#he can’t handle hot metal or water for the same reason

[http-paprika]

Guilt; A Ghost Fanfic

Part Two; Shame

Part One; Guilt

GN!Reader x Ghost. Y/N’s is called Rat. Warnings: None, except for sad unrequited feelings. WC: 657

Summery: They knew better, they were logical enough to know their feelings were unreasonable. But with every look at Ghost, they lost all reason.

The journey was rough on Y/N’s injured body; they'd spent most of the hike propped up by Ghostz. Close enough to each other that Y/N could smell his sweat and the faint reminder of military grade deodorant that was he’d applied in the early hours of the morning before the 141 set out. They were glad once the team reached a patch of woods and Price announced a short break.

Carefully Ghost lowered them down onto a fallen log, hand wrapped around their waist until he was sure Y/N wasn’t going to tumble forward with their current lack of balance. He let out a quiet sigh, settling down next to Y/N, shaking out his shoulders with their weight no longer burdening him down.

“Ghost, do ya want me to take over with Rat?” Soap suggests, sitting a few feet from them on the cold snowy ground. “You or Gaz can take their gear and I’ll help them.”

“I can handle it, Soap.” The Lieutenant replies, pulling out his metal water bottle band pushing his balaclava up just enough to show his mouth, cracked lips with a scar trailing down to his jawline. Y/N fumbled around for their own container of water, trying not to stare as Ghost’s adam’s apple bobbed while he swallowed the liquid. It made Y/N feel queasy whenever they caught sight of it, causing shame to fill them for some unknown reason.

“I know you can, just offering you a break, ya know?” If Y/N was in Ghost’s position, dragging a person through the snow, they wouldn’t have hesitated to pass the person onto Soap. But they knew not to question Ghost, he liked to do things a certain way and for the most part, no one said anything against it.

“How’s the leg, Rat?” Captain Price asks the Sargent, providing them a quick distraction from the man sitting beside them.

“Like dead weight.” They grumble, moving the leg with their hands. It was hard to tell how much damage had happened to it with where they were. Gaz had done his best assessment and assured Y/N that it had just hit flesh and muscle, missing the bone. But that still left Y/N dragging the leg around with a limp, unable to put any weight on it without toppling over.

“Happens to the best of us.” The captain assures them. Y/N settles back on the log, trying to keep their eyes from returning to stare at Ghost, instead they stare holes into their boots until he speaks to them.

“Rat, ve’you got a lighter?” He asks, a pack of cigarettes in his gloved hands. “Mines dead.”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Y/N moves as quickly as they can to grab their backpack and search the contents. Feeling ashamed to speak or even look at him, aware that teammates shouldn’t feel the way Y/N suddenly does towards Ghost. “Here.”

They flick on the lighter, the small flame glinting in Ghost’s eyes as he moves to cigarette to the heat. It lights and he places it in his mouth, loosely hanging from his lips that Y/N kept finding themself staring at.

“What?” He finally asks, aware of Y/N’s glances that were growing noticeable to him.

“Nothing.” They shake their head, a red blush beginning to protrude that Y/N hoped could be shrugged off as a result of the cold. They prayed Ghost hadn’t noticed them staring at his pale lashes and eyes or how their mouth seemed to dry up whenever they looked at Ghost’s.

“Nothing.” Ghost nods, while Y/N physically turns their body away from him. Shame flooded their organs, bloating their stomach and leaving their face burning hot, they knew better than to feel something towards Ghost. He was their teammate, they worked together, it was inappropriate. And worst of all, Y/N knew Ghost would never feel the same.

A/N: Justice for Rat and their crush on Ghost. I can’t blame em, neither can you.

[siriuslysmoking]

I'm Only Falling Apart | Chapter 9

(The Year Everything Flipped Upside Down Masterlist)

—Every now and then I get a little bit helpless And I'm lying like a child in your arms (Turn around) Every now and then I get a little bit angry And I know I've got to get out and cry (Turn around) Every now and then I get a little bit terrified But then I see the look in your eyes— – Bonnie Tyler

Fuck

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

“Y/n…” this is not a voice she recognizes, it’s deep, and raspy. She looks up to find everyone gone, there’s no sign of Steve, Max, nor Dustin. The air is eerily quiet, the only sound is Y/n’s breathing, in and out, she reminds herself.

She’s fine, everything’s fine, it has to be. She takes a quiet step away from the desk, around it, and she slowly makes her way to the door, when she cracks it open even more she hears it. Tick tock. The sound of a clock is moving towards her from around the corner. The lights are out, the only source of light comes from the flashlight in her shaking hand. 

She can’t stop her hand from shaking, it’s starting to piss her off since the light won't stay still. In and out. 

“Y/n” it’s the same voice from before, dark and husky, Y/n draws in a deep breath as a shiver runs down her spine.

She feels steady on the hard ground, the cool metal of the flashlight, the warmth coming from her sweater. It feels so real.

But it’s not, she knows this. But yet, does she? She’s too aware of each breath flowing in and out of her, her movements feel too clear. This cannot be real. It just can’t. “Y/n…”

She takes a sharp breath, “I won’t stop til I have you.” it’s a different voice, one she knows too well, she’s heard late at night, waking up to it in the morning. The voice she so deeply misses, the soft, caring voice that she hasn’t heard in a very long time.

She feels a tear run down her cheek, it’s too hot, too salty. Tick tock.

She rounds the corner, finally laying her eyes on the reasoning behind the sound, a grandfather clock looks as though it’s been shoved into the wall, cracks surround it, the glass is cracked. Tick tock.

This is too real…

“Y/n!” She hears him before she sees him, her vision seems to fade from black, Steve looks at her with worried eyes, a frown on his face. “Are you alright?”

“I-I don’t know.” she feels a silent sob break from her mouth, she entraps her into one of his warm, comforting hugs, that makes the water works come faster. Her legs buckle from beneath her, Steve’s the only reason she didn’t collapse onto the ground. It feels as if she’s looking through fish eyed glasses, she can’t handle it, she can’t, it’s too much.

She barreid her head in the crook of Steve’s neck breathing in the familiar smell of him, the comforting smell. Pine and oak and a hint of mint body wash, It’s Steve and it’s real.

It has to be.

“He’s in my head.” her throat feels clogged, her eyes burn from unshed tears. “He’s on my head.”

“I know, I know.” Steve shushes her, running his hands down her back in a comforting manner. “We’re gonna figure it out, I promise.”

She hears four sets of footsteps, meaning that Max and Dustin had gone to let Robin and Nancy into the school. She can’t stop her breaths from coming in and out erratically. “What the fuck happened?”

That’s when Y/n took a deep breath and removed her head from the crook of Steve’s   neck, she wipes her eyes, replying to Dustin. “I’m the next victim.”

“It’s like exactly what Eddie described happened to Chrissy.” Dustin adds.

“I had suspicions.” Y/n started quietly. “Chrissy said she was getting headaches, nosebleeds, she was seeing things. And in Miss Kelly’s notes it says that they had nightmares, and Chrissy looked like she hadn’t been sleeping very well, I dream of…”

Everyone is quiet as Y/n trails off, “I get nightmares too, they’ve been getting worse and worse to the point where I’m reliving it. Fred and Chrissy both had past trauma, I feel as though that’s well known for me.” She huffs an unamused laugh, “It was like I was asleep, the dream being so vivid I could tell you word for word what everything felt like, and then I just woke up, in some way, I woke up.”

“Chrissy’s headaches started a week ago,” Y/n starts reading the logs, “Fred six days ago.”

She pauses, looking at the group, staring Steve in the eye with a defeated look, “I’ve been having them for five days.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, “Fred and Chrissy died within twenty fours of their first vision. I don’t know if that was just a fuck preshow, but I feel it will only get worse, the real one.”

No one speaks for a good long while. No one knows what to say, Y/n is going to die if they can’t find a way to prevent it. “So…” Y/n tries to lighten the mood, “What’d you two get?”

It takes a moment before Nancy or Robin to speak up, their minds still processing the possibility that their friend might die, sure they’ve thought that before but this time it was confirmed that there friend has a pretty good chance of dying, and there's not much they can do about it. When Nancy opens her mouth she gets cut off by a loud clang coming from the hallway. Everyone's heads turn. 

“Stay here.” Steve says softly as he slowly makes his way to the door leading to the hallway, he grabs a floor lamp from beside a bookshelf before he walks out. Despite what he said, the rest of the group follows a couple feet behind him. There’s distant clattering that echoes loudly throughout the empty school.

Next there’s erratic footsteps coming from a separate hallway leading to the one they're currently standing in. Steve raises the lamp, the footsteps get closer, they round the corner and the whole group collectively screams as Steve starts to strike, but he stops himself from hitting the cause of the footsteps because the cause was Lucas.

“It’s me!” Lucas is shouting as he steps away from Steve before he gets hit.

“Lucas?!” Nancy asks.

“It’s me.” Lucas sighs after everyone shines their flashlights on him.

“Jesus, what is wrong with you Sinclair!” Steve shouts with his mom voice, Lucas apologizes breathlessly. “I could have taken you out with this lamp!” 

“Sorry guys.” Lucas is still trying to catch his breath as Steve tosses the lamp to the side. “I was biking for eight miles.” He holds a finger up, bending over with his hands on his hips trying to catch his breath, “give me one second.” when he does, he says, “Shit… We’ve got a code red.”

“What?” Steve asks, god he really is their mother.

“Dustin.” Lucas walks so that he’s in front of Dustin instead of Steve. “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone like totally off the rails, they’re trying to capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is. You’re in terrible danger.”

“Alright, that definitely sucks, but we’ve got bigger problems with Jason now.” Dustin sighs, he looks over to Y/n, the whole group does.

-

-

Happy Sunday!

We're getting to it! I am loving this series so far! I love writing it and I love looking at your comments <3

I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am.

As always reblogs and likes are super appreciated and comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

[lemonlillybee]

Whumptober Day 5

Title: Every Whumpee’s Needs

Prompts: Hyperthermia @whumptober

Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU)

Word Count: 896

Read on AO3

When Peter wakes up, he’s so, so sweaty. 

It takes him a moment to get his bearings, and as he looks around, he realizes he’s wearing his full Spider-Man suit, mask included, and the reason he’s so sweaty is because the room he’s in is hot. His first panicked thought is that there’s a fire, but the room he’s in is tiny and he can’t see any flames. He pulls his mask off, gasping for air. When he goes to wipe the sweat from his face, he’s met with the sticky dampness of his sleeve. Gross.

There are two benches in the room, one of which he’d been lying on, and there’s wood paneling on every surface. He spots a door with a tiny window in the center, but when he tries to stand he nearly faceplants, just barely catching himself on the bench and lowering himself to the floor, landing on his knees with a soft thud.

Every inch of his body erupts in pain. Muscles he didn’t even realize were sore twinge with a constant, dull ache. When his vision stops swimming, he uses his damp sleeve to push his sweaty hair off his forehead, then stands up slowly, hating how weak he feels. 

The door seems like it’s ten feet away instead of two. When he makes it there, he pulls himself up, his hands barely sticking to the damp wood surface. Through the window, he can see what looks like a locker room, and suddenly everything clicks.

A sauna. He’s going to die in a sauna. Great.

The metal handle is slippery and hard to get a good grasp on, and when he pulls on it his fingers slip off, nearly sending him flying backwards. He tries again, planting both feet as firmly as his shaky legs allow, and he yanks on the handle with all of his strength. It feels like he has none. 

After a couple more attempts, Peter realizes he should try to save his strength, or what little he has left of it. He makes his way back to the bench and sinks down, burying his head in his hands when another wave of dizziness washes over him. He’s not sure how long he sits like that, but it’s almost like he’s tired, his body wanting to drift to sleep and being exhausted enough to do so, but at the same time so uncomfortably warm in his suit that it would be nearly impossible. 

His suit. God, he’s an idiot. He lifts his head, trembling fingers reaching up to peel the fabric from his body. It takes him twice as long as normal to take it off, and it brings only momentary relief as his skin is met with the thick, humid air. 

Once his suit is off, he tosses it on the floor and brings a hand up to wipe the sweat from his collarbone. Or at least, that’s what he tries to do, but he ends up missing somehow and accidentally whacks himself in the jaw. It stings, but the way it rattles his whole head is worse than the pain. The woozy feeling afterward doesn’t go away this time, and he’s left feeling dazed, temples throbbing as the room tilts sideways and doesn’t stop. He grabs on to the edge of the bench and squeezes his eyes shut. A whimper slips past his lips and he swallows thickly, wishing for water and hoping he can pull it together enough to get himself out of this situation.   

A pounding sound pulls his attention to the opposite wall. The door. It’s as if someone is knocking, the sound both deafeningly loud in his ears and yet faraway, like when he can hear people knocking on other apartment doors in his building. It’s hard for him to focus on the door. Everything is blurry, no matter how many times he blinks his eyes, sweat and delirium and maybe tears clouding his vision. Through the bleariness he can make out what looks like a face, dark eyes and facial hair that is comfortingly familiar.  

Shit. Not only is he going to die in a sauna, but he’s going to hallucinate Tony Stark watching him die through a tiny little window. What a way to go. 

Peter closes his eyes and lifts both arms into his lap, moving them together so he can press his fingers to his wrist. His pulse, which had been terrifyingly rapid just minutes ago, has now slowed to a weak, sluggish throb. If he could open his eyes, he imagines he’d see hallucination-Tony trying to break him out of there. He’d have that worried look he always wore around Peter, if hallucinations could look worried, and he’d probably bust the door down with his Iron Man suit. 

Hallucination-Iron-Man. Peter cracks one eye open, because he doesn’t think that would be the worst thing to see before he kicks the bucket. Somehow, it’s even better, because it’s still just plain old hallucination-Tony standing there in front of him, and it turns out hallucinations can definitely look worried. 

There’s a surprisingly solid hand on his shoulder– Peter always did have a good imagination– and the touch feels like ice against his skin.

“I’ve got you,” hallucination-Tony whispers, and that’s all Peter needs to hear before he closes his eyes and lets the suffocating heat take him under. 

[inamindfarfaraway]

Listen. I like a good ‘Comics Tim gets turned into Joker Junior’ fic as much as the next angst-loving Batfam fan. But given that Batman: The Animated Series Tim is just Jason Todd under a different name, on all counts - backstory, place in the Batfamily timeline, personality, right down to his career as Robin ending with his capture, torture and in at least one sense murder by the Joker (literal death vs the death of his sanity and identity) that doesn’t stick - I maintain that if we’re transferring this plot to the comics continuity, it should be Jason. Fifteen-year-old Jason. Aka Robin II, adopted by Bruce out of poverty with a dead mother and criminal father who was killed by Two-Face, aka exactly who Tim is B:TAS. It just makes more sense! And it’s no less interesting!

A warehouse explodes in Ethiopia. Bruce searches through the debris, shouting for Jason, his only thoughts the need to hold his son and a growing banshee wail that he’s too late, too late, too late. He can’t even find a body. Instead he finds Sheila, with minutes of her life to spare. She uses her last breaths to tell him the Joker took Jason away somewhere. Alive. His son is alive. Bruce can - no, will find him, whatever the cost.

