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airbendertendou · 1 year

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IN CHAOS NOW! synopsis : your brother and his friends make a small trip to get you from school, only to run into the local gang.

cw ; reader is gender neutral. no pronouns used. [name] in place of y/n. high&low characters implied to be your adopted brothers.

h&l taglist ♥︎ @straysugzhpe @yuken-gf @strxwberrychocolate @star2fishmeg @rouzuchan [if you would like to be added / removeed let me know ♥︎]

song inspo ; frost by txt

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♥︎——

toman + suzuran

“…does that make a little more sense?” The group of five stay silent before letting out a drawn out oh! in unison. You grin at their antics, shaking your head.

“Thanks again for doing this, [name].” Takemichi says. He rubs the back of his neck nervously, a sheepish smile on his face. “Hina gets upset with my grades, and I don’t want to bother her with re-teaching all of us this stuff.”

You ruffle his blond hair, “I don’t mind. I’m just glad I can help.”

“You help so much,” Atsushi speaks as he looks over his notes. Takuya nods enthusiastically, Yamagishi humming between them. “I don’t understand the teacher at all.”

The window leaks an orange haze as the sun begins to set ; a crow caws in the distance.

You tilt your head only to shake it after, hiding your unease with another smile. There’s no way. You look at the boys again, “need help with anything else?”

“Well—“

A loud bang echoes around the mostly empty school, an eerily familiar cackle hitting the walls soon after. With wide eyes, you and the group of five scramble outside of the classroom to see the commotion. A set of black and gold jackets are stood against… another set of black and gold jackets.

You blink, finding who you’re looking for as you walk up to him quickly. “Why are you here? Where’s my brother?”

“Curfew.” Is all Mercy says as another bang hits the wall. He glances to you, “it’s past your curfew.”

“Is it?” You mumble before pulling out your phone. It was past time for you to be home — an hour past, actually. You suck in a breath through your teeth, sending a sheepish grin his way. “My bad…”

A loud cackle hits the area again, “you’re a fun guy!” Binzo steps out of a pile of desks, knuckles bloody and a bruise forming on his cheek. In front of him, a boy with orange hair grins as he rubs his fist against his open palm. Binzo’s eyes widen, “I can’t wait to get rid of you.”

You act quickly, grabbing the wild boy’s ear and pushing his attention onto you. You frown his way, “and why are you fighting in my school?”

“Oh, hey [name].”

“Hi, Binzo,” you deadpan before letting him go. Across the hallway, you can see a boy identical to the orange haired one doing the same as you — calming a fight. Yamaguchi appears out of nowhere, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he leads you away from the fights damage.

Your brother is face to face with a blond, glaring as they stare each other down. They seem equal height wise but your brother has a different air to him ; a monstrous rage hidden he only uses to protect his siblings.

Your small study group follows behind you meekly, Kamui and Mercy behind them. Takemichi lets out a squeak at the sight of your brother, “he’s huge!”

You snicker to yourself and unknowingly catch the attention of a different blond. Smiling to your small group, you place your hand on Rao’s back and step into his line of vision. “Sorry I stayed so late ; I didn’t realize what time it was.”

Rao looks you over, as if making sure you’re okay. You roll your eyes, “I’m just fine, brother.” You point your thumb backwards to the group of trembling boys — their eyes widen at the attention. “Was with my tutor group.”

Atsushi smiles, a small laugh escaping his lips as he waves. “Nice to meet you mister Suzuran, sir.”

“Mister Suzuran,” Mercy laughs to himself.

You send a glare his way before looking at the new faces in front of you — and their matching uniforms. “That’s not a school, is it?”

“Toman!” Takemichi pipes up. He rushes to stand beside you and almost shield you from the group’s view. “My friends. Who are here because…”

“To hang out.” His voice is deep as he speaks, that taller guy. You raise your eyebrows — like you’re impressed — and look to your brother again. The rest of the crows have wandered up and gathered around you by now, shoulder to shoulder as they stood with you. “Why is Suzuran here?”

“You’ll have to excuse my brother and his friends,” you grin sweetly. Your eyes close and the irritation seems to leak from you as you hold the fake smile. “They have no manners. I’ll go get my things.”

The middle school boys follow behind you quickly, like sheep being herded to safety. The Toman boys eye the Crows apprehensively, but stay silent otherwise. You pop back up, school bag in hand as you stand beside your brother once more.

“We’ll go first. See you next week, boys!” you excuse yourself, pushing Binzo out of the school. Rao stuffs his hands in his pockets as your eyes land on him once more. “Showing up at my school just to fight… what nonsense.”

Takemichi is stopped by Mikey, a hand on his wrist as the leader stares at the spot you were just standing at. “Introduce me to your friend next time. ‘Kay, Mitchy?”

The blond can only agree helplessly as he watches a small light of intrigue fall into Mikey’s eyes.

——♥︎——

tenjiku + housen

“Housen…” a boy in a school uniform passes by them shakily. “Housen… it was them…”

“Kakucho,” the white-haired male speaks up. He pauses in his step, glancing from the boy to where he came from. “What is Housen?”

“A nearby academy,” Mochi answers instead. He nods ahead with his chin, hands in his pockets as a schoolyard comes into view. “They call them the Killer Corps. Four lower ranks, below the head of the school ; the strongest.”

Shion tilts his head with a hum, “sounds like us, huh?”

“What are they doing in my district?” Izana purses his lips, lilac eyes narrowing at the school in front of them. A small group of five stands there, gray uniforms sticking out from the plaid ones other students wore. He watches as the group is avoided ; people passing by averting their eyes and hunching their shoulders. “Hey. Housen, was it?”

Their heads turn, stone-faced but curious of the red clad group. Shion tries to look as intimidating as he can ; the others just stand behind their king. A blond speaks up, “is there a problem?”

Before anyone can speak, an energetic voice calls through the air. “Oh, what’s this? A surprise visit?”

The next thing Izana knows, the guy with the undercut has another person attached to him. You jump on Kenzo’s back, grin full force and pulling at your lips. “What a nice surprise! Good to see you, brother!”

“So noisy…” Yuken glares your way, but it falls into a soft smile as he watches Kenzo pull you from his back. “How was school, [name]?”

You deadpan, no emotion in your voice as you sigh. “It was school. What do you expect?” You turn to Housen’s leader unexpectedly, melting into something more gentle and quiet. “Hi, Sachio. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“We all came to get you,” Kenzo speaks up. You swat him away absentmindedly, eyes focused on Sachio. He clicks his tongue, “I’m your brother and you’re paying more attention to him? Hey, don’t get any ideas!”

You face your brother coyly, “ideas like what?”

Yuken snorts to himself, looking to the ground. It reminds him that there are outsiders watching this take place ; other guys wanting to size them up and fight them. His face smoothed out, “right. You guys. What did you need again?”

Izana’s mind is spiraling as he watches you and your brother joke around. You don’t look alike at all ; don’t share a smile or eye shape or laugh. Yet you greet each other joyfully and bask in each other’s company. It reminds him of earlier times ; simplier ones when maybe he would've called Mikey his brother.

Kakucho clears his throat and looks on awkwardly as his king stays frozen. "Just making sure there aren't any problems. Carry on."

Your grin and playful voice lingers on Izana's mind far longer than he thought it would.

——♥︎——

haitani's + fujio and kiyoshi's factions

You're walking out with a classmate — Rindou, he said to call him — when he lets out a small laugh. "Seems my brother is here."

"Oh, mine too!" Your brother has dragged Yasushi along with him — of course. The two are rarely separated. What surprised you, though, was the sight of a taller boy facing the two of them. He's smiling with his eyes closed, twirling one of the braids of his two-toned hair. "Looks like he's causing trouble already."

Rindou saunters up to the unknown guy, scrunching his nose at the sight of your brother and his best friend. It makes you giggle — they often received that reaction. A whistle is heard in the distance as Fujio and Tsukasa strut their way to you.

“[Name]!” Fujio grins your way. He holds out a plastic bag to you, shaking it enthusiastically. “Brought some snacks for you!”

“I didn’t realize you’d all be getting me today,” you grab the bag from him. Yasushi peers over your shoulder as you pillage through the snacks, humming at the selection. “Oh, this is my classmate… and his brother, I think.”

The dual-toned boy raises his hand into a wave, his smile growing condescending and troublesome. “Didn’t realize the middle school was so close by.”

Your eyes widen as you see the four boys beside you twitch. Fujio’s smile has fallen ; Yasushi lets out a cackle as he cracks his knuckles. You exchange a look with Tsukasa and step in front of them before anything can start. “That wasn’t very nice, Pippi Longstocking! You should apologize before things get ugly, hm?”

His grin falls flat, mirth hitting his eyes as Rindou lets a snort out at your insult. You let out a sigh and rub your forehead. “Brother, let’s get our friends away from here before a fight breaks out.”

Kiyoshi groans but agrees anyways, slinging his arms around Yasushi and Fujio. The two are still frowning — but a lollipop from you is placed in their mouths in hopes of calming them down.

Looking back to the blond, you wave as Tsukasa waits on you. “See you Monday, Rindou!” You skip up to your group, looping your arm through Tsuakasa’s as you walk.

Ran lets out a laugh as he looks at Rindou’s complacent form. “Catching feelings, brother?”

Rindou shoves him with flushed cheeks and a frown. “You’re seeing things.”

——♥︎——

valhalla + senomon

Ryo often walked you home from school. As soon as your brother was in his car, the quiet boy was on his way to you — feeling as if he had some type of unspoken duty to do for you. You smile at the sight of him leaning against the school's wall, stark red uniform standing out against the white building.

A tap to your shoulder brings your attention to a boy wearing glasses. His longer hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a grimace on his face as he side-steps nervously. "[Name]... you don't mind looking over this for me, do you?"

He holds a mess of paper out to you — one you recognize as grammar homework. You glance at Ryo, smiling at him reasurringly as you take the paper. As you read over it, the boy in red takes your school bag and slings it over his own shoulder. "Just a few mistakes this time, Baji!"

"This one? I didn't think it was right," Baji frowns as he looks it over You walk between him and Ryo, messily and hurridly trying to explain everything Baji was confused about. "That one and— 'Tora?"

Outside of your building stands your brother and his following. Kohei's sneer is painting his face — as always — as two other boys face him. One is smoking, tattooes on his hands while the other has an intricate tattoo on his neck, his fiists clenched and eyes narrowed in. Ryo comes to a stop, "Kohei. You're here."

"Of course I'm here," he spits out. He makes his way to you, nose curling at the sight of Baji as he stands in front of you, blocking you from view. "Heard there were delinquents lingering about."

You grin, putting your chin on his shoulder. "And you decided to protect little ol' me? How sweet, brother!"

Kohei grimaces at you, "shut your mouth."

"No delinquents," Baji grins. He saunters over to the strangers, letting his hair down and taking his glasses off. "Just my friends!"

Scratching the back of your ear, you share a look with Ryo. "Well— same thing, really?"

The taller guy stomps his cigarette out, staring stonely at your brother. He breathes out a puff of smoke, "what're some rich kids doin' here? This is our part'a town."

"We don't want any problems." Ryo speaks before Kohei can. It's the best choice —your brother started and ended fights, never putting himself in the middle. He steps closer to you, "just walking this one home. That's all."

Golden eyes hit you, the jingle of his earring echoing at he tilts his head. You meet his gaze, looking away soon after and walking past your brother to Baji. You hand over another paper or two, "don't forget these. Let me know if you need anymore help — I'm still willing to help!"

"Thanks, [name]. See you tomorrow."

You pull your brother from the potential fight, letting him pout and whine as you ignore his words. Ryo smirks at your eye-rolls, nudging you and letting you tease Kohei freely. A golden gaze is still sinking into your skin as you peek over your shoulder, stealing another glance at the tiger boy. He's still staring.

"Tora," Baji speaks up. He narrows his eyes as Kazutora blinks rapidly, breaking his stare on you. "Be careful with that one. Don't want to make Senomon angry."

Kazutora smiles to himself, "wouldn't dream of it. Let's go."

——♥︎—— airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

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starrygemi · 9 days

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Taylor Swift songs that remind me of Stephanie Brown

Just finished up Steph’s pre-n52 appearances, so I have a right to do this now /lh /hj

These are songs that REMIND me of Stephanie Brown! The short list version without explanation, then the explanation in the second half. I tried very much to be unbiased, as most songs I listen to have imagery of Steph (or TimSteph) right now. Again, songs that REMIND me of her. I don’t think she’d like Taylor deeply, and honestly, I don’t think that hard towards what character would listen to.

Better Man tolerate it Dear John Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve A Place In This World* The Outside this is me trying* Tell Me Why* Fifteen Never Grow Up You’re On Your Own, Kid

When you fall in love with a character so deeply, every other interest you’ve had starts intermixing into and with them. Quite literally, everything starts reminding you of them, and your mind is just jumbled with all your interests trying to redirect it back to the character you’ve fallen in love with—and when you like something that the majority of the fandom dislikes, it’s kinda sad.

I’m not going to get into it, because this is a DC/Stephanie post—so just be nice to each other <3

Anyway! Lighter notes! I think Stephanie would be a Speak Now and Fearless girlie. I love Speak Now, so that may be a bias I have there. (Also Speak Now’s purple, soooo… /lh) This post also will not have anything from TTPD, because I need that to marinate a little longer. If I feel any of those songs fit Steph, I’ll add a reblog to this.

I've gotten a headache trying to figure out what's not allowing this to show up in tags, so here are just the screenshots of what I wrote. I can't keep "/"ing words 🤮🤮

Honorable Mentions:

I do think there are many songs from Taylor’s discography that can relate to Steph, but these were the ones’ that made it to my short playlist. In actuality, these are in honorable mentions, because I can't re-explain what's clearly given or I couldn’t articulate my reasoning properly, so you get this <3

A Place In This World "I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know / I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on / Oh, I'm just a girl, trying to find a place in this world" "Maybe I'm just a girl on a mission / But I'm ready to fly"

this is me trying "I didn't know if you'd care if I came back" "That this is me trying / At least I'm trying"

Tell Me Why "You took a swing, I took it hard / And down here from the ground, I see who you are" "You tell me that you love me, then cut me down" "But you know you got a mean streak / That makes me run for cover when you're around" "Why do you have to make me feel small / So you can feel whole inside?"

If for whatever reason you got here—please befriend me if you like Taylor and DC, I’d love to be friends 😭 If you have any Taylor songs that remind you of Steph (or honestly any of the Batfam), let me know!!! Because that’d be fun to dissect together!!

In regards to TTPD, I’ll reblog and add those later, but for now, I really still need to digest the album.

If I get attached and infatuated on a ship, they are no longer safe from every song being related back to them, so erm...I plan to do a “Taylor Swift songs that remind me of TimSteph,” because I already have a playlist for them 💀

#dc #dc comics #stephanie brown #taylor swift

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edierone · 1 year

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I posted 2,707 times in 2022

That's 432 more posts than 2021!

34 posts created (1%)

2,673 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@baronessblixen

@ellivia

@enigmaticxbee

@cock-holliday

@basementskylight

I tagged 2,690 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#😂 - 51 posts

#why is she so - 42 posts

#😭 - 39 posts

#leiascully 5 evah - 34 posts

#help immediately - 26 posts

#ohohoho yesss - 22 posts

#these two assholes - 21 posts

#how is this a real person - 19 posts

#your honor i love her - 18 posts

#always reblog long ginger scully - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#10 yrs younger officemate who finall worked up the courage to ask what was in that heavy black bag i disappeared with 2x/day

My Top Posts in 2022:

I was just re-reading The Things She Carries and wanted to tell you how fantastic it is. You capture them and their dynamic incredibly well. Also I’ve been reading XF fanfic for 25 years and I think this is one of the best explanations for Mulder’s sometimes shitty behavior toward Scully in post-cancer-arc. Head cannon accepted. Thank you for your service. 👏

oh my goddy goddy godd, I have no idea how old this ask is, but whoever you are and whenever you sent this, I love and appreciate the hell out of you!!! Folks, if you're interested: The Things She Carries

13 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

The Fox and the Wolf

Chapter 1 of 2

[AN: Y’all, this will not be everyone’s cup of tea. Inspired by a long-ago anon sent to someone else here that suggested Mulder had had his first sexual experience WAY too young, with a grown woman who absolutely and knowingly took advantage of his loneliness and need. It is in no way explicit, but please take seriously my tw: grooming tag. Read on AO3 here.]

He was fourteen that summer, and hungry — hungry all the time. He ate enormous breakfasts, scarfed any food anyone offered him, made himself stacks of sandwiches before lunch was served, took three-quarters of whatever was on the table at dinner, stood in front of the refrigerator grazing on cold brisket and drinking milk straight from the bottle when his growling stomach woke him at midnight.

His mother never said anything about it to him outright, but he got the sense that she thought it was unseemly, this boundless appetite of his; she’d never been, or raised, a teenage boy before, and he could tell she saw his literal insatiability as somehow tied to other ill-bred, unbound desires. It was common, base — as if he were an uneducated laborer, someone who hadn’t been raised to know which fork to use for the fish course (or even when the fish course should appear in the meal).

But he didn’t start hiding it until he overheard her tell a neighbor over coffee one afternoon, “My girl Elena barely gets the shopping brought into the house before Fox has emptied all the bags himself. It’s as if we’re running an indigent pantry out of our own kitchen.” The disapproval, the scorn, the hesitation and dropped voice before the words “indigent pantry” — he got the message, loud and clear.

After that, he made sure to cover his tracks: He’d have dinner at Paul’s house, where they ate earlier than most, then go home for dinner at his own; slip a $10 out of his mother’s purse to buy two footlong subs and a two-liter of Coke at the deli grocery down by the shore and eat them all himself on the walk home; go with Chrissy Edgar to her church youth group just for the spaghetti supper; lie and say that Elena must have only gotten one loaf of bread instead of three this week.

He just couldn’t help it — he’d shot up from 5’4” to 6’0” in less than a year, for one thing, and spent all his time playing basketball or running; he burned to make the JV team as a freshman this fall, with the vague idea it might impress his parents. And girls, too; Chrissy Edgar wouldn’t let him touch her, and unfortunately Cheryl Tiegs didn’t know he existed (although the poster of her on the back of his bedroom door saw plenty of him).

But he would try — ignored and filled with free-floating need, he would nonetheless try to rein himself in.

————————

One Tuesday in late June, sidewalks shimmering in the 90 degree heat and the sea breeze nowhere to be found, he ordered two double cheeseburgers, two shakes, and a family-size fries at the Burgess Farm Restaurant, planning to pay with another $10 he’d cadged from his mom’s stash in the linen closet. But maybe it fell out of his shorts on the run there, or maybe he’d already spent it? Either way, he didn’t have it, and the dead-eyed kid behind the counter was getting bored of waiting. His stomach grumbled loudly — a cute girl at a table nearby laughed with her friends and turned away. He was actually on the verge of tears from the humiliation and the hunger.

“Fox, dear, did you forget your wallet? Never mind, I’ll take care of it.”

