and watched the two agents haul the mercenary to his feet and slam him against the wall, patting him, finding a gun strapped to his back and a small grenade. 

“Secure him to the panel near the bay doors. Bastard can fly out for all I care.” 

Bucky wasted no time in making his way over to you. A gentle hand soothed comforting circles up and down your arm, gently coaxing you and Bucky gently lifted you up in his arms and leant you against the wall, concerned as your head lolled back. 

“Baby, are you okay?” His panicked gaze flickered from the bleeding gash on your temple, to the light bruising around your neck, the small dot of blood at the conjunction between your neck and shoulder. He sighed, bringing a hand to rest on your cheek. “Y/n, answer me baby, what hurts?”

Your eyes were clenched shut and you brought a shaky hand to rest over Bucky’s, and you lifted your gaze to meet his worried blue ones. “I’m okay… I think.”

“You think?” Bucky asked, running a hand over your hair. 

“I-I don’t know, I feel fuzzy,” you mumbled, leaning your head back against the wall. 

Taking slow, deep breaths, you felt Bucky rub slow, soothing circles up and down your thigh. There was a buzzing sensation circling throughout your temples, down to your cheeks, along our jaw until it spread through the rest of your body. 

“Deep breaths in and out, baby,” Bucky whispered soothingly, leaning down to kiss your knee.

But then, in a moment or two, you felt it suddenly disperse. As if the wave of numbness rid itself out of your body. You allowed Bucky to help you to your feet, brushing his hands over the front of the vest before making sure you had no further injuries. 

“We’ll check you over at the compound,” Bucky said as he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you down the hall, following the two agents in suit. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

Bucky watched helplessly as he and Steve watched as Dr. Cho and her team scanned over your body. He couldn’t imagine how confused and scared you were, hands gripping the sheets. Your first field mission had been a complete disaster. Bruce walked in, the used syringe in an examination tube. 

“What do you think he injected her with?” Bucky asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

“It’s weird,” Bruce began, handing the folder over to Bucky. 

“I pushed it through a scanner, to see if I could find any sort of answer to what this is. All tests come back negative for a virus or disease. Has she had any of her symptoms progress on the way home?”

Bucky shook his head, “No, she’s just been… frozen, paralyzed almost. He has injected her with something; I saw the blood on her neck and it seemed like he had tried to… kill her or something.”

“You think he would?”

“Why else would he press his fucking hand over her throat?”

“That, I am not sure. So unless she starts to show signs of some sort of sickness, I unfortunately have no answers. I’ll check in with Tony, see if he has any answers. I’ll keep you guys updated.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” Bucky sighed, watching as the doctor left. He opened the file, reading over the diagnosis levels. “I still don’t get it.”

Steve hummed, taking the file out of his hand. 

“The only thing he said to me was ‘I know your weak spots’ and then called me out by name. But I have never come into contact with this guy, not even as the Winter Soldier. The dude is early twenties and lived with his grandma in east Maryland up until two years ago, living in some studio in Princeton up in Jersey. How the hell did he end up in Canada?”

“That doesn’t track at all. Unless he has dug up on all of us. He probably just wanted to get you by surprise.” Steve said. “Real name is Benjamin Croot. 24 years old.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Dr. Cho’s voice broke through on the intercom. “She is asking for you.”

Bucky moved faster than he could process. He rushed through the doors and you turned your head at the sound of his boots. 

“Is she okay? She’s not hurt or anything?” Worried questions spewed out, his hands came to grip yours as tight without hurting you. He brushed his hand over your warm, sweaty forehead. “She’s warm.”

Dr. Cho nodded. “My team ran all the tests imaginable for this certain… situation. And everything came back negative, which worries me. If what Y/n described is true, then he must have injected her with something that is lethal or close to being lethal.

“She said to have felt numb, fuzzy almost. Those are usually the signs of a virus or even… a pathogen starts to form. But what I don’t get is that I could not find a single trace of.. well anything really.”

“Dr. Banner doesn’t have an answer either, though he’s checking in with Stark as we speak.” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “What should we do? Keep her here?”