He and Barbara, and Dick the moment he returns to Earth, devote every available second (and many that really aren’t available) to looking. For Jason, Joker, his associates, his sightings, any hint or scrap of evidence they can find. But they can’t find much. How they long for Joker’s usual obvious calling cards and attention seeking. Now it’s like he’s vanished into thin air, taking their Robin with him. It speaks of a higher purpose; this isn’t simply luring Batman into a trap, Joker has designs for Jason himself. Bruce shudders to imagine them. That only makes him more determined to find his child. He eats and sleeps as little as possible, lashes out and communicates more with glares and growls than words. He can’t take joy in anything. He can’t give up, he can’t… he doesn’t know how he’ll go on if he’s lost Jay forever.

In the movie, Tim’s captivity lasts three weeks. In the comics, Bruce’s downward spiral after losing Jason lasts six months before Tim interrupts it. I think it’ll need to be a few months here to be long enough for Tim to get involved - you can go with the full six if you want, for maximum angst. Barbara was also already Oracle by the time Jason died, attending his painfully small funeral in a wheelchair, so Dick is out on the streets with Bruce. Tim Drake observes Bruce’s declining mental health and wants to help, as in the comics. He doesn’t become Robin here, but he does volunteer his detective services to aid in the search and grow close to the Bats.

They find Jason. The Joker dies. He takes a part of all of them with him.

Think of the fanfic potential! How does Jason’s recovery go? Does he want nothing to do with vigilantism anymore, not trusting himself to be a hero due to having such severe lifelong trauma, or eventually invent a new heroic identity like Flamebird or Phoenix? If he doesn’t resume fighting crime, what does he do instead? How does the Batfamily as a whole recover and evolve? Does Bruce ban child vigilantism or try to? To what extent do the others agree? Does Jason give Tim his blessing to be the next Robin? When Steph, Cass, Damian and Duke show up, how do their journeys unfold with Jason present as a sibling and role model and Bruce wanting perhaps even more to prevent or at least delay them from frontline crimefighting? How does how the expanding Batfamily operate? Wait, now there’s no Joker to poison Elaine and Doug Thomas’s minds, does Duke even get into crimefighting or associate with the Bats, and if so, how and why? You see how many questions I got just out of the aftermath? How are there no fanfics about this already?!

[winter-soldier-vibes]

I have a request for your future work. If you are comfortable writing this topic, I'd love to read it.

I have always had very bad cramps when I'm on my period. I also have PMS so I struggle with pain a week before my period starts. And It makes me think, if I could not let go of this cruel pain until menopause, I'd rather stop living. (Sorry it sounds heavy)

I want Bucky to comfort women who are struggling with serious period cramps ( Dysmenorrhea ) and PMS.

Thank you for reading my request! You can ignore this if you are not feeling right!

I love you so much❤️

Of course!!!

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

PMS for Please Make it Stop

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader suffers from severe cramps and PMS symptoms on and in between her periods. Bucky, her boyfriend, comforts her as much as he can.

Word count: 1666

Warnings: talk of everything that comes with periods, pain and cramps, PMS, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I am so sorry that it’s so painful for you! I’ve had a lot of experience with “that time of the month” feeling completely unbearable, and I hope that this fic is helpful! I don’t know exactly what you’re going through because each person has different symptoms with different severities and time spans. I truly hope that this helps you! I’m always here to talk as a fellow person with periods and the emotions that come with them!

Tags: @mardema @buckfics @stucky-on-spiderman @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @babyboibucky

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You rolled over in bed, curling in on yourself and using your pillow to suppress a groan. It was early morning, you could tell because the sun was up but Bucky hadn’t left for his run with Steve yet. It was that time of the month again, the one you hated so goddamn much. The one every woman hated so much. But it was never just the few days of blood they had taught you about in sex ed.

You hadn’t been prepared for the cramps, bloating, mood swings, headaches, cravings, and pain…

So. Much. Pain.

You could handle blood, that wasn’t an issue for you. You had seen your share of bloodshed on the battlefield. It was the horrible cramps that felt like something was stabbing you from the inside out constantly for a week preceding the bloodshed that was too much for you. It paralyzed you in a way. It hurt to do anything at all. As much as you hated to admit it, you could deal with any cut, burn, or broken bone. But these cramps had you curled in a ball with tears in your eyes.

You let out another groan and felt Bucky stir next to you. He turned over and rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, why are you awake?” he asked softly, sleep still lacing his voice. There were only 2 reasons that you would be awake. Either you had a nightmare, or...

You let out a small whimper as another wave of pain came over you.

...cramps.

“Hey, it’s okay, come here,” he said before carefully wrapping his arm around your stomach, rubbing small circles over your stomach. He brought his body flush against you so his chest to your back, without squeezing you too tightly. You sighed in relief, his warm body easing your pain slightly. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

He had learned a lot rather quickly when it came to helping you with your pain. He hadn’t known much at all at first, growing up in the 40’s where people never talked about it. When he had first walked in on you curled in the fetal position, crying and whimpering, he had been so worried. So when you referred to it as ‘just a period’ and that ‘it’s happened before', he was very confused.

He thought a period was something you ended a sentence with.

You had sent him to Nat and Wanda to explain what was happening. You had synced up with them naturally, but their cramps weren’t as severe as you. Everyone's experiences of periods, their symptoms, and PMS differently, but they felt bad for the severity of yours.

He was very confused as to why he had to ask other people about your pain. When he approached the two wide-eyed and confused, asking why you were in severe pain with no injuries, they had to try not to laugh.

They explained the basics to him, and what was off-limits. No assuming it was happening because of mood swings, no expecting you to keep functioning at peak condition, no mentioning how the emotional mood swings were happening

He was just in awe of it - how women were expected to just act naturally as if they weren’t bleeding at a constant rate while dealing with horrible pain and emotional mood swings. He thought that it was amazing that it was expected that they act naturally.

It took a little bit of trial and error and a lot of patience on both your parts, but he knew how he could help make these days as bearable as he could.

He would spend these days close to you, showing you a lot of affection. He would be gentle and patient with you, reminding you how much he loved you. He would get you anything you needed, be it food or pads or tampons. Once you had sent him to get pads and tampons and he had come back with one of every box with a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t know which ones you wanted so I got...all of them.”

You had laughed so hard that it hurt, but it was worth it. He made you promise not to tell Sam.

But eventually, he had learned what you needed. How he could help. The heat helped ease your cramps, so he’d hold you close, but not tightly. Rubbing your stomach helped too, in slow, lazy circles.

While he hated seeing you in pain, he loved taking care of you. Anything he could do to help you he would do.

Another cramp made you shift slightly, trying to find the impossible position that would help relieve the constant pain. You let out a small groan, trying to curl in tighter on yourself. Bucky pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay angel, it’s alright.”

“It hurts,” you said, voice cracking.

“I know it does, I know,” he said, using his left hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“I just want it to stop hurting so much,” you said, letting out another pained whimper.

“I can’t imagine,” he said, sincerely. He couldn’t imagine the same pain every month with no relief or solution. He knew just how strong you were, strong as anyone on the team if not stronger. Seeing you in this much pain must have meant it was unbearable.

“I can’t make it go away but I’m here to do whatever I can to help, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Did you choose to go through this?” he asked softly.

“N-no.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded slightly, your heart melting. You tried to take slow and even breaths. After a few moments passed, he asked “Can I help you to the shower? You always say how much the hot water helps.”

You paused for a moment before you nodded, and he pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up and moving to the other side of the bed to help you stand. Moving from your position sounded like the worst idea right now, but you took a deep breath before taking his hands. You sat up slowly, groaning as your hand wrapped around your stomach. You stood up shortly after, bending forward slightly as you made your way to the bathroom with Bucky. He had noticed a bloodstain on the bed, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to know that.

He turned on the water for you, checking the temperature every few moments. Once he deemed that it was hot enough but wasn’t going to burn your skin, he told you and gave you a quick hug before giving you some privacy. You had always enjoyed intimate showers together just...not when you had your period to worry about. When he closed the door, you started to slowly undress to get into the shower. You got into the shower, sighing in relief as it helped soothe your cramps.

Bucky, meanwhile, was working fast. First he texted Steve that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training today, knowing he would understand. He then moved to make the bed with clean sheets, so you wouldn't see the small bloodstain on the current ones. He didn’t want you to worry or feel bad about it. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that you had always loved. He cracked the bathroom door open and placed them on the counter, careful not to disturb you. He then quickly ran down to the kitchen, still empty for the moment, and grabbed a few of your favorite snacks along with a few water bottles to bring back upstairs.

When he came back to the room, he noticed the water had been turned off. He set the water and snacks on the bedside table as you opened the bathroom door, hair in a messy bun and looking much more refreshed. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you said quietly before wincing slightly. Bucky gave you a small smile before taking your hand and bringing you over to the bed, him sitting down and leaning against the headboard. He helped you sit down between his legs so you were able to lean your back against his chest. You laid your head back against him and he wrapped his arms around you so his human arm was on your lower stomach, his metal arm resting over it. You let out a small sigh, relaxing back against him. He pressed a small kiss to your temple, rubbing smooth lazy circles on your stomach.

“Try to get some rest, doll.” he whispered. “We can watch your favorite movie when you wake up.”

You turned slightly to look up at him. “But you hate that movie.”

“But you don’t,” he said simply.

You felt tears brim your eyes even though it felt so stupid. “I love you, Bucky.’

“I love you too angel,” he whispered, pressing a last kiss to the side of your head. “Try to get some rest.”

[undead-merman]

⸸Jersey Devil Asmodeus and Leviathan⸸ GN- Reader SFW

Asmodeus 

Appearance 

At seven feet tall Asmodeus has long equine-like legs with massive hooves as large as a man's head and just as capable of crushing one as well. His fur is rather long on his legs, especially around his hooves, but it’s well groomed. 

He has a long tail which has three barbs at the point which are razor sharp and when whipped can leave massive gashes in nearby trees and rocks. The barbs on his tail are polished a pearly white.

His back which is slightly slouched has a set of large leathery wings with barbs on each finger of the wing. His wings are as dark as a moonless night but along the fingers of his wings they have a pinkish tint.

His mouth is littered with large pointed teeth, porcelain white and made for tearing and ripping. He also possesses a black prehensile tongue with a tip of pink at the very end. His eyes are goat-like with horizontal pupils that glow a wine red. 

On his head are goat ears that twist and turn to any sound but he also has a pair of horns that stretch back past his head a few inches with a few ridges along the length of them.              

Monster habits

Living in and around a swamp like biome is a bit difficult for him since he has a distaste for uncleanness but he’s happy that because of his presence humans are scared to come near his domain. He does get lonely though so venturing out isn’t out of the question and he always has a good laugh seeing humans clamoring about after seeing him.

He enjoys singing to the song birds every once in a while. They sing back to him and he’ll mimic but when they sense his presence as they approach, they quickly turn to flee wildly, leaving him alone. He always feels a bit dejected afterwards, his tail falling sadly to the ground.  

Sometimes though when he’s bored or in a bad mood he loves attacking humans and terrorizing them, driving them mad. He takes great pleasure in seeing how his mere presence can cause terror and kill the people around him. His laugh sounds like a mix of tearing metal and a hyena laugh. He takes livestock as payment for their annoyance. 

He’s very wary of nosey humans wandering in since he relishes in the many bounties that grow or can only be found there. Rare herbs and flowers as well as the beauty of unspoiled nature. He has a love hate relationship with humans hating them for being tiny pests to him bothering his home but thriving off their terror and fear of him. He craves to hear them talk about him in fear over and over.     

Spending time with you

At first, he just sees you as another annoying human deciding to go where you don’t belong. He was excited to terrorize another human and perhaps ready to rip them apart but you gasped and had a look of terrifying wonder and you stupidly took out your camera to take a picture of him as he leapt to you and knocked you over pinning you to the ground. Instead of anger on his face and showing his teeth his face was hot and flushed. He asked you why you came out so far and by yourself. Unlike the others who had tried hunting him down you were simply curious and wanted to see him. 

It was right then and there it felt like he was struck with cupid’s arrow. Right at that moment he had to make you his. He grabs you by your shirt or shoulders as you're laying on the ground and flies back to his home. He takes you to a burrow underneath a collection of trees which is surprisingly spacious. He’s all over you calling you all sorts of pet names and just adoring you.

He takes you to some of the more romantic looking locations. His favorite is sitting on the ruins of an old building long since forgotten overlooking the forest in fall. The leaves dance around you both and it feels like only you two exist. 

He’s willing to do whatever it is you enjoy doing, bird watching, treasure hunting, simply just exploring the splendor that nature has to offer. He just begs of you to not drag him into the mud or make him play with bugs. He treats you like royalty ready to do everything for you since you’re so small and fragile compared to him. Plus he can’t hide how much he adores seeing your sweet face smile when he helps you down from ruins or trees or when he feeds you.  

His favorite thing to do is to have you both groom each other. He'll brush and style your hair and wash your back making you look as stunning as him but he enjoys it if you do the same to him, both working on each other lovingly he can't help but shake his tail like a happy dog. 

If you want to fly he’s happy to let you. He’s face lights up with a huge grin and takes you in his arms as he flies over the tall tree tops and soars over marshes. If you're feeling brave enough he’ll let you swing from his arms and the whole time he’ll laugh with you as your feet swing trying to make splashes in the water.    

Dark tendencies

Ever since that encounter he and you were now partners forever bound to one another in blood, body, and soul. So he’s now banned you from leaving the forest. And he tells you as he lovingly takes your chin into his fingers that he will know. He knows everything that happens in the forest. He plays it off with a kiss and a smile but with that cold seriousness tells you he will hunt you down if you even try. 

Asmodeus might even invite you to terrorize nearby humans be they camping or living in random houses or even the whole town he doesn’t care as long as they are suffering. If you refuse or try to scold him he frowns and pouts asking why you care for those nasty little things. He’ll try to pull you out of the den gently to take you and join him but any kind of resistance or protest his frown turns into a scowl and he’ll fly out.

If you allow him to take you he’ll take you to  

If any humans start coming near you for any reason he can sense it, and no matter where he is or what he is doing he darts through the forest branches before ripping them apart in a fit of rage. He despises such nosy humans. All of them are awful, you're the only expectation. 

Misc stuff

Despite hating bugs he does like butterflies. He’ll care for them, leaving them flowers or small dishes of blood to drink. He names each one and can recognize each one. 

He doesn’t cook his food but taking care of you and making you food, he finds he quite likes cooked food. He enjoys a nicely cooked and lightly seasoned steak and his wings shiver every time he eats it.

Leviathan

Appearance

Standing at an impressive seven and a half feet, his long legs are cervine and have short fur and it’s dark like dusk turning to night with some hints of navy blue when light hits them in the right way. 

His tail is long, much longer than his body and has three terrifyingly sharp serrated barbs on the end each barb is serrated and can slice through nearly anything like it was paper.

His wings are large and he can articulate every finger inside his wings with impressive range. The webbing is torn all over and gives his wings a more rugged appearance though they have a tinge of blue to them, looking closely his veins are navy blue and he bleeds blue blood. 

His mouth is filled with the same serrated teeth just like his tail. His teeth are also prehensile; he can flex them to make his teeth longer and coming more out of his gums and his long tongue is a dark indigo. His eyes are a rust orange with horizontal eyes that leaves a light trail as he moves. 

