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siriuslybuckybarnes · 1 year

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I- the slow burn is so good. I love it. 🥺 Synth you’re incredible.

Heart of Glass - Seven

Slowly getting back into the swing of things. Thanks for the patience as I try to find my writing brain again. I’d like to thank Sevyn Streeter’s ‘In Common’ for the inspiration for this chapter.

Heart of Glass Series Masterlist

Therapist! Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, angst, language, mentions of therapy, jealousy, angst, slow burn, slight edging.

Summary | A bad breakup lands you in the office of Dr. Curtis Everett, who seeks to help you further at the request of your local therapist, due to his renowned talent in his niche profession.

Nothing seems to fit the way you want it to.

The colors drive you nuts, the fabrics seem to fold and hug every part of your body that you’re already insecure about.

And the clock keeps ticking down.

Your final selection is a simple black dress that stops at your calves, the neckline just enough to be revealing without too much. He’s already sent you three places to choose from, all of them expensive and way over your usual tastes but in your haste, you chose the one that looked like you could order with ease without any adjustments and he’d already secured a reservation.

“Focus,” you mutter to yourself, turning to the side to see how the dress fits. It’s one dinner, you keep telling yourself, slipping your feet into the black pumps. Black is classic, you remember your mother telling you once. You fought with your hair enough that you’ve finally figured out a solution, standing in the mirror to put on your earrings and secretly curse that you don’t have a big selection of jewelry. It’s never been your style but now you find yourself wishing that you had more to choose from instead the diamond studs your mother bought you for your last birthday.

It still feels a little raw, the underlying feeling of wanting to say something to Curtis, to lash out and remind him that he humiliated you by effectively shutting down anything else you had to say. It puts you at odds of how you feel now, admiring yourself for a moment and wondering what he’ll think when he sees you.

By now, you know that it shouldn’t matter. You’re independent, well read and you don’t need anyone’s approval.

But that doesn’t stop you from trying to talk yourself out of carrying your latest purchase, a brand new YSL chain handbag that you treated yourself to a week ago.

His number flashes on the screen, your stomach doing a slight flip as you let it ring two more times, swiping your fingers to the right to answer.

“You ready to go or do you need some more time?”

Your mouth goes dry trying to answer, forcing yourself to mute for a moment while you clear your throat.

Keep reading

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siriuslybuckybarnes · 2 years

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Dead inside imagining dinner I want to go to dinner too 🥺

Heart of Glass - Six

Heart of Glass Series Masterlist

Therapist! Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, angst, language, mentions of therapy, jealousy, angst, slow burn, me edging you at the end (you'll see...)

Summary | A bad breakup lands you in the office of Dr. Curtis Everett, who seeks to help you further at the request of your local therapist, due to his renowned talent in his niche profession.

The realization of what he’s done hits him in the morning, his calendar updated with the giant blocks of time free for the time being, before Justine fills up the spaces with more clients. For a moment, Curtis wants to keep the blocks of free time the way they are. His phone vibrates loudly on the nightstand, Roberta’s number flashing across the screen. Answering can mean he’ll get any version of her and most likely, the one he will receive is one that he will not enjoy.

“Roberta,” he greets, the deep sigh on the other end making him go silent.

“Tell me you didn’t do it.”

“I did it,” Curtis affirms. “I had to.”

“She doesn’t see it that way.”

Curtis pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering just how much you’ve told Roberta and how much of it painted him in the light that he knows he belongs in. Roberta never holds her tongue – something that he appreciates about her but wen he’s on the receiving end, it seems to get under his skin more than he lets on.

“I assume you’ll be stubborn and make no move to apologize. There’s unprofessional and then there’s… this,” Roberta fumes, Curtis already imagining her disappointed shake of her head. “But this isn’t about the doctor and patient relationship, is it, Curtis Everett? You started having feelings for her.”

“I did not.”