The woman sighed, pieces of her hair falling from the neat bun. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Part of me wants to keep her in the medical wing, just in case, but her stats are all normal, though her temperature is abnormally high.”

“How high?”

She flipped open the chart. You hadn’t really been present in the time either of them were talking. You were just so tired. Physically and mentally. 

“The last time I took it, her temperature was sitting at about 100.5, which isn’t that bad, but it’s not great either. So, I would advise to just rest for the night, and when she wakes up we will run a couple more tests, see if anything has changed.”

Bucky nodded, squeezing your hand as the doctor excused herself. 

“Whatcha thinkin’, sweetheart?” Bucky sat on the edge of the cot, brushing hair away from your eyes. 

“Tired.” He could tell your energy was scarce.

“Let’s go to bed then, hm.”

His movements started before you even had the chance to reply. As gently as he could, he slid his arms around your waist and shoulders and helped you up to your feet. The two of you made your way from the medical bay to the residential wing, to yours and Bucky’s shared room.

“Don’t you have the interrogation to do?” you mumbled, watching his features contort when he pressed his thumb against the scanner and led you into the room. In your fuzzy mind, you barely registered Bucky’s touch as he gently peeled your uniform off and slid your pajamas on.

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Besides it’s late, sweetheart and I think I speak for the both of us when I say it’s been a long day,” He gently eased you onto the bed, gently covering your form with a blanket. 

A shiver racked through you and Bucky watched with a concerned look as you tightened the blanket around your shoulders. He flicked off the lights and crawled into bed next to and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You faintly nodded and relaxed into his hold, feeling his hands run smoothly up and down your arms. The faint glow of the television set and the low volume did nothing to tear you from your due slumber, though you faintly felt the coolness of Bucky’s appendage running over your hair before you slipped into a dreamless sleep.

---

Sweat coated every part of your body as you woke up with a sharp gasp of air. 

Pounding temples, you peeled your eyes open and sat up; the faint glow of the TV caught your eye. The movie Bucky played had finished and had been playing in an endless loop. 

The clock on your nightstand read 2:07am, you reached for the cup of water and took slow sips, barely and faintly registering the sounds of Bucky’s light snores. 

You felt the nausea before anything else. It ran from your stomach up to your chest and you clamped a hand over your mouth, threw off the covers and made a beeline for the bathroom. 

That was until a wave of dizziness hit you and your knees buckled. Vision tunneling, you would have fallen to the floor if it weren’t for the strong pair of arms that wrapped around your waist before you could touch the carpet. I’ve got you, a tired voice murmured, but your hazy mind didn’t hear the quiet mutter.

The warmth of Bucky’s chest touched your heated back as he sped to the bathroom, flicked on the light and watched helplessly as you crashed to your knees and emptied what was in your stomach into the toilet. 

Bucky kneeled behind you and grasped your hair in one hand and rubbed soothing circles along your back. He felt you slacken in his arms, head resting back against his shoulder and when he pressed his palm flat against your forehead, he almost hissed at the radiating heat.

“You’re burnin’ up, sweetheart,” His wide blue eyes darted to your half-lidded ones, cerulean darting over your sweaty, clammy skin. 

“I don’t feel good.” you croaked. 

It hit him in one, big wave as he took over your tattered form. The confusion, the fatigue, to your spiked fever, Something wasn’t right, considering the fact that you rarely felt under the weather.

Those are usually the signs of a virus or even… a pathogen starts to form. Cho’s voice rang in his voice

Weakly, you flushed the toilet and leaned back into Bucky. Shivers racked through your body and Bucky peeled your shirt off your shoulder to see a dark blooming bruise where Donovan had injected the needle. 

“FRIDAY, wake Steve and Dr. Cho. Tell them to meet me in the medical wing,” Bucky called for the AI and slipped his hand under your back and knees and lifted you up against his chest. 

You jolted slightly, dizziness clouding your mind as Bucky stood up. You were limp in his arms, like jell-o.

The cool air of the hallway felt like a slap in the face, you pressed your cheek into the warmth of Bucky. A low whine passed through your lips and Bucky ran his thumb just below the back of your knee. 