His horns are exactly like that of a buck, they’re large yet velvety in texture. His ears are drooping goat ears reaching to about his chin and their the same black as the fur on his legs.       

Monster habits

He enjoys the serenity and quietness of the swamps, the dark waters, he prefers to be alone. Sometimes when he’s alone he’ll enjoy just lounging in the marsh submerged in cool water with no one around except him and his imagination.

He enjoys watching the fish and underwater animals swim about. He mutters to them since they’re the only creatures that don’t flee or startle themselves to death just by seeing him, plus they’re quiet and pretty to see swirling about. Even when he’s hungry he doesn’t eat the fish, he enjoys them too much.

He absolutely despises humans but likes their possessions: books, small little trinkets, he collects them after either scaring the humans off or just eating them. It depends on how they act. But the things that he collects from them he keeps, he enjoys learning about the strange things humans make or collect. When he gets a bit antsy he hunts them down to strike fear into them, terrifying them, and taking livestock to devour or even raiding their things. 

Spending time with you

It was seeing the way you treated the creatures of his domain so carefully. It made his heart race with how such a human could exist, so tender and loving. His face heated and he took off into the tree canopy not caring if you heard him he just couldn’t handle how precious you were. 

Every time you came into the forest he would quickly dart to you to watch everything you did, fishing, camping, taking a walk. He admired everything you did and oh how he wished he had that thing called a camera so he could immortalize this moment. 

He has to work himself up to interact with you but he panics in the moment jumping out and startling you. He’s terrified you’ll run from him so he just grabs you and flies off to his home with you. His home is a cave with a wide opening yet covered in vines and tree roots from the trees above and the floor is covered in a leaf litter of bright fallen leaves. He explains everything trying his best to not scare you. 

He takes you to see some of the beautiful waters teeming with fish and life. The water crystal clear as you see the sea grass brushing each fish. Leviathan’s proud to admit he’s the one to have protected it and kept it pristine. 

He pleads with you to let him share his "acquired" collection with you. Showing you the things he's found or explaining some stories he's heard. Every time his face lights up with wonder. 

Dark tendencies

The forest, the swamps, the trails, everything in the forest is his. Especially you. It is all his and no one else's and he grits his teeth when people interrupt his tranquility. Humans are just so annoying yet how come they get some of the most interesting things? He hates it, it's not fair! He makes sure to let his frustration out in the most gruesome ways. Though he doesn't want you to see. He doesn't want you to be scared of him. 

He'll do anything to keep you in the forest offering you an easy life with just him. Tell him all you like that you have a home to go back to or other responsibilities to take care of and he'll find a way to keep you there. After all, you love him too, don't you? 

When other humans start getting too close he’s quick to deal with them so you don’t get any ideas of leaving him. He can’t have any humans trying to steal you away so he just bites into them and thrashes them around before leaving the other animals to deal with them as he quickly returns back to you. Though he makes sure to wash himself before he comes back. 

Since he met you he’s been scaring off humans less so he can just enjoy your presence and spend time with you but if you two have some kind of argument he takes it out on anything in the area. He enjoys the suffering he may cause and revels in it. Enjoying every scream and sob. Then returning to you like a sad dog begging for forgiveness as if it was just a game to relieve stress with.   

Misc stuff

He has very few manga but he treats them like they’re treasures. He absolutely adores them but he never knows how they end since he’s only gotten one or two of a series but if you know the stories he acts like you're a divine being with all knowing knowledge and asks you for every little detail of it. 

Leviathan likes the cold and often swims during cooler weather, he simply just enjoys colder water, not freezing though.

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 4

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture

Word count: 2843

Part 3

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl @bitterlime13 @hallecarey1 @orangewheein @unexpected-character

AN: I apologize if some tags don’t work! Tumblr can’t find some of your usernames.

After listening to Steve’s plan, all four of you—technically five, since Bucky had to tag along—take the Quinjet to Siberia. The goal was to break out the five soldiers in Bucky’s former task force and bring them back to the Avengers Tower, where there was the technology to free their minds from HYDRA. 

Each of you were armed with a mask which would spray a powerful sedative into the face it was applied to, keeping the victim unconscious until it was removed. It was the simplest solution to taking down the super soldiers—when Bucky had been skeptical, Natasha had slapped a mask on him and he was out before he hit the floor. You were pretty sure you pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.

Now, you and Natasha sat in the cockpit while the others sat behind you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky says suddenly.

“Yeah?” You don’t even look over your shoulder.

“I’m…sorry for shooting you.”

“Twice,” you clarify. “I didn’t forget the count.”

“Sorry,” he repeats.

“Well, as long as you don’t mistake me for Steve again, I’ll be okay,” you say with a chuckle.

“So, just to reiterate our plan, Bucky will be with me and Clint, and Nat, you’ll be with Y/N,” Steve says.

“Even Captain America knows better than to break up the power couple.” You grin and reach over to put your hand on her thigh. Without taking her eyes off the controls, she takes your hand and interlocks your fingers.

“Yeah, so you two just do your thing—” Steve catches himself. “Wait, not that kind of thing.”

Clint explodes into wheezy laughter and Natasha shakes her head, her cheeks reddening. You’re not embarrassed like she is, but you’re still quick to defend yourselves.

“It was one time!” you protest. It had been a mission where everything that could’ve gone wrong did, and you and Natasha were convinced it would be your last. You two decided to end it wrapped around each other, but then the rest of the Avengers had barged in and said there had been a miscommunication and it wasn’t the end of the world after all. It was the one mission you would never live down.

“Just keep it professional, please,” Steve begs. “No matter what happens, we’re all going home alive, okay?”

Bucky looks completely lost.

Natasha lands the Quinjet in a flurry of snow and all of you exit the warmth of the plane.

“I should’ve brought one of your hoodies,” she mumbles, walking as close to you as she can without tripping you. 

“It would’ve clashed with your uniform,” you say, putting your arm around her waist. The super soldier serum in your veins causes you to run a higher-than-average body temperature. You feel as comfortable as if you stepped out of hot shower.

The facility is the only building for miles. It looks big enough to fit a space rocket and has a dull, concrete exterior. The only security is a chain-link fence with a frozen padlock that Steve breaks open with his shield. You file through the gate, and Bucky inputs a code into the door to grant everyone entry. The interior is just as disappointing as the outside. Nothing but a maze of concrete halls with metal doors. The ceiling has dripping water stains and an uncomfortably musty, moldy smell hangs in the air.

“I bet you’re really glad you escaped this rust bucket,” you say to Bucky. He only shakes his head.

“Stay alert,” Steve advises. “We’ll split here. Keep us updated on your position and if you find anyone.”

“Copy that.” You and Natasha turn right while the others turn left. She finds a flight of stairs and you follow behind her. You unholster your gun, holding it at the ready by your side. Natasha makes random turns and ignores every room you walk by. You listen intently for any sort of noise that would indicate a person lurking in the shadows, but so far, there’s nothing.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” you ask.

“Do you?” she snaps.

“Hey, I’m just following you.” You back off. Even though you know this is no time to be making jokes, you still can’t help yourself. High-stress situations make you nervous, especially when you’re with Natasha, because anything that could happen to you could happen to her.

When you pass by a room with its door open, you see a large glass tank big enough to fit a human and filled with murky green water. For a reason you can’t explain, you feel yourself drawn towards it and you step into the room, a chill raising goosebumps on your skin. You reach out to touch the tank’s wall and close your eyes.

You’re floating in a tank of your own, tubes running out of your nose, mouth, and down every limb. You jerk around wildly in the water tinged pink with your blood. Your lungs seize for air, but every breath you inhale is wet and salty.

“Shall we go another round?” you hear someone on the other side say.

“Might as well. No pain, no gain, right?” someone replies.

You want to bash your hands against the glass, but you’re too weak to have any control over your movements. You feel a sharp pain in your lower back, at the base of your spine, and your body arches as more drugs are pumped into you. You have no breath to scream with as your body twists in agony. It feels like a fire eating you from the inside out, burning through your bones, and you want nothing more than to wither away to ash...

“Hey.” You jump when you feel Natasha’s hand on your shoulder. “What are you doing in here?”

“Um, I…I thought I heard something,” you lie. Natasha frowns. Like Steve and Bucky, you had been a lab rat yourself, although not to SHIELD or HYDRA. You had been passed around other government agencies—at least, that’s what you think. Most of your memories of that time were fuzzy, which you were fine with. The ones you did remember weren’t worth reliving anyway.

“Y/N.” Natasha looks concerned.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” You don’t want to interrupt the mission with your personal problems.

She knows better than to push you, especially at a time like this. “Okay,” she says, leaving the room. You take a minute to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you see a black-haired woman, shorter than Natasha even, standing in the doorway in the same vest Bucky had worn the first time you met him.

“Hello,” you say, holstering your gun. You’re not going to shoot someone who looks like she’s barely of age. “You must be one of the super soldiers Bucky told me about. Who was your target supposed to be? Romanoff?” you tease.

“Thor.” The woman’s voice is dainty. Her body is literally the size of one of Thor’s arms. There’s no way she’s telling the truth.

You laugh. “That’s cute. But this is no place for a kid,” you say, walking towards her. But she sees that you’re too casual, your guard let down too low, and takes advantage of that. “Now all I need is for you to put this mask on and—”

The woman launches at you with a speed you don’t even process. She swipes your legs out from under you, causing you to crash on your back. Then she’s on top of you, hands around your throat. You reach into your pocket for your knife, all jokes lost with her attempt to take your life.

You flip the blade out and swing at her face, but she’s quick to dodge and rolls to the side. You jump to your feet, wondering where Natasha is. But you’re too embarrassed to call for her help, even if this soldier claims she was given the task of taking out the god of thunder.

The woman is impossibly fast and she lands blow after blow on you while you stagger back and slash out helplessly with your knife. When she kicks you in the stomach and your back collides into the water tank, you’ve had enough. 

You switch your knife to your left hand and aim for the woman’s neck. She grabs your wrist and twists it around so the knife turns towards you. Your eyes widen as she puts her entire body weight behind the knife. The blade sinks into your shoulder.

“What the—” You don’t even register the pain, more upset that you’ve been harmed with your own weapon. The woman grins, distracted, and you punch her in the throat as hard as you can. Her eyes bulge and she coughs, her hands flying to her neck. 

You take the mask out of your pocket and shove it onto her face, hearing the hiss as the sedative is instantly released. The woman immediately goes limp and you have no problem letting her drop to the floor.

“Y/N!” You look up and see Natasha staring at you, arms crossed over her chest.

“I got one.” You puff out your chest proudly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Natasha comes over and inspects the soldier’s limp body.

“I didn’t need to. I handled her all by myself,” you say, a little annoyed by her doubt in your abilities.

“Is that a knife in your shoulder?” she asks.

“I…Oh, yeah—” 

“Is that your knife?” Being called out hurts more than the actual pain of having the knife in your shoulder.

“Uh…maybe…” You can’t even look her in the eye.

“Y/N,” Natasha growls. “Here, let me take it out.”

You back up until you hit the tank again. “Wait, shouldn’t we—ow!” you yelp as Natasha jerks the knife out.

“You’ve been through worse.” She tries to hand you the knife, but you shake your head, too embarrassed to continue carrying it with you since you obviously can’t be trusted with it. She shrugs and pockets your knife, taking out some gauze and tape to patch up your wound. You rotate your left arm in circles; besides an uncomfortable twinge, it works fine. 

“So, what do we do with her body?” you ask.

“We’ll come back. We need to find the other three first.”

“Three? I thought there were four.” You try to do the math in your head. Bucky had said there five super soldiers, and you had just defeated one, meaning there were four left—

“Three,” Natasha repeats and you look at her in confusion. “Mine’s outside.” Unlike you, there wasn’t a single scratch on her. Together, you leave the room and find a man slumped on the floor, a mask on his face.

“When did this happen?” you ask.

Natasha shrugs, but you can tell she’s extremely proud of herself. “When you were busy dealing with that little girl.”

“Excuse me. According to her, her target was Thor,” you say. “So, I just took out the soldier who was supposed to take down the god of thunder.”

“Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that.” Natasha nudges you playfully.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you two okay?” Steve asks in your earpiece.

“We disabled two soldiers on the second floor,” Natasha responds.

“Perfect. We got two down here as well.”

“Who did you take out?” Clint asks.

“This tiny woman and a guy,” you answer.

“How big was the guy?” Bucky asks.

“Maybe around your size?” you estimate, staring down at the soldier Natasha subdued.

“Okay, because the two we took out were also average-sized dudes. The last one—I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to this—he’s an absolute beast. I think he’s almost seven-feet tall and could bench press a plane with one hand,” Bucky says.

“So whoever takes him out wins,” you say. Between you and Natasha, you were certain you could win any fight.

“You’re on,” Clint says.

Natasha and you leave the soldiers where they lay and search the rest of the floor. This time, you take the lead, a little more cautious since you know what to expect. You head up to the third floor, expecting the last soldier to jump out at any moment. The tension of waiting to find him is almost unbearable and your muscles ache from being coiled so tightly.

“You guys find him yet?” Natasha asks through the earpieces.

“Negative.”

Suddenly, a moving shadow catches your eye and you throw out your arm to stop Natasha. A man steps out from around the corner and Bucky wasn’t lying about his size. He’s so tall the top of his head disappears behind the ceiling beams and he looks like he would sweep any bodybuilding competition he entered.

“Never mind, we found him. Third floor,” Natasha mumbles.

“Don’t engage him alone.” That’s Steve’s voice. “Try to stall—”

“Too late” you want to say as the man charges towards you. There is no way you two are taking him down without the use of any weapons; plus, you don’t have any more masks to use. But if you punched or kicked him, you wouldn’t be able to reach his face without catching airtime. You run backwards, fumbling with your options. An idea pops into your head.

“Maybe he has a safe word, too,” you say, crashing into Natasha and shoving her back. “Lizzie! Karen!” you scream the first names that come to you. “It could be a guy’s name—can’t assume anything, right? Chris! Tom! Mark!” The names have no effect other than making you look like an idiot.

“Shut up, Y/N—” Natasha hisses.

The man roars and reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your shirt. He throws you like a javelin and you can’t believe how far you fly, landing on your stomach and skidding another 30 feet.

Natasha tries engaging him, and although she’s faster than him, any punch or kick she lands goes completely unnoticed by him. The man flings her aside like a sack of flour and comes towards you.

You reach for your gun, but before you can bring it up, he kicks it out of your hand and stomps on it. The barrel literally flattens before your eyes, and you roll onto your back to face him. He lifts his foot, which is easily as big as your calf, and brings it down on your right knee.

CRUNCH.

The pain of your leg snapping in half is so blinding and nauseating you don’t even scream. It feels like someone is holding a blow torch to your bones and your entire body starts trembling in shock. The man scoops you up with an arm leveraged underneath your chin, and once you’re upright, you feel the lower half of your right leg dangling like a broken branch.

He lifts you high enough so your feet don’t touch the floor, leaving you scrabbling at his arm and choking on your saliva. Your vision flashes white and you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit as he spins you around to face Natasha.

She has her gun out, pointed at his head. “Put Y/N down,” she orders.