A lady’s voice right behind him, then materializing next to him at the counter — Taffy? Tammy? He can’t remember — he’s only met her a few times, and that was years ago, when his mother was on the local parks board and he was in elementary school.

She was a vision in hip-hugging white pants and some sort of clingy pale blue top, long dark hair pulled into a sleek low ponytail, gigantic diamond ring glittering on her left hand. Her bright green eyes, full of good humor, looked him up and down. “Tabitha Welliver, darling — call me Tabby. Your mother and I … used to know each other.” Her look — wry, knowing — reminds him of why she hasn’t been around in awhile; the fight over park usage permits by “outsiders” had gotten pretty ugly near the end. “Heavens, though — you’ve certainly grown since then.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, thank you, Ta — uhhh, Mrs. Welliver,” he stammers, accepting the armful of food she hands him, feeling his cheeks tingle with an embarrassing flush; caught penniless, and caught fighting off a woody for no damn reason at all, he’s not sure which is worse.

“I can, uh. I can pay you back —” His voice cracks on the last word and he wants to die.

She laughs, patting him on the head; she has to reach up to do it. “You certainly will not! This is my treat. When my stepdaughters were your age, every boy they brought home was always on the verge of starvation — no matter how much they ate! Don’t you dare give it a second thought.”

He mumbles some thanks, desperate to get out before anyone else he knows shows up, but genuinely warmed by her matter-of-fact generosity.

“You know what you could do, though?” She’s gently steering him to the exit, apparently having forgotten her own order.

“Ma’am?”

“Come by my house anytime you’re hungry — I’m all by myself this summer, George is in Japan working on another deal, and his daughters are all in Europe doing god knows what. My housemaid makes more food than I could ever eat — save me from wasting all that, won’t you?”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he repeats, “Ma’am?”

“Oh, don’t call me ma’am, please, Fox! Tabby, or Tabitha if you must. It’s the big white brick house with the green trim, just on the far side of the hill — I spend the afternoons on the porch with a book, most days. Come by anytime, really dear, anytime. You need fattening up!” She laughs again, as if they’re both in on the joke.

He nods dumbly, knowing he will not at all ever do that. She touches his cheek with a fond, indulgent smile, then watches him go, calling after him, “Wonderful to see you again, Fox!”

He’s intensely embarrassed, later, when an unbidden image — Tabitha-in-the-blue-top — manages to blot out the lovely Miss Tiegs in the nightly round of what his mother calls “self-abuse,” but he hopes his mental apology to her, after, will be enough to clear his conscience — and that he’ll never think of her that way again.

——————————————————

The next Saturday is a bad one in his house. His mother sleeps late, then complains of a vicious headache and spends the day sniping at him: He needs a haircut, no he can’t go play basketball at the school and never mind why, that Chrissy Edgar girl is too fast and obviously headed for a bad future, how on earth can one person eat an entire pot roast, she wished she had at least one child who didn’t leave the bathroom looking and smelling like a livestock-grooming business.

Finally he says he’s going for a run and doesn’t wait for permission. It’s close to sundown as he starts out, going a little too fast on the fuel of the day’s anger and irritation. He runs to the shore, turns back on a different road, takes a big loop to avoid anyplace his friends might be (the two-screen movie theater, the ice cream store, their own neighborhood). He’s slowing, finally, as he leans into the long uphill of Center Street; his watch says he’s been running for an hour, which means probably he’s done somewhere around eight miles. And now it’s full dark and he isn’t sure how far he is from home.

He pauses by a wrought-iron fence in a rich-looking neighborhood, stretching his quads and calves, wondering whether to try to find a phone to call his mom, or just start walking and get there when he gets there. His sweaty shirt is starting to make him feel clammy in the night breeze, and all of a sudden the good exhaustion of the run is gone, replaced by the sadness he spends a lot of his time running from.

“Fox, is that you?” A voice calls from nearby.

See the full post

15 notes - Posted February 18, 2022

ok if we’re doing thanksgiving, might as well throw this ‘un out there again 🫠

Until Tonight; Until tonight. (529 words) by Edie_Rone Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The X-Files Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully, Dana Scully/Other(s) Characters: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, OC (mentioned Additional Tags: AU, what if Scully quit after she was returned from her abduction, Thanksgiving, Glenmorangie Summary: On Thanksgiving eve, many years after she'd quit the Bureau and moved on with her life, a widowed Dana Scully remembers the man she'd tried to forget.

18 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

Appendicitis - 2022’s first gift to me! ☹️

18 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

out-of-touch show creators be like uuunnnhh eeunnnhh everybody hated my revival series my brother in christ you wrote that shit

43 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #ahh beans #this really is a place huh #sorry it’s a long post #all the kids’re doin it

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inkburnt · 1 year

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No one asked, but as a writer struggling to get their work exposed, I figured I should give a few (hopefully helpful) pointers to other writers struggling with the same. Yes, these are points you’ve likely seen before, but I believe they bear repeating! This is also coming from my personal experience, and it’s definitely been a learn-as-you-go situation for me. I keep finding things out akdjskjhgf. But anyway, these made-for-Tumblr tips are pretty much the ones I find are worth following. Hopefully they can help your work earn a little more attention!

💜 FIRST, TAGGING YOUR POSTS. It goes without saying that tags are the primary way to search for content site-wide. It’s important to know how to tag your work based on your audience, so you’ll be able to target who you need to, as many people at a time. On any original post, only the first five (5) tags will appear in tracked tags. Tumblr Help says that “Only the first 20 tags on a post will show up in searches,” and that can be helpful—but don’t feel confident with that! Tumblr Search is predictably unreliable and does not show you everything that’s posted! You will always want to aim for those first five if you want the best chance of having your post seen.

Adding to the above: Do a bit of research on which tags you’re planning on using so you’ll have an idea of which are the most active and largely used, specific to your fandom, character(s), ship, etc. Those are the ones you’ll probably want your post to appear in. Don’t just go for the tags that are maybe too big/broad/common, because your post will be buried among dozens of others before anyone’s had a chance to see it. You’ll just have to put in a little effort to see how other creators tag their posts and which tags they use as their first five!

Oh, an addendum: TAGGING YOUR REBLOGS DOES NOTHING. Reblogged posts do not appear in Tumblr’s searched or tracked tags. Please don’t bother re-tagging the posts you reblog from yourself because that’s really just a waste of time for you. ;w; Your first and original post is the only one that will count in terms of being indexed and searchable! So you have to make its tags count when first publishing it to Tumblr!

💜 SECOND, BE CONCISE. Your summaries, blurbs and whatever additional information you write should not be too long or too convoluted in language (unless it’s your intent to do otherwise). This should actually be direct, clear, and give readers a pretty good idea of what to expect. Provide as much information as is needed, but no more. For summaries or blurbs, name a few of the characters, the setting, and the conflict—but keep the climax and resolution to yourself! Unless, of course, you don’t mind giving out all your work’s selling points. But mystery and surprise can certainly draw attention.

💜 THIRD, GIVE YOUR POSTS GRAPHICS. It’s unfortunately true that a picture can be worth a thousand words, so it’s a good idea to add either a banner to your posts, or a cover image for a specific fic, series, collection, the like. Images capture attention more easily, more frequently, and to more success in the end. Your writing may not keep the reader’s interest...but at least your image made them curious enough to give it a look! You want those clicks: out of ten failed visits, at least one will result in a like, a reblog, or a follow. So do better your chances by adding relevant graphics to your posts! And always be relevant: you don’t want to use misleading imagery, or you may earn a reputation of dishonesty.

By relevance, I simply mean to ensure that the image you choose to use matches the theme or content of the work you’re posting, or at least have it represent the characters involved. If it’s something romantic, horrific, or perhaps comes from an anime or video game, just use your better judgment to best convey to potential readers what your post may have to offer them! While it’s no rule, it certainly helps with giving readers a more accurate idea of what to expect from you.

Oh, and: DO NO USE FAN ART OR PHOTOS THAT DON’T BELONG TO YOU. I shouldn’t have to say this. No one likes to see their content being used without consent. Don’t steal from your fellow content creators. If you have your heart set on a particular piece of theirs, please ask for their permission first and state your intentions! And if they happen to say yes, please credit them appropriately in your posts; link back to the work they let you use! Yes, use images in your writing posts, but be careful about how you do it! If you’re not sure or are just uncomfortable, then go to the public domain, or use license-free images, or maybe take your own screenshots from games, TV, anime, even manga. Remember to claim no ownership over the content itself. And always seek permission when the content is coming from someone else.

💜 FOURTH, BE CONSISTENT. Whether that’s with your tags or graphics or how you engage with an audience, just be consistent; keep a vibe, style, theme, attitude going and keep it familiar so it’s easier for your “brand” to stay in people’s minds. They’ll recognize you easier, they’ll remember what you do, they won’t have to think twice about potentially reblogging from you or telling their friends about you.

💜 FIFTH, NETWORK. Reach out to and support your fellow content creators, writers especially. They will benefit from your engagement as much as you will. Leave a comment, reblog the post, send an ask—interacting with another author and showing them support is not only a great mark of solidarity, but it feels good to do! They need the exposure as much as you do, so don’t be afraid to help them out. If you genuinely like their content, reblog it! If you have the time and the energy, don’t be afraid to mingle with other members of the fandom, or creators who are in the same sort of genre or environment you are. Always be friendly, kind, and humble. Networking gains visitors, readers, a growing audience; and if you happen to make friends as you go, then you will have an audience that will genuinely care about you and the work you do. Networking will benefit others with your presence, as well. If you have an established audience, as small as it may be, those people may gain an interest in your peers’ work, and begin to engage with them. It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved! And if a small group becomes a large group, it will undoubtedly pique the interests of people on the outside. Knowing how to network can go a long way in attracting increasing attention, but it takes dedication. Just do your best with this, and go as far as you can within your social capability.

💜 SIXTH, ASK FOR REBLOGS. This one’s going to cost you a bit of your pride, but there’s really no shame in asking for people to reblog your work. Sometimes the most direct way is the only effective one. You’re going to have to be ruthless and shameless about promoting yourself out the wazoo while making sure other people are actually seeing this. I of course don’t mean that you should be rude, pushy, or obnoxious when you do this, because that’s only going to turn people away from you; but, you do still have to be a bit persistent about it. Reblog yourself once a day, maybe twice at different hours of the day; and if you own multiple blogs, don’t feel bad at all about reblogging your own content there. Just, you know, use your better judgment when it comes to how often you should actually promote yourself. There’s a fine line between persistence and annoying the heck out of folks.

If you want to go into the tags asking for a little more support (i.e. reblogs, reads, etc.), do that. Politely, kindly, humbly. And not excessively. Look into the tags you post to, to see how far down your last post has been pushed, and calculate when you’ll next post your tagged promo based on that. It sounds a bit complicated, but once you get into a rhythm, it will become a habit.

Another thing you can do, on the same post where you’ve got some work to upload, is leave a small note either on the top or the bottom (before the body of text) encouraging folks to reblog the work if they like it. It’s not exactly subtle, but it’s not in-your-face, either. I can’t speak for its effectiveness, but it can’t hurt to have a fixed reminder there for a reader to look at one day, and figure, Huh, I should reblog this. There’s always the chance that thought can spread.

#writing advice #writing help #writers on tumblr #misc.#Feel free to reblog this!#I thought I should throw help of my own out there.#Yeah I've done all of these things and it's still hard and I still don't get the exposure I want. but #I feel like these behaviors in particular are the most useful to me.#So I hope I can pass along that knowledge? Help fellow writers in a rut??

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 30: It Takes a Monster to Destroy a Monster

word count: 7.6k

chapter summary: Now that everything has calmed down, Sophie and her friends need to regroup and figure out what just happened and what they need to do about it.

warnings: none that I can think of! that's a first.

taglist: I’ll reblog with it! let me know if you want to be added or removed!

ao3 link here or read below

A cat on your face makes it difficult to breathe, given there’s a cat where the air should be and you, despite your best wishes, cannot breathe cats. This was something Sophie Foster found out through experience.

“Marty would never try to suffocate me,” she grumbled, still half-asleep as she sat propped on her elbow in bed, glaring down at her attempted-murderer.

Echo didn’t seem to care in the slightest, the little whorls of black and white all over its body swirling around with indifference as it yawned, appearing slightly annoyed that she’d interrupted its nap by shoving it off, gasping for air.

Sophie thought the nap being on her face gave her the right to an opinion on these sorts of things, so she stuck her tongue out at it, collapsing back into the covers with a sigh.

Darkness lingered, the sun still a while away from rising, but now that she was awake there was no way she could go back to sleep, so she cursed Echo once more as she begrudgingly rolled out of bed after a few minutes.

“I’m never gonna forgive you,” she mumbled in Echo’s general direction, who was content to have the entire bed to itself as it watched her make her way down the few steps towards the main room, grabbing her hairbrush off the desk.

She really needed to stop going on missions and getting kidnapped with her hair down. It always turned into such a mess.

As more and more dust fell from her scalp, she gave up, grabbing a change of clothes--a light purple tank top that cinched at the waist before flaring out and ending mid-thigh, and grey leggings--as she headed for the shower.

The morning sat quiet in the air, no sign of anything but herself moving around. Not even Dex’s light was on, which she assumed could only mean he was currently in some ungodly sleeping position dangling off a couch with his limbs in angles only replicable by demons.

It felt fundamentally wrong to do anything to disturb the quiet as she showered, so as she let the gentle water wash away the grime and grit--she’d slept like this--she tried not to make a sound. There was no one to talk to anyways.

Best to save all the words in her head for the lengthy explanation she’d have to give for…everything that had happened. It wasn’t her fault she’d gotten kidnapped and whisked away to some other place, yet the responsibility of talking about it came down to her.

Question after question, everyone asking the same thing in different ways from different angles as she re-lived everything for them. Repetition and redundancy as she said the same thing over and over again.

Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide.

The words popped into her head, giving her pause.

She hadn’t thought about those messages in…she didn’t know how long.

Councillor Bronte and Councillor Oralie had each sent her a message, and both had started with that line.

If you asked her, it seemed kind of unneces--

Oh.

Redundant. It was unnecessary and redundant to say the same thing twice.

And yet they had. Secrecy and redundancy, was that not exactly what they were doing with their messages? Riddles and tricks and wordplay she’d have to puzzle out?

If those tricks were the toolkit of someone trying to hide…were they trying to hide?

But why? And where? What reason would two council members need to hide--they couldn’t even go anywhere. If they went somewhere, people would notice.

The dwarves would, and they’d take it as an insult the same way they had when Sophie and her friends had all left.

Her finger’s had started to wrinkle as she toweled off, donning her clothes and wiggling her wings through the holes in the back. Not nearly as comfortable as the open back they had given her, but much more familiar.

Trying to shake the water out of her hair, she rushed back towards her house; she needed to write all this down. She kept trying to remember everything and dealing with it one thing at a time, but whenever she did something slipped through the cracks.

She didn’t bother to close the door behind her as she started rummaging through all her things for a clean sheet of paper and a pencil. The bag she’d come here with was useless, only clothes and other random items she’d assembled in her dash out of the Underground.

Thrown against the wall was another bag, mostly empty, and she paused. Peeking out from the bag’s crumpled form were hints of golden tail feathers, the slightest sliver of a body, sturdy and deliberate stitches decorating the fabric.

The bag she’d stolen with Tam.

She knew there’d be no paper or anything to write with in there; they’d emptied all the contents into the house Elwin had stayed in.

Yet she still found herself kneeling next to it, pulling the drawstrings open. Her mind played over that day, the anxiety, the exhaustion, Tam ordering her to breathe as her fears got the best of her, the small fangs she hadn’t realized he had.

But there’d been one moment she’d forgotten about in the whirlwind of chaos that was her life.

And now, kneeling on the floor of her room, wet hair dripping cold water onto her neck, she was reminded. They’d been nearly out of the store, Sophie stumbling along and about to collapse on her feet--she actually had, just a few minutes later--when she’d spotted something near the doors on the way out.

Two little stuffed animals, the kind barely bigger than the size of your hand, were tucked next to each other in the bottom of the bag, the bag that had stunned her to her core and reminded her that peace still existed somewhere in the world. Someone had the time and the comfort to embroider a backpack, and Sophie had tucked two little pieces of her childhood into them.

One was a light pink bunny rabbit, and she couldn’t help thinking of Amy’s Bun Bun as she gently held it, setting it down on the ground next to her as she pulled out the next.

A fuzzy green stegosaurus, a little smile embroidered onto its soft face.

Verdi had been the same shade of green back at Havenfield.

Her vision blurred as her face heated, fingers shaking as she held both stuffed animals close, so small it felt she would crush them if they weren’t so soft.

She’d just left these in the bag, grabbed them and never looked at them ever again.

What had she gotten herself into?

BRRR, Echo called out, making her jump as it appeared beside her, rubbing against her legs, a silent support.

Exhaling shakily as she gave it a few small pets on the head, Sophie pushed herself to her feet. Her tears helped no one.

The desk--the desk probably had something, she thought to herself as she silently crossed the room, both stuffed animals tucked under one arm as her other opened the drawers, thin and flat against the underside of its surface.

There, a worn pencil sat covered in dust. That was one step.

But where to find paper in a place like this? The only books she’d seen were--

The diaries, those would have paper. But she’d told Fitz…no, he wouldn’t have had the chance to get them. She’d told him while she was still being held, but she’d gotten back here first.

Sure enough, as she bent down in that corner beside her bed, pencil tucked behind her ear, all the books were still there, untouched from where she’d left them.

She flipped to the very end, pointedly not looking at any of the writing; there was too much going on right now, she needed to make that list so she wouldn’t lose her mind. The books were important, she felt, but they were not what she needed right now.

Tearing an empty page from the back, she closed the book, tossing it next to Echo--who had resumed its position back on her pillows--as she made her way back to the desk and pulled out the stool, setting both stuffed animals in front of her as she made her list.

“Okay, one thing at a time,” she reminded herself, writing Things I’ve Ignored For A While And Should Probably Deal With :( in big letters at the top of the page.

Point by point, she filled out the list, trying to keep her handwriting as neat as possible, given that other people would probably read it. The little dinosaur and bunny watched over her as she worked, until she’d written the last point.

Sitting back, she scanned over it.

It now read:

- Figure out Councillor Bronte and Councillor Oralie’s Riddles (are they hiding?)

- Talk to Mom and Dad

- Learn what Dex found in the facility

- Figure out roles? (Wylie why’d you have to bring it up)

- Read gnome’s diary--are the myths important too?

- Explain what happened when I got taken

- Save Phoenix (I think that includes her monster)

- Finish this list

- Identify what kind of crystal was in Bee and if Fintan used it

- Take down the main facility, but don’t mess it up this time

- Make the surface safe for everyone again

Sophie sat back, nearly falling off the stool in the process. There were more things on the list than she would’ve liked, but she could do it. She was Sophie Foster, and if anyone was able to check off every box on this list it was her and her friends.

And with more than a little amusement, she checked off the box next to Finish This List. See? Already one thing accomplished and she hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Yes, it was the easiest thing on the list, but she wasn’t going to let that spoil her victory.