“Buck,” Steve called, eyes widening as they fell on your shivering form. “What happened?”

But Bucky didn’t stop his movements, he spared a glance to Steve and kept heading towards the direction of the medical bay. Steve followed Bucky’s fast pace, quickly matching his speed.

“Her temperature is too high,” Bucky said, glancing over at his friend. “When we checked into the medbay, Cho noticed that her temperature was a little higher than normal, but when she got up a couple minutes ago, she was burning hot.”

A slick sheet of sweat coated your forehead, Steve noticed, and how small tremors racked through your body every so often. His eyes fell to the darkening bruise on your shoulder, Bucky caught his eye. 

“I think she was laced with something.”

Your fingers grazed the fabric of his shirt and Bucky looked down, continuing his trek to the medical wing with Steve hot on his tail. You could feel the rapid thumping of Bucky’s heartbeat as you weakly bunched his shirt in your fist.

“Laced? Laced with what?” Steve questioned as he rounded the corner, eyes locking onto Cho’s at the end of the hall.

Bucky looked down at you, clammy skin, eyes barely open, though you kept a strong grip on his shirt. “I don’t know.”

Everything was hazy the moment Bucky set you down on the hospital bed. Though sweat coated nearly every inch of your body, shivers racked through your body relentlessly. It was sweltering and freezing simultaneously. 

Nurses rushed around you, obstructing Bucky’s view from you, one of them placed a cannula just under your nose, an IV into your arm. The thought of more needles sinking into your skin made you sick. 

The last time someone used a needle on you, he was malicious as he jammed the needle into neck harshly. The memory brought nothing but fear to you. 

You were hot. Uncomfortable. The pain in your head was nearly unbearable.

“Bucky,” you called out, only it came out more of a whimper. “W-where’s Bucky?”

Metal clamped gently on your hand, the other hand coming to smoothly brush your sweaty hair back. “I’m here baby, I’m right here.” 

“It… it hurts,” Bucky watched as another nurse attempted to put another needle through your skin, he noticed the subtle shaking of your head, the whimpers.

“Is that really necessary?” he asked with a sharp glare, it melted away when he looked over at you. “What is it, baby? What hurts?”

“My head.”

Worried eyes wandered over to Cho’s as she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Sergeant Barnes, I understand you want to offer her comfort, but I can assure she is in good hands with my team.” 

Bucky nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. His finger trailed over your forehead gently, and when he saw Steve and Sam in his peripherals, he sighed to himself. “I’ll check up on you later, sweet girl. I have something to take care of.”

You nodded drowsily, the dizziness taking control. 

Bucky reluctantly moved away from your bedside to his two closest friends, solemn looks on their faces. Sam kept his eyes on you, watching as the nurses took your temperature.

“How is she?” he asked. Bucky kept his eye on you the entire time, watching your tired eyes start to close. 

“It’s not looking good,” Bucky sighed. “Her temperature is extremely high, nausea, light-headed and dizziness. Whatever this bastard did to her, he has to deal with me now.”

“He’s downstairs, whenever you’re ready.” Steve said, his eyes laying on your frail body. “It is 2 in the morning and one of my teammates is lying on a hospital bed with a fever of over 100 degrees and a migraine that’s probably killing her. Let’s get this over with.”

---

Roman Donovan sat in a cold, bright room, hands cuffed to the tables with two SHIELD agents armed standing at the entrance. A smug smirk sat on his face as he fidgeted with his fingers. His head perked up at the sound of the door opening. 

“Well, if it isn’t the mighty Winter Soldier, what a traitor you are to your own country, huh? I mean, working for the people who you literally fought against-” Sam walked behind him and gripped his shoulders tightly, fingers digging into his muscles. 

“I am only gonna say this once, so you better fucking listen to me. What did you do to her?”  

Donovan chuckled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man.”

Bucky shook his head, vibranium fist clenched. 

“You know, Roman, this guy isn’t too fond of repeating himself. Especially to arrogant assholes like you.”