“And what if I don’t?” the man says in a voice that sounds like it came from the depths of the ocean. “You think you can shoot me before I can break a neck?” He squeezes you harder and you whimper.

Natasha pauses to think, and her eyes dart to the side before looking back at the man. “Okay, okay.” She sets her gun on the floor and raises her hands. “Just please don’t—”

“Kick it towards me.” The man crushes your windpipe like a straw and your eyes water.

Natasha reaches out with her foot and sends the gun spinning towards you and your captor. Suddenly, the man tosses you away and when you crumple on your broken leg, you swear you see purgatory. 

“Get on your knees,” the man tells Natasha. She doesn’t obey. “I said, get on your knees!” Very slowly, with a defiant look on her face, she drops to her knees one at a time. The man picks up her gun and holds it in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting years to finally meet you, Agent Romanoff.”

“Well, sorry for not coming around sooner.”

“My comrades may not have been successful in eliminating their targets, but I don’t fail,” the man says.

Natasha looks away from him to you. “I love you,” she calls, as casually as if you two were lounging on the couch watching a movie together.

You blink away tears to make eye contact with her. You can’t move, you have no weapons, and he has a gun pointed at her head. The complete helplessness you feel hurts more than your broken leg, more than Bucky’s gunshots had, more than any pain you’ve ever felt before. There’s a thousand things you want to tell her, but you only have time to say one.

“I love you t—”

But there isn’t even enough time for you to finish your sentence, because suddenly Natasha’s face is covered in blood.

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Click here for Part 5!

[mackeydoodledoo]

The Blacksmith Chpt. 1

Pairing: Dimitrescus x (Fem!)Reader/Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You are a human, a human who is in charge of the armory; polishing, blacksmithing you name it. You are strongly valued by the Dimitrescu family, specifically one that has strawberry-blonde hair. She’d always come visit you whenever you’d be working on a new piece of armor or weapon. 

Warnings: Fight; ends slightly bloody, Fluff at the end

A/N: So, I’m obsessed with armor n such and hearing that there’s an armory when you fight Cassandra.... So, we are making a story about a Blacksmith falling for one of the Dimitrescu daughters!

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

You wipe the sweat from your forehead as you dip the blade you’ve been working on that Heisenberg had requested into a barrel of water. 

“Is it just hot in here or is that just you?” A familiar voice flirts at you

You place the now cooled blade down onto a table as you turn to see Daniela standing in the doorway, checking you out. You wipe more sweat off your forehead. You notice Daniela giggling.

“What?” You ask

“You got a little something there-” Daniela says, “Here, I’ll get it.”

Daniela takes out a white handkerchief from one of her pockets and wipes your forehead, noticing the black smudge now left on it. Your eyes widen in embarrassment. However you just watch Daniela smell your sweaty scent on her handkerchief.

“You know my sweat is on there right?” You could only ask

“I know,” Daniela moans from your scent left on her handkerchief, “Your scent smells so good.”

You blush at the compliment.

“Oh the little baby is blushing,” Daniela says, “I make everyone blush.”

“Oh- it’s just because-it’s just because it’s hot in here,” You say, trying to play it off

“Sure little baby,” Daniela whispers, “Will I see you for dinner tonight love?” 

You nod, not being able to have any words come out of your mouth. She lets out another giggle and makes her exit however, Heisenberg rolls in before Daniela could make her leave.

“Uncle Heisenberg!” Daniela smiles, hugging him

“How’s my niece doing?” He asks

You watch Daniela take her leave from the armory. However, coming back to reality, you grab the blade you have been working on and present it to him.

“My liege,” You greet Heisenberg, “The end result as of right now. If this is the shape you’re going for, then I’ll hop right onto the final stages of its production.”

Heisenberg requested for a longsword. However, as it had required for you to smelt more metal for the sword itself, you had to use a full armor set to melt it down to the mold of the blade, as much as you had been against the idea. However, Alcina had given the entire armory at your disposal. However, it did not help that you had to use one of your own metals rather than Heisenberg giving you some to make the longsword with. You have made the hilt of the sword when he first commissioned the sword to be made.  

“Your work is as great as ever y/n,” He smiles, “Do what you must, but make sure to have it ready by the same time the day after tomorrow.”

He takes his leave from the armory.

Tomorrow night?! But that’ll mean- I told Lady Daniela that I-... It can’t be helped I guess...

Almost immediately you took the dull blade and went over to the sander to sharpen it and polish it from its outer crust, slowly forgetting your agreement with Daniela about joining her and her family for supper.

At the dinner table, Daniela continuously looked into the seat next to her; empty. She had told her sisters and mother she’d invite the blacksmith to supper however, you were still cooped up in your armory room.

“Dani, you haven’t touched your food at all,” Cassandra states, but quietly, “It’s gonna get cold if you don’t eat it.”

“I’ve asked y/n to join us for dinner,” Daniela sulks, “She’s always so coped up in the armory. I’m kind of getting tired of bringing her food..”

“Heisenberg is really working that poor girl,” Alcina sighs, “That fool... He’s ‘tech-savvy’ they call it? Why couldn’t he just do it himself?”

“Y/n is the best blacksmith, It kind of makes sense why he’d ask for y/n,” Bela states, “That is why we hired her personally as well mother did we not?”

“Oh you are most correct,” Alcina agrees with her eldest daughter, “It’s just she’s been cooped up in there for so long. I’d hate for someone as young as her be burning the midnight oil for one single sword...”

“I’ll go check on her after supper I guess,” Daniea says, shamefully, “I apologize for this mother...”

“There is no need for an apology my daughter,” Alcina reassures her youngest daughter

Daniela just weakly smiles and then goes to dig into the meal that had been prepped in front of her

You didn’t realize how much time has gone by until you hear knocking at the doorframe. 

“Oh, lady Daniela,” You clear your throat, removing your gloves to air out the sweat and then tearing your eyes away from your work to make eye contact with Daniela, “My apologies, I missed supper... Heisenberg needs this new blade done by-”

She puts the plate of food on a nearby table as she begins to walk toward you. You’ve truly felt bad however, you’ve been working on this item for weeks, you couldn’t just simply ‘take a break’ for it.

“There’s one reason why I wanted you to come to supper y/n,” Daniela interrupts you, “You need to get out of here and more importantly- let me see you out of this work outfit of yours..”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, your throat go dry and your legs becoming jelly. You’ve mostly worn simple ripped skinny jeans, a short-sleeve shirt; the sleeves rolled up to your shoulders and one of those aprons blacksmiths wear while they work with molten metal. You also worn gloves whilst working in the armory, showing off your toned arms from the blacksmithing you do non-stop. 

“I’m no one special my lady,” You sigh, wiping sweat from your forehead again, “I’m just the blacksmith.”

“Whose created all of this amazing armor,” Daniela states, gesturing to the entire room full of armor and weapons

“Coming from a long line of blacksmiths is one perk,” You say, “But, I’m just a human, like every other human in the world.”

You could hear footsteps coming even closer into your direction. A pair of hands are forcefully placed on your shoulder and you’re physically turns into Daniela’s close proximity.

“You listen to me now y/n,” Daniela almost snarls, “You are an amazing Blacksmith. Otherwise my sisters and mother would have had you for supper already. I believe you are one of the greatest people to be working in this castle, consider it to be a privilege to be working so closely to us.”

She leans close to your ear, making you shiver, “To be working so closely to me.”

A shiver is sent down your spine. You needed to burn the midnight oil for this weapon for Heisenberg, should Daniela continue to tease you like this. 

“My my, your heart is beating pretty fast love,” She whispers once more, “You’re welcome...”

You feel a finger trace your jawline, however, you feel a slight pain in your jaw as you look down and felt something wet along down your neck.

“Oh-oopsies,” Daniela says, flirting heavily

“Not funny,” You groan from the pain

“Oh-oh it’s dripping,” She continues to flirt, “I’ll get it.”

You let out a small gasp as you felt the tip of Daniela’s tongue gently run along the blood trail. She traces the blood from the thin skin of your neck to the bone of your jawline. She guides her hands to wrap around her neck. You coil one hand into her hair to keep her steady as you let out yet another gasp.

“Yes, my lovely,” Daniela whispers, “Continue making that music for me...” 

Before you let out another gasp, you push her away form your neck slightly to look at her. You look down at her lips and then back up to her eyes, asking for permission. However, you stop yourself when the both of you heard the Lady Dimitrescu calling for Daniela.

“Curses,” She mumbles under her breath just as her lips were about to crash onto yours, “My my you taste divine. Until next time.”

With hast she makes her exit, turning into a swarm of flies in the process. You sit there, trying to process what just happened. However, you couldn’t linger on the thought any longer as you were just about to start the leatherwork on the hilt before Daniela began distracting you. 

I wouldn’t call it a bad thing if she distracted me though... It was only for a couple of minutes and... It was... Enjoyable...

You couldn’t believe a Dimitrescu daughter had taken a liking to you. You were a simple human from a long line of the finest blacksmiths. Why you? Of all people, you weren’t special. However, someway somehow the youngest Dimitrescu was enticing to you. 

I have no such time for a relationship... Besides... Lady Daniela has many other maidens to choose from... Am I even a choice to be one of their... What was it that they call them? ‘Plaything’? Yeah... Am I? Oh well, but it looks like I have to burn midnight oil again. Nothing that I don’t already experience though...

Your eyes are heavily concentrated on the leather work you’re doing on the handle. However, you could easily feel your eyes grow heavy. But, you knew you couldn’t waste time like you did earlier. 

“Sir Heisenberg won’t be pleased if he catches me passed out at the table,” You sigh

You take a deep breath and shake off your tiredness and continue working on the leather handle.

By the time you finally finished the handle you take a step back to admire the work you had done

“Not a bad job if I do say so myself,” You smile

 you were sketching out the design for the sheath. The sheath itself will be crafted with the thickest leather. Leather you’d normally use for sheaths; it’s so that the sheath’s won’t tear apart then the sword is sharpened. You’d also press in an intricate design you had crafted earlier when you were taking a break from the leather work.

“I guess I can close my eyes for a couple of minutes while I wait for this to ...” You tell yourself 

Oh how wrong you were.... Unfortunately you didn’t catch it fast enough. By the time you had realized you took more than a couple of minutes, you were fast asleep.

The next morning you could feel a pair of lips on the bone of your cheek. When you opened your eyes you could easily tell it was Daniela.

“Morning sleepy head,” She whispers

She puts the plate of human food right next to you. The aroma of the food gets you to feel more awake. 

“Can I ask you something?” Daniela asks, looking at you with pleading eyes

“Mhm,” You reply with food in your mouth

“I was wondering if you could make me one of those daggers you place on your thigh,” She requests, “But-but if that’s too much right now you could always do it after you finish-”

“I’ll do it,” You answer clearly, “The blade for Heisenberg isn’t due until tomorrow so I’ll be able to do it.”

She squeals of excitement and wraps her arms around you, engulfing you in a tight hug. You hug her back.

The first form of physical affection after awhile... This is nice

She lets go of you, but continues smiling.

“Design is solely up to you,” she says calmly, “I really want you to make it how you want to.”

You nod as Daniela takes the now empty plate from your hands. You watch her walk out from your armory you immediately jump into your closet and pull out a thick gauged metal sheet.

“Since when did you become so jittery in the morning?” A voice asks you

You let out a yelp and drop the sheet metal. You quickly turn your heel to see who it was.

“Lady Bela,” You sigh, re-composing yourself, “You really scared me there. Good lord...”

“I can do more than just scare you,” Bela chuckles, “But Daniela would be at my throat for that so consider yourself lucky.”

You see her forming into her swarm of flies. You couldn’t process what she was doing until she was up in your face.

“You hurt my baby sister, there will be hell to pay, got it?” She says, almost growling

Your throat catches something; thus, you couldn’t form any words. However, you only nod.

“Good,” She says

She dissipates into her swarm and leaves the armory. You just stand in your place for a second before picking the metal sheet back up.

You finally found yourself outside of the armory for once. If it weren’t for Daniela dragging your ass out of there you wouldn’t really be there. However, it was a silent supper for you. You really couldn’t find a way to strike up conversation with the Dimitrescu’s.

“I know you’ve been here a long time y/n, but how are you liking it?” Alcina asks, nervously

“You know, to be honest, It’s a lot nicer than where I used to live,” You smile slightly, “Yeah, I might be having a workload right now but- It’s nothing new to me.”

Alcina sighs in relief. Not knowing how to continue the conversation, you drop your head back down into your plate and continue eating. Alcina had made some arrangements so that the maids and yourself can have nutrients from human food.

After supper, you beeline it back for the armory to start on Daniela’s requested garter dagger. You didn’t have much experience in textiles, so you requested one of the maids who was more experienced in such do it for you. 

“Thanks Amelia,” You say, gently taking the newly sewn garter, “I got everything else. That’s all.”

“Lady Daniela really requested for this?” She asks

“Yeah,” you say, “Interesting though right?”

“That’s one way to put it,” She says, “Be careful.”

“You too.” You say

You wipe sweat off of your forehead as you finally break your concentration on the sharpening blade. Once it had reached a certain sharpness, you begin the polishing stage.

“Finished, and now..” You talk to yourself

Although you’ve never encrusted a weapon with many gems; you only had experience with one gem going on a weapon. However, it was Lady Daniela, so you wanted to make it look like the prettiest dagger in the whole castle, prettier than all the weapons and armor you have created. You take out a special cannister and begin organizing the blue-green gem from all of the other colored gems.

You found yourself outside of Daniela’s chambers however, you weren’t sure if she was even there or out somewhere in the castle. But, you place the weapon down right in front of the bottom of the door and knock as loudly but as gently as possible and you beeline it for the shadows. From a distance, you watch the door open and see Daniela; in a nightgown. It was the first time you’ve seen Daniela without her regular dark robe and hood up in her face. 

“Oh my god...” Daniela says in awe as she picks up the weapon, “Y/n...”

She tries to look around for you however doesn’t spot you on sight.

“Thank you...” She blushes as she closes the door

You blush a deep red as you turn your back to her door to head back into the armory to try and finish up Heisenberg’s weapon.

[holdontorogers]

𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐛.𝐛.

gif not mine, credits to owner

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; tfatws!bucky x bartender!college!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2,218

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; Bucky has a secret place in Brooklyn that he found out as soon as he got his apartment after the blip: the bar you work at.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; +18 ONLY | MINORS DNI, angst, cheating (your bf/ex), hints to oral (f receiving), sex dreams, alcohol consumption, metal arm kink (i guess lol), swearing, friends on their way to lovers, unrequited feelings, mentions of college, stress, let me know if something’s missing and sorry for any typos.

𝐚/𝐧; so this was suppose to be out last weekend but headaches, college and stress delayed the process, hope you enjoy. 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐬!!!

⊱⋅ ───────── 𖥸 ────────── ⋅⊰

“So, pretty amazing what you and Captain America did the other week”, he chuckled more for himself then any other thing as he pretended to ignore the fact that you knew everything about his past — and about him, in general. 

“Yeah well, I guess it feels good to know that the shield is finally with the right person”. You gave him a nice smile and intended to say something else but someone was already calling out asking for their drink, you rolled your eyes playfully for Bucky and walked away.  

Safe to say that Bucky is way more interested in your company than the bar itself, that’s why he would come by almost everyday by the end of the night and stayed for as long as you would like. 