Sunlight sunlight tentatively fell through the windows, reflecting off the broken glass edges she’d never done anything about. Should she remove the leftover shards? It wasn’t like she had another window to put there, but maybe she could use the window like a second door if there wasn’t the risk of shredding her skin open.

Maybe she and Tam should’ve stolen curtains, given that it was still a gaping hole in the side of her house.

A single knock sounded from the door, followed by a startled sound; she turned to see Dex standing with his mouth slightly ajar, hand raised as if to knock again as he stared at the door swinging inward.

“Um…your door was open,” he explained, slightly flushed. “Let me try that again.”

He pulled the door closed before Sophie could say anything, and then knocked soundly a few times.

Laughing, Sophie buried her face in her hands. “Dex--you don’t--you can just come in. It’s okay. You don’t need to--”

“Stop being so difficult about this! I’m knocking!” He knocked again for emphasis.

Rolling her eyes with fond exasperation, Sophie played along. “Yes, that’s such good and necessary knocking. Please do enter my humble abode, good sir.”

Dex wore a mock expression of horror as he pushed the door silently open, mouth fallen open and brows all scrunched up in indignation. “Sir?” he repeated.

“Yes, that is the thing I said.”

“I’m not a sir,” he proclaimed, scrunching up his nose.

She stuck her tongue out at him in response. “So what’s up? Any mind-blowing revelations you’d like to share with the class?”

“What’s up,” he said, closing the door behind him and sitting cross-legged on the rug in the middle of the floor, “is that you got kidnapped.”

“I know, I was there.”

He looked like he was contemplating throwing her out the window, which she hoped he wouldn’t do because she hadn’t removed the broken glass from the frame and had no curtains to protect her.

“You didn’t let me finish. You got kidnapped before I could show you what I found. I’m not going to tell you everything,” he assured her, just as she was about to tell him that it could probably wait until they were all together. She should add Have A Big Long Tedious Meeting With My Friends to her list. “I’ll just tell you the parts I told everyone else--you know, ‘cause the rest of us were very successfully not getting kidnapped. Amazing how easy it is.”

“You’re so lucky I love you. And this isn’t some big horrible secret, is it?”

He shook his head. “There are lots of those, but that’s not what I’m gonna catch you up on. Do you remember when you first found the name ‘Phoenix?’”

“Yeah, I didn’t know what it meant back then.”

“Well what do you think it means?”

Sophie scrunched up her brows. “Phoenix is the little girl’s name, the one with the bright red curly hair and poofy dresses.”

Dex nodded enthusiastically, words faster now. “Yes, it is. But! It’s not just her name. Phoenix is the name of the entire organization. Like the Black Swan, or the Neverseen. All the people in that organization, they’re Phoenix.”

__________________

A light drizzle had begun in the early morning, but the slant of her roof kept most of the droplets from bombarding her through the open--well, broken--window. A few stray hints of rain brushed through, but it wasn’t until she held her palm out, careful to avoid the glass, that she could really feel the specks of ice.

I don’t think we should meet at the campfire, Sophie said into the mindbubble, smiling to herself slightly as she took a breath of wet air. It hadn’t rained often in San Diego, but she’d always loved the smell. If she’d had to choose anywhere to live in the human world, it would’ve been somewhere with frequent rain. Perhaps even the rainiest place in the continental U.S. up in Washington. Though they did seem to have animal problems, so maybe not the smartest choice.

Then again, she was currently living in a world full of animal problems--not just animal problems, monster problems. So maybe Washington wouldn’t be that bad.

We can use my place, Wylie offered, drawing Sophie back to reality. As much as she loved the rain, it still would’ve been counterproductive and annoying to try and have a big official meeting when everyone was gradually getting wet.

That works, she said, despite having no idea where Wylie was staying. Maybe she should add “Draw a Map of This Place” to her list.

Be right there, Linh promised, and Sophie drew her hand back inside, drying her hands on her shirt as she gathered the few things that she’d need, mainly the list and the crystal. Everything else she needed was in her head, memories and stories and ideas and theories all compressed into such a small chunk of meat compared to the rest of the world.

Just as she was stepping out the door, wings pressed to her back to protect them from the rain, she hesitated.

She darted back, and scooped Echo into her arms, holding it tight to her chest as it silently opened its mouth in surprise as she took it along with her.

“You played a part in this, bringing Bee to me. I’m not letting you avoid your responsibility to share your part,” she told it as it stared at her, almost accusing. “Just ignore the rain, it’s not a big deal,” she instructed as it flinched, a raindrop landing on its nose. In its defense, she also would’ve flinched if something cold and wet landed on her nose.

Sophie scanned the area, looking for anyone else to see if she could just follow them to Wylie’s house, as after the whole situation with Elwin…she wasn’t eager to track anyone again so soon. Maybe she’d think she was going to Wylie and walk upon a murder.

Her photographic memory would at least make it a lot easier to keep track of how many bullets were fired as they tried to discover who the killer was. Five or six, that’s what it all came down to.

“What…?” a voice said, distracting Sophie from her increasingly gruesome thoughts as she turned to find Keefe looking at her with curiosity. Well, he was looking at Echo.

“What?” she asked back, taking in the carelessness with which his hair was styled, the dark grey of his wings, the circles under his eyes.

“No, that’s what I asked.”

“I don’t know what you asked, you just said what!”

Keefe gave her a look. “What is a question Foster, and it’s what I asked.”

Sophie rolled her eyes and would’ve thrown her hands up in the air if those hands hadn’t been holding an increasingly annoyed cat-like creature.

“Keefe, please.”

He grinned, the two of them resuming their walk--thankfully Keefe seemed to know where to go--as he explained. “The…thing. Is that a cat? It kinda looks like one. That’s what I was asking about. What is it, what are you doing with it, what is it doing here, those kinds of questions. And why you’re bringing it with you, that’s another one.”

She shrugged, readjusting her hold on Echo as she nearly lost her balance on a particularly rickety bridge.

Keefe’s arm shot out to steady her, and he took a sharp breath as their skin connected, eyes going slightly vacant for a moment before he shook himself out of it.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, blinking. “I think everyone’s nerves have been grating on me. That was more intense than I expected, even from you,” he explained as his arm dropped back to his side.

“Real smooth,” said Tam from behind them, and Sophie may have let out a small shriek as she whipped around, Echo complaining loudly in her arms as her heart tried to adjust to the fright.

Keefe’s wings had flashed slightly darker and his hand clutched at his heart. Eyebrows raised high, he looked at Tam, affronted. How had they both not heard him approaching?

“Dude, why?” Keefe choked out, too stunned to form a more coherent reply.

It was as though he’d just materialized behind them, looking rather amused--and wet, as it was drizzling--at their reactions. She could see the hint of his fangs in his small smile.

Sophie scrunched her nose at Tam. “Okay, wow. Thanks. I wasn’t sure my heart was working properly.”

“You’re very welcome, now are you going to keep walking or not? You’re blocking the path and we have somewhere to be that isn’t raining.” He glared at the sky in a very Tam fashion, and Sophie gave a small laugh.

“Well we would’ve if you hadn’t scared the shit out of us!” Keefe said, trying to muss his hair back into shape, but instead it started to sink against his forehead until it looked like Tam’s, gradually getting more and more damp the longer they stood there.

“Are you coming or not, idiots!” Biana yelled in the distance, and the three of them turned to find her leaning partially out of a window she held open, making a face at them expectantly. “We can start without you!”

“DON’T YOU DARE,” Keefe said, not looking back at Sophie nor Tam as he took off at a flat sprint, making the bridge under them sway slightly.

This time, it was Tam who steadied her as she nearly lost her balance again, and she was about to thank him when Biana shrieked.

Sophie looked up just in time to watch her duck out of the window as Keefe dove through it head first, several loud thuds and crashes followed by an “OW!” sounding as multiple people inside yelped.

“Oh so he’s an idiot idiot,” Tam noted beside her. “Like we needed that confirmed again.”

Multiple voices were overlapping inside and Sophie sighed, rolling her eyes even as a smile tugged at her lips. “We should go, shouldn’t we,” she said, and Tam nodded.

Now knowing the building she was heading to, they made their way there at a normal pace. They did not rush forward with concern for their idiotic friend who thought diving through open windows was the fastest way to get where he was going.

They passed by said open window, getting a glimpse of shattered clay and a table definitely further away from the wall than it should’ve been, sitting at a strange angle like it’d been pushed by some mysterious, unidentifiable heavy object crashing into it.

As they found the correct entrance, Sophie noted the slant of the roofs, much flatter than those she’d seen on all the other houses, designed in such a way all the rain slid off the angle instead of pooling. It reminded her of the futuristic drawings she’d seen of buildings in the human world, flat lines and edges standing out amongst all the twisting trees. Half the building was glass like a greenhouse, revealing her friends inside looking with disdain in Keefe’s direction.

Pushing the door open and stepping inside, she also saw Keefe laying face down on the floor, wings splayed around him in a light grey as he mumbled something she couldn’t understand.

“Keefe, why,” she asked, squatting down next to him and poking him with one finger, setting Echo on top of him.

“Is that your cat thing?” he asked instead of answering, lifting his head slightly to try and see onto his own back--unsuccessfully. Luckily for him Echo didn’t like being told what to do, and hopped off, slinking into his line of sight with that strange glitching effect trailing behind.

“Echo isn’t a cat,” she told him instead as she pushed himself back onto his knees, sitting back as he rubbed at his elbow.

Maruca spoke up from off to the side. “Aren’t we here for an important reason?”

“Yes, sorry. One second,” Sophie said, helping Keefe to his feet and turning towards the left of the door.

From there, a single step led down to a cozy area underneath the glass, the walls made of windows, the room filled to the brim with rugs and beanbag chairs and a couch pressed against the wall. Everyone was there except for the three of them--Sophie, Keefe, and Tam--who had gotten a little distracted out on the bridges.

Marella and Linh sat beside Wylie on the couch to the left, and Dex had pulled up a stool beside that in the corner, wings currently detached and resting behind him propped against the wall. Biana and Maruca had claimed two beanbag chairs in the other corner, and had sunk deep into them--though Biana was still resettling after Keefe’s stunt at the window. Fitz sat in a short loveseat across from the couch, leg stretched out before him as he rubbed at his knee.

Keefe quickly claimed the spot next to Fitz, also rubbing at various hurting joints as his wings darkened a little--though they brightened for a moment when Fitz offered him a smile.

That left two beanbag chairs for Tam and Sophie beside the loveseat, which they sank into, Echo following behind. It’d stayed around a lot longer than she’d expected. Usually it radically changed her life then disappeared, leaving her to wonder what it was and how it found her and why it knew things.

But right now it was like a content cat. And just like a typical cat, it was also very entitled and didn’t care what other people thought or wanted.

“Traitor,” she whispered to it as it hopped onto Tam’s beanbag chair to her right, kneading at the fabric before settling down.

Tam leaned away from it a little, glancing at her, eyes reflecting faintly in the light. “It’s not going to kill me, is it?”

She shook her head, and he relaxed a little, though definitely didn’t touch Echo. She couldn’t blame him; it was disconcerting, the way it existed.

Silence filled the room for a moment before Wylie spoke. “Where do we even start with all this?”

“How about, ‘Hey Foster, you good?’” Keefe suggested, turning to look at her. “You kinda got kidnapped there, how are you holding up?”

She shrugged, already prepared for the attention this meeting would bring to her. “Just another Tuesday.”

“It’s not Tuesday.”

“Then what is it?”

“Not Tuesday.”

“But you are okay, right? At least physically?” Linh cut in, flicking her fingers to send a splash of water at Keefe’s face so he’d shut up. Once upon a time they couldn’t get him to talk at all. Oh how the times had changed.

A pang struck through her chest as the question reminded her of a certain piece of advice she’d been given. “Yeah, Livvy patched me up. And they didn’t really hurt me. No torture this time so I think that’s an improvement.”

They were supposed to be talking about serious things and taking them seriously; how had they devolved into…whatever this was?

“What did they do though,” Fitz asked, frowning, and Sophie swore she could feel the waves of worry rolling off his body. An excellent moment to not be an empath, she guessed from the way Keefe was grimacing as his eyes glazed over.

Sophie sat up straighter; she’d been prepared for this. “Okay, let me start at when we broke off into groups in the facility--the one we intentionally went to, not the one I took a detour to.”

She detailed the story of her side of things, from entering the facility to the weird behavior with the doors and explaining why she’d asked everyone to try opening one if they hadn’t already, to the end of the hallway and the creature beyond and how something had been wrong. She described how Keefe had stopped responded and so she’d entered his mind, and let him explain as much or as little as he wanted from there, mentioning a hurricane and liquid memories and a bloodlust for Maruca, who then threw a pillow at him for the part he played in the floor trying to eat her alive.

Sophie tried to explain how the creature saw things, how it’d called her mind a spider’s web and Linh a girl with lightning beneath her skin, giving them each a name until she realized there was someone else it was sensing in the walls.

She told them how she and Keefe had found their way into the tunnels--Dex chimed in with how he and Maruca worked to get her free before working their way towards the center of the pit--and from there met up with the rest of the group that found Phoenix.

Even with the plethora of windows in the room Sophie swore shadows crept along her skin as she detailed the tunnels, the revelations about Phoenix and who she was, and then the part everyone had been anxious yet dreading to hear.

The strange sensation swooping through her body as Phoenix and her monster crashed into her, the crown of fire descending over her eyes and the figure, the drafts against her skin, the holding room and the clothes they’d made her wear, the blood draw and the enclosure and the creature.

She told them how she’d inflicted on them both when she’d gotten the opportunity, how Phoenix had told her that the monsters were an accident, how tightly she’d held onto her hand before they’d climbed the stairs and found Echo--Echo let out a loud BRRR at this part, like it knew it was being talked about. Tam seemed slightly unnerved by its proximity but otherwise fine.

Passing around the crystal she’d found inside Bee, which had now faded back to a dull milky color, she explained how Fintan had told her about the protection through the shield--but for some reason she kept the note down the shower drain to herself. There wasn’t any reason to, but when she tried the words wouldn’t come out, so she continued her story with the chase through the facility, past all the rubble and the drafts against her skin.

With a shudder she described the vent, then the realization that they’d filled it with a gaseous sedative, and her struggle to get out before she passed out.

That’s when her story connected with Wylie’s so she stopped, giving herself a chance to sit back and calm her pounding heart. Just thinking about it all had her breath quickening, shifting uneasily as she tried not to show how much she was shaking.

Echo crawled over from Tam’s beanbag chair to hers, leaping gracefully before it walked painfully across her legs--what was with cats and their hatred for people’s bones?--and settled in her lap, a welcome grounding weight.

“That sounds intense,” Tam noted quietly from beside her, looking over her with critical concern like he could look through her and see all the damage. Not that she was damaged, she corrected herself. She was just…a little out of sorts.

“A lot more dramatic than what we were doing just sitting around,” Fitz said to himself, sounding almost like he was scolding himself for not being there.

Sophie told him, “I’m glad you all were just sitting around, because it means you were safe. That’s better than us all…being in a high stress situation,” she said, choosing her words carefully. She didn’t want them to focus on her, not when there were so many other things going on and she wanted so desperately to move forward.

“High stress situation my ass,” Biana snorted. “That was more than high stress.”

Face heating, Sophie floundered with her words for a moment before responding, “Well it’s not that important! It happened and I got out, but you’re all going to worry about me when there are other things to worry about--I wrote a whole list of them.”

“Just because there are other things to worry about doesn’t mean you’re not an important one,” Dex told her, spinning from side to side on his stool in the corner like the words didn’t sting.

Sophie didn’t respond to that, didn't know how, using Echo as a convenient excuse and distraction as she brushed her fingers through its fur, not meeting anyone’s eye. She’d used the same technique with Marty whenever her parents wanted to have another serious conversation about making friends or to slow down and live her life.

She’d always sat with Marty in her lap, listening to them talk as she stared down at him. Then she didn’t have to make eye contact, could get away with not responding for longer, could think for a moment.

Hey, we don’t have to talk about this right now, Fitz whispered into her mind with such gentleness she wanted to scream. We care about you, but if this is too much I can change the topic.

Yes please, she told him. She loved her friends very very much, but this was overwhelming. Everyone looking at her with concern and determination, their faces so kind like they were about to remind her they were always there and that she needed to remember to take care of herself.

And they were right! She knew they were right but the thought of their focus being on her made her stomach turn and her blood boil. Her preparation had been to retell her story, not for such a blunt reminder to take herself into consideration; it was grating on her, even as much as she appreciated how much they loved her.

“Wylie, that’s where Sophie’s story connects with yours--what happened with you when you left?” Fitz interjected, just as Sophie’d requested.

Linh made a noise, but she stopped when Fitz gave her a certain look. Sophie couldn’t see it, but it had Linh mouthing oh and sorry, glancing at Sophie only once before turning towards Wylie.

Everyone seemed to pick up on her need for a moment to recollect herself, turning towards Wylie without question as he launched into his own tale, starting where Sophie had when everyone had split up in the underground facility.

Thanks, she told Fitz, who gave her a mental thumbs up in response.

Letting out a breath as quietly as possible, she, too, looked to Wylie to hear his side of the story, Biana and Fitz chiming in at the beginning to detail what they did in the facility, the places they explored, the tunnels they tried to reach.

He cut off with joining Dex and everyone else in the main room at the center, leaving that part for him to tell later given how integral he and the information he’d coaxed from that room was to the story.

Instead, he picked it up with Sophie’s voice slipping into his head, her frantic words and his confusion until the two of them realized what had happened. That’s when the feeling started, he explained, and why he left.

He flew out of the facility, all the way back towards the village, Sophie’s voice disappearing from his head in the process. When he’d made it back, he’d scoured the area nearby, unsure why he was there. He didn’t think to check the village, he admitted with a small amount of regret. Maybe Elwin had already been injured at that time, maybe it’d happened after he found her sprawled out amongst a bunch of trees, red outfit stark against the light green of the forest.

Summarizing their conversation, however, he was accosted by questions.

“Roles? What do you mean roles?” Keefe cut in, flabbergasted.

Wylie looked helpless for a moment, glancing at Sophie. “Seriously, was I the only one to figure that out? I thought you all knew!

“How would we know that?” Tam asked, squinting at everyone with renewed vigor like he could pick apart who they were meant to be on looks alone.

Linh chimed in, “I figured it out, though I didn’t think to call it a ‘role.’ It was more…I just knew what I had to do when I needed to.”

“I knew, too,” Maruca added, Marella nodding in agreement.

Keefe made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat, crossing his arms in a pout as his wings flashed darker for a moment. “Way to keep us all in the loop.”

Exasperated, Wylie buried his face in his hands, flickers of light glowing under his skin. “For the last time, I’m sorry! I thought we were all on the same page. Can I continue now?”

“Actually, I can take over from here,” Sophie offered, speaking for the first time since she’d gone quiet.

Waving his hand toward her, he indicated for her to continue, so she picked up the story, willing her voice to hold steady as she described how Wylie noticed the bridge askew, how they’d gone up to check, the pandemonium that had broken out afterwards as they raced around the place, clear signs of some creature or more and the blood on the ground.