“What did you do to her, Donovan?” Bucky was strangely calm.. “You know the woman you attacked earlier, the one whose throat you almost crushed after you injected her with drugs? She’s got three degrees in chemistry, computer engineering and computer science, so I get why you, a man of your personality, would go after someone who is not strong enough to put up a fight against you.” 

Steve looked on through the window, phone pinging. He pulled it out, the text from Natasha sent dread through himself. 

Temperature over 105, tests coming back positive for some type of influenza. Cho is really worried. Not looking too good for her.

“Shit.”

He went on and walked into the room, leaning over to where Sam stood. 

“So aggressive, James. And for what reason?”

Sam chuckled, crossing his arms. “If you think this is aggressive, you’re in for a ride.”

“I’m gonna ask one more time, and if I don’t get an answer, that means you’re straight up out of luck.” Bucky leaned forward, black and gold vibranium reached for the chain of his restraints and pulled him down, causing Donovan to hit his head. “What did you inject her with?”

The man tilted his head, blood dripping down his cheek. “What makes you think I injected her with anything?” he cockily sneered. “I thought all the Avengers were required to be knowledgeable in the field, cause let me tell you, Sergeant, that little girlfriend of yours is such an easy target.” 

Steve nudged Sam, leaning his phone towards his eyeline, showing the text message. Sam felt a pang of worry settle deep in his stomach, sharing a worried glance with him. 

There wasn’t much time left for you. 

Steve stepped forward, pulling Bucky aside to show him the text message. 

Blue eyes raked over the words he had been dreading the most. "Not looking too good for her.”

“Well Donovan, I want my answer.”

The man smirked. “Yeah? Or what?”

Bucky’s left hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of Donovan’s hair and slammed his head against the metal desk one time only, though it was enough to break the man’s nose. Screams of pain resounded in the small but soundproof room. 

“No one’s gonna hear you, Donovan! Those guys with the big ass guns? They’re not gonna help you either. Not when one of their own is about to die in this building. And so help me, Benjamin,” Bucky sneered into his ear, the man’s eyes wide with fear, “if she dies under your hand, there is nothing on the green earth that is going to stop me from tearing you apart. I’m gonna ask one more time, what did you inject her with?”

“A deadly pathogen! It’s a pathogen that kills its hosts within 24 hours of it being administered.”

Bucky’s eyes glanced at the clock. 2:58 AM. It was a late night mission, the jet had landed in Canada at 7:45 PM. Meaning you had to have been injected with it at 8:00 or so. Meaning six hours had already passed, he had eighteen hours left. You had eighteen hours left.

“Did you know adults that experience fevers that go over 105 degrees can run into complications causing serious implications of brain damage,” Sam blurted out. “means you’re in the dog house if we lose her. And ain’t a single one of us is gonna stop that mean.”

“Is there an antidote for it?” 

Donovan nodded. Bucky slammed a pen and a notepad down on the table, causing the man to jump in fear. “I suggest you better start writing it down. Now you get to deal with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Better start writing.”

Eighteen hours would go by quickly. 

---

“Sergeant, it’s not looking good for her,” Dr. Cho said, voice breaking slightly. “This virus that she’s fighting, it’s too strong.”

Bucky looked through the window, heart shattering as his blue eyes fell on the breathing mask they covered your mouth with, the tubes that kept you hydrated. You looked so… lifeless. Natasha sat by your side, her hand gripping your wrist, though you were so out of it, eyes barely open.

“He injected her with some sort of influenza. He knows the antidote, but he has less than eighteen hours.”

She noticed the worried look in his eyes. 

“She was constantly asking for you. Even in a state of being delirious, she was still calling for you. Natasha was able to calm her down.”

The soldier gulped. “Is… is she going to die?” 

For a moment, Dr. Cho couldn’t answer. She didn’t know the probability of the antidote being made on time. 

“James, I cannot answer that. But what I can say is that I will do everything in my power to keep her alive. She’s a fighter.” With that, she excused herself. Bucky stood still for a moment before pushing the door open.

The sounds of your heart monitor and the sounds of oxygen traveling through the tubes filled the room. Natasha’s emerald eyes met Bucky’s, a small smile presented on her face. 