“You can lie to the masses, Curtis but you cannot lie to me. I told you that she was a special case. You had a lot in common and I was confident that you could get through to her.”

“Sounds like matchmaking to me,” Curtis points out dryly.

“I’m not finished,” Roberta snips. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m in the middle of telling you how much of a bullshitter you can be. You’re damn good at your job. The best in your field and you know that. But there is a big reason you’re still unmarried and it’s not because women haven’t tried. You never let them in. Until now.”

“Trying to diagnose me? It isn’t going to work. It was going farther than the usual doctor patient relationship and I put a stop to it. Plain and simple. I’m sorry that I hurt her but it had to be that way, Roberta, and you know I’m right.”

“Alright, you want to play this game? We’ll play.”

“What game?” His irritation rises, tossing back the sheets and blankets, making his way toward the closet, phone still pressed to his ear, waiting for Roberta to turn off the motherly façade.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“You’ve never denied a patient before. Which tells me she got to you. The great Curtis Everett has an Achilles heel after all. Which I always knew was there but I never knew when it was going to surface. Didn’t take long and how do you respond? By canceling the treatment that she needed. That she could get somewhere else but there will not be high standard of care and precision that you provide. All because you want to shield your feelings. I’ll find her a new therapist but let me ask you a question… do you think you could handle her sharing her thoughts with another therapist? Sharing those repressed desires with someone who isn’t you. You can’t think of it, can you?”

“I have to go,” he replies, his tone cold. “I’ll call you later.”

“When’s the last time you heard from Will?”

You know your co-worker Maia doesn’t meant to be intrusive, the way she leans in with a quirky crooked smile. Chalking it up to your own uncomfortableness to discuss your personal life, there’s no lie you can toss into the air, simply shrugging.

“He’s been busy,” comes your reply.

Maia nods in understanding, as if she knows exactly what you’re going through. The truth is that Will has been keeping in contact with you. Texts that you find yourself putting much more effort into than you should. He’s on his speaking tour, taking pictures of each stop to share with you. As handsome as Will is, the awareness that this could be a fling has come into question more times that you can admit to yourself. Judging by the times of when he chooses to engage with you, the feeling that you’re still on the line of this invisible fishhook frustrates you, enough to promise that you won’t reply to his messages as quickly as you have been.

“Everything else been okay? We’ve got that review in two days with the blueprints and I have to be honest, the concepts are a little underwhelming,” Maia admits, your head nodding with her statement.

Work has been brutal, the long hours providing you little time to think about the way you were dismissed from your now former therapist’s office. The memory of the dismissal still stings when you allow yourself to dip into that part of yourself that hurts to think about it, listing into the abyss of the strangely painful experience you had found yourself in. Even the amount of times that Bryce had cheated, treated you poorly had always been seen as acceptable within the realm of what he was capable of. You’d come to expect that from Bryce.

Never Curtis.

Being swept aside should feel like a second nature, a skin you can shed and grow back without pretense.

You’ve been used to being cast aside so much that it should feel like you’ve trained for this, to be ignored and have others move on while you pick at what little pieces of yourself are left to put together back together.

The amount of work piled up on your desk brings you back to reality. Somewhere Curtis Everett is taking on a new patient – someone who isn’t you – and he isn’t thinking about you in the slightest.

“I think I may take an early lunch,” you muse out loud, Maia giving you a thumbs up of approval, turning back to her desk to tackle another project.

“Good,” she says, biting down on a pen.

A nervous habit that you know she’ll regret.

That white blouse of hers will never recover.

Karma is a cruel mistress.

The moment Curtis steps inside his favorite coffee shop, the one with the ridiculous latte of the day featured at the front of the store, he pauses to read it.

Kermit the Frog Matcha Latte.

He won’t be ordering it but he has to hand it to the artist, who manages to capture Kermit’s likeness in a cup, an art he will never learn.