The bar was packed, more than usual, and Bucky pretended to ignore the fact that he was bothered by not having as much of your attention as he planned to. 

Given that between missions and your senior year in college plus all your work at the bar, sometimes visiting you while you moved around the crowded place was one of the only ways you two could spend some time together.

 “It won’t magically fill up you know?” Bucky  was so lost in his thoughts and distracted playing with the now empty beer bottle he didn’t even notice you brought him another one.

“You know I can’t get drunk right, doll?” he said with a playful smirk, “and why would I want to get you drunk?” you winked and went back to attending the other people in the bar as Bucky followed your movements with his eyes. 

He sees you quickly looking at your phone following the action by a frustrated sigh, and he immediately clenches his jaw. Your ass of a boyfriend was probably leading you on yet again on another Thursday night with some lame excuse. Bucky could not believe how poorly this man (boy) treated you. If only Bucky could have the chance to show you how you should properly be loved and cared for...

When you came back to where he stood you seemed even more annoyed.

 “Is everything okay, doll?”, you looked at him with an exhausted expression and a tension between your eyebrows, “yeah, just... can’t wait to finish up and go home, how long are you planning to stay?” Bucky furrowed his brows, were you tired of him? 

“Don’t know yet, why?” you shrugged and looked over your shoulder discreetly “that girl keeps checking you out and I don’t know, maybe you would like to take her home?” I actually would like to go home with you. Bucky could swear this suggestion was as painful to you as it was to him, but he knew that that was only his mind playing tricks with him.

 “I still don’t think I have a way with the ladies right now” your eyebrows rose in amusement and you tried to study his expression “Well, if anything, just tell her your arm vibrates”.  You winked and returned to your duties once again. Meanwhile, Bucky realized the heat in his cheeks thinking about what you said. It’s amazing how much power you had over him, as he imagined how you would react under his arms. 

How soft his right arm would be on your warm skin, how the friction between metal and warmth would drive you insane once his metal arm was touching you... He could see all the different ways that he could make you his, make you forget all the shit you go through everyday, make you feel unique and loved. 

(...)

However, Bucky saw you seemed more upset and stressed out than usual so he decided to stay. He waited until you closed the bar and helped you sort everything out. You looked once again at your phone with a much worse look than before. 

“Doll what’s wrong?” he rarely asked you about your relationship, and always did good in pretending to ignore the frustrated looks you’d constantly give to your phone. 

You met his concerned eyes and saw all his attention in you, which makes your heart soften a little. You unlocked your phone and opened a conversation with one of your friends, showing it to Bucky with watered eyes. 

When he looked at the conversation from a few days ago he used all his self control to not shatter your phone or run down to haunt the man in the pics you showed him. There was a girl pressed against the wall of a club right between your boyfriends arms, and that girl was not you.

All the anger in Bucky’s eyes settled for worry when he looked at you. He held you in his arms and ran his fingers through your hair to calm the silent tears that were falling involuntarily from your face. 

“He’s an asshole and he never deserved you.” You nodded and continued to let yourself be taken care of by Bucky, “and just tell me the words so I can gladly kick his ass”. You laughed and that felt odd, but not surprising since Bucky always brought up the best in you. You had no idea how you two became such close friends, but you were glad to have him in your life. “Thanks Buck, you’re the best friend I could have right now ”. 

As Bucky walked home after taking you home the events of the night went over his head. He was a mess of nerves, angers, worries and sadness. He knew how much you needed a friend right now. He knew how you handled your own feelings and barely talked about it. He knew it was a big deal for you to show him what was going on. And yet the thought of showing you how much better he could treat you if you saw him beyond a friend wouldn’t leave his mind. 

 ───── 

**Bucky’s lips were drawing your skin like it was meant to be there this whole time. It’s like his mouth was designed to know how to touch you in all the right spots. He would caress your skin and take such good care of you. His words were soft and yet you knew he was in control, and you loved being at his mercy. You were willing to let him do anything as long as his lips never left your body again.

Goosebumps were consuming you as he kept going lower and lower. His lips finally started to trace down your inner thighs as you whisper his name as an exasperated request. Bucky’s lips were wet and soft and hot at the same time. He smirked and finally went down to where you needed him most.**

Your heart was racing as your alarm made you jump scared instead of properly waking up. It took a while to remember where you were and what the hell was going on. You sighed when realizing you just had a dream with your best friend.

You decided to take a cool shower before starting your day, as the minutes you usually lay in bed before forcing yourself to wake up were effectively replaced with a very intense dream that led you to question all your life choices.

Your mind begins to wonder and you asked yourself if Bucky got the phone from that girl in the bar last night. You had a bothered look on your face even though you knew you should not be feeling like this.

And you shouldn’t be having these dreams as well, but it’s been so long since you’ve actually felt good.... It’s been so long since you had an orgasm. It almost felt natural to think of Bucky that way, as if the desire of having him between your legs have been there all this time just waiting for you to notice them. You shook the feeling out of your head - or at least tried to. 

You couldn’t help but think about the recent events of your life. You have been beyond busy and missed so many warning signs from your now past relationship. You left out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, biting your lips and thinking about your situation. 

You’re suddenly annoyed and wondering why the hell you stuck around in the relationship you were at. It wasn’t adding anything else to your life anymore, it wasn’t doing you any good and you were pretty sure the main reason your boyfriend has been so neglecting lately was because he was cheating on you. And you were right. Now you were a breakup hot mess drowning in work and college assignments barely making it through the days without stressing yourself out. 

As the caffeine started its magic and you were getting ready for the day, your boss texted you saying that you could have the day off. She would surely find a way to compensate for this miraculously free day you had but you wouldn’t complain. Today especially was a very much needed day for you to give yourself some tranquility. You got ready for your classes in a very comfy yet cute look that made you feel good and went out.

On your way to college you texted Bucky to see if he was available this afternoon. He was surprised to read about your day off and quickly answered back saying he would be free. You both agreed to meet at Central Park once you were done with classes. Your smile and excitement once again surprising you as your dream would not leave your mind. How would you face him? You had no idea but he was your best friend and one of the closest and greatest person in your life right now. Your frustration of a sex life would not be in the way of this friendship.

The classes went by rather quickly and you were catching up on your readings when Bucky met you at the park. The sun was starting to set and there was something about the sunset atmosphere and Bucky that made his features seem even more in evidence. You smiled and waved at him as he raised his brows and walked happily to where you were. 

“Hey doll, how’s the day been?” he seemed extremely relaxed and care-free as he tugged you in a warm hug, his cologne invading your senses and numbing you for a moment. You cleared your throat before answering him “It’s been weird” you frowned “I was called off work God knows why and I have been able to catch up on most of my readings for school so” you shrugged still surprised with how smooth things were. “So it’s been a good day?” his brows drew together in amusement, and you both started walking aimlessly through the park.

“Yeah it’s been good I guess, weird but peacefully good, what about yours?” his eyes were sparkled with excitement and he had a half smile illuminating his face “I’ve been good, I was watching that show you told me about when you texted me about your free day so, only good moments I guess” he winked as you studied his face and his genuine expression and you felt weird butterflies in your stomach — which you ignored.

“So how do you like Friends?” you poked him teasingly and he smiled “It’s a good show, Alpine and I have good laughs, but I don’t know I feel like it’s something that should be shared you know? I bet watching with someone would make it a hundred times better”. Bucky looked at you as if you should’ve read something between the lines.

You would usually take his words lightly and never question their meanings, but tonight was different. You could almost feel something in the air. You were absolutely sure that it was all on your head but... Something about the way Bucky always looked at you in such admiration and softness. You could spend all of your days studying his expressions and getting to know him. Life may not have been kind to him but kindness was all you knew when it came to James “Bucky” Barnes. 

He cleared his throat and caught your attention. Yep, you were staring at him instead of thinking about an answer. “Sorry doll, I just meant — ” Bucky read your silence as an awkward moment but you were quick to stop him “No! You were right! Friends is absolutely better when you watch with people... I’m sorry, I’ve been a little distracted that’s all” you smiled at him hoping he would take your answer and not think too much about this. Bucky thought you were distant and quiet because of what he found out last night, but the truth was that you couldn’t look at him without thinking about your dream. 

Every single time your eyes met his or that you accidentally touched him was like an electric wave washed over you. The memories you created in your sleep would not leave you as Bucky would do normal things like, winking when telling a joke, wetting or biting his lips. Every little action made you hold out on reacting in a way that would ruin your friendship for good.

Crossing a line with Bucky would be a bad idea, wouldn’t it? 

[silkenstarlight]

a night in crimson valley

Summary: Reader is a bartender at the Crimson Valley Motel. After she is accosted by a drunk John Walker, a familiar face offers her protection and comfort.

Pairing: Biker!bucky x bartender!reader

Warning/s: language, violence, alcohol use; sorta fluffy end

Word count: 5.6k

Author’s note: I’m unsure whether I want to turn this into a series; please let me know your thoughts!

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Her nose burned with the scent of blood and cheap vodka, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

In the early days, when she had first been stationed at this bar, she had stocked the cupboard beneath the register with supplies. Lemon-scented bleach, candy-blue windex, a dried up tube of wet wipes. Every night before closing, she had tugged on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and gone to work. Rubbing, scouring, swabbing away every spilled shot, every stray fingerprint. The dirt and spit and grime seemed to accumulate instantly, and yet, she continued her sisyphean housekeeping, trying to paint over the bar’s run-down reality with a layer of chemical gloss. But, all of that effort was to no avail; this was a roadside establishment, so there would always be sloppy drunks, and there would, most assuredly, always be bar fights, new stains to replace old. No use in hiding it.

Now, she’d grown numb to it, the cleaning supplies below the register covered in an ever-thickening coat of dust. The once shiny, lacquered surface of the bar now reflected dully beneath the low light, encrusted with old dirt and sour deeds. The floor was sticky, a years’ worth of spilled cocktails accumulating in a tacky glue trap. The mirror behind the bar, its surface cloudy and warped, reflected the late-night debauchery of men in desperate need of respite.

Every night, she wiped foggy glasses with the same gray, fraying rag, watching the same blurred, bearded faces pass through. The Crimson Valley Motel, owned by (Y/N)’s father, was a dependable option for truckers looking for a night away from the cramped quarters and lumpy cots of their vehicles. With its low nightly fares and extensive parking, and her father’s promise of discounted drink prices at the attached bar, customers returned without fail. Even still, she tried not to grow too attached to any patrons. They were just passing through, after all, with separate lives waiting for them beyond the road and the walls of the motel. But, sometimes, she just couldn’t help herself. 

Bucky Barnes was one such case.

The first things she had noticed the moment he walked into the bar two years ago were his eyes. Piercing blue, stern and ever-watchful, set beneath the overhang of his perpetually furrowed brow. That first night, he had nursed his whiskey glass with two gloved hands, staring at the bar’s surface as if he were trying to memorize every intricacy and flourish in its woodgrain. She had appreciated his presence ever since, so quiet and watchful, a stark departure from the raucous drunkards and wild military men who usually frequented the Crimson Valley Bar. And, despite the fact that he drank as much as the other patrons, he never seemed affected by the alcohol, his gaze as clear and haunting as ever, even well into the dark hours of morning. It almost made her laugh, his perfect stoicism and strong  jaw, the classic image of unperturbed masculinity. But she could sense the ghost of some deep sadness in the downturned set of his mouth. His shoulders always seemed tense, and he continually shifted his weight in his seat, peering over his shoulder every once in a while, as if suspicious that he was being watched. It made her swallow any skepticism about his demeanor, instead deciding that he was likely a very broken man, deserving of the space and quiet his countenance demanded. For that reason, she never asked him any questions, never made a move to satiate that burning curiosity within her. Better to keep a respectful distance than stir up unwelcome memories. 

She had never even really spoken to him, and only knew his name because she once caught his signature on a receipt. By the time she read it, he had whisked away to spend the night in his motel room and prepare for departure early the next morning.

Whenever he came back, it was like she could sense his presence, could feel his steely gaze sweeping the bar. It was comforting, a sweet bubble of solace beneath the humming neon and peeling rock n’ roll posters, a space of quiet surrounded by the pressing screech of electric guitar and deep boom of drums. She never knew when he would return, his trucking routes and schedule difficult to predict with such minimal information, but she secretly looked forward to it. Another day, another opportunity to unwrap the quiet mystery of Bucky Barnes.

Tonight, the bar was crowded. Hopeful thoughts of seeing Bucky retreated to the very back corner of her mind as she poured sparkling streams of amber liquid into lines of waiting glasses, shaking and stirring and swirling again and again in the rote, mindless motions that a full house required. She had no room to daydream, not on a Saturday night, when more lonely truckers sought out the bar for company, and when the local military base flooded in on their night out. In a room full of loud men with wanting mouths, she needed to work quickly.

On nights like these, the men mostly left her alone, too absorbed in their own festivities to take much note of her. Beyond the simple “pleases” and “thank yous,” they seemed to recognize that any attempt to strike up a conversation would interrupt her flow and leave her begrudging, frustrated, and not exactly an ideal conversation partner. But, some men couldn’t take a hint.

She had been cutting lemon wedges, concentrating on creating an even slice and avoiding her fingertips with the dull knife blade. She counted each slice before pouring the wedges into a chilled metal bowl, her movements precise and rhythmic. 1, 2. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3--

“Hey, bartender! I asked you a question.”

She knew it was John before she even bothered to look up. She sighed heavily, placing the knife on the counter and wiping her hands before tilting her gaze upwards.

John Walker was another regular here, but her opinion of him was very different than the tentative infatuation she harbored for Bucky Barnes. To put it simply, she did not like John. Whenever he swaggered past the bar’s threshold, flanked by his two favored cronies, she shuddered. Unlike the relatively polite regulars who frequented the bar, John was demanding, expecting (Y/N) to cater to his every whim without complaint. He was, apparently, a favored recruit at the military base. She just thought he was a privileged asshole. One time, he refused to tip her because she didn’t smile at him when she served his drink. And, another time, he broke his glass on purpose just to watch her clean it up.

Now, he was staring at her, head cocked and arms crossed, expecting an answer to a question she hadn’t heard him utter.

She sighed again, leaning against the counter. “Sorry, John. Didn’t catch your question.” Her voice was flat, lacking in genuine sympathy. “Mind repeating it?”

“Can’t even listen,” he said to himself, shaking his head in disappointment. “As I asked earlier, did you water down my fuckin’ snakebite?”

She stared at him, eyes boring into his cold blue ones, and she thought for a second. She was annoyed by his interruption, but this could go poorly if she didn’t handle it with care. If she said the wrong thing, he could get offended, and she was the only woman in a room full of men. She could hold her own in a fight and had some experience with self-defense, sure, but that wouldn’t hold up against a man with John’s stature and training. She couldn’t predict if any of the other men in the room would come to her rescue if things went south, but she couldn’t really blame them. He was tall and strong, and had a temper to boot. But his fragile masculinity, which compelled him to talk down to her and order such ridiculous drinks as a snakebite, wouldn’t survive if she talked back. So, her decision was made.

“Well, John,” she said, her voice low as she smirked. “Usually, you’re already plastered by the time you make it to my bar. I always have to water down your drinks because you can’t hold your fucking liquor.”