“Any updates yet?” she asked, but it fell on deaf ears as Bucky kneeled at your bedside, grasping your limp hand tightly in his. 

The amount of pain that swirled in his mind was almost too unbearable. Your eyes met his, though you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Tears welled in your eyes as they rushed down your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, my love. I am right here.” His voice was above a whisper and pressed a kiss to your palm. “Tony and Bruce are gonna find a cure for you, honey. I promise. It’ll all be okay.” He felt you weakly try to grasp his hand back, but the action alone made you more tired. 

“I love you so much, baby. Words can’t comprehend my love for you. I want you to know that,” Tears welled in his own eyes, his hands reached up to cradle your cheek. You leaned into him. “I love you.”

Your skin was so warm under his touch. His eyes read over the stats on the open chart, seeing your temperature rise every hour. 

“She was injected with some sort of influenza. Tony and Bruce are working right now.” 

“Did you find anything else?”

Bucky kissed your hand, gently guiding your head back on the pillows. “Son of a bitch has the antidote. Had to break his nose just to get him to spill it out.” 

Natasha placed her hand on his shoulder. “I will stay with her and I’ll alert you guys if anything changes. Just try to hurry.”

Bucky nodded and leaned down, hugging your frail, weakened body and pressed a kiss against your chapped lips. “I love you, Y/n. I’m gonna fix this.”

He did not spare Natasha a glance as he stormed out of the medical wing, boots stomping with every step he took. Long strides took him to the end of the hall, where the elevator was.

“FRIDAY, where is Stark and Banner?”

“Both are in Mr. Stark’s lab. Shall I notify them that you are coming?”

“Tell them I have a stop to make first.” Bucky slammed the button to the interrogation level. “ I’m coming with the antidote.”

---

Donovan jumped in his seat when the doors opened, revealing the shadow of Bucky’s figure. A knife sat in his hand. The prisoner visibly shivered. 

“You know what I’m here for, Donovan.” 

“Come on, man! It hasn’t even been-”

The knife that was once held in Bucky’s hand was now lodged into metal table, an inch away from Donovan’s finger. 

“You’re fucking crazy!” 

“What happened to the tough guy act, huh? You wanted to act all big and bad up in Canada. Why the sudden change of heart?” Bucky taunted him, walking closer to the pad of paper that had been scribbled on, step by step, three pages, front and back. “Remember, you’re targeting my weak spot.”

He seemed ashamed, guilty almost. But it wasn’t because your life was in jeopardy. It was because he was caught, with no one left to save him. 

“You know, you’re already facing five counts of criminal charges of unauthorized access into government systems, you wanna add a murder charge to that? Assault with intent to cause bodily harm? That sounds like fifty years to me, that is with just the unauthorized access charges.” Bucky sat down across from him. “And if this,” he held up the paper, “isn’t true or it doesn’t cure her, you’re facing a very serious murder charge of a federal agent.”

“You’re nothing but a coward, Benjamin Croot. Tough guy act falls the minute you’re faced against someone who overpowers you. You’re gonna rot in that prison for the rest of your life.”  

---

It was morning.

The sun had risen fully. 

10:47 AM

Tony and Bruce had been hard at work, trying to figure out the antidote. It was nearing the afternoon, and they had been at it since nearly four in the morning. But neither were giving up. Not when your life was on a timer.

Bucky had dropped off the paper before going back up to the medical bay, spending his time with you. He hadn’t slept since he first woke up, his groggy eyes immediately landing on you staggering to the bathroom.

He laid in the small bed with you, balancing himself on the edge, giving you all the space. He had laid a damp rag over your forehead, in hope to cool you down a little. Tremors racked through your body suddenly, Bucky jolted. 

You laid still for a moment, eyes clenched shut, brows furrowed. An unpleasant gurgling sound came from you, body jerking slightly. Bucky’s eyes widened and he pressed the call button repeatedly before running to your side. You weren’t awake, you were warmer than before, heartbeat rapid as the monitor started to go crazy, alarms blasting. Dr. Cho and a couple nurses suddenly bursted into the room, eyes wide

“What’s wrong? What’s happening to her?” Bucky cried out, helplessly watching as they pushed you on the side. 