His order is on the tip of his tongue, effectively disintegrated by the sight of you tucked away in the corner at a high top table, legs idly swinging from the high barstool as he spies the heels, his gaze moving to your shapely calves and thighs that are hidden under your dark gray pencil skirt and tight black sweater.

You’re engrossed in a self-help book, turning a page and taking a sip of your latte. For a moment, he wonders if you ordered the Kermit special, your gaze lifting from your book to his stare.

It’s over before it begins, as if you saw right through him. Like a ghost.

He deserves it, he knows he does. It makes perfect sense that you would dismiss him – the same way he did you. By the time he makes it to the counter, he remembers his order, the usual, a creature of habit that the cashier has it rung up before he can get the rest of the words out. Normally he’d take it to go, to head back to his office but Justine has been especially opinionated with how things had gone with you and he isn’t in the mood to have a sparring match with his assistant, of all people.

Admittedly, it was a blow to his pride to know that you haven’t attempted to reach out, even if he knows the idea of it is ludicrous in itself. The sliver of hope he had is out of touch, even for him, to believe that you’d break down and contact him. That hurts his ego even more than he cares to admit.

Sifting through his emails only provide a slight distraction, ever so often looking across the table to see you pulling at your lower lip with your thumb when you turn a page, deeply engrossed in whatever you’re reading. The action makes him wonder what it would feel like if he was running his thumb against your lips and that small thought sends him careening toward what other parts of you would feel good, shaking his head in disgust.

He still hasn’t made up with Roberta, knowing that she’ll wait much longer than he ever will.

A notification pops up on his phone, Curtis staring at it for a moment to try to recognize the number before he finally reads the text.

Are you following me?

There’s only one person who could send him such a thing, Curtis typing out a message in return.

I could ask you the same thing.

You glance down at your phone, a smirk twitching at your lips before you flip your phone over, effectively cutting the communication that you had started. An olive branch snapped in half, your attention back to your book.

Frustration doesn’t take long to creep in, Curtis finishing his lunch, keeping an eye on you while you slide off of the barstool. With your book tucked under your arm, you toss your trash away in the respective bins, making no final eye contact with him.

It’s over before it even began, Curtis knowing that he needs to leave you alone, to give you the space he had unceremoniously gifted you with. But Roberta’s words ring in his mind, the possibilities swirling in his mind of who you could be talking to.

None of that matters though.

Not since he’s still in this coffee shop and you’re probably at your car.

Heading outside, he looks for any sign of your car, taking stock of what vehicles are still in the parking lot.

And not one of them is yours.

Dusk seeps into the sky, painting the sky in dark pinks and purples. By all accounts, you should be out, having that social life that you promised yourself you would have. You even told Roberta you were ready to move on, even if you know the expression on her face meant that she didn’t believe you.

You didn’t believe yourself either.

Seeing Curtis should not have made you think twice about picking up the phone to call him, your phone in your lap while you scroll through the menu of the few hundred channels on our TV, none of them catching your attention.

There is no excuse as to why you suddenly broke your rule about ignoring him. Out of sight and out of mind was the way to be and it had served you well for the most part. Except when your calendar would alert you about an appointment that you longer had. You’d sat in bed, painstakingly removing every single appointment you’d placed into your phone. There was nothing to mourn and everything to overanalyze.

Nothing makes you drop your phone faster than when your ringtone rouses you from your deep thoughts, nearly dropping it like a hot potato when you see who is calling.

“Yes?” you answer, trying to keep your voice cold.

“I need to apologize to you.” Curtis’ voice on the other line sounds too professional. “If you’ll let me.”

“I accept your apology.” You don’t really but if it means a truce, you’ll put your feelings aside and move on.

“That’s not what I meant,” Curtis denies. “I want to apologize properly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dinner.”

Sitting up, you hold the phone tighter, mouth dry at what he’s just said.

“Dinner,” you repeat.

“Is that a confirmation?”

Blinking owlishly, there’s little time that he’s leaving you to answer.