His face darkened, brows drawing downwards in a chilling expression of anger. He gritted his teeth together and pushed back from the bar, motioning to turn away from her and back to his friends. “I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you.”

She cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Actually, just last weekend, you threw up all over the parking lot. My poor Pops had to clean it up.” She chuckled at the memory of her father, grumbling with a bucket and mop in hand, as John sat with his head in his hands in the front office. “You might not remember it, John, but I do. We all do.” The incident had occurred well before closing time, so many of the bar’s customers had seen it with their own eyes. One or two had surely caught it on camera.

“Are you fucking mocking me?” A vein popped out on his neck, his face growing read and hot.

She felt her pulse rise in fear, but she ignored it, hand resting next to the knife on the counter. “Maybe I am.” She leaned forward, leering at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do about it?” He laughed incredulously, picking up his half-full glass and examining its amber-colored contents briefly before hurling it at the mirrored wall behind her.

She ducked, shielding her face from splattering liquid and broken glass. “Shit.” She dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled, frantically clambering below the bar for the cleaning cupboard. She knew how this encounter would go, but she was starting to realize that she shouldn’t have pushed it. He had never actually threatened her physical harm before, resigning himself to simply being an asshole. Tonight, that had obviously changed.

“Nuh-uh, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice was still loud enough to pierce her eardrums over the pulsating music. He reached down to where she was, grasping for Windex in the dusty, cavernous cabinet, and roughly gripped her hair in his fist. He pulled up harshly, causing an unpleasant sting to radiate down her scalp. The breath caught in her throat. 

She had fucked up. Badly.

He wrenched her close, until their faces were just inches apart. He examined her face, his own visage arranged in an unpleasant sneer. She looked straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down, even though she was frightened of what he might do. 

“I should put you in your place.” His voice was quiet, only audible to her. She shuddered, lip curling in distaste. The sour taste of bile rose on her tongue at the violating way his eyes scanned her face, as if he were a predator examining his prey. A few patrons were watching, pausing their conversations to watch the show. But, none were helping, jumping up to arrive at her aid. A dark pit grew in her stomach at the observation.

He loosened his grip on her hair and she moved to pull back, but before she could, he spit in her face, a thick, hot wad of saliva landing on her cheek. Her mouth gaped in disgust, nose flaring, and she stepped back, wiping the insult from her face with her sleeve and slipping the knife she had been using earlier into her hand, concealing it behind her back. She retreated until her back was flush with the mirror behind her, eyes flitting wildly, trying to find a gap in the crowd where she could disappear and distance herself from him. But all she could see was his face, his hooked nose and hooded eyes, that awful, sneering expression, as he prepared to jump over the bar and bridge the gap between them. 

But, before he could, his head slammed into the bar’s wooden surface with a sickening crack!

Her mouth dropped open in confusion, the rushing bout of adrenaline quickly waning in her veins as she took in the sight of John, head pinned to the counter by a gloved hand. Wait, is that--?

Her suspicions were confirmed when she looked up from John’s floundering figure to find Bucky, his hand firmly wrapped in John’s hair, his face contorted in an expression of rage. She had never seen him like this, nose scrunched, eyes dark. His eyes briefly flickered to hers, and when their gazes met, his face softened slightly, as if to provide her with some sense of reassurance. The breath stalled in her throat, but before relief could flood into her limbs, she saw John stirring in Bucky’s grip.

“What… what the fuck, man?” John turned his head, cheek pressed against the bar’s cool surface, to stare at Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

“Watch yourself, buddy.” Bucky’s voice was gruff and uncaring.

“Buddy?” John scoffed. 

“Well, what’s your name, then?”

A laugh rose in John’s throat, bubbling over into a bitter, joyless sound. He was trying to intimidate Bucky into backing off, shifting his weight below him in an effort to distract him.

It didn’t work. Bucky simply pressed John’s face even harder into the counter, until the breath whooshed from John’s lips in a muffled, defeated gasp. 

“I asked you a question.”

“Fine-- fine. Name’s Walker.”

“Well, Walker,” Bucky replied, leaning in close until his face obstructed John’s vision. “Keep your fucking mitts off my girl here.”

“What?” She couldn’t help it as the question left her lips in a surprised gasp. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to her again, lips pulling down in an embarrassed grimace, as if he hadn’t meant to call her that. 

That moment was enough time for John to act.

Bucky grunted and stumbled back a couple of steps as John pushed out from under him. There was no time to think, no time to act, before John strode towards Bucky and socked him straight in the nose, Bucky’s head whipping violently to the side.

(Y/N)’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She stayed anchored to her spot in front of the mirror, unable to move. There wasn’t much that she could do. Now that John had initiated a physical fight, he likely wasn’t going to stop throwing punches until either he or Bucky collapsed. And with Bucky eliminated as a threat, there would be no one standing between John and her. With that thought, she brought the knife out from behind her and clutched it to her chest like a lifeline. She watched Bucky and John with rapt attention, waiting for the fight to turn back in her direction again.

Blood began to gush from Bucky’s nostrils in a thick stream, staining his lips a wet scarlet and dribbling down his chin. But, he smiled, shaking his head slightly and chuckling darkly. 

“You’re really askin’ for it now, Walker.” 

Before (Y/N) could even blink, Bucky sprung, landing a jab and a right cross that hit John square in the chin. He grabbed John by the collar and slammed him into his knee, the pure force knocking the wind out of John’s chest with a meek groan. Bucky pushed John roughly into a table and John stumbled, causing a chair to clatter and fall, but he remained upright, leaning heavily against the table.

“You going to fight back at all?” Bucky’s goading tone took (Y/N) by surprise. Why was he egging him on?

John snorted and cracked his neck, trying to shake an encroaching sense of uncertainty from his limbs. He pushed off from the table and began a slow, circling orbit around the center of the room, sizing Bucky up with a violent, wolflike gaze, pushing the other customers flush against the wall. Bucky simply stood in place and watched, trying to anticipate John’s next move.

John stopped circling when he was directly across from (Y/N), Bucky between them. She felt John’s gaze slide from Bucky to her, his eyes languidly raking over her body, sensing out her fear. When he saw the knife in her hand, he raised an eyebrow in disapproval, shaking his head. Her heart pounded, adrenaline beginning to thrum through her veins once more. 

John widened his stance and bent his knees, assuming an athletic stance in preparation to tackle Bucky.  Bucky imitated his movement, planting his feet firmly into the floor. John inhaled deeply through his nose, once, twice, and then, he took off, running towards Bucky at full speed.

The room watched in silence, holding a collective breath. The only sound was the pounding of John’s boots against hardwood, the music paused long ago.

He hit Bucky with the force of a mack truck. It was enough to knock anyone off their feet, even someone who had fared as well as Bucky in the fight so far. John hit him so hard that they went flying, suspended in the air for a moment. For (Y/N), it felt so much longer, watching her savior struggle against the grip of his opponent in midair, uttering a quiet “Shit!” as his back slammed into the floor. And then, Bucky was still, John crouched over his immobile form, a triumphant smile plastered on his face.

(Y/N) felt her body move off its own accord, pushing away from the wall, past the safety of the bar’s counter, towards the aftermath of the fray. Her legs quivered, a hard lump rising in her throat as she pushed towards the edge of the crowd. She couldn’t see Bucky’s face, his head concealed by John’s hulking body. A shudder wracked her body, her hope waning.

It was like John could sense her presence. He looked up, his sickening grin showing glistening, too-white teeth. She flexed her fingers, adjusting her grip on the knife. John’s eyes caught the movement, sensing the glint of low light against the blade, and he smirked. He was about to rock back onto his knees, to get up and finish what he started, when Bucky’s head slammed into his.

Disoriented, (Y/N) stepped backwards, once again flush with the crowd. One moment, she had been preparing to fight, to let the blood-soaked evening devolve into even more violence. Then, the next, Bucky had suddenly reanimated, an almost superhuman force driving power into his limbs. He bucked John, still reeling from the unexpected headbutt, off of him with an aggressive, thrusting twist. John tumbled and collapsed on the floor next to Bucky, who slowly knelt, then stood, eyes on John the whole time. When John didn’t budge, splayed on the floor with a distant, vaguely dazed expression, Bucky turned his gaze to (Y/N).

The room was dead silent, save for John’s labored breathing and the sound of Bucky’s boots against the hardwood as he slowly walked towards (Y/N). The room seemed to fade around the two of them, the confused, awed, and fearful faces of the spectating patrons blurred together in an anonymous mass. It smelled of sweat and rust and spilled liquor, but she didn’t care, because Bucky was okay.

“Anyone else?” Bucky asked the rest of the room, not taking his eyes off of (Y/N), even for a moment, lest she disappear, or worse. But she didn’t, staying rooted to the same spot, eyes glistening with gratitude. And no one responded to Bucky’s challenge. 

When Bucky came to a stop a foot in front of her, the other customers began to quietly file out, afraid to utter any remarks that may provoke another altercation. John’s two cronies picked him up from the floor, hefting his arms over their shoulders and bolting for the exit, his boots dragging on the floor. (Y/N) watched them exit, watched them stuff John into the backseat of their car before they peeled out of the parking lot and took off with the screeching sound of retreating rubber.

“You know,” Bucky said, his voice soft in spite of the evening’s violent course. “You don’t have to worry about using that. You’re safe with me.” He pointed at the knife, still clutched in (Y/N)’s hands.

She looked down at the knife in her hands and then looked up at him, formulating a response, when she noticed that he had a gash on his jaw, as well as a still steadily-flowing nosebleed. The knife clattered to the floor as she reached for his hand. “You’re bleeding.” Her voice was thick with worry, regretting the fact that he had suffered for her sake.

He shook his head. “I’ve gotten worse.”

“Let me help you.” She glanced urgently around the bar, now empty save for the two of them. “I can close up and bring the first aid kit to your room. I owe you, after all of that.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He paused for a second, considering. “But, sure. A couple of bandaids wouldn’t hurt.”

She smiled. “I’ll be there in ten.”

His brows creased together slightly, a chagrined smile curling his lips upwards. “Oh, I’m not leaving you alone just yet. We didn’t see where Walker went. He could be waiting just outside with those two other guys.”

She knew that both she and Bucky had seen them drive away, but she nodded anyways. “Alright. Just let me grab the first aid kit and my keys.”

“Deal.”

She picked the knife up from the floor and walked back to the bar, placing it gently in the sink. As Bucky walked towards the entrance, surveying the parking lot outside from the small, frosted window, she reached into the cabinet of cleaning supplies, pulling out a rusted, white box with a blaring maroon cross emblazoned on its front. She blew off the thin layer of dust that coated it and stood, grabbing her keys from the hook next to the mirror and joining Bucky at the entrance.

He turned towards her, noting the first aid kit, and grinned. “Room 102, here we come.”

She returned his smile as he opened the door, midnight air washing over them in a brisk, drafty waft. They stepped outside, engulfed in nighttime chill, and she shut the door and locked it, fumbling with the cold metal of the keys. Bucky stepped closer to her, his arm brushing against hers, his body emanating an intoxicating warmth. She welcomed his proximity, wondering if he could sense the fact that she was cold, as they walked across the parking lot to his motel room.

He pulled his key from his back pocket and slid it through the card swipe, the door unlocking with a crisp click. She was looking out at the parking lot, at the trees and darkness beyond, wondering if John and his friends were in fact lurking out there somewhere, biding their time for the right moment to strike again. He was definitely the type to hold a grudge for a night like this. If he didn’t retaliate tonight, he would soon, would let her soak in the fear for a few days and then arrive at the bar unannounced with dues to pay.

Bucky cleared his throat, and (Y/N)’s attention snapped back to him. She looked up at him, eyes wide and surprised, and found that his smile was gentle and knowing. 

“You’re safe with me. Come on, let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

When they stepped inside, they were greeted with a welcoming warmth. The door shut behind them. He walked over to the little oak nightstand next to the single queen-sized bed and turned on the bedside lamp, its bulb washing the room in a dim, glowing halo of amber. She sighed, muscles relaxing, seeming to melt into the warmth, into the comfort of being somewhere besides the bar. She placed the first aid kit on the bed and shrugged off her cardigan.

“So, doc,” Bucky teased, approaching her at the foot of the bed. “What’s the plan? How’re you going to fix me up?”

“Well,” she said, squinting as she examined his face. “We’ll have to wash all that blood off first, so I can assess the damage.”

He gestured to the bathroom with one hand. “Lead the way.”

They walked into the bathroom and he flipped the light on, its white fluorescence a stark contrast from the soft light in the other room. She grabbed a bleach-white washcloth from the shelf above the toilet and turned on the faucet, dampening the cloth under the steady stream of water. She turned off the faucet and stepped back as Bucky leaned against the sink, crossing his arms.

“This might sting,” she said quietly, stepping into the space between his legs, his stance framing hers. He simply nodded in response. She tried not to think about their sudden proximity, the fact that she was alone in a motel room with a man who had risked his own safety to protect hers, a man she had been secretly pining over for a while now. Instead, she smoothed the wet washcloth in her hands and brought it up to his face, dabbing gingerly at a stream of blood that had dried on his cheek. When she brushed against the cut on his jaw, he winced, a sharp huff of breath leaving his nose.

“Sorry,” she apologized, trying to handle the cloth with light fingers. “He really got you there.”

“Even if that’s true, part of me thinks I should thank the guy.”

(Y/N) paused. “W-what?”

“Well, he’s an absolute ass. Deserved what he got,” he chuckled. “But now, I’ve got the pretty girl who works at my favorite bar taking care of me. It was definitely worth a couple of scrapes.”

“I--” her response died in her throat, choked by the deep blush that was creeping up her neck. She paused dabbing at his face, looking at him quizzically.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, noting her creased brow and parted lips. “Too soon.”

“No-- no. It’s okay.” She shook her head and smiled, moving the washcloth to his upper lip as she wiped away the evidence of his bloody nose. I just didn’t think you felt that way, too.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, (Y/N) trying to avoid direct eye contact the whole time, lest her blush return, his face was clean. She stepped back and examined her handiwork before throwing the bloodied washcloth in the waste bin and leading Bucky back into the main room. She sat down on the bed, its springs groaning in a rusty bounce beneath her, and she opened the first aid kit, searching for a suitable bandage for his jaw. He knelt on the floor in front of her, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her, caging her in with his arms but refusing to let his touch drift any closer without permission. He watched her fingers flit indecisively between the different band-aid choices. 

Finally, she plucked one from its box, carefully unpeeling its wrapping. Bucky tilted his head slightly, allowing her easy access to the cut on his jaw, and she delicately placed the band-aid over it, careful not to press too hard against the tender skin. Her touch unconsciously lingered a moment longer, lightly caressing his face with the pads of her fingers. But after a few seconds, when she didn’t pull away, they both inhaled sharply, his face quickly growing hot. Their eyes met, and she dropped her hands to her sides, his piercing blue gaze boring into hers.

 He blinked and stood, walking over to the door and hunching down to glance at the parking lot through the peephole.

“I should get going,” (Y/N) said, voice hushed as she snapped the first aid kit shut. She stood, grabbing her cardigan, preparing to meet the cold outside and run to her permanent room. “Thank you. For everything.”