She’d tracked Elwin, or tried to, but tracked one of Linh’s dragons instead. Through the dragon she’d found Elwin, then called Livvy, and everyone had finally come back after Wylie. She let the story fade there; everyone had been there for that part, doing their different things to hold everything together as Sophie…erased Elwin’s memories.

“Can you believe that was all just yesterday?” Linh mumbled, resting her chin on her hand as she swirled water mindlessly between her other fingers, like rolling a coin across her knuckles.

“And there’s still more to talk about,” Dex added, waving his imparter around in a reminder. “Which I have been very patient about,” he emphasized.

A variety of reactions broke out around the room, from groans and sighs to sitting up straighter, paying more attention. Sophie was a combination of grim curiosity and dread.

Whatever Dex had found, it could radically alter everything they were doing. Everything they thought. As big a shift as the monsters being a mistake or bigger. They’d been talking for so long she was sure the beanbag chair would have a permanent imprint of her ass molded to it for everyone who sat in it after to enjoy, but this was part of the job. Not leaving ass-prints, but talking. Communicating. Sharing information and having long meetings, which were made slightly better by the bouts of humor.

“Catch!” Dex called out, and Sophie let out an embarrassing shriek as she turned her head away, hands coming up in front of her to protect her face, fingers fumbling as she definitely didn’t even make a single attempt to catch the imparter he’d thrown at her.

But it didn’t clatter against the floor either, instead, when Sophie peeked back from her protective position, she found it hovering in front of her, suspended mid air.

Echo had gotten disturbed from her flailing and shook itself off, going back to Tam’s beanbag, leaving her lap open for the imparter to drop silently into it.

“You’re welcome,” Fitz offered offhandedly.

“Thank…you?” she said, but it came out as more of a question as she glared--lovingly--at Dex, who was trying and failing to hide his grin. He wasn’t the only one; Marella pressed her lips thin, but it couldn’t hide the laughter in her eyes, same with Keefe.

In an attempt to escape his guilt, Dex explained, “I don’t think you want to read through all the weird documents on there, but I opened the one I think is most relevant. Everything should be accessible now, if you do want to read through everything for some reason. I haven’t gone through it all because it’s a lot and I did have to sleep eventually. But for now we can focus on what I opened up, and I thought it would be more appropriate if you read it since, you know, you’re in charge.”

“Well…here goes nothing, I guess,” she mumbled, resisting the urge to tug at an eyelash; she’d never been completely successful in breaking the habit, but that didn’t mean she wouldn't continue to try.

Functioning similar to any touchscreen device, Sophie thumbed the screen on, squinting down at the text.

She held it closer to her face to read the small lettering, skimming through official looking documents before she realized a crucial flaw in this plan.

“Dex, I can’t read the enlightened language.” Everything was squiggles and undefined lines, making as much sense to her as baby babble. She really should try to take the time to learn the language, given the struggle it provided her. Keefe’s snort of laughter wasn’t helping either.

He blinked at her for a moment before smacking himself in the forehead. “Oh, duh. Well then give it back and I’ll read it.”

Everyone watched in silence as Sophie flung it back at his head, and this time Fitz did not catch it. Instead, Dex nimbly snatched it from the air, tapping at the screen much faster than she could’ve.

“This probably makes more sense anyway, as I’m the one who went through it last night,” he said to no one in particular. “ Just thought you might be impatient and want to see it yourself. Okay, here’s the interesting part. Everything I downloaded seems to be part of this huge database that’s connected to that room. That stone you stand on? A certain weight activates it, and from there you can log in--that’s where you first saw the name Phoenix with a passcode screen. Of course, I couldn’t do that because I don’t know the password, but I got around it. From there is like…all of their plans. And they’re not well guarded--”

“Because the being killed everybody and the facility was abandoned ever since,” Keefe offered, and Dex nodded.

Continuing he said, “Right. The Neverseen and Phoenix--the organization, not the kid--probably didn’t send anyone there to do something about it because who was going to find it? No one who knows they exist is in any position to discover it, except for us. We kinda threw a wrench in that plan. But even when they knew we were up here now, they didn’t send anyone.

“They’re scrambling. I didn’t realize why or how it related to all of the plans until Sophie said the monsters were an accident, but now it makes sense. All their testing, the rushed plans, the abandoned facilities--they never meant to leave them, they were forced out through their own failures.”

“Wait, you know what their plan is?” Biana interrupted, leaning forward so quickly she nearly spilled water all over herself from a cup she’d somehow acquired, held tight in one hand, fingertips white.

At the sudden interest from everyone, he held up his hands placatingly, as though he could rewind time, go back and change his words. “Okay, no, that’s misleading. But the thing is…they don’t have a plan, not like we’re used to. At least not that I can tell. Maybe it’s hidden in the rest of the database, but I did some keyword searches for things like ‘outline’ and ‘initiative’ and proceedings’ and ‘plan’ and a bunch of other things they might mention. There’s no master scheme we have to unravel to bring them down, because they don’t know what to do!”

Sophie made a face. “What does that even mean?”

“Do you remember when you met our parents? Our group separated from yours and went to get the stuff to help me make my wings, and we ended up chased by that creature?”

Sophie couldn’t help glancing at Maruca as she nodded.

“And Phoenix, the girl--wow it’s going to be annoying to differentiate between the two--showed up with that big bear-ish thing with the gold cracks and it just fucking demolished everything chasing us?”

“Dex please get to the point.” Everyone in the group was making faces at each other, deep in thought, trying to string together the pieces of the puzzle he was goading them with.

He sighed, the kind of sigh she’d expect from a parent as they said We can’t take you anywhere.

“Okay, sorry, fine. Let me explain it this way. The Neverseen released all those monsters on accident when they got out of control. They don’t want the monsters out there, so they need to do something about them because no one else will. And elves can’t take them down--normal elves can’t take them down, sorry Maruca and Marella and Linh and Keefe,” he added offhandedly at their various affronted expressions. “So if they can’t get rid of them, the same way we were trying to do before it got really bad and we had to move underground, they need something that can.”

Sophie gasped, sitting forward. “Phoenix’s monster.”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, snapping with excitement as all the puzzle pieces started to fall together.

“Wait,” Tam interrupted. “So you’re saying their solution to murderous and bloodthirsty monsters everywhere…was to make an even more dangerous one to kill them all?”

Dex frowned. “When you put it like that it sounds stupid, but yeah that’s what they did.”

“But how does that even work?” Marella asked, scrunching her brows together as she absentmindedly played with sparks in her hands. “Monsters don’t do what anyone tells them to do. I know mine doesn’t--it just likes me enough to…listen. Oh,” she said, much quieter, halting her fiddling as she answered her own question.

“Sophie, how did Phoenix--the girl--interact with this super-monster thing?” Linh asked, looking towards her as she did so when Marella trailed off.”

Casting her mind back, she filtered through those memories. Phoenix atop it in Mysterium, her adamant defense of the creature down in the tunnels, how it had started to growl at Murad and Phoenix had desperately tried to calm it down. It had, it had calmed down once she’d calmed down, Fintan helping her. She still didn’t understand where he fit in all this, but that wasn’t the question.

“She’s close with it, and it likes her--but I don’t think it likes anyone else. It might tolerate Fintan, but only because it hates Murad more. It seems protective of her.”

“So it doesn’t like them?” Dex asked for confirmation.

“Not that I can tell,” Sophie answered, and for some reason she couldn’t help thinking of Phoenix’s words as they’d spoken in that hall.

They need me.

“Who needs you?” Fitz repeated, and she realized she’d said the words aloud.

“That’s what Phoenix said to me--they need me. I’d told her I was trying to fix everything and she told me ‘That’s…that’s what they’re trying to do, too. That’s why they need me.’”

Sophie’s promise to her echoed over and over in her head, and more and more she felt the need to complete it. So many pieces of this infinite puzzle in front of her, and she just had to fit them together and get that little girl away from all of this.

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Wylie spoke up. “So…the Neverseen and Phoenix--the organization--made the monsters and lost control of them, so now they’re trying to control them using stronger creatures. But that monster doesn’t like them for some reason, but it likes Phoenix the girl. And they have Phoenix with them, they need her specifically.”

When Wylie laid all the pieces together so clearly, everything clicked in her head.

“That girl is their solution to their mistakes. They’re using her to try and fix the world,” Dex said, and a somber horror descended over the room.

Phoenix couldn’t have been more than nine at most, and yet she was the key they’d crafted and shaped to do their bidding, to fix the wreck they’d made of the earth.

What had she seen in those facilities, what had they made her do on the surface?

Sophie’s promise turned to stone in her heart, a surety she knew she’d stand by until the end of time.

“We need to get her out of there.”

#kotlc #kotlc wings au #shattered upside down #thanks for your patience with the slight delay #quil's quill #my five page essay has been completed and my father now owns a banjo

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rueren · 2 years

Text

more than an hour - t. oikawa

you know he's tired from practice, but he always makes time for you. and it makes you love him just that much more

aka a very very under edited re-upload from a long time ago T-T

contents: fluff, implied fem!reader, pre-established relationship

haikyuu m.list || masterlist

♡♡♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡♡♡

“Wanna come in?” you questioned. oikawa smiled up at you from behind his hair, sitting on the plush chair in the corner of the fitting room.

“Show me when you got them on. wanna have that shock factor, you know?” you take the clothes he's been holding your you in his lap from his outstretched hands as you nod, "And you know i'm here for fashion advice, babe."

“Please, after the plaid shorts fiasco, i’m not sure i want it,” you teased, leaning down to look him in the eye. His eyes widen a retort on his lips but after the lopsided smirk appears on your face, it turns into a pout and he turns away, arms crossing against his chest.

“That was one time, and we were in high school! One would think you lot would have let it go by now.”

your laugh rings in his ears, and he realizes that he if there was a way he could bottle that sound and keep it on his person forever, he would do so in a heartbeat. he feels your fingers cupping his chin, tilting his pouting face up towards yours and he softens. you're too good to him,

“I’m never letting it go,” another grumble almost tumbles from his lips before you press a chaste whisper of a kiss to his, turning into the fitting room, “Alright, see you in a sec babe.”

after what felt like too long for you to try on whatever outfits you had in your hands, you step out of the change room, you find him slumped against the wall.

your lips tug upwards, seeing his arms still folded tight against his chest, almost hugging himself, and his phone on his lap from where it fell out of his hand. he’s got his head propped up in the corner where the two walls meet, falling over a bit, with his hair falling into his eyes, and his mouth open the slightest bit. one knee knocked against the wall and the other following suit, he’s curled into himself for his nap.

he’d only just fallen asleep a moment ago, after you showed him a top you weren't sure about (he absolutely adored that colour on you, just like how he loved the last colour, and the one before that), his hands reaching out to your waist making your face heat up. How he managed to make you feel this way even after being together for so long was a mystery. so when he hears the shuffling of you grabbing his and your bags, his eyes flutter open, trying to pretend he was awake the whole time.

“Ready to go, babe?” his groggy voice gives him away, and you pick up his phone and tug on his wrist. at the cash, he’s hovering at your back as you pay (much to his protests from earlier, you’d insisted on paying for yourself today, if only from one store. that’s all he’d allow, if you kept insisting on this. (“i don’t see why you need to pay for it,” his bottom lip jutted out slightly, hands shoved into his pockets. “you know you don't have to. I know you can, but i want to, please just let me.” “ that’s exactly why i want to, toruu” “oh my god, you’re so stubborn. fine, one store and that’s all.”)

he’s got his fingers dancing at the hem of your shirt. as much as he wants to just to go home and shove his face into your neck and let the smell of your shampoo and the rhythm of your heartbeat lull him to sleep, he'd rather you be happy shopping. besides, he'd be home soon - if only for a short while. he could spare that much, right? he’d wake up extra early and train super hard tomorrow to make up for it - he knew you wanted to go out today. it was his suggestion, to begin with. he knew how patient you were with him, how he’s always off training, or doing one thing or another and wishes he could be more present, with his hectic schedule.

as tired as he may be, he couldn’t say he wanted to go home now. he could tough it out a little while longer. for you. you deserved it. you're so so good to him, he could tough out a few more hours.

you take a step back and press your back into his chest, and not a second later you feel his forehead thump against the crown of yours. a low hum comes from him as you turn around facing him. his eyes are droopy, the bags under them not hiding anything.

hands outstretched, he’s reaching to get your bag for you. he’d already pried the other ones from your hands while you were paying if only to distract himself from reaching over and replacing your card with his.

“where too next, love?” his fingers lightly graze your before lacing them, “or are you hungry? it’s been a while since we ate. want anything??” he’s too sweet for his own good, when he’s not being sassy anyways.

you tug him along and when you don’t turn right to the next store or the food court, he gets confused. once the mall doors come into view, he feels bad for feeling this sweet tightness in his chest, realizing what your doing.

“babes, what are you doing?” hes feigning innocence as you wrap your arm around his bicep, pulling to the doors.

“you need a nap, toruu. more than a nap.” next thing you know, he’s protesting with words falling from his lips that land on deaf ears and digging his heals into the floor. or more like trying to, but since the waxed glossy mall floor doesn’t give much traction, he’s basically getting dragged. you’re both giggling at his antics, all while his protests are coming out as less convincing than he intended them to be.

he swears up and down through yawns that he’s fine, not tired at all, there’s still a bunch of stuff you guys gotta buy, but you force him into the car and into bed when you get home.

"promise you'll wake me up? 's only gonna be a quick nap,,, couple minutes 'n i'm all yours,,," he mumbles against the fabric of your shirt as you pull the blankets over you both.

you're smiling now, fingers carding in his hair as his eyes flutter shut "one hour. close your eyes, toruu."

when his alarm for one hour blares, you turn it off before it wakes him up. he deserved a more than one hour nap. his peaceful face pressed into your chest, he’s got a leg strewn over your hips, and both his arms wrapped around you. his soft breaths are barely heard under the hum from the heater pumping through the apartment, but every now and then he lets out a sigh that tugs at your heart strings.

the alarm stirred him a little but your hand is in his hair, hushing him back to sleep. your sweet nothings ring in his ear and he nuzzled his face farther into your chest, smiling slightly.

he definitely deserves more than an hour.

taglist: @sweetsbysatori

#ruu writes #file.oikawa #file.hq #file.drabbles #haikyuu drabbles #oikawa x yn #oikawa x reader #oikawa toruu x yn #oikawa toruu x reader #toruu oikawa x yn #toruu oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #toruu oikawa fluff #haikyuu fluff #oikawa toruu #toruu oikawa

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nightlyshame · 2 years

Text

I need your help doctor

Summary: You need Jake and he needs you too, he just doesn't know that yet. And you might just have the perfect plan to make him see that.

Pairing: Doctor!Jake Jensen x fem!reader

Word count: 2,3k

Warnings: smut-MINORS DNI, dirty talk, fingering, oral (fem receive), p*ssyjob, unprotected sex.

A/N : Enjoy, like and reblog!

~~~~

You and Jake have been friends since college. You meet through your mutual friend Steve Rogers, he introduced you to each other and you and Jake instantly hit it off. He was talking about games,his family and as you listen to his words you couldn't help but admiring all his beautiful features. From his blue eyes protected by his cute glasses to his way to a tight shirt hugging all his mussels. You exchanged numbers and became good friends. People always teased you two about being a couple.

But Jake always just blushed crazy and you just smirked at his cute reaction. But it still hurt every time he’d tell them that you were just friends. You even confessed your feelings for him once but he told you that you were too drunk and didn't mean it. But you meant every word you told him that night. That night and all your other failed attempts to get Jake to be yours. And now you have a plan that might actually work.

~~~~

You stepped into Jakes offices with a bright smile. The nurse that escorted you to his office handing him what you assume to be your medical report, leaving shortly after. You study Jakes face as he quickly scans the medical report. His eyes widen slightly and he looks up at you, and then back at the report. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks. He looks up again to see you walk towards him sitting down in the chair in front of him, a sweet smile plastered on your lips. "Hi, Dr. Jensen'' he greets you back with “Hi, Y/n” a cute smile on his face.

Shortly after he asks you what brought you to his office today. You know that he already knows the reason after looking at the medical report you sighed before. But still you play along “well it is kind of embarrassing doctor” your smile turning into a slight pout. “Y/n you know you don't have to call me that, and please don't be embarrassed I would never judge you” he says with an sincere voice as he rounds his desk. Squatting down in front of you putting his hand on your knee. You look down at his big blue eyes staring up at you, making you heart flutter a little and something else.

“I know, Jake'' you say sweetly looking at him. His blush returns from earlier as he stands up to his full height sitting on the edge of the desk in front of you. You hold back a whimper when you look at him, his thick thigh muscle stretching his pants. Your unholy thoughts are cut short when you look at his face and he has an encoring smile. You take a breath like you hadn’t rehearsed what you were going to say a million times already.