Not that you need to hesitate.

“Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

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siriuslybuckybarnes · 2 years

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some of you are miserable because you're mean. like you're just mean to people and things

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siriuslybuckybarnes · 2 years

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2012 Seb was a really good Seb

SEBASTIAN STAN 2012 | 1883 Magazine

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siriuslybuckybarnes · 2 years

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@syntheticavenger

👀👀👀👀👀

-🌸

CHRIS EVANS filming 'Red One'

me right now:

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siriuslybuckybarnes · 2 years

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Hi Synth!! I found a writing prompt book and I’ve decided that if you’re okay with it, I’m going to send one to you once a week! (Or possibly more often if you’d like) and you could (if you want) write a fic based of the prompt! It would be completely up to you of course and details not in the prompt are yours to decide!!

Prompt:

Use the following sentence as the first line: It was the knockout punch that did it.

I hope you like this! If you don’t, I won’t send more but I thought it might be a fun idea? I’ll do the same one as you that day and if you’d like I’ll send what I come up with as well! ❤️

Love 🌸 anon

I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this! I would love that!

I wrote it!

Pic is from @tragiclyhip

Movement

Words: 500

Warnings: A fight, mentions of bullying, language.

Summary | A bully gets more than he bargained for.

It was the knockout punch that did it.

You never saw it coming, nor did Dan, his sprawled out body across the lawn while people gawk at the sight of Thor, his towering figure looking down at his co-worker’s crumpled body. A figure stops next to you, lifting up their dark sunglasses to add to the crowd’s disbelief.

“He’s out cold,” Sif snorts, giving you a sly grin. “Guess Thor got tired of Dan bullying him.”

Thor says nothing, his fist flexing as he stares over his glasses, his jaw set in a hard line.

“Thor?” you ask, looking up at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll probably get fired,” he mutters to you in response, shaking out his hand. “But he deserved it.”

For as long as you can remember, Dan has made Thor’s job less than pleasant since he started with the company. Insecurities came through full force, commenting on Thor’s accent, the way he dressed and his glasses, something you found yourself defending him without really knowing the newest IT manager.

But enough was enough and Thor had reached his breaking point.

“Odinson!” a voice calls out, heads turning as Tony Stark heads down the steps, head down while he charges forward, stopping in his tracks when he sees Dan’s unconscious form on the ground.

“Shit,” Sif whispers. “I forgot he was here on a visit.”

“You wanna tell me what happened here, Point Break?”

“His name is Thor, Mr. Stark,” you remind him, Thor looking at you in surprise as Stark examines you.

“It’s a term between friends,” Stark backs off, eyebrow raising at Dan. “Tell me you didn’t punch his lights out.”

“He was overdue,” Sif pipes up, gasping as you elbow her in the side. “He’s a bully.”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole but if he has a concussion, then I gotta pay. Someone get him up and check on him. Tell Pepper we’re sending him home. Odinson, my office.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur to Thor, watching him nod and follow his boss. Two people come forward, helping Dan up as he comes to, the bruise over his eye already forming as he shakes his head, trying to break out of his stupor.

While the crowd disperses, it’s you and Sif alone, Sif watching the glass doors close as Thor disappears.

“You think he’s gonna fire him?”

“Nah,” Sif replies. “Why? You worried? Wouldn’t want your office crush to be gone, would you?”

“I, what, no,” you stammer, blinking at how well Sif knows you. “I just worry about him.”

“He’ll be fine. Stark can’t stand Dan, anyway. He’s been on thin ice for a while. Maybe a week off without pay for Thor, if I’m guessing.”

“Guessing?”

“Listen, Stark does what he wants,” Sif answers honestly. “But Thor does great work. Makes a mean pot of coffee too.”

You’re silent for a moment, walking back toward the building as the sky darkens.

“Not again,” Sif sighs. “This weather has been ridiculous lately. Sounds like thunder.”

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