He turned away from the door. “Hold on.” His voice was grave, a stark contrast to the light, flirty turn of the evening since they had entered his room. “We still don’t know if he’s out there.”

(Y/N) bit her lip and shifted her weight, silently grateful for his hesitancy to let her be alone. “What are you suggesting?”

“You can take the bed.” He gestured to the spot on the carpet between the bed and the door. “I can take the floor.”

“A-are you sure?” 

“If I was in your position, I wouldn’t want to be alone,” he said, voice rough and quiet. “But, it’s your decision to make. I can walk you back to your room, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

She thought for a second. She agreed with Bucky’s observation that John may still be out there, lying in wait, and he had been spot-on with the remark that it would be frightening to be alone after tonight’s violence. So far, Bucky had proven himself to be good. She felt comfortable around him. He didn’t try to touch her, and he still gave her options, despite the fact that he seemed oddly protective of her. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he wouldn’t try to slip into bed next to her in the darkest hours of morning. He was a good man. He would live up to his promise and give her space, acting as a blockade between her and the outside world. For tonight, he would be the promise of warmth, of comfort, of safety.

“I think I’d be more comfortable here. With you.”

“Alright.” He offered a simple reply, walking over to her and taking the first aid kit and her cardigan from her, placing them on top of the dresser. “You’ll be safe with me,” he reassured her, bending down to look her in the eyes when he said it, uttering each word with heavy truth.

She nodded and bit her lip. When she felt her blush creeping back up her face, those stern, icy blue eyes of his fixated on her, she turned away, directing her attention towards the bed, hands smoothing over the covers. She grabbed a pillow, its blanched case stiff and rough from continual washing, and handed it to him. He smiled and took it, humming a low laugh and placing it on the floor next to the bed.

She pulled back the sheets as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Her eyelids were suddenly heavy, her body absolutely exhausted, but grateful for a safe place to rest after the day’s peril. She felt herself lull into a hypnotic state of rest before she could even pull the covers over her body, listening to the rumble of the motel’s heater and the whoosh of cars driving past on the distant highway.

Bucky finished in the bathroom and tiptoed to the closet. He grabbed the extra blanket from the top shelf, its woolen fabric starchy and coarse, and plopped it onto the floor next to his pillow. Then, he looked down at (Y/N), curled up on the bed, already halfway into a dream. He sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips, and he reached for the blankets on the bed, pulling them up over her sedated form. She shifted under the covers, settling into their warmth, and he turned off the bedside lamp, the room submerged in a sudden, but not unwelcome, darkness.

                                                             ✧

She woke to light streaming through the gap in the curtains.

The room smelled of lavender detergent and carpet cleaner, and of something distinctly masculine and unfamiliar, the scent of mint toothpaste and rainfall. She stretched, her body grateful for a restful night as memories of the previous day trickled back in. John’s threats, Bucky’s heroism. Her shyness, her inability to tell him how she felt, despite the fact that he so clearly reciprocated those feelings he had hinted at.

She sat up in bed and looked around the room. On the floor next to her, the spare blanket was folded neatly, the pillow she had given to Bucky the previous night stacked on top of it. His duffel was gone from its perch on the dresser. Any trace of him had disappeared, save for the scent that hung in the air and the memories that clung to (Y/N)’s brain.

She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. She had a lot of work to do today. She supposed that she should probably clean up the bar after last night’s incident, and should break open the cleaning supplies that she had left untouched for so long. She wished that she had had the chance to say goodbye to Bucky before he left, a faint sense of longing gripping her throat. But, at least the cleaning would take her mind off of that, for the time being.

As she stood, she brushed through her hair roughly with her fingers, gathering the first aid kit and her cardigan. She surveyed the room one last time, bathed in soft morning light, when a square of white on the nightstand caught her eye.

Brows furrowed with confusion, she walked over, abandoning her things on the bed. On the nightstand was a notepad, an uncapped pen sitting next to it. A brief note was scribbled on it.

Call me if he comes back. 

Or, if you need me. For anything.

-Bucky

The message was followed by a phone number.

(Y/N) ripped the note from the pad and stared at Bucky’s slanted, spiked handwriting for a moment, noting the sharp angles and rushed script of his letters.

She stuffed the note in her back pocket and smiled.

[linsallyworld]

Hiiii :D

for the prompts...I was thinking...12 fluffy👉🏻👈🏻

your writing is amazing and I love it :3

I hope this one can be as sweet as you 🥰

Prompt Fluffy 12: "Do we really have to babysit them? What if we throw them in the river?"

Words: 2.190

Ship: kyalin

"You agreed with WHAT?" Lin's eyes are wide and she looks on the verge of collapse while all the airbender kids come in through her apartment door. Jinora observing the atmosphere with Rohan in her arms, Ikki climbing on top of the leather sofa and Meelo already making an airball to walk all over the place.

"Tenzin and Pema went to the North Air Temple to check on the new benders with Bumi and the acolytes can't take care of the kids the whole night. I don't even think they want to." Lin tilts her head and Kya can tell what she is going to say in the next second.

"And since when do I want to take care of the kids?" Kya's smile is slightly teasing as she approaches to place a delicate kiss on the police chief's cheek.

"You knew I had nephews and nieces when you decided to date me." Lin rolls her eyes so hard she believes they can easily be trapped behind her head.

"I didn't know they were included in the package." She steps away so that Kya can enter the hall before closing the metal locks with a gesture of her hand. She no longer sees Meelo and Ikki and this is starting to panic her with all the possibilities of things they could destroy within those walls. Kya seems to know exactly what is going through her head. She leans in again and just her smell, sweet and like the sea itself seems to soothe Lin's senses.

"I promise I will reward you later." She whispers before holding the earthbender's earlobe between her teeth and pulling. Lin winces and Kya walks away with a smirk that is further than suggestive.

Something fell in the laundry room and the police chief closed her eyes.

Spirits ... It would be a long night.

"What do children eat?" Jinora gave a glorious laugh as she sat on the kitchen counter. She looked a little taller than the last time Lin saw her, she took after her father, would certainly go over 5'7 feet before she could predict.

"We eat ordinary food ... But we are vegetarian." If Lin was honest with herself, she was already becoming a vegetarian after Kya came back into her life. The waterbender didn’t eat meat as well, which meant Lin didn’t eat in front of her out of courtesy. It ended up becoming a custom and now she didn't even miss it.

She can hear laughter coming from the hall bathroom. Kya was bathing Rohan and Ikki and Meelo seemed to be having a great time.

"Are you okay with vegetable chile and baked potatoes?" Jinora nodded, brownish eyes shining in Lin's direction, which made her frown. The police chief goes to the sink to wash her hands and start making dinner when Jinora comes down from the counter.

"Can I help you?" The question seems to echo for a moment. The earthbender doesn't know if she ever cooked with Toph. Her mother was more of a mother who ordered food than cook. She smiles and nods at the girl.

"Just stay away from the knives." She warns as a wide smile crept across Jinora's face. She already had her tattoos but it didn't mean Lin would let her rip her own fingers off.

"Yes ma'am." She salutes and something particularly hot rests on Lin's chest. She doesn't want to admit that it's just affection, so she blames the heat in the kitchen.

She and Jinora work well together. She left her stuffing the potatoes while cooking the chile. The girl didn't speak much like Ikki and didn't do anything out of the ordinary like Meelo. It was a quiet company to make dinner.

She felt the vibrations of Kya's footsteps and the other children a few minutes later. The waterbender never managed to surprise her, but it's still just pleasant to feel her arms wrapping around her waist from behind. Kya's head fits perfectly in the curve of her neck and the way she's smiling at that moment ... Spirits ... What would Lin not do to see her smile like this always?

"How's it going?" Her lips are hot when they touch the police chief's shoulder with a delicate kiss.

"I'm making potatoes," Jinora announces as if it's the most incredible thing in the world. Kya raises her eyebrows at the girl and then tilts her head in Lin's direction. It's a silent question. Lin doesn't want to answer.

"What are you doing?" Meelo flew over Ikki's head and the counter, landing with a crash on the kitchen island. Lin opened and closed her mouth in surprise before looking at Kya who laughed. It was a very closed space for airbender kids.

"Do we really have to babysit them? Can't we just throw them in the river?" The healer nudged Lin's sides, shaking her head. She took Rohan from Ikki's arms and breathed in the baby's scent for a moment. He giggled and it was a sweet sound.

"This smell even makes me want to have one of my own." Lin really widens her eyes at her this time. Kya laughs and Jinora, who seemed to be paying attention to the whole interaction, wheezed.

"We are making potatoes and chile, Meelo." Jinora announced, showing the full tray proudly to Lin. The police chief nodded and then the siblings were arguing because Meelo tried to stick a finger inside the potato.

"The river is still standing." Kya nudged her waist with her free hand before going to take Meelo by the hand.

"We are going to play a game while aunt Lin and Jinora finish dinner." The police chief was about to protest about "aunt Lin" but she didn't. The kitchen was empty again, just her and Jinora, and that made her sigh with relief. No children flying over knives and hot pots.

"How can you handle your siblings?" She asks Jinora, almost rhetorically, her hands busy slicing the vegetables with one of the shiny metal knives.

"I think ... just as you handled your sister." Lin frowns at that statement, even though the girl can't see it. "I kind of have to be the responsible one ... And for what my dad told me, you had to be as well." She wasn't wrong. The police chief had solved her issues with Su, but she will always wonder what her sister would have become if Lin hadn't been the mother Toph wasn't. "It's a little bit of work, but I love my siblings." Lin turns her head so she can look at Jinora. She was growing up ... So much.

"I know the feeling." She smiles smoothly and Jinora does the same.

And a very loud laugh from Meelo breaks their little moment.

Jinora was really good at Pai Sho and won all rounds against Kya. Lin won by one point, but the girl didn't seem to care because she was shining ... Lin hadn't realized it before but Jinora seemed to really have fun around her and Kya. They played rounds of guessing as well, but the police chief was terrible at showing things with her body. It was Meelo who won, with a smashing advantage over Ikki. The earthbender really laughed at his imitation of a flying fishopotamus and she felt Kya's eyes on her when it happened. It seemed like she always had her eyes on her when she laughed.

Lin doesn't remember her living room ever being so messed up. There is a Pai Sho board on the coffee table and colored cards scattered and bowls with chile remnants. At some point Meelo rested his head on her lap while Kya told one of the stories about the northern water tribe, or perhaps about the fire nation, she no longer remembers and now he was sleeping heavily. Ikki's sleeping on the other couch, her head hanging off the pillow. Jinora is still awake, but she seems really immersed in what her aunt is saying. And Kya's holding Rohan in her arms.

It's silly and childish the way Lin's heart seems to swell to see her caressing the baby's black-haired head as she proceeds with her story. She looks quite like a mother. Lin never thought of herself as a mother. The children liked her for some reason, but she...Her experiences with motherhood weren't very promising ... She was pretty well without children. She couldn't imagine having a baby at this point in her life. But seeing Kya with a baby ... Humming, breathing in his head's scent ... Maybe they could be good mothers if they tried. The police chief would be very strict, which was obvious, it was written in the way she walked, but the waterbender could lighten up a little. Their child would have someone to play with since Rohan was still young. But it's just a silly thought. A silly thought that brings a smile to the corner of Lin's mouth.

Kya seems to feel she's being watched because she stops the story and her blue eyes turn to the earthbender. She smiles at her. Wide. The smile made Lin's heart ring in her ears.

"We should put them to bed." Kya says, nodding at Meelo and then at Ikki. Lin nods and takes the boy in her arms first, he complains and lets out a loud sigh. Kya laughs softly and it's so wonderful to hear her.

She accommodates Meelo on one of the beds in the guest bedroom, returning to pick up Ikki and give her the same destination. Jinora followed her. Kya arranged with pillows on another bed so that Rohan would not fall out while sleeping, which she found very ingenious.

Lin left Ikki on the bed, next to Meelo, but the girl opened her eyes as soon as she found her head on the pillow.

"Good night, a-aunt Lin." She wrapped her arms around the police chief's neck and placed a kiss on her cheek. Lin was stunned for a second, but she couldn't contain her smile this time and stroked the girl's hair when she walked away.

"Good night to you, too, Ikki." Kya was grinning when Lin's eyes found her again. A smile full of excitement and so childish.

"Good night, auntie Kya." Jinora hugged the waterbender quickly and then turned to Lin with hesitation for a moment as if she was considering whether to hug her or not. That's why the police chief extends her arms, a little hesitant too. Jinora hugs her gently and she smells a lot like pine, her hair is short, but it's soft and smells truly nice.

"Good night, aunt Lin." Apparently ... She would have to get used to 3 more people calling her aunt around, besides Opal.

Kya's smile was still on her mouth when they closed the bedroom door to the dark corridor of the apartment.

"What?" Lin asked and the waterbender just shrugged for a moment.

"You would be a great mother, you know." The police chief frowns and just shakes her head. She would be the mother the child would like least, that was for sure. "Don't make that face." She says, taking a step closer to take Lin's hands in hers. "I bet Mako and Bolin would agree with me." She rolls her eyes, but Kya grabs her chin so that she looks into her eyes. Hers seems to be glowing in the soft night light coming from the windows. "I think the way you treat those who are more vulnerable than you is beautiful." She puts a kiss on the corner of her mouth, it's warm and lovely. "And even if you don't agree with me." Kya's hands move up her arms until she can reach her neck where she allows her fingers to touch Lin's veins. Her mouth puts another kiss, this time closer to the lips, and the earthbender shudders. "Children love you because they can see how pure your heart is." Lin can tell her heart is a little racing now, Kya can probably feel it for the soft grip she is holding around her neck.

"Kya." It's just her name, but the waterbender leans towards the sound as if she were being massaged. She bends to run her tongue over Lin's bottom lip, gently, just expecting a kiss.

"At least you didn't kill any of them, so I think I owe you a reward." Kya chuckles and then places a tender kiss on Lin's lips before pulling her by the hand down the hall.

Before she can reach the master bedroom door, though, the police chief pushes her against one of the walls, her lips falling on hers like rose petals. Kya clings to her, her fingers, her mouth, her tongue. The same woman who was humming to a baby.

Lin kisses her as deeply as she can and the warmth spreading through her heart is incredibly different from sexual desire.

Maybe having a big family is not a bad idea after all.

It was pleasant to do her duties as a temporary mother.

And now she expected to do her duties as a wife.

[writingsbychlo]

if the world was ending | mitch rapp

word count; 5152

summary; mitch broke up with you because he couldn’t handle being in love again, and now he regrets that decision, and would do anything to take it back.

notes; this is a song fic, but I didn’t include all of the lyrics, so don’t send me asks about missing chunks, please! check out the song!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex.

I was distracted, and in traffic I didn't feel it when the earthquake happened, But it really got me thinkin' Were you out drinkin'? Were you in the living room Chillin', watching television?

His key would continuously seem to miss the lock on the door, and Mitch let out a low growl, shoving at the metal once again as he tried to force the lock to work, blurry eyes and exhaustion taking him over. Before he could question it, the door was opening from the inside, metal shifting and gears clicking before the wood was moving from his sights to reveal you instead, a bright smile on your face and one of his black henleys on your shoulders, hanging slightly loose around the open collar as it faded away into a pair of sleep shorts and fluffy socks clad on bare legs.