“Well.. um, lately I've been….” he leans forward taking your hand but staying quiet letting you take your time without pressure. “okay I'm just going to say it…. Lately I've been really horny.” you`re now fully looking at him “and I'm always so wet, like everyday my panties are soaking wet…..for example last week I had to go without underwear because I had used them all up”

Jake feels his cock harden at thought of you going on about you day without any underwear on, his thoughts racing. Were you wearing any now? “Hmm okay interesting” Jake says as he rounds his desk again to hide his growing erection. Then you ask him something he doesn't expect. “Maybe you take a look, and give your medical opinion”

After he doesn't respond you quickly tell him “oh my god- I'm sorry Jake that is weird.. I shouldn't have asked that.” you quickly get up but your stopped when Jake's hand wraps around your arm stopping you from leaving “no, stay you did something good by coming here, I just have to ask some medical questions then I'll take a look, okay.” he says, giving you a reassuring smile while you try to hide the smirk growing on your lips, knowing that your plan is going exactly as you planned.

~~~~

He starts asking questions, pen and paper in his hands. “Okay so how long have you been feeling like this” he asks seriously. “Um about a month” but in reality you have been feeling like this ever since you met Jake. After asking some basic questions Jake starts to ask some questions for himself.

“Have you tried to relieve the ache” you shyly look away “yes, um I tried with my fingers but it wasn't enough” you say quietly with a hint of shame in your voice. Jake's eyes instantly darken at the thought of you trying to finger your greedy little cunt, and letting out frustrated whimpers when they just weren't enough for you. And you don't miss the way his eyes darken and you can barely see any blue anymore. “Did you try to use any toys?” The look on his face made more slick gather in your already soaked panties. “Uh, yeah I tried with my vibrator” “did it help” he asked.

“It did at first, but after I just became needier, it's like I just need something big and thick to fill me up” you say, letting out a frustrated whine which made Jake already hard rock harder. “Okay I think that was all the question…..do you still want me to take a look” Jake asked hesitantly “yeah Jakie please I cant keep feeling like this anymore” he rounds his desk once more taking your hand guiding you to the examine table.

It's not like Jake hadn't thought about you in an inappropriate way before, you'd been friends for so long and the thought of you in his bed begging him for his cock, mouth and fingers, crossed his mind more then not. And now here you were needing his help with something so intimate it was making him so hard he was starting to ache.

He washed his hands and put on a pair of gloves as he told you to get ready and lay down on the examine table. You did what he asked and through the mirror in his office he watched as you bundled up your dress and wiggled out of your pink lace panties. A loud breath escaped Jake lips making you look up at him quickly turning around. You chuckled a little, a new found confidence lacing your voice.

“Jake there's no need to be shy, it's not like you aren’t going to see the most intimate part of me in a minute, you can look now too” Jake turns around a small smile on his lips as he walks towards you. You get on the examine table laying down keeping your legs closed. You watch him as he sits down in a chair in front you legs. His hands covered in blue plastic gloves

“Y/n can you move more towards the edge please”. You do as asked, and then you feel his warm hands on you and slowly he opens your legs, he met with the sights of your drenched folds and swollen clit. He's so close he could just lean in and lick up all of your sweet juices. “Y/n I think I need to remove my gloves to get a more accurate examination” you smile at the roof telling him to do whatever's necessary. He takes his gloves off and the sight of his big hands, makes you wiggle your hips a little. And then you feel his thick finger running through your puffy folds. You let out soft moans at his touch, he adds another finger sliding then through your folds. His fingers move to you clit making you moan out loud.

“your so sensitive honey” the nickname makes you clench around nothing. He presses harder onto your clit moving his finger in tight circles making you close your thighs around his hand “Jake, its too much'' you breathily say and Jake just “shhs” you telling you to open your legs again. You open them and he continues to rub tight circles on your swollen nub. His other hand travels up you thigh and then settles on your stomach, keeping you still “stop moving Y/n” . You try your best trying to sit still for him but you just can't, so you close them again. “Come on baby, open those sweet thighs, let me see that slutty little cunt.” You moan at his words not knowing Jake had such a dirty mouth. Opening your legs you hear a low groan coming from him. “Please Jake. Need your fingers “ At your request he pushes one thick finger into your tight hole “fuck, Y/n your so tight” he starts to finger you while his other hand takes out his aching cock.

He adds another finger bending them just right, hitting that spot you never could. You let out a loud moan, your eyes widening when you look at him. His big hand slowly stroked his thick long cock while hungrily looking at your wet pussy. “You’re so fucking beautiful” he says as you palm your breast over your dress. His eyes trailing all over your body, then he meets your eye, his voice raspy as he says “come for me baby, cream on my fingers” . You feel the knot in your stomach tighten and euphoria takes over you as you come on his fingers. He lets out a moan a the sight and the feel of your tight pussy squeezing his fingers. He takes his fingers out, shoving them into his mouth sucking your sweet essence.

He closes his eyes and he lets out a muffled moan at your taste. Trying to catch your breath you don't notice how he leans down and then you feel his warm tongue lick a thick strip through your creamy folds. Eating you out like a feral man licking fast kitten licks on your pulsing clit, making your second orgasm start to surface. Grabbing his hair you grind into his face. His tongue leaves you clit moving to your dripping hole fucking your velvety walls with his tongue. His thumb rubbing your clit at the same time. You let out a strangled whimper as you come for the second time. He laps all your juices up before pulling away from between you things. Looking down at you with so much lust you're a little scared “taste so good bunny” he says as his cock stands proud his tip red and angry oozing precum. You can't help but lick your lips at the sight.

He taps your clit with his swollen leaking head making you whimper “ take your dress off '' he tells you and you quickly take your dress and bra off. Leaving you naked before his eyes. He softly grunts at your naked breast. Bending down he takes one of you nipples into his mouth softly biting it. He runs his cock through your slick folds, making the both of you moan. He switches to the other nipples while he starts to grind into you, his tip nudging your clit making you feel electric waves through your whole body. He drags the head of his cock to your entrance, looking at you for permission, you give him a little nod and he slowly starts to push into you. He kisses up you breast and neck, and when he’s not even haft way in an you let out a pained whimper which make Jake stop immediately looking at you with concern “sweetie are you okay? I can stop it you want to” your grateful for Jake he always so good to you “ no, keep going” you say looking at him “are you sure” Jake says a frown on his eyebrows, Jake wouldn’t want you to do something if it hurt you. You put your hand on the side of his face pulling him towards you lips. You give him a hungry kiss, smiling against his lips you whisper “I’m sure Jake, I need you”. He continues to push into you till hes fully settled inside you.

He suck in a big breath while yours are quick and heavy. He stays still letting you adjust to his thick girth as he kisses your neck while rubbing your clit trying to ease your pain and when you start grinding into him he knows your ready and starts to slowly thrust into you.

He leans down pressing small kisses on your chest, one of his hands massaging your breast and the other holding you hip, his thrust starts to get faster and harder. Jake's hand squeezes your hips pounding into you. His tip hitting that one place you never could and you can feel how your already close. His steady thrust starts to get a little sloppier and he starts to feel that he also close and wanting to come with you he starts rubbing your clit. His fast finger makes you tip over the edge and you both let out loud moans as you come together.

Enjoying the moment he stays in you while you both catch your breath. You share a kiss before he pulls out. He watches as your mixed come leaks out of you, he takes his fingers rubbing his cum into your sensitive folds a smile on his lips as he goes to get a towel to clean you up.

~~~~

After carefully cleaning you up. He gives you a glass of water and helps you put your clothes on. He takes your hand and looks at you with a goofy smile “In my professional opinion I think your pussy taste and works fantastically and there so need to worry” a little tired and very happy you say “ thank you doctor, for helping me” as you cling to his body. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, looking at the time, he let out at happy breath when he sees that his shift ended 3 minutes ago . Then he tells you “how about we go to my place and I make you a nice warm bath. And after we can order some food too. Maybe watch a movie.” smiling at him “I would love that” you say happily knowing that he fell right into your plan.

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #dark!reader #fem!reader #jake jensen one shot

113 notes · View notes

mickey-henry · 3 years

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky’s been flirting with you, but hasn’t taken it further than that. frustrated, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: occasional swearing (but not much) and frustrating flirting (I’d be melting if it was happening to me). besides that, this fic is pure fluffy fun.

author’s note: hello there! this is my second fic; I’m very excited to post it! I found the header image here, and if you want to listen to the song I reference in this fic, you can listen here. bold text indicates singing, while italicized text refers to inner thoughts. likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖

Bucky Barnes is an acquaintance at best. The two of you rarely work together, and with conflicting schedules, you see little of each other around the compound. On a random Friday in April, however, something changes in you. The moment is nothing out of the ordinary. You’re sitting on the couch in the main living space, re-reading one of your favorite books. Bucky has just returned from a mission; you glance up to see his exhausted expression. He catches your eye, winking with a smile, before walking to his room. Your heart flutters and your head freezes at the response. “Oh, no,” you think to yourself. “Maybe that was a one-time thing? I don’t actually like him, right?” Wrong.

Ever since that night, the mere presence of Bucky Barnes drives you crazy: his stunning blue eyes that squint ever so slightly when he smiles, his adorable nose that crinkles when he laughs, his pillowy lips that you lose yourself in, his fluffy hair you can’t help but imagine running your fingers through, his scruff speckled jawline that you wish would brush along your hands, cheeks, anywhere really. He occupies your dreams; you can’t escape this man even if you try. Today, he drives you crazier than usual. He stands in the compound's kitchen in a tight black t-shirt, one that leaves nothing to the imagination. This is the first time you’ve seen him in short sleeves, in anything other than tactical gear. You can’t help but stare as he prepares his lunch. The shirt hugs his frame tight, accentuating his biceps that had no right to be that big. “Gosh, he must spend hours in the gym to look like that.” You then notice the vein in his right arm protruding from his skin, tracing it with your eyes. You didn’t think he could become any more beautiful, but here he is before you, incredible as ever.

You’re pulled from your reverie when Bucky calls your name. “Yeah?” you reply, barely masking the startled stutter in your voice.

“Pass me the salt?”

“Oh! Sure, of course,” you muster, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of you as you hand him the salt shaker.

“Thanks, doll,” he flirts with a smile, the same one he gave you that night when he got back to the compound. You nearly choke. “Bucky Barnes called me a term of endearment?!? Holy shit.” Your heart swells and you look down at your glass in a desperate attempt to hide the blush creeping its way across your cheeks. “Goodness gracious, I respond this way from a simple word?” You couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if he touched you.

It didn’t take long to find out. The following day, you stand in the kitchen prepping your lunch, singing softly along to the song playing from your phone. Bucky appears soon after. He stands close to you for a moment, closer than necessary, but of course you don’t mind. He has just showered; his cologne lingers in the air, intoxicating you. Somehow, you keep singing along, showing no sign that your mind is elsewhere.

“Ugh, he smells amazing. This man has too much power over me; this is ridiculous! I don’t even remember what I was doing—”

“You have a beautiful voice,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you softly reply, your heart racing at his praise.

“Let me get by you real fast, doll,” he says, moving to walk behind you.

“There he goes again with the pet name. My god, could this get any worse—”

He places his hands gently on your hips as he moves beside you. Electricity travels through your whole body; you’re internally screaming at his touch. His hands feel better than you imagined. Even though the contact lasts only a moment, the effects of his touch linger after, leaving you speechless.

You hear a musical chuckle from the man behind you. “Is he teasing me? It sure feels like it,” you wonder. There is no way that he can’t see the effect he has on you. Before you can even formulate another thought, he touches you again as he moves back to the other side of you. “That was definitely on purpose; certainly he wouldn’t do this by accident. Right?”

Your eyes linger as he finishes putting together his lunch. He catches your gaze and smiles. “See you later, sweetheart,” he says with a wink before leaving the room. “Okay, that answers my question; that was very intentional. What am I going to do with myself?”

You don’t know how much longer you can take his teasing. Throughout the week, he ups his antics, calling you pet names more than your own, stealing touches whenever he can get away with it, smiling whenever you make eye contact. The tension is insatiable; thoughts of Bucky follow you everywhere. You decide to take matters in your own hands; Bucky did not seem to be planning to make a move anytime soon. If he is going to tease the hell out of you, you might as well get some payback.

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Tony’s announcement of Friday night karaoke gives you a wicked idea. However, for it to work, you need to recruit help. You know just who to ask. It doesn’t take long to find Sam and Steve; they spent a ton of their free time sparring in the gym. They seem to be at the end of their workout, their movements slow and sloppy, relying on witty retorts to throw off the other. They stop when they notice your arrival.

“Hey!” Sam says with a smile, hugging you as you approach. You squeeze him tightly, even with his sticky sweat coating his arms. You greet Steve with a hug too.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Steve asks as you let go.

“Can I ask you guys something? And you promise you two won’t laugh at me? Especially if I'm reading this wrong?”

“Of course,” answers Steve.

“Yeah, for sure,” replies Sam.

You hesitate for a second, taking a deep breath. “Does Bucky like me? I swear he does. He keeps teasing me, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I think I am practically in love with the guy at this point, he’s so beautiful and—”

You stop as the boys exchange glances and begin laughing.

You cross your arms, hurt. “You said you wouldn’t laugh at me! I can’t control how I feel.”

“No! Wait! We aren’t laughing at you!” Steve says between giggles.

You furrow your brows. “Then why are you laughing?”

“Bucky’s obsessed with you,” Steve answers after calming his laughter.

“God, yes, you’re all he talks about nowadays,” Sam adds.

“What?! He does? Why? Are you shitting me right now? Because that would be really freaking mean—“

“No! Of course not,” Steve insists. “Don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

“And the pet names he gives you?” Sam adds.

“And how he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately?” Steve finishes.

Now you feel stupid for even asking. Of course you noticed all of those things. They were all you ever thought about. “Well, yeah, but maybe he does that with all the girls.”

“What girls?” Sam retorted. “The only women who are here often enough to cross paths with him are you, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda’s with Vision, as weird as that is, but love is love. Natasha shoots daggers at anyone who looks at her with love in their eyes. That leaves you.”

“Why in the world would he like me? Of all people? He’s out of my league,” you sigh,

Sam’s scoff pulls you from your thoughts. “Bucky? Out of your league? He’s a crazy ex-assassin with emotional issues! If anything, he's out of your league.”

“You’re a catch, why wouldn’t he like you?” Steve assures.

Steve and Sam always know just what to say to make you feel better. “I guess you’re right,” you admit with a defeated grin.

“So, you know how Bucky feels. What are you going to do about it?” Steve asks.

“I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“We’re listening.”

You divulge your plan to them. They smile, hyping you up.

“Dude, I’m so down!” Sam exclaims, clapping his hands in excitement.

“You think this will work?”

“Definitely,” Steve assures. “This is going to be amazing!”

“Okay then, we’re doing this. Let’s go find Bucky. Time to initiate phase one.”

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky is sitting on the common room couch, flipping through a book when he sees you, Sam, and Steve enter. He exchanges a glance with you, smiling as your eyes light up. The three of you sit down. You’re sitting next to Sam, closer than usual. There’s a brief moment of silence before you speak. “Sam, are you going to karaoke night?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss everyone’s drunk-ass singing for the world.”

“Will you be my duet partner?”

This catches Bucky’s attention. He looks up from his book. Why the hell were you asking Sam to sing with you? You normally ask the girls...

“Sure thing, baby. It’ll be a ton of fun!” Sam smiles.

Baby?! What?! How dare he call you a pet name, his girl, right in front of him? Well, you may not be his girl yet, but Sam knows how he feels about you. What the hell is he thinking?

“Yay! This’ll be so fun!” You hug him, grabbing his hand before continuing, “Wanna practice with me in a bit?”

“Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart,” Sam answers, kissing your knuckle before letting go of your hand.

Sweetheart?! What the fuck was going on? Did he miss his shot? Would Sam really do that to him? Bucky can barely handle his swirling thoughts. He storms out of the room without looking back.

Steve can’t help but laugh once Bucky is out of earshot. “That worked a little too well, wouldn’t you say so?”

“That wasn’t too far, was it?” you ask with a worried expression on your face.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. He’ll just come on even stronger now. He won’t give up on you that easily,” Sam assures you.

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky can barely contain his anger as you step on the stage with Sam, giggling and smiling at your karaoke partner. Jealousy engulfs him. He can barely listen to the start of the song, ignoring the catchy beat blasting through the speakers. He doesn’t recognize the song, but looks up from his drink when you sing, “Hey Bucky boy, what you doing tonight? I wanna see what you got in store."

He looks right at you. Did she just say Bucky?

Sam echoes, “Hey, hey Bucky!” Well, that answers his question.

“You're giving it your all when you're dancing on me. I want to see if you can give me some more,” you continue, twirling your fingers through your hair.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“You can be my man, I can be your girl, and we can pump this jam however you want,” you sing, swaying your hips to the cadence of the lyrics.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“Pump it from the side, pump it upside down, or we can pump it from the back and the front,” you wink as you finish the line. Bucky sits up suddenly, crossing his legs, his face turning beet red. You smile, knowing the plan was working. Steve laughs from beside him. He keeps his eyes glued on you as the two of you continue the song, utterly entranced. You look him right in the eye as you end the song, “I want you tonight.”

You saunter over to where he is sitting after high-fiving Sam, confidence filling your chest. “So, what did you think of my performance, Bucky?”

You yelp as he grabs your hips and pulls you down to sit on his lap. His voice deepens, “you’re such a tease, you know that right?”

You laugh. “I’m the tease? Really? You’re the one who just pulled me onto your lap and taunts me with flirtatious remarks and smiles all freaking day. My god Bucky, make a move already—”

He cuts you off, pulling you in for a kiss, his flesh arm grabbing the back of your neck. The team whoops and cheers.

“Glad you finally made a move, Bucky,” you pant as your lips part from his.

“Best decision I ever made in my life, doll.” Before you can respond, he kisses you again, the karaoke bar fading in the background as you finally embrace the man of your dreams.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mickey-henry #bucky barnes fic #my fic: hey bucky #mel's writing

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

so you have any angsty writings about max raising his voice at u?

my tears ricochet

Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader

Summary: Everyone had warned you that dating your boss would be a bad idea. So when you make a crucial mistake at work, a mistake that leads into your biggest fight yet, you wonder if your relationship with Maxwell Lord will ever be able to recover.

Rating: T

Warnings: ANGST :( a few curses, hurt/comfort with a happy ending, but most of this is very very angst-y. Bruce Wayne makes an appearance (because for some reason, he always does?) and he’s a dickkkkk lmao.

Word count: 2.2k

I haven’t wrote anything in a few weeks, and I haven’t wrote for Maxie in well over a month. Reblogs would be so appreciated because I kinda need the motivation atm ;-;

You never normally messed up, or at least, not like this.

You were a good secretary for the most part, as you’d been working at Black Gold Cooperative for almost three years now. You knew your way around the office, and most importantly, you knew your way around your boss, the dashing and charismatic business mogul, Maxwell Lord.

Everyone had warned you not to mix business with pleasure, and that dating Maxwell Lord was a bad idea because he was your boss. You could get behind that idea; as you’d never really been one to date colleagues or co-workers. But you swore that he was different. They were probably right, you knew that deep down, but you’d made the mistake of falling hopelessly in love with him.

You and Maxwell had been together for half a year now, and things were going good. Things were going better than good. You really believed he could be the one. He seemed happier when he was with you. He smiled more. You gave his life meaning, and a purpose that strived past his failing business.

He treated you different to his other employees. He was softer with you, and more gentle. He never raised his voice or talked down to you. He was a gentleman, and treated you to luxuries on every occasion that he could manage. Work was sometimes difficult, but he was good with you. You had zero complaints, really.

He’d buzzed you into his office, his dark blonde hair a mess and his patterned tie pulled apart. The first three buttons of his white dress shirt were undone and his collar was wonky. You had to refrain from walking over to his side of the oak wood desk and fixing it for him. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his tan forearms and the golden Rolex that adorned his wrist, and he was staring at you, his dark brows furrowed together.

“I just spoke to Bruce Wayne,” Maxwell started hesitantly, his index finger impatiently tapping away on the telephone.

“Oh?” you hummed. You knew it was coming, but you tried to remain calm.

“He said he didn’t receive the oil distribution report you sent on Friday,” Maxwell said, followed by a wary chuckle. “But I told him you sent it. Because you did send it. Didn’t you?”

You winced, and it didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

“You sent the reports, didn’t you?” Maxwell repeated, this time his voice having dropped an octave and his eyes staring dead at you. There was no love in his expression, no happiness. Just pure anger and disbelief.

“Uhm…” you trailed off, your voice breaking nervously. “Wayne Enterprises didn’t get the report on last month’s oil distribution because uhm— I sent the wrong thing instead.” you fumbled with your fingers, shyly looking away from your Maxwell.

Max blinked, and stifled a laugh. “What?”

You folded your arms across your chest, feeling vulnerable as guilt coarsed through your veins.

“Uhm yeah,” you replied, ducking your head down. “I thought I sent it but I just— I found the reports on the main desk at lunch time. And I was going to tell you. I just— I just—“

You were flustered, and could feel your cheeks burn up as you stumbled over your words.