“She’s choking. Her lungs are filling up with fluids, and if we don't drain it, she will lose her.” Bucky’s eyes filled with horror. “Sergeant Barnes, I know you’re concerned for her health and safety, but I need my full attention if I’m gonna save her. Please.”

Bucky wordlessly nodded, his eyes fixated on your body, your face. 

Eyes closed.

Pale skin.

Lifeless, almost. 

The monitor flatlined. Bucky was pushed out of the room. Sheets pulled around your bed as voices screamed and yelled, though it was all distorted. 

“Bucky?” He turned to Sam, tears spilled over his cheeks. 

“She’s…” A cry got caught in his throat. “she’s flatlining.”

Chocolate eyes widened. 

“I need to find Tony and Bruce.”

Sam loved you like a sister. The two of you had always been close, ever since you joined the team. And when Sam laid eyes on you, defibrillator pads pressed on the exposed skin of your chest, head laid back, a knife twisted into his heart. 

Neither men didn’t move a muscle until the flatline changed to a faint beeping. 

---

“Please tell me you’re somewhat close to putting an antidote together.” Bucky and Sam pushed through the doors. Tony looked up, “How is she?”

“She’s running out of time, she flatlined for a minute,” Bucky rambled out. “Please, Tony. What do you have so far?”

“It’s almost done, I think. We followed every single one of the steps, used past remedies that have helped even Thor himself from a virus. But if this guys even altered one of these steps-”

“He’ll have to face me then.” Bucky finished. “Is it ready?” Tony nodded, though he had a look of hesitancy. “What is it?”

Tony looked over at Bruce, having just placed the antidote in the freezer. “It needs to maintain a temperature of -50 degrees. Meaning…”

“You need to bring her down here, or else it won’t work. I have all the medical supplies she’ll need down here. I just need you to transport her.” 

“I’ll do it.” Bucky said, not that anyone else would have even offered. “Have every single thing ready by the time I step foot in here.”

“I’ll inform Cho.”

Both scientists nodded, scrambling to ready the emergency medical cot. Sam followed Bucky as they raced through the stairwell, racing up the stairs, though adrenaline gave Bucky all the energy in the world it seemed. 

Once he reached the room, Sam sprinted to ready the elevators, to get you to the lab as quickly as possible. Dr. Cho had removed all the tubes and wires off of you, only an oxygen mask with a tank attached. 

“Come on, baby,” Bucky strapped the oxygen tank to his back and slid his arms underneath your knees and shoulders, and ever so gently he lifted you up, grey hospital gown drenched in sweat. Your head lolled back, arms and legs completely limp. “I got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

With you laid against his chest, he moved swiftly, his pace faster than normal and it wasn’t long until he was in the elevator with you, nearly unconscious in his arms. Bucky looked down at you and rested his forehead against your sweaty hair, though it did not bother him in the slightest. 

Your brows furrowed for a moment, followed by a whimper. “We’re getting there, love. We’re almost there.”

The doors opened and Bucky made a beeline for the lab doors, immediately going to the corner of the room where they had the cot set up. As gently as he could, he cradled the back of your head as he placed you down on the mat, softly placing the tank on the ground. 

“Okay, now Tony.” Bruce unbuttoned the gown at the shoulder, revealing where you were attacked. Bucky held the side of your face, caressing your cheek. 

He had placed a part of his armor on the hand piece as he took it out of the freezer, glancing  at the space from the freezer to you, and in two big strides he held the needle just above the darkening bruise and quickly administered it into your skin. He pressed the button and a fluid was shot into your shoulder.

Your body shuddered for a moment, there was no sudden movement from you.

It was the longest minute of Bucky’s life, his eyes filling up with tears. The sudden rise and fall of your chest kept getting  stronger with every breath you sucked in. The bruise surrounding your shoulder slowly vanished, your natural skin color coming back. 

When your eyes peeled open, Bucky nearly sobbed in relief, crashing on his knees as he gripped your arms. 