“You just what?” Maxwell prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“I just—“

“You just thought you’d keep it to yourself? Thought you wouldn’t tell me just because…? Because of what, exactly? You know this means we could potentially lose millions of dollars,” he raised his voice, sliding out of his chair and leaning over his desk, balling his fingers into fists.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “It was a mistake. A one-time mistake—“

“—a mistake that could potentially cost us thousands—“ Maxwell repeated bitterly. Money was a sensitive subject right now, you knew this. He had every right to be mad, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“—It won’t cost thousands.” you finished, your words trying to ease him. But it came out patronising and you immediately regretted it. Maxwell slammed his hand on the desk before pointing his finger at you.

“Don’t interrupt me!” he shouted.

He’d never spoken to you like this. Hell, you didn’t think he’d ever spoken to anyone like this before. Or at least, not that you’d heard of. His cheeks were red with rage and little beads of sweat glazed his hairline.

You flinched are his tone, not used to him raising his voice at you like that. Max noticed the change in your demeanour and his face softened, his brown eyes widening slightly when he realised what he’d done. He slowly sank back into his chair, ripping his gaze from you. You stood there awkwardly, trying to hold back tears.

Maxwell regulated his breathing and pushed his hair out of his face before pointing to the door.

“Leave.” He ordered, his voice shaky and not even bringing himself to look at you.

Your lips were trembling. “What?” you croaked out, your voice merely above a whisper.

“Just— go home.” he waved his hand in a dismissing manner.

You stood there a little longer, lingering on the other side of his desk and praying that he’d have a change of heart. You didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. Was it a break-up? Was he firing you? Was he simply just telling you to go home?

“Max…”

Your boyfriend rubbed his temples before picking up the phone and re-dialling what you assumed to be Wayne Enterprises. He had nothing else to say to you, so, you sadly sauntered out of his office, quietly shutting the door behind you.

The entire sales team was staring at you as you walked over to the elevator. No doubt they’d overheard the whole fight. Raquel tapped your shoulder and offered you an apologetic smile. “Are you okay?” she asked.

You nodded and forced a grin, desperate to just get outside and feel the cool evening air. The office felt stuffy and hot and you just had to get out. You opted to take the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. You could feel their eyes burn into you as you left Black Gold Cooperative.

It was raining when you got outside, and you managed to catch a cab just down the street.

After a few rings, Max finally pushed through Bruce Wayne’s receptionist and was waiting to get on the line with the big man himself. He breathed a sigh of relief when Bruce picked up.

“Hi, Bruce, it’s me Max. There’s been a mistake with the reports,” Maxwell said quickly, feigning confidence as he tried to forget about the fight that had just happened. But he couldn’t get it out of his head. He was terrified that you’d leave him. He’d leave him.

“Let me guess— it’s that secretary of yours?” Bruce smirked, twirling the phone wire around his finger as he waited for Max to try and salvage the business deal.

“Wh—what?” Max laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“You know, your arm candy? The one that always accompanies to those charity events and galas? The one you’re fucking on the side?”

Maxwell’s face hardened and his heart dropped in his chest. “Excuse me?”

He hated the way Bruce was talking about you. Bruce was always like that, Maxwell knew that much. He treated everyone like they were lesser than him. Maxwell was able to shrug it off when it happened to him, but he wasn’t going to let it happen to you, too.

“Please, we all know it,” Bruce rolled his eyes. “I learned the hard way about mixing business with pleasure. Never works out, my friend.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wayne, but you know nothing about Y/N and I. So if we could please get back to the topic at hand…”

“You still want to secure the deal?” Bruce quizzed. “I supposed as much.”

Jesus, he was insufferable. Maxwell knew what it took to climb to the top of the business world. You had to be cold and brutal; everything that Bruce Wayne was. That’s why he was so successful, and truthfully, that was the difference between the two men.

It was probably the reason Black Gold was failing too. Ever since you came into Maxwell’s life, the business had been losing more and more money. Maybe it was because Maxwell worked less, always choosing to favour his time and spend it with you. He wasn’t hardened by the business world anymore. He was softened by you.

Max wouldn’t allow the entrepreneur to hurt the ones he loved. At the end of the day, you were infinitely more important than some reports on oil distribution.

“Wait,” Maxwell paused, unable to escape the invasive thoughts that consumed his mind. Thinking about your glossy eyes and your timid voice, and the way you flinched when he yelled at you. You looked terrified. “No.”

“No?” Bruce repeated incredulously.

“No,” Maxwell confirmed. “I have to go.”

“You’re making a big mistake Lord,” Bruce warned. “If you’re thinking about throwing this entire deal away over some nobody secretary—“

And with that, Maxwell tore the phone from his ear and slammed it down on the hook. He rose to his feet and grabbed his pinstripe suit jacket, hastily throwing it over his shoulder before leaving his office in a rush.

When he got home, you were curled up on the sofa, enveloped in a blanket with balled up tissues scattered around you. When he saw you, his heart broke. He dropped his keys on the coffee table, the noise alerting you. The rattling sound made you jump and you looked over at him, your eyes red and puffy.

“Hi,” you said quietly, watching as he sauntered over to you. He offered you a weak smile before sliding down on the sofa next to you.

“Hi,” he said, gazing into your eyes.

You shuffled around and sighed. “I’m sorry.” you both said at the same time.

You giggled gently, always cherishing the way you and him were so in-sync. Maxwell smiled too, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.

“I thought you hated me,” you admitted with a sniffle, and Max frowned, leaning over and cupping your face with his hands.

“No my love, I could never hate you,” he swore, shaking his head. “I— I’m sorry I yelled at you like that. I got so worked up over this deal and—“

“I know,” you cut him short, pressing the palms of your hands flat against his chest. “You don’t have to apologise. I know. It’s been a stressful few weeks.” you said knowingly.

“Still,” you Maxwell sighed. “It can’t be excused.”

“It won’t happen again?” You asked hopefully.

Maxwell smiled. “Never again, honey,” he promised. “Can I hold you?”

You nodded desperately and nuzzled into his warm embrace. He wrapped his strong arms around you and smoothed out your hair, pressing a chaste kiss into your forehead.

“I love you so much, and I won’t ever let anything come between us again,” Maxwell whispered. “No job or business deal is jeopardising what we have together.”

You smiled, squeezing him tight and never wanting to let him go. “I agree.” you replied, pulling yourself up onto his lap and nudging your nose against his.

Maxwell’s smile spoke a thousand words. It wasn’t the forced smile he showed the world when he hyped up his business on the television. It was his real, genuine smile. The smile only you got to see.

Everyone had warned you not to mix business with pleasure, and that dating Maxwell Lord was a bad idea because he was your boss. But in that exact moment, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—————————

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americasmarauders · 3 years

Text

in your eyes - Bucky Barnes

author’s note: so remember when I said I wouldn’t write Bucky anymore, only that one time? yeah, so I said, you know, like a liar. I saw the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier and that was all it took for me to fall into the ‘bucky barnes simp’ hole all over again. I made an entire one shot based on a single piece of a dialogue from the first episode. the story starts right before the first episode and ends right after the last. I spend an entire month and a half working on this please give it some love.(pls reblog i beg of you) Huge thanks to @batarella and @glorified-red for beta-ing this. ily <3 hwo knows, if people love it enough I might give a part 2.

summary: her quiet job in the library got louder when Bucky walked into her life. (Bucky Barnes x telepath!librarian!reader)

WARNINGS: i do write a bit about addiction in this, if it makes you uncomfortable, please do not interact. it’s not heavy, or graphic, but the reader does experience abstinence. be warned. no spoilers for tfatws, but i do reccomend you watching it.

words: 11,416

mastelist

It was all so loud usually. When she first discovered her ability, it was like there were suddenly a thousand voices yelling inside her head all at once. She remembered falling to her knees, clutching her ears and crying out as the voices shouted different things at her.

Then the Professor came, promised her to help control her own mind. She didn’t want to trust the guy, even if he said he had the same power as her--even if he said everything would be alright. But the headaches were getting worse, the voices were getting louder and louder. She took him up on it and left her home to live in his boarding school.

She met interesting people and--at the end of her stay--she achieved what she was there for. It took 4 years of her life, constant nightmares from reading too much of her colleagues' minds, and several isolated afternoons - more than she wanted to admit. Nevertheless, she could finally go to a concert or have a normal college class without crying from pain.

She lived a normal life after her time at the Institute. She mostly ignored how her teenage years were far from the ordinary, or how sometimes she could hear a random thought from the person sitting next to her if the thought was loud enough. There were days when everything got too much, days where she lost control. She would stay in her house with noise cancelling headphones on (even if it didn’t work like that, it somehow helped) just going on throughout her day as quietly as possible. Tom knew she would get sick, even if working at the library rarely made her go into her lockdown modes.

The library calmed her in a way. The thoughts were rarely disordered and loud, more focused and quiet. It fascinated her that even in their thoughts, people respected the quiet environment the library required. But sometimes, someone would appear with a troubled mind, something books couldn’t even soothe.

There was a regular now, he was one of those people whose thoughts were always all over the place; she couldn’t pick them apart, words would fly through her head - words she often associated with the book he was reading. She wouldn’t know, it was Nancy that talked to him most times.

He always sat at the same old, worn out armchair, talking with the older people in the library as if they were the only people he was comfortable with. Sometimes, she would be restocking the books and see him looking at old newspapers. She never got the courage to talk to him. She figured her curiosity wasn’t enough to muster up the bravery needed to utter a word to him.

Tom was on leave that day. He was stalling his doctor’s appointment, telling her his back pain wasn’t that serious, but she knew better. Every so often she would hear a whisper of pain in her head and she knew her boss wasn’t alright. It had taken her months, but she finally convinced Tom to go and get his back looked at.

So she was working the counter that day: checking books off, admitting them, and then separating them so she could reshelve the books the next day. It was pretty boring work, repetitive, and she wondered how Tom kept busy all day when she finished all of her chores in a couple of hours.

“Excuse me,” she heard, standing up as a reflex. Her eyes trailed up to the person standing in front of the main desk. It was the Loud Man (that was what she had taken to calling him). “I want to check this off.”

“Yeah,” she said, breathless. She was hearing too much from him, too many random words. It made her feel dizzy. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

She took the book from his hands, her fingers brushing slightly at his leather gloves, her thoughts suddenly got even more flooded at the slight touch. She could feel a rising nervousness in him, so much it blended with her own nerves. She quickly retrieved her hand, hoping she hadn’t seemed impolite.

She sat back at her chair, looking at the book. “The Hobbit, huh?”

“I’m re-reading it,” he said, his eyes sincere, “I read it when it first came out.”

She looked at him funnily. “You read it in 1937?”

His expression froze, the slight smile morphing into a frown, his loud thoughts got louder with a single word: ‘lie’. “That’s a funny joke.”

She smiled at him, not taking his comment too seriously. “I’m a funny gal.”

He laughed, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was like he was only checking off a box of social convention. It quickly faded to an impatient expression, and she could tell he wanted to get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he mentioned.

“Oh,” she muttered, “I’m usually reshelving things, Tom operates the front desk but he went to the doctor. I’m the only other person who works here, so,” she trailed off, “I’m Y/N.”

“Bucky,” he responded, his face slightly tensed. His eyes hovered over everything in the library, as if he was trying to find something wrong in it.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky," she handed the book back to him. "It's due next week. Don't be late with it.”

“I'll return it tomorrow,” the words slipped from his mouth.

“Fast reader?” she asked.

“Got nothing else to do,” he shrugged, the word ‘lie’ once again swimming in her head in the mess of thoughts she received from him.

He gave her one last smile and disappeared into the library. His thoughts got distant, but they lingered in her head. Flashes of pain, bright white lights, and screams littered her mind. She shook her head trying to get rid of them. It rarely worked, not with thoughts so persistent.

Her head started to pound as the thoughts got more intense somehow. That never happened before, usually she could only hear people that stood near her and she was sure Bucky walked all the way to the back - he wasn’t close to her in any way.

Her hand shook as she fished out her headphones. She put them on and connected them with her phone. Playing her music was a hopeful distraction, detering her brain enough to quiet down everything. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, just like the Professor had taught her. He used to say a quiet and strong mind was the key to ward off stray thoughts.

It helped clear the thoughts, the mess of words only leaving whispers of broken thoughts in the way. She grabbed those and put them away, shoving them inside a mental box of lost thoughts. She did that with all the others, it helped keep her mind organized.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she opened her eyes. She always took too much time clearing her mind, she would forget the outside world. Peter used to poke fun at her for that, drawing penises on her face. When she came to her senses she would always run after him, ready to tackle him to the ground. It was always useless: you can't outrun Peter.

She noticed Bucky leaning on the frame of the front door. It was getting darker outside, an orange hue illuminating his eyes perfectly. Her breath hitched for a second before recomposing herself.

“Good nap?” he asked, the smallest smirk on his lips.

“I wasn’t napping,” she smiled, shaking her head. She checked the clock and saw it was way past closing time. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he had gone out of his way to stay with her when he should have gone home. “Why’d you stay?”

“Everyone left,” he said, “and I thought it wasn’t safe to leave you in a trance alone in an empty library.”

“I wasn’t in a trance,” she took her headphones off, resting them around her neck, “I was… clearing my head.”

He looked at her funnily, “Busy day?”

“It’s been weirder than usual,” she responded, smiling. She sat back down and logged off the system.

“How weird is working in a library?”

She scoffed, lighty. “You have no idea,” she smiled mischievously.

She picked up her things, keys in her hand. She left the front desk, going to Bucky’s side. “Thanks for staying,” she said, “You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem,” his hand brushed the back of his neck with a timid smile, very unlike his general physique and stance, “I had nowhere else to go.”

She could feel his thoughts bubbling underneath her skin, wanting to come out and flood her brain with confusing images and words. Whispers of faint words echoed through her mind, soft enough that she couldn’t distinguish what they were.

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, words slipping out of her mouth faster than she could stop it. Old habits she supposed. She could always keep thoughts of other people to herself, it didn’t seem fair to them she could hear their thoughts, the least she could do was keep them to herself. But when it came to her own, they just came out of her mouth before her conscience could stop her. “I mean,” she started, “a guy like yourself - good looking and all - must get a lot of people just, um, throwing themselves at you.”

He breathed out, an awkward expression on his face. She could hear one word clearly: ‘lie’. “I don’t date a lot,” he stated, “Not really my thing.”

She changed her approach to the conversation, sensing the uncomfortable energy he oozed. “Oh,” she muttered, “It’s okay, I mean, I don’t date a lot either. I barely leave my flat actually,” she brushed a single piece of hair out of her face, “I hate crowded spaces, and I have just the weirdest habits. You know, not a lot of people are into women who work at a library and barely make minimum wage,” she mumbled, her hands in her pockets restraining her hands for gesturing too much just like she always did, “I have a lot of issues too, at least that’s what the Professor used to say to my therapist before each session, which is fair and--oh God, I’m sorry, I just rambled.”

He chuckled (an actual chuckle), a full light-hearted laugh, one that rumbled throughout his chest. “It’s fine,” he said, “I like listening to you talk.”

She heard the words ‘like’ and ‘quiet’ shoot through her mind. She smiled at him shyly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” she laughed awkwardly, “Thank you again, for waiting and being, I don’t know, just nice, I guess.”

He smiled, a slightly bigger smile then he had given her the entire time they’d interacted. “Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head, “No problem.”

Both of them walked out the door. She turned and locked it, then pushed a button that activated the security systems of the building. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said whilst shrugging.

“Yeah, yeah,” he went down a few steps of the main staircase. “I’ll see, uh, see you tomorrow.”

She saw him go down the steps, listening to the faint echoes of his thoughts in her head. She felt the tips of her mouth curl up, watching him go as the sun set on the horizon. She hadn’t felt that before, that sense of mystery, of wonder and curiosity. His mind was in shambles, broken pieces of it laying in every corner of his brain, and she heard all of it. It compelled her, even if it felt completely wrong to be so enthralled by someone’s mind.

She felt inadequate for liking his mind when he didn’t even know she could listen to it. It wasn’t the first time she felt that way. She remembered a boy from the shop near the Institute, she loved hearing his thoughts. She rarely left the Institute, but when she did she would always sneak to the store to buy a popsicle as an excuse to admire him. Sometimes he would smile at her and her brain would malfunction for just a second, his thoughts flooding her and overwhelming her every time that happened.

She anticipated it was only a matter of time before that happened with Bucky again. She didn’t exactly know if that was a good thing, if she should indulge in the latent curiosity and table herself further with his mind - with him.

The sun set in the horizon, the orange glow fading to the blue of the night sky. Walking down the streets, she could still hear remnants of his thoughts inside her head, his imprint already set on her. She wondered how long it would take for it to fade, if it would fade and if she wanted it to. #

He gave her one last look before walking away from her. She could feel him uncomfortable, it lingered in her head longer than it should. He lingered in her more than he should. Her eyes followed him on his way out of the library. His mind was confused and tired, it left a trail of breadcrumbs calling for her to solve the mystery that was.

Tom’s doctor ordered maximum rest. Apparently, the problem in his back was more serious than both of them anticipated. The doctor ordered as much rest as Tom could have, meaning more breaks and leaving early. That also meant she had to do double the work - she wouldn’t mind at all had she not left a pile of returned books to shelve.

She put her headphones and drove the cart full of books through the library all afternoon. Usually not a lot of people came in on a Monday afternoon to check out books, most were local teens that were there to study or make out. She always pretended not to know which ones were there to actually study or not; the thoughts always flew out to her when they were there to snog, most times it was hard to contain the shit-eating grin that would want to rise.

She felt someone touching her shoulder. She jumped slightly, startled at the touch. Turning around, she saw Bucky, his thoughts overwhelming her. She rested the headphones around her neck, pulling out her phone to pause the music. “Hey, Bucky,” she breathed out, trying to contain the images and words in her head, “What are you, um, how you doing?”

“I’m good,” he smiled at her, looking down at the ground, “Um, Tom’s not at the front desk and I gotta return the book.”

“Oh yeah,” she took the book from his hand. It was still warm from his touch, “I thought you wouldn’t come today, to be honest.”

“I said I was,” he looked at her intensely, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Well,” she smiled awkwardly and averted her eyes to the ground, “People sometimes say things they don’t mean.”

She didn’t realise what she said until it was out of her mouth. She remembered how he was uncomfortable around her, and how he would think about lies just as he told her something. Embarrassment flooded her senses, she felt heat rising to her cheeks.

He looked at her weirdly, as if he was analyzing her. The more he looked, the more she listened to his mind. Words of suspicion floated around, she swallowed dryly and nervously at the thoughts. Echoes of screams and a crushing sense of guilt came through, she wondered what had happened for him to think of that. She wondered if she was the one person that caused him to think like that.

“I’ll return it for you,” she said, motioning for the book, trying to get the attention off of her.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, “D’you mind if I get another?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said, “I’ll wait for you - at the front desk, I mean,” backing away from him, she accidentally bumped into a bookshelf, “Not, um, not any other way.”

He stared at her and nodded slightly. She turned around and walked to the front desk, cringing at her inability to mutter coherent words to him without stumbling in the middle of a phrase. Something about him made her lose all of her composure, she didn’t know if it was the constant flood of thoughts and memories she listened to from his mind or just him making her nervous.

She sat down at the chair behind the front desk, and rubbed her face, as if it would rub the embarrassment out of her. Sighing, she returned the book for Bucky. Just as the day before, his thoughts lingered in her head, images that meant very little to her were calling out.

“Why’s Tom not here?” he asked. She looked up at him, his blue eyes piercing through her. It was the first time she noticed his eyes, and somehow, it made everything worse. Instead of whispers, she heard everything clearly. Fools said the eyes were the windows to the soul. She knew better: someone’s eyes told her what they were thinking, what they were feeling. And she could tell Bucky felt a lot.

“Um,” she looked back down to the book she just admitted back, moving it to the pile of books to reshelve. “He’s on leave, doctor’s orders.”

“Back pain was somethin’ serious then?” he responded, handing the new book to her.

“Yeah, I told him to get that checked out, turns out I was right,” she shrugged, getting the book, her eyes still fixated on the computer. She felt the leather of his gloves graze the tips of her fingers, and a searing pain shot through her head. She brought the book down to the table, closing her eyes hoping the pain would stop. “Brave New World? Revisiting the classics, huh?” she struggled to keep a whimper from emerging from her mouth.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She heard a whisper of concern run though his head, “Um, are you alright? You don’t look very well.”

She shook her head, faking a smile, pretending she wasn’t getting a thousand thoughts from everyone in the library- especially Bucky’s thoughts - blasted at maximum volume on the speakers of her mind. “Just a bit of a headache.”

“It looks serious,” she could hear the leather from his gloves squeaking as he rested his hands on top of the counter.

“I’ll be fine,” she gritted through her teeth. It had been years since she was last in a position like that, her head throbbing with thoughts that weren’t hers. “I have these all the time.”

She heard his thoughts of concern louder than the others. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She dismissed his question, not wanting to dwell on his concern longer. “Here,” she handed the book back to him, her other hand closed in a fist, “it’s due next week. Don’t be late with it.”

“I won’t,” he said, his tone slightly strained. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she shook her head, her eyes closed and teeth gritted, choosing not to question how he would return that book tomorrow. She fisted both of her hands, her fingernails sinking in the skin of her hands. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she whispered to herself.

She heard his footsteps moving away from her, she sighed in relief, hoping it would mean her mind was going to calm itself and the headache would fade. Instead, the footsteps grew closer to her once again and then the leather of his gloves was grazing the skin of her arm, helping her stand up and guiding her somewhere.

“Imma take you to the hospital, doll” Bucky stated, not leaving room for discussion.

“No,” she tried to shake off his hold, “My shift’s not over, I can’t leave.”

“You look terrible, and you’re clearly in a lot of pain,” he grabbed her arm again, “You need to go to a doctor.”

“Doctors won’t solve this,” she once again freed herself of his hold taking a step back from him. More of his thoughts flooded her mind, a mess of memories and guilt overwhelming her. “They never solve anything,” she breathed out, her voice breaking, “I just need to rest.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his tone temptive and careful.

“No doctors,” it was the first time she had looked in his eyes willingly. There was a sort of weird determination in her eyes, one that came with years of terrible experiences with doctors. Hundreds of appointments that left her more desperate than before, endless tests and thoughts heard that she didn’t have any fix, as if she was broken in the first place.

His jaw tightened and his intense eyes fell upon hers. Her throat dried up under his gaze, her head unbearably heavy with his thoughts and hers. “Fine,” he growled, his hands moving to the pockets of his jacket, “Fine.”

“I need to go back to work,” she backed away from him, slowly. “I--I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure why she was apologizing to him.

“It’s okay,” his jaw was still tight, his eyes were still intense lingering at her. She couldn’t even appreciate his gaze at her, and how if she was a normal person,--if she didn’t have that goddamn gene--she would have let her heart skip a beat and feel coy under his gaze. “It’s your choice.”

There was a stubbornness to his stance, something that told her he wouldn’t be backing down so easily. She couldn’t go to any doctor, she couldn’t risk anyone finding out. She didn’t want to go through the tests and the never-ending questions, whether it was out loud or not. There was only one person who could possibly help her, and she refused to go to him.

She backed away from him quickly, turning around and heading to the front desk once again. Her headphones found their way to her ears, and she started to blast her music at full volume, hoping, or rather praying, it would help ease her headache. She put her phone in her back pocket, grabbed the book she had just returned.

The cart wove between the shelves with ease under her direction. She could still feel Bucky’s presence within the library, it was like carrying an iron ball tied to her feet at all times. Unlike the day before, he was more troubled, he felt more things and more intensely. It was too much. She wondered what happened for him to be so restless.

The music hardly helped, it somehow made it worse. She couldn’t shake the tangled thoughts and think for herself, and the music disturbed even more. She dropped her headphones, frustrated. Her head pounded, desperation rose in her. She refused to call Professor, he would not help, he would only rub in her face that she shouldn’t have left. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed at the Institute, Y/N,’ she could imagine him saying if she closed her eyes.

“Are you better?” turning around, she saw Bucky, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. His eyes were focused down, his shoulder slightly hunched. It looked like he was ashamed of asking her if she was alright, almost as if it was his fault that she was in pain. It was, but she didn’t hold it against him. She was certain it wasn’t his fault.

“Not really,” looking at him, she analyzed his expression. His jaw was tense, she could see his hands were fisted inside his pockets, “I just need to sleep.”

He nodded slightly. “You sure you don’t want anythin’?”

Her head tilted slightly and her mouth quirked up a little. She could tell he wanted to charm her, she heard the word bounce around her head faintly--the guilt was louder, though she could barely hear anything else--and she would lie if she said she didn’t like his attention. “I am” her hands entangled together, her knuckles tight, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Yeah, yeah” he breathed out, his hand brushing the side of his leg in a nervous habit. “I need to go,” he pointed back at the door, his face stony.

She sat cross legged on her bed, her eyes closed. There were candles around the room, the lighting dim and warm. The smell of incense was strong, it swallowed the entire room. It was necessary, she needed that to ground herself to the real world, and not lose herself in her mind.

Since calling Professor was not an option, she tried to take matters into her own hands. She was going to untangle the knot of thoughts Bucky had left in her head by herself. It could potentially be dangerous, if she wandered too far who knows what could happen. She had taken the necessary precautions, but she had only done that before under the careful and judgemental eye of the Professor. It was the first time she was doing it alone, it scared her to think what could go wrong.

She breathed in calmly and concentrated on the knot in front of her. Her head was a whole other world, it could be molded to her will, she felt safe in it. Now, it was a black empty space, the only thing filling it was herself and the pulsating mess of thoughts Bucky had gifted her.

Kneeling in front of it, she carefully picked apart superficial thoughts, setting them aside. They didn’t matter to what she was there to do, they were only random words and snippets of his day-to-day life that she was sure were not the ones causing him so much pain.

It didn’t take long for her to reach what pained him. It was surprising to see the amount of thoughts in front of her, usually it was much less. People tended to blow things out of proportion often, little things could cause a world of hurt to themselves. Bucky seemed to take a lot of pain, underestimating his grief. A typical mentality of someone who lacked the confidence, who didn’t trust themselves enough.

She picked a single memory and entered it.

The lighting was dim, a yellow glow swallowed her. The room was dirty and disgusting, the tiles that were once white tinted an yellowish gray. It looked like a room used for medical procedures, judging by the sheer amount of medical-like instruments littered around the desks. There were no calendars in sight, she had no way of knowing when the memory had happened.

There were at least 5 or 6 people in the room, all surrounding a metallic chair. She approached the scene, carefully. Standing beside the chair, she saw Bucky.

He couldn’t be much older than he was when she met him. His hair was slightly longer than it was currently, just brushing his forehead. He was shirtless, his skin glistening in the faint lighting of the room. His hand was tied to the chair. His temples bruised from something she hadn’t figured out yet. His chest moved violently, struggling to breathe properly. And his left shoulder? There was a red swollen scar there. She doubted the wound was fresh, more like reopened. Maybe they tried putting a prosthetic there and it failed. It was likely they hadn’t administered any painkillers in the procedure, and she felt anger boiling inside her at the thought.

“James Barnes, 3255...” he trailed off, muttering under his breath. His eyes were halfway closed, it looked like he barely could keep them opened.

“Попробуй снова,” try again, one of the doctors said.

Her eyes lingered on the doctor that had just spoken. He looked evil, and she felt in her bones he was. His smile was wicked as his eyes lingered on Bucky struggling to catch his breath tied to that chair. All of the doctors looked sadistic and malefic. She felt goosebumps flood her skin, disgusted by the situation.

The machine started whirling. An appendix lowered into Bucky’s left eye, another lowering to his right temple. Someone put a protection on his mouth, and she could see Bucky trying to free himself from his ties. Something told her, even in an altered state of mind he was already conditioned to know that noise and that feeling were bad news. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to hers just before everything started.

The screams - his screams - bounced on the walls and filled her soul in a terrifying way. Tears came to her eyes as she carefully studied what was happening to him. His hands formed fists, his knuckles totally pale on his flesh hand. His eyes were shut violently, his mouth open in a painful way. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to hug him and take him out of that awful place, but she couldn't. It was all a memory, it already had happened and she couldn’t do anything about it.

The doctors recited words in russian repetitively. Her eyes traveled to the doctor holding a red notebook. The wicked smile never faltered, completely ignoring the man in pain in front of him. She felt a urge she had fought so hard to suppress: she wanted to invade their brains, pick them apart and tear them down from the inside. She wanted to scream and shout at them and destroy everything in the room with a single thought. The fact that she was inside a memory and couldn’t physically change anything bothered her little. The anger and sadness she felt were real.

The machine stopped humming and Bucky stopped screaming. When he opened his eyes, she saw something that utterly terrified her. His eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, very much unlike mere seconds before. They were wide open, focused forward, looking beyond the doctor that was hovering over him.

“Soldat?” one of the doctors asked, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

“Готовы соответствовать,” ready to comply.

The room became blurry and she was sucked out of the memory. She stood there in front of the knot of thoughts. A feeling of inadequacy overwhelmed her, and she willed herself out of her own mind. She shouldn’t have done that, not without his permission. He didn’t even know she could hear his thoughts, much less explore the memories he had left with her.

She gasped for air as she came back to her senses. Bucky was much more complicated than she had anticipated, and the guilt he carried around with him wasn’t blown out of proportion and unwarranted. He felt as if things he had done, whatever those things were, had been his responsibility. But she knew more about the mind than him, she knew that that person she had watched be tortured was not him. Those eyes told her nothing, and his eyes told her everything and more. Those eyes were from someone who was a puppet, stripped of free will and agency. So maybe his guilt was warranted, but it didn’t mean it was his fault.

She rubbed her face and laid in her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her heart raced inside her chest, the adrenaline of doing something so wrong settling on her. She would have to be honest with him. She let a shuddery breath, as she realized she was at the point she avoided when meeting people. The fear of rejection was crushing and familiar and with time she realized it was easier to push people away, not forming connections deeper than trivial than to explain what she was. But Bucky was different, she felt it in her bones. And she wasn’t willing to let him go. #

Tuesdays were fuller than Mondays, but only slightly. Maybe one or two more students came in, trying to get ahead of the curve and not procrastinate their studies more than necessary. The amount of work she had was enough to keep her busy throughout the day, even without Tom’s help.

She hummed the song in her headphones, weaving her way through the shelves, puting the few books that were returned that day back where they belonged. It was the part of her job that gave her the most pleasure. It gave her a sense of control and order, something that had lacked almost her entire life, especially while she was at the Institute. Professor had controlled everything back then. He controlled her and Peter and all the others to be something that most would not have chosen to be if given the choice. It made her feel helpless and tiny. But she had freed herself from that reality, much to Professor’s dislike. And now she could happily find her control in tiny things, like putting books back on their shelves.

“How come I always come when no one’s at the front desk?”, her headphones fell to her neck as she turned around to look at Bucky. He wore a shy smile on his face, clutching two books tightly in his gloved hands. His thoughts were quieter that day, but still present and loud. She doubted it was enough to give her a headache, but it was enough to leave a mark on her mind.

“Well, I’d say it’s just your luck,” the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Wanna check those out?” she pointed at the books in his hands.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She started walking towards the front desk, Bucky at her tail. “So, are you better?”

“Yep,” she nodded, getting behind the desk and taking the books out of his hands, “Told you I just needed to rest.”

“Doll,” his head tilted, his eyes carefully analyzing her. She heard worry bounce around his head, “you looked like you were about to drop dead.”

She shook her head, a smile creeping its way to her face. “It’s more common than you think, it’s fine, Bucky, really,” dismissing his worry, like it was the best way to earn his trust. “For whom the Bells tolls? Really diving into the classics, huh?”

“Need some comfort,” he shrugged. “It’s been 80 years since I read these, it felt like the time to re-read.”

“80 years,” she dragged, “You look a lot younger.”

His face became briefly stony, his brain going haywire for a second before he relaxed and gave her an awkward laugh. “You’re a lot funnier when you’re not in pain.”

“Aren’t we all?” she slid the book over to him. “It’s due next week, don’t b--”

“Be late with it, I know,” he completed, “I’ll return it tomorrow. Like always”

She heard words of charm and flattery from his mind. It was a timid voice saying it, if she had been distracted she wouldn’t have heard it. Her eyes trailed downwards, her smile tiny and shy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re lying.”

“How’d you know better?” his eyes narrowed at her and his head tilted to the side. She found it absolutely charming that he did that when he was confused.

“I read minds,” she said, seriously, her face impartial, very much unlike mere seconds before.

“That’s funny,” he laughed, pointing at her.

She opened an awkward smile at him, looking carefully at his expression. His mind told her he thought she was pranking him, being funny to charm him. She wasn’t. “I know you think I’m trying to charm you,” her eyes looking at her feet, her fingers entwined in a nervous habit, “but I’m not,” she finished, whispering.

She could hear confusion clearly in his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly at how she could read his mind, more to why she was telling him the fact. “I can hear your thoughts very clearly, they’re very loud,” she whispered. After all these years of experience with this power, it never got easier telling people about it. “And I didn’t think it was fair to listen to your thoughts - you think a lot you know? - all so loudly and clearly,” She couldn’t look at him, her eyes were still cast downwards in shame, “If you want to, I can explain how it is, we can go for a walk or whatever.”

She could feel his intense gaze on her skin, she didn’t dare to look up. Disappointment was one of the things she hated the most, one she had dealt with a lot. Seeing it in his face would surely break her heart, even if only a little bit. “Fine,” she heard him say it, airly, “But you’re paying.”

She looked up and his expression was impassive. But his eyes were twinkling with a sort of curiosity and wonder that could only mean good things. A weird sort of relief washed over her. She let out a sigh, her features relaxing. “Great,” she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “great,” she breathed out, “I just need to close this place.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Tell me what that boy’s thinking,” he said, pointing to a little boy by the pond feeding the ducks happily.

Her eyes trailed to the kid, trying to focus on him. It was an exercise she hadn’t done in a while, since she had left the Institute really. “He’s happy he’s with his dad,” she reported, “he doesn’t see his dad often and he misses him.”

“What about the dad?” his hands were in his pockets, his gaze locked on the dad sat on the bench just behind the kid.

“He’s guilty he doesn’t spend enough time with his son,” she added, her eyes following the posture of the man. His eyes were fixed on his son, watching his every move. It was clear he felt some sort of guilt towards his son, and it was easy to assume that by his stance alone--if you were observant enough. Bucky was, “He works two jobs to pay the child support. He can’t find time between them often.”

“How do I know that you didn’t just meet those people and they told you their life story?” Bucky questioned, his gaze intense and locked on her. They stopped beneath a tree, orange sun rays peeking from between the leaves.

“It’s the first time I've ever seen them,” she plopped down beneath the tree, crossing her legs childishly, “I barely leave my apartment.”

He stared at her, his gaze strong and judgmental. Huffing, he calmly got down and sat beside her, his legs spread out in front of him. He crossed his hands on his lap, and her gaze locked at his left hand. She wondered if the arm was still the same as the one she had seen in his memory. That arm sent chills down her spine, it was intimidating and terrifying, the red star staring at her menacingly. “Why, though?”

“I can’t, really,” she shrugged. She looked up, her head tilting to the side, considering her words. “I have these lockdowns when I’m surrounded by too many people. It hasn’t happened in years but,” her eyes closed, the memories of the last lockdown she had flooding back at her. She saw her younger self falling to her knees in the middle of the Institute’s lobby, screaming and clutching her ears, “but it happens, and I’d rather not go through that. I’m not in speaking terms with the person that can help me and I’ll do anything to not talk to him again.”

His lips formed a thin line. A hum trembled his chest, his head resting on the tree behind them. “How much have you seen from…” his jaw clenched, his voice quiet and hesitant.

“Not much,” she dragged. “I stopped after I realized that I, um, that I was…”she found she couldn’t complete the sentence under his strong gaze. “It wasn’t fair to you for me to see anything, not without you knowing.”

“What did you see?” he gritted through his teeth, his eyes watery and sad.

“I saw,” she gulped, her voice straining with emotion as she looked deep into his eyes, “I saw you, um, tied to a chair. You were so out of it,” she shook her head, tears flooding her eyes, “you were mumbling your name and some numbers. And then,” she sighed, picking up strength to continue, “and then they - they broke you.”

“What else?” he growled, his hands in fists. His eyes were no longer sad, there was a latent anger in them. It made her sad that she was the cause of his anger, or rather the target.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “nothing else. Nothing other than random words from your day to day.”

He considered her for a moment, his eyes hovering her face frantically. She tried her best not to listen to his mind, trying to focus on elsewhere, on someone else. But he was like a magnet, and she could help but to be attracted to him and his thoughts. Words of confusion, anger and infatuation floated in his brain and echoed in hers. “Can you turn it off? Your...thing?” he pointed to her head almost in disdain. She knew better than to believe his gestures.

“Not exactly,” she hugged her legs, her chin resting on her knees. “If I could, I would have, a long time ago.”

They remained in silence after that. He looked at the clouds, considering everything she had just told him. She looked everywhere but at him, trying to stray her mind from him. It felt impossible, he became her gravity center, and she couldn’t really escape it. She found that she didn’t want to.

“How did you get the…” he tried to find the right words, “the mind reading thing?”

She laughed at his silly phrasing. “I was born with it,” she looked down at her hands, her cheeks feeling hot. “Professor picked me up and took me to the Institute after I turned 13 because of it.”

“That sounds like a cute way of saying you were kidnapped by the guy,” he commented, his tone serious and his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t,” she tilted her head towards him, as if she was telling him a secret. “I went willingly, actually. The nightmares were getting worse and the headaches,” her eyes locked with his for a brief second as she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “well, headaches like yesterday’s are light ones compared to those. And the Professor, he promised to help me control it.”

“That doesn't sound suspicious at all,” she could hear him roll his eyes in disdain.