“Y/n, baby, can you hear me?” he pleaded desperately. 

“B-Bucky,” your voice was raspy and raw.

“Oh my god, you’re okay. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he muttered over and over like a mantra, cradling the back of your head as he peppered your forehead and cheeks with kisses. You were still a little warm, not as life threatening as it was beforehand.

“W-where am I?” you tiredly asked, eyes roaming around the lab. “What happened?”

 Bucky gently took the oxygen mask off, replacing it with a nasal tube. “You were poisoned, honey.” Flashes of you flatlining not even two hours ago flooded his mind, but he shook them away. You were well and alive, breathing with a steady pulse. “You were really sick for a while, 

but Tony and Bruce here made a cure for you.”

You nodded, still a bit drowsy from the near death experience. “What about… him?” 

Though your voice was barely above a whisper, Bucky heard you clearly. “He’s already taken care of. If I had it my way, the bastard would spend the rest of his life on Raft for all I care.”

Tony chuckled, coming over to pat your hair and a quick kiss to your head. “Leave that to me, kiddo. This kid doesn’t know what’s coming to him. Get some rest, hon.”

Bruce, Tony and Sam all bidded you a goodbye, leaving the two of you alone. 

Bucky cradled your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you, too, Bucky.” You sounded downright exhausted. But you could finally rest. “This is why I stay behind the computers.”

Bucky chuckled and laid against the pillows, pulling you to lay on his chest. “Valid.” Your laugh was a tired one, Bucky could tell. “C’mon baby, let’s nap together.” 

You had no obligations on that, closing your eyes as you held onto Bucky’s arm, lulling to sleep. 

Finally, Bucky could rest knowing that you were at ease and finally able to rest without being in pain. His eyes drifted shut and you both finally succumbed to a well deserved rest.

--

[magiccath]

Psychic paper

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the psychic paper betrays the Doctor

A/N: The Doctor is fruity, deal with it xx

You’d been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and you loved every minute of it. In that time he had shown you all kinds of things you had priorly deemed impossible; aliens with wiggly tentacles, a spaceship that defies the laws of 3 dimensional space, a buzzing device he calls the Sonic Screwdriver, and homicidal salt shakers with toilet plungers for arms to name just a few. 

It seemed that with every adventure he showed you something new and fascinating, constantly topping himself without even trying. There was so much in all of time and space it wasn’t that hard. Anything outside of the 21st century was new to you. 

This time, the Doctor had taken you to see a mechanics factory in the 35th century, but as always the adventure didn’t end there. Aside from new experiences, the Doctor could almost always promise some kind of trouble. He claimed he didn’t go searching for it but rather that it tended to follow him. Either way, most adventures with the Doctor involved some kind of mischief and usually a lot of running.

“It’s no good, you can only get in with an ID,” you groaned, popping your head back around the corner. “There’s a security guard checking everyone going in and out is an employee.” 

You were hiding in a hallway, hoping to get inside the establishment's headquarters. The Doctor had a hunch that malicious alien forces were behind the operation, but he couldn’t be sure without poking around further. Typical Doctor, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“I can’t think of any legal ways to get in there,” you shrugged, turning to the Doctor for ideas. 

“I have identification,” the Doctor smirked, rummaging around in the seemingly endless pockets of his coat. 

“You’re not an employee,” you pointed out. 

The Doctor made a triumphant sound as he pulled what appeared to be a small black notebook out of the depths of his pocket. He flipped it open and you realized it wasn’t a notepad. The item was more like a police badge, minus the actual badge part.

He turned the paper towards you with a smile, clearly expecting you to be impressed 

“Aren’t I?” He grinned brightly, looking at you eagerly. “Psychic paper,” he explained, tapping the stark white paper with his finger.

You grabbed the item from him, squinting at it. You wanted to make sure you were reading it right, maybe your eyes were acting up. 

“This just says ‘I love you’?” You asked, handing the Doctor his weird paper back with a frown. 

“I think that flirting with the security guard is more of a Jack move,” you winced, not wanting to hurt his feelings. The Doctor was quite the charmer, but strategic flirting wasn’t his strong suit.