“He did help me,” she assured him, “but at the time, I didn't realize that it would come with a cost.”

“I’m guessing he wanted something out of you,” he inferred, “that you weren’t willing to give.”

“Something like that,” she responded, her voice vague and distant. Remembering the things Professor had planned for her made her scared and, most of all, angry. Angry he dared to think she would be so desperate to abide by his wishes. She had learned that following his plans brought her nothing more than frustration and loneliness, he robbed her and her friends of a stable childhood so they could become his pawns. “He wasn’t a good person.”

“I get that,” he whispered, his head down, looking at his hands. He opened and closed his left hand repetitively. The anger he had felt once she had told him what she had done came back, but directed towards someone else.

“Listen, Bucky,” she turned her whole body towards him. Her hands itched to grab his, but she knew neither of them were prepared to cross that line, “I’m truly sorry that I… couldn’t control myself. I figured that if I could decipher your thoughts the headaches would stop, but I didn’t realize how much you kept hidden,” she confessed, her fingers fiddling with themselves in a nervous habit. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, I want to give you a chance to tell me these things yourself, that’s why I told you.”

He looked at her for a moment before responding. “You told someone who you’d only known for a couple of days your biggest secret,” he recited, almost as if he had been rehearsing the line in his mind over and over, “because you felt bad.”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds foolish,” she grumbled. “I know what’s like not to be given a choice, and I wanted you to have the choice to, you know, walk away from me,” she finished, her voice just above a whisper. She struggled to keep her tears at bay, a couple of them spilling and running down her cheeks.

“Why would I walk away from you?” he asked her, sincerity in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t be the first person,” her eyes were cast forward, looking way beyond the park. She didn’t bother cleaning the tears that were rolling down her face. “And you wouldn’t be the last, certainly.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his voice low and beautiful, “I wouldn’t.”

She could barely hear his thoughts over her own. She couldn’t think straight anymore, too many emotions flooded her own senses, it was all too much. Her hands rubbed her eyes, trying to rid them of the tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head. “But, seriously, don’t tell your biggest secret to someone you barely know.”

She laughed at his suggestion, her smile watery. “I won’t, don’t worry,” her head tilted to the side, her eyes carefully studying his face. It was the first time she truly took him in. His face was so wonderfully beautiful. His nose and his lips were perfect. But it was his eyes that would always fascinate her. So wonderfully blue and so beautifully deep. It was impossible to not fall in love with him with those eyes.

He got up and brushed his gloves on the sides of his pants. He offered her his right hand, “How’d you say we get that coffee now and you tell me the craziest things you’ve ever seen people think?”

She smiled sincerely at him, her eyes looking up at him in admiration. She took his hand and she let him guide her.

“Doll, you need to start staying at the front desk,” he leaned casually on the side of the bookcase, looking calmly at her as she turned around to face him. “What if someone important comes in and there’s no one there?

She felt amused at Bucky’s teasing and smiled. “Tom’s supposed to be there, he must have just left to do something,” she stated, smugly. “Besides, you’re the only important person that comes here. At least, to me you are,” she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

He bit his lip and looked at her in a way that made her melt. “Aren’t you a charmer.”

She could hear clearly in his thoughts he was amused by her behavior, the word ‘charm’ levitating around her brain. “I learned from the best,” she shrugged brushing past him and walking towards the front desk.

She heard his heavy footsteps behind her. “Are we still up for tonight?” his voice had an edge that wasn’t there before. She sat down on her chair behind the counter as her eyes carefully analyzed his face. His jaw was tense, his eyebrows were furrowed and his fingers were tight around the book he meant to return.

“I’ve been up for it every day for the past month, Bucky,” she narrowed her eyes at him. His jaw clenched even more in a way she didn’t know possible. She tried to ignore his thoughts and the words that bounced around her brain. “What are you trying to say?” she asked softly, taking the book from him gently.

He sighed, resting his elbows on the counter he leaned in. “Sam needs my help,” he said, his voice low and tired. She could tell he wasn’t telling her the full truth, but she didn’t push it.

“Oh,” she muttered, typing away to return the book he brought. “So you’re cancelling?”

“Doll, I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important,” he stated. She could tell he was sad, his eyes told her so, and so did the words in his head. It pained her to see him give up their time together. It was cherished by both, and she suspected it was maybe one of the only moments of the day Bucky didn’t have to hold everything in. Mostly because she could see everything he was hiding.

“Don’t,” she stopped him before he could further apologize. “I understand, an Avenger’s calling you,” she whispered, a devilish smile on her lips, “how could you not answer it?”

“I can think of a lot of ways,” he gritted. He had told her his qualms with Sam Wilson, but it only seemed like friendly teasing and nothing else. Nothing too serious, that's what she judged it to be.

“Bucky,” she warned him, “there are more important people than me, and Sam is definitely one of those. Don’t feel guilty, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Y/N,” he never used her first name. He would call her ‘doll’, or ‘love’ or even sometimes ‘sweetheart’, but never by her first name. Hearing it leave his lips sobered her up quickly, “there’s no one more important to me than you.”

Her mouth hung open in complete shock at his declaration. Her brain short-circuited for a moment, before recomposing herself. She opened her mouth to respond him but he quickly beat her to it.

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he shook his head, his eyes cast downwards.

Her eyes hovered him quietly for a second before slipping the book to him. “I extended the due date. Two weeks and nothing more,” she said, sternly. “You know the drill, Bucky.”

“Don’t be late with it, I know,” he recited. His eyes lingered on hers for longer than it normally would. It felt as if he was memorizing her, studying the little details of her face, the little quirks of her personality. She felt heat rising to her cheeks, like every time she was under his intense gaze. He looked downwards for a moment, his mouth slightly opened. “I won’t be gone too long, just a couple of days.”

She got up from her chair and walked to his side. She bit her lip as he watched her go around the front desk. He leaned on his arm, casually standing there as she looked down at her feet in front of him. “You have my number, I’m just a phone call away,” she muttered shyly. She couldn’t handle this flirty interactions with Bucky. Mostly because she would have to juggle her own thoughts with his. But there was something about his demeanor at that moment that put her at ease, she didn’t feel the need to juggle both of their thoughts, only to embrace them. She let herself feel the butterflies and be fully flustered under his charm. It felt nice. “I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, me too,” he looked at her eyes, deeply and soulfully. She didn’t know how she hadn’t melted at the spot. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “I know,” her lips brushed his cheek. She quickly kissed it and looked back at him. “You should probably go. Don’t wanna keep Sam waitin’.”

He smiled at her one last time before leaving her. His smile, there was something different about that. It felt sincere and genuine, unlike all his other smiles that were usually caused by awkwardness and embarrassment. She had seen something completely different in that smile, something she couldn’t exactly place yet.

She arrived quietly at her apartment, carrying a bag full of groceries and flowers for her tiny garden out in the fire-escape. Her upstairs neighbor had complained about it for months, until he joined and now she shared it with him. She had plans to make the whole building to contribute to the little garden, she was almost convincing her downstairs neighbor and she was a pivotal person.

The apartment was too quiet, unlike normally. There were always whispers of her neighbor’s thoughts echoing through the walls, the busy sounds of the streets, the shouts outside from people going by their day.

“I know you’re here,” she shouted to her apartment, “you weren’t subtle about it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t talk to me, otherwise,” Professor rolled in. He hadn’t changed a single bit since the last time she had seen him. His clothes were the same, his bald head glistened the same way it did, and his chair was just as stoic as his face. She hated him and seeing him in her apartment only reminded her of that.

“That’s cause I don’t want to talk to you, Professor, I thought I had made myself clear,” she growled, resting the bag and the flowers on the kitchen counter. “Why are you here?”

“It has come to my knowledge you’ve been having your episodes,” he said, robotically.

“I’m not having any episodes, I'm fine” she muttered, her back turned to Professor. She cursed Peter mentally for being a fucking snitch. Next time she saw him she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

“You’re not,” he corrected her. As usual, she only heard him in a tone of superiority and condencense, he always knew best. “We know what happens when you let yourself go with other people’s thoughts, child.”

“Don’t call me that,” she gripped the counter, her teeth gritted and her eyes shut. Her hands felt clammy, almost slipping from the counter. She had escaped the Institute, she had sworn she would never go back, for fucking Peter to bring Professor to her again. She knew Peter did it because he was worried. It still didn’t make it sting less. “I said I’m fine, I have everything under control.”

“How long have you been taking the suppressing pills?” he asked her, his voice judgemental and cold.

She turned around to face him for the first time. He was impossible to read, he always made sure of that. As much as she begged him to teach her how to do it, to help her block out thoughts and stop people from getting into her head, he never really did it. She had to discover for herself, and, in that, she never was as effective as him. “It’s none of your business,” she scoffed. “It’s not like I’m of any use to you anymore, Professor. I’m sure you have a brand new shiny pawn you can play with that’s even better than I was. Besides,” she added, crossing her arms on her chest, “you gave me those pills.”

“They’re for emergencies only, Y/N, not continuous use,” he shook his head at her, his piercing through hers, She looked down avoiding his gaze, her jaw tight. Her head started to feel heavy, and she didn’t know if it was his prying or something worse. “Do you remember the last time you used those same pills continuously?”

Her teeth gritted and she closed her eyes to stop him from seeing the tears accumulating in them. She looked at him, her eyes completely angry and full of hurt, “I'm a lot stronger that I was back then,” she gritted.

“Bad things happen when you repress your power,” Professor warned, leaning on his knees. “You learned that the hard way.”

“I haven't taken them in days.” she stated, trying to keep her head focused and her voice free of emotion. Professor considered her for a moment. She could feel him prying in her head, searching for traces of a lie well told. She knew he wouldn’t find any, she told the truth, even if it was half of it.

“I know you’re not telling everything,” he told her, his hands fiddling with the orange vial temptevely. “What are you hiding?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. When she was younger, she wouldn’t even consider behaving badly around him. Now, she knew better. “I don’t owe you any explanations, Professor. I don’t even understand why are you here,” she pointed accusingly at him. “You've done a pretty good job showing you don’t care all my life, I find it hard to believe you care now.”

His eyes found hers, as always completely unreadable. But she saw the little details, the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his fingers opened and closed the cap of the bottle nervously. It was hard to tell if the tick was fabricated or not, she could never tell with him. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll be in touch,” he wheeled himself towards the door.

“Please don’t,” she said clearly as he exited her apartment.

As the door closed she let a shuddery breath, laying on her couch in exhaustion. She let a couple of tears fall from her eyes, quickly drying them after. She had cried because of Professor too many times in her life, she would not cry for him one more time.

Her phone vibrated on her back pocket. She sniffed and fished out, checking what was the cause of the notification. ‘Just arrived. Call me’ from Bucky. Her heart picked up, smiling at her phone happily.

It rang a couple of times before he picked up. “You’re late,” she said, before he had the chance to say anything to her, “you said a couple of days.”

“I’m sorry, doll,” he breathed out, “it took longer than anticipated.”

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, a smile on her face. “The book, though, you’re gonna have to pay a fee for being late.”

He laughed at the other end of the line. “First time I ever return it late, can’t you make an exception for me?”

“I didn’t do anything, it was Tom,” she stated quickly. Her lips adorned a permanent smile, so much it barely seemed Professor had just left her apartment. They stayed quiet before anyone said anything.

“I missed you,” he whispered, her heart racing in her chest as he recited the words.

“I missed you too,” she replied back, her voice soft and full of emotion. She tried to contain her tears, an accumulation of feelings from just before and that moment but she couldn’t. “I was so lonely, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too, love,” he sighed on the other end of the line. She could imagine him looking down at his feet, a silly smile on his lips. His eyes were twinkling in her mind the way that melted her, he looked absolutely beautiful as usual. “Do you want to go out? I owe you 2 weeks worth of coffee.”

She looked at the ceiling, trying to contain her heart and failing miserably. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that,” she breathed out.

“I’ll pick you up in 20.”

She hung up the phone and got up from her couch, a silly smile on her face. Her smile soon faded after she realised what she had done. She was only off the pills for 2 days, it wasn’t enough time for her powers to normalize. Without Bucky present, the abstinence wasn’t as noticeable. Sure, she could hear everything more clearly, the music her neighbor had stucky in his head, or the busy thoughts of a random person passing on the sidewalk. But Bucky always had a thousand things in his head, and that surely would be a problem.

She was telling the truth to the Professor. She wasn’t taking them continuously, only a couple of times a week, when Bucky’s thoughts were always the loudest. But she hadn’t told him that she had stopped so late, later than she should have. She was toeing the line again, just like she had done when she was a kid and the prospect of not listening to everyone all the time seemed too good to be true.

A sigh escaped her lips, her heart racing inside her chest, not for the right reasons. She hoped she could control it, keep her latent power at bay just like she did everyday. It was easy to fool herself like that. She forgot how addicting Bucky could be, how wrapped up in him she would get. It was almost an experiment: how would she deal with Bucky’s mind when her power was at the most raw. She wondered if she should be curious or scared.

Her hands sweated as she unpacked her groceries. A cold rush ran through her spine, and she remembered the symptoms she experienced the last time she was off the pills. Dread settled in her, anticipating what was about to come. She cursed Professor, her stupid mutated gene and those fucking pills. She often wondered what would have happened if she never manifested any powers, how her life would have played out.

Then, her senses were flooded by Bucky. She whipped around to the door, seeing the shadow of his feet lingering outside. Her head felt heavy and there was a pain blooming, something much worse than the ones she’d endured when she first met him. It was a side effect, she should have expected that. She leaned on her table for a moment, trying to get used to the pain. The knock echoed through her apartment. She barely registered it, his thoughts flooding her. It was all so incoherent, flashes of yellowed memories and newer ones ran through her head. She heard her name screamed in his head over and over again, his voice whispering pet names he had given her with images of their time together.

She opened the door and there he was, standing in front of her. He wasn’t wearing his traditional gloves, and he had dodged the leather jacket of a simple longed sleeved t-shirt pulled at his elbows. It was the first time she saw his arm being displayed so freely, so unashamedly. He wore a boyish smile on his face, holding a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers meant for her. “I brought you flowers,” he handed the bouquet to her, his eyes twinkling with a charm she hadn’t seen in him before. “You said you wanted to expand your garden,” he justified with a shrug, his eyes on the bouquet. The smile never left his lips.

She almost forgot about her symptoms, letting his charm encapsulate her and warm her heart. She accepted the flowers, their smell overwhelming her. She stepped aside for him to come in, he ducked his head and got in the apartment quietly. It wasn’t the first time he had been over, but it was still odd to see him in her place. It looked smaller with him in it, less lonely.

“Thank you,” she whispered, closing the door. Her hands glued to the plastic wrapping of the flowers. She wiped her other hand on her pants, gulping nervously. If before she thought his thoughts were loud, in that moment it seemed like they were being blasted in amplifiers at maximum volume. “How’ve you been?” she stuttered, her mouth dry.

“I’m good, good,” he laughed looking down, his hands on his pockets. She could tell he wasn’t lying, for the first time she asked him that question he actually answered it honestly. “How are you, doll?”

She grabbed a pot and some dirt to stick the bouquet in it from the cabinet under the kitchen island. “I’m okay,” she replied quietly. Resting the supplies next to the sunflower she had just bought, a wave of nausea washed over her. She felt the color drain out of her face, feeling lightheaded. Her hands gripped tightly around the backrest of a chair, trying to not collapse to the floor.

She heard him rush to her side, his hands supporting her. The cool touch of his metal arm was contrastant with how hot her skin felt at the moment. “You don’t look okay,” it was like he was yelling in her ear, but she knew his voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

“I’m off my pills,” she gripped his forearms, her eyes shut close. She tried organizing her head, separating her own thoughts with the thoughts of others.

“Let me get them for you,” he guided her to the couch, gently sitting her down.

“No,” she reached for him, her voice dying in her throat. Her hold on his wrist was weak, her eyes closed. The light only worsened her headache, she couldn’t bear to open her eyes. “There’s none left.”

“What d’you mean there’s nothing left?” he asked her, his voice strained. She knew he tried to contain his worry, but it slipped out in his tone. If she wasn’t so sick, she would have appreciated his care. “It seems like something important to have.”

“Professor took ‘em,” her words slurred, “I can’t take more, Bucky.”

“Why?” he hesitated, “what happened?”

“My powers,” her jaw clenched at the sharp pain going through her head, “I just wanted to spend time with you, Bucky, but the pain…” the tears spilled from her eyes, her eyes still closed. The grip on Bucky was tight, she was holding onto him like he was her lifeline, the only thing grounding her to the real world and not her head.

He sat beside her, his hands hovering over her, unsure of what to do. She heard a sliver of guilt going through him, and sadness overwhelmed her because of that. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.

“No,” she shook her head, wrapping him up in her arms, “it’s my fault. You’re amazing, Bucky, and I couldn’t stay away,” her tears wet his shirt, her head resting on his shoulder snuggly. She couldn’t help but notice the safe feeling that overwhelmed her in that moment. It was almost like it was where she belonged, safe in his arms. “Your mind… it’s just so beautiful, you’re so beautiful, Bucky. And I was greedy, I wanted you to myself, even if it meant a little pain.”

“A little?” he asked, his voice laced with a sassiness she hadn’t seen before.

She laughed quietly, looking at his face. His blue eyes were sincere, full of emotion and thoughts she could never bring herself to decipher. “A lot,” she sighed, her eyes fixated on his. “I fell back into old habits.”

“I get it,” he assented, his eyes cast on hers, looking for something she didn’t quite know what it was. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Stay,” she whispered, her heart beating fast inside her. “Please, stay.”

And Bucky did. For the first time, someone who had met her, all of her, stayed with her. That only made her love him more. He hugged her tightly, his head resting on the crook of her neck. “I’ll stay,” he reassured her, his thumb caressing her shoulder gently, “I got you”

She mumbled ‘I’m sorry’ like a prayer on his shoulder. It was too much input, her own emotions and his blended and her tears were their escape. “I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you,” she sniffed, breaking the hug. “It’s not fair.”

“Hey,” he gently pushed her hands out of her face. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red, but she could tell he didn’t care, she heard the word ‘beautiful’ bounce around in his head. “I can take it.”

She shook her head, words unable to escape her quivering lips. “Hey, stop,” he said firmly but lovingly, “listen to me,” he grabbed her face delicately, his fingers brushing her cheeks delicately. “I can take it, doll. Trust me. I have my demons too,” he whispered, “and they don’t scare you. You don’t scare me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t look away from his eyes. The sincerity in them disarmed her completely, the little restraint she had completely gone. Her breath hitched at the sight of the glimmer in his eyes and the love in his mind. “Thank you,” she mouthed, her voice gone.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled at her, the boyish grin he had sported when he arrived back. “How about I make you some tea?” he got up, walking a few steps to the kitchen. He moved around like her tiny little flat was where he belonged. “I make a mean chamomile tea.”

She laughed quietly, her brain slowly calming down, her fever settling. “I’d like that.”

#Bucky Barnes #TFATWS #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #one shot #marvel fanfiction #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes x librarian!reader #my masterlist

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