The Doctor grabbed his psychic paper from you, frowning at it aggressively. It wasn’t supposed to say that. 

“What-?” he asked, glaring at it the same way you did. Once the words registered with him he turned a dark shade of red. He should have been more careful when he handed it over to you.

“It’s not supposed to say that,” he mumbled his thoughts, trying to hide his fluster. 

“How does it work? Is it like a reusable notepad?” You asked, genuinely interested. Even if the Doctor’s tools could be finicky, they were interesting. Maybe he had just forgotten to erase the message from the last time he used it. 

“No, it’s supposed to show the reader what I want them to see,” he blushed, shaking the paper out like a Polaroid. Usually shaking the item would clear it, but those three words refused to fade from the paper. 

“Sometimes it’s a bit slow…” he said, really more to himself than to you. He was still shaking the paper, desperately trying to get the words to disappear. 

“So you were going to try and flirt with the security guard?” You frowned, now you were even more confused. The Doctor would much rather blow the whole place up than try and flirt his way through security. 

“No!” He said, almost a bit too quickly. He blushed again and averted his gaze, an anxious hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t planned on telling you like this. He hadn’t planned on telling you at all.

“When I handed it over it was supposed to show you an employee ID,” he winced. You nodded, this much you knew. What you didn’t understand was the confession of love. 

“But I think the psychic paper picked up on my feelings instead,” he whispered. If you hadn’t been listening intently you might have missed the last few words. 

“Are you saying that you love me?” You frowned, looking at the floor with concentration, “or the security guard?” The second option seemed more viable at the moment.

For the first time in a century, the Doctor was speechless. He stared at you, wide-eyed and unblinking as you waited for his answer. If it was possible, his jaw might have fallen to the floor.

“He’s pretty handsome, I can’t blame you,” you added, peeking over the wall to look at the security guard again.

The Doctor shook himself out of it, rambling a string of incoherent words. “I- uh, wha-?” He stumbled, trying to form a sentence.

“I handed the paper to you.” He said definitively.

“It’s a really dramatic way to come out, Doctor.” You continued on, ignoring him. It’s not like you didn’t know already, he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“It didn’t say ‘I love men’!” He threw his hands up in distress. “It said ‘I love you’!”

You finally stopped rambling on about the security guard and turned your attention to the Doctor. His words caught up to you and tentatively you pointed at yourself as if there was any other you. The Doctor nodded exasperatedly as if to say “Yes, you!”

“You love me?” you asked, still pointing at yourself. 

“I think I’ve said it about four times now.” 

“You?” You pointed at the Doctor, “Love me?” 

“Blimey! Yes!” He shouted, frustrated now. You widened your eyes and anxiously checked around you, scared he might have given away your location. Thankfully, everyone appeared to be out of earshot. 

“Yes, I love you,” he whispered this time, his eyes boring into yours. You blinked slowly, your brain still refusing to process his confession. 

You smiled brightly, your grin taking over your entire face. The Doctor loved it when you lit up like this, your happiness radiating off of you. He felt a small smile of his own tugging at his lips just looking at you. 

“I hope that’s alright,” he whispered quietly. He would never forgive himself if he lost you over a psychic paper mishap. The embarrassment would be too much - he’d have to run away. Maybe to that planet inhabited by only rubber ducks? 

“That’s more than alright,” you grinned, a hand instinctively reaching up to his arm to comfort him. The fabric of his coat was cold against your palm, but you didn’t pull away.

The Doctor really smiled back at you now, the wild lopsided grin that was reserved just for you. The kind of smile that always made you laugh with joy. 

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting your body off the ground in excitement. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent. You laughed happily, waving your feet about slightly. 

The Doctor pulled back just enough to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. Neither of you could stop smiling, even as your lips met. You laughed against him, planting kisses across his face sloppily. Your lips brushed the tip of his nose, the arch of his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth, and his jawline.

“The security guard is pretty cute though,” the Doctor teased with a sly smile. 

“I knew it!” You burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you did.