You were a sight for sore eyes, messy hair and teasing grin, and all. 

“You didn’t even check who it was, what if I’d been an intruder?” He chastised, stumbling forwards one tired legs and pressing a kiss to your lips, humming happily as you pressed back into him just as eagerly, before he was kicking the door shut behind himself and dropping his bag down by the front door. 

“An intruder with a key?” You raised your brows at him, his lips flicking up at the sides as his shoes followed; phone, wallet and keys all being discarded onto the side unit, and his eyes were locking onto the couch, joy filling him at the idea of laying down. “Not that you know how to use it, apparently.”

“You try using a key after six days in Russia with no sleep and having to fight, like, four people at once. Everything hurts.” You placed a hand on his chest to stop him in his movements as he edged toward the couch, a whine falling from him as he turned to look at you.

“You’re covered in blood, you’ll ruin my cushions, you need to wash up first.” He let out another sigh, despite knowing that it was a true and fair request, and nodded his head. “How about I run us a hot bath? I’ll put those bath salts in that make your muscles all tingly, and I’ll wash your hair for you.” 

He nodded, a wave of serenity already washing over him simply at the idea that he’d get to relax in the warmth of the water, his back pressed to your chest as you wrapped around him from behind, holding him close. You were always so good at making him feel safe when he came home, and he knew it was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you in the first place. What was intended to be a simple fling to satisfy the cravings for basic affections and the lust deep in his gut had become much more. 

He had a key to your apartment, and the cat the roamed the halls was friendly enough to bump its head against his shins and purr. He’d met your friends, and knew the names of every worker in that Thai place down the street that you loved so much, and they knew him. It had been so easy to slip into something more deep and meaningful with you, but there was still a clawing guilt in his stomach every time. The true intentions he’d had that night when he’d bought you a drink in a shitty bar while you wore a tight dress and danced under low lights, not to woo you and love you but simply to find a quick fuck, someone to warm his bed and quash the loneliness for a little while. 

He hated that he couldn't give you what you needed, that he wasn’t able to love you, because he just didn’t know how anymore. Every time he came home and went to your place instead of his, the key he held and the emotion in your eyes every time you looked at it, it was only a matter of time before you said those three little words to him that he couldn't say back, and everything he so deeply craved would come crashing and burning down at his feet once again. Warmth would shift to icy chills and he’d have locked himself out once again, because commitment just wasn’t something he was capable of anymore.

The water was running, gentle hands skimming up his sides as you helped him to undress, his own hands working over soft skin as he pushed your clothing to the floor, mouths melding in soft kisses, fingertips leaving goosebumps over flesh as you embraced one another’s touch once again, and even with the respite from his guilt that your presence provided for him, it was still always there. A pit in his stomach that was growing bigger and bigger, because as the tender moment stretched on and on, he knew tonight was going to be when you said it, full of bliss and joy and expecting to hear the phrase back, and so he kissed you, deeply, willing you not to, so that he could selfishly claim just a few more hours with you before it was all over.

It's been a year now Think I've figured out how How to let you go and let communication die out I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine

Pressing his forehead against the side of the plane, his eyes fluttered shut for a second, the painful ache spreading over the entirety of his body was enough to make any other grown man cry, but that wasn’t the cause of the burning behind his eyes today. Today, Mitch had the painful reminded of this day a year ago when he’d been on his way to see you, but he didn’t quite have that luxury anymore. His throat was tinging, choking back the emotions he held, one’s he so wanted to release, and his nostrils flared with a deep sigh instead. 

“You’re been pouting like a child all fuckin’ day. Will you cheer up? You’re ruining the beer I’m anticipating when I get home with your foul mood.” 

He cracked his eyes open, hoping they didn’t appear as glassy and red as they felt, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat, scowling at his mentor in hopes that he’d lay off. That tactic clearly hadn't worked, however, because Stan shifted a little more in his seat, dragging a curious gaze over every inch of his face in a way that made Mitch squirm in his seat a little, uncomfortable at the scrutiny he was being afforded. 

“You look depressed.”

“That’s because I’m stuck on a plane with you.” He muttered, moving himself to look out of the window instead, and his mentor barked out an amused laugh, but Mitch could still feel his lingering stares. 

“No, I think you’re freaking out about what happens after you’re no longer on the plane with me.” He hated that Stan could read him so easily, that to everyone else he was a safe that was locked up tight, and that it was so easy for the other man to crawl under his skin, get on all of his nerves and be one of the only people who truly knew him. “You weren’t even this on edge and tense when we were on our way out, never mind coming home.”

“I just don’t like going home to an empty house, okay? It’s too quiet. Cold.”

He grumbled the words out, but Stan scoffed, and was fixed with a harsh glare in return, but he didn’t flinch like Mitch wished he would, seemingly unaffected by the burning stare. “And who’s fault is that, huh?”

Mitch opened his mouth, gaping a little, before snapping his jaw shut tightly, feeling the muscles twitch and tense as his teeth ground together. He could feel the divet between his brows, where they had puled together, a spot that always formed when he was angry or confused or concentrating, and he could still feel the warmth and weight of you sinking down into his lap while he wrote up his reports, your thumb smoothing over the spot, followed by a brush of your lips as you told him to relax. 

The thought made his eyes sting once again, and he cursed a little under his breath, giving in at the stares they were sharing as he cowered out, blinking forming tears away quickly. “I don’t get what your problem was. You clearly care about her. Why can’t you just tell her that, and stop sulking? It’d do you good o have her back, I liked you better when you weren’t sulking and single. Less of a bitch to work with.”

“You’re a bitch to work with.”

“What are you? Five?” 

He knew it had been a weak response, and he cringed a little on himself, sinking down further into the plush leather of the plane seat and trying to sift through his thoughts, something that Hurley clearly acknowledged, because he waited patiently but expectantly in silence, running a hand over his jaw as he watched Mitch try to gather his thoughts up and sort himself out. “It’s not so easy to just say. It’s complicated.”

“It really ain’t.” Stan shrugged, something about his tone making Mitch feel like he was about to get some kind of fatherly advice, and his curiosity got the best of him as he peered over at his superior. “I’ve heard you say that word before. Heard you say how much you love beer, how much you love beef dumplings and noodles on a Friday night, how much you love knocking cocky recruits on their ass.”

“Saying I love food is not the same as being able to say I love (Y/N).” He hissed, hopes dropping as he realised the statement wasn’t going to be useful, but Stan smirked at him wickedly, shrugging his shoulders and sipping his drink.

“Yeah, well, you just said it.” His face twisted up, moving between several different expressions, before a slightly nauseated shock was what he settled on, as he realised that the words he’d never been able to say aloud before, or even internally acknowledge, had finally been voiced for the first time. In front of Hurley, of all people. He was never going to be able to live this down. “Now, why can’t you say that to her?”

“Because everyone I’ve ever loved before has died, Stan.”

He could see the shock flick across the older man’s face, and it brought him a sick kind of amusement to know he’d caught him so off-guard, but then he was shrugging, and again moving back to that irritating level of passive smart-ass that only he had managed to master so effectively. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have the same training you did before now, did you? You’re not even thirty. You gonna’ spend the whole rest of your life miserable and unhappy just because of a car crash and a shooting, both of which were beyond your control?”

A dull aching in his chest flare dup a little at the mentions of those events, but he knew it was true, and his body deflated with the breath he let out as he gave the weakest rise and drop of his shoulders that he could, his hands clasping over his stomach as he turned to stare out of the plane window. A large hand found his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly, but he didn’t bother to look over. 

“Just stop being a dumbass, you clearly love this girl, so why don’t you just get your head out of your ass and go see her?”

Stan wandered away after that, ice clinking in his glass as he handed it off to a flight attendant before disappearing to the bathroom, and Mitch was left alone to wallow in painful thoughts with a stabbing pain in his chest as his heart continued to long for you. 

But if the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over and you'd stay the night Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant If the world was ending You'd come over, right? The sky'd be falling and I'd hold you tight And there wouldn't be a reason why We would even have to say goodbye If the world was ending You'd come over, right? Right?

He was sweating, hands clammy with a nervous perspiration that made him feel uncomfortable in his clothes, like he wanted to curl up into a ball, dig a hole in the earth, throw up, or some combination of all three. The walk he’d done was so familiar to him, and yet right now, as he stood before your door, it had felt eerily unfamiliar.

There were definite changes. 

Your neighbour’s suspicious cat sat out on the front of the apartment building but did not come over to him, even when he’d called out its name, taking the welcome distraction as he crouched down and held his hand out to it, trying to tempt it into remembering him, into approaching him again, but it hadn't. The small animal had simply stared at him as he stood there, before mewing loudly and running away when he’d taken a fraction of a step closer to the door. 

The elevator in the main building was working, it had broken only a few months into seeing you before, and now it was back up and working like it had never been broken. The lights in the entryway were brighter, and the hallways had been repainted, the soft grey that they had once been was replaced with sky blue, much brighter and cheerier, and he remembered you telling him about it while laying in bed together one night, it was the exact colour you’d voted for when the building meeting had taken place to discuss it. 

The crack in the framing by your door that you’d never gotten around to fixing was mended, damage done by the previous tenants and he’d always said he would fix it for you, but had then always forgotten to bring the tools he would need for it, and he choked down the regret in his throat as he brushed a finger over it. He knew the route, his feet feeling like dead weight under his body as he’d trudged along the halls, before finding himself here, all but trembling with fear and anticipation outside of your door. 

The paper and ribbons wrapped around the flowers in his hands were crinkling loudly with every shake he made, and he took a deep and steadying breath, shaking himself down from head to toe. The rapping of his knuckles on the door felt like it reverberated along his entire body, his heart thumping painfully hard against his chest as he waited, eyes fixed on the floor as he watched warm light spill out from under the threshold and into the corridor, soon blocked by a shadow as he heard the scuffling of your feet along the floorboards.

Breath was stuck in his lungs, a choked sound leaving him as the door swung open, your voice ringing out but dying in your throat as you spoke, claiming that whoever it was that you were expecting - certainly not him - was early, and he dropped his eyes, just for a split second to scan along your body, before he was looking up at your face once again.

So pretty, and if he’d thought the melodic ringing of your voice was enough to end him then he had been entirety unprepared for the sight of you. The little black dress he loved so much was fitted to you like a second skin, a cocktail dress he’d seen you wear so many times before as he took you out for drinks and celebrations, his body flooding with heat. Hair styled up, makeup to perfection, and he would have been just as breathless if you’d crawled out of bed to answer the door but you were stunning, and he hated every ounce of himself for ever letting you go.

His jaw dropped as you stared at him in shock, pain flashing in your eyes before you hardened your gaze on him, an act he’d never wished to have you aim at him and yet he knew he deserved it, and yet the words were burning on the tip of his tongue as every moment he’d ever shared with you flashed before his eyes, swirling in his mind, and pulling one very prominent one to the front. 

The last time that he’d almost uttered the phrase to you, the one he was determined for you to hear from him now, even if you no longer felt the same. The last time you’d worn this dress, and you’d taken him with you to celebrate one of your friend’s birthdays, his cheeks heating up as he looked at you, but saw that day.

I tried to imagine your reaction It didn't scare me when the earthquake happened But it really got me thinkin' That night we went drinkin' Stumbled in the house  And didn't make it past the kitchen Ah, it's been a year now Think I've figured out how How to think about you without it rippin' my heart out

You were giggling into his mouth, red lipstick smeared across his chin and cheeks as your fingers scratched at the stubble lining his jaw, tongue tangled together as you stumbled into your apartment. The door slammed as it closed, hard enough to shake the walls, but neither of you cared, especially not when you were making such sweet sounds for him as his hands slipped lower and lower across the silk lining your body. 

Shoes came off first, his shoes being toed off as you tried to kick off your heels, sinking a few inches further down his body as the height fell away, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to be able to lean over you, keeping his mouth firmly on yours as wet tongues tangled together. You were stumbling through the apartment, tripping over one another’s feet and laughing breathlessly as your hands worked down the buttons on the front of his shirt. 

You were pushing the material from his shoulders, blazer and dress shirt falling away to the floor with a distant ‘thud’, the fluttering of material sounding out, and the heat around you both was crawling higher and higher. It was frantic, a night of teasing and longing looks, sipping champagne and cocktails with sly winks and whispered needs. He’d cleaned up for the event, and you’d made it clear before you’d even left just how good you thought he looked, and you were clad in dark black silk with thigh slits and heels and you were enough to bring any man to his knees, and he absolutely intended for that to be his next destination. 

He was rucking up layers of fabric in his hands until the skirt was bunched around your waist, making you hold it up, and the closest surface he could pin you to was the counter of the breakfast bar, barely having even made it through the kitchen, and hissed as bare skin found the cool marble. His knees hit the floor, your panties following until the scrap of lace was pulled tight around your knees, but then he was helping you up, sitting you on the surface, letting your lay back as he spread your legs and dived right in. 

You were dripping for him, before he’d even done anything but kiss you, a groan slipping from his lips as he all but drooled at the thrill of getting to indulge in the honey that was slick on your thighs. That was where he started, licking up the mess you’d already made of yourself as you squirmed and panted underneath him, letting him tease you with small bites and sucking at your soft skin until you’d growled in frustration, a hand in his hair pulling him closer until you were burying his face into your core, sounds that filled every wet dream he ever had taking over. 

His scalp had burned, the scratch of your nails and tugs of the strands and your thighs and hips had been littered with red marks the shape of his fingerprints that would be purple in the morning, but he knew you loved it just as much as he did. Two fingers had slipped into you, scissored and curled as he lapped around them, driving you to the point of senseless babbling just with his fingers and tongue, before you’d exploded around him. Then, he’d fucked you. 

Deep and slow on the counter with your arms wrapped around his neck, legs tights around his waist as you clung to one another, a collection of tangled limbs, a moaning mess and you chased your highs, until the two of you had been all but sobbing one another’s name into the other’s mouth as you kissed your way through your peaks, and he’s spattered your thighs and cunt with his arousal, pulling out at the very last second and leaving you trembling underneath him when he’d scooped it up and pressed it to your lips. 

It was hot, and erotic, but the moments after had been loving and tender. Taking a shower with weak muscles, sinking to the bottom of the tub together as water thrashed down from overhead, soft kisses and laughs and whispered confessions until the water had gone cold, and you’d collapsed into bed together, leaving a mess t tidy up int he morning, sheets sticking to wet skin as you were too lazy to even dry off, just cuddling together under the sheets, drunk on one another, and the words had been so close that night. A sleepy, post-orgasm haze, he’d so nearly whispered them against your lips as you kissed him goodnight.

I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine But if the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over and you'd stay the night Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant

“I love you.”

You flinched, like you were standing too close to a fire and had been burned, and it felt like a knife twisting in his stomach as he watched your reaction. Your arms came up to wrap around yourself, toes digging into the wood of the floor as you stood your ground but he knew your nervous ticks, he knew you, and he frowned, but didn’t let it deter him. 

“I love you so, so much. I’m a fucking idiot, I know I am. I know you hate me, and you’ve probably moved on and can find someone who actually deserves you, but I’m selfish, okay? I wanted you to hear it, I had to tell you, for my own peace of mind. I had to know that I cam here, and had the balls to tell you that you are the person who hasn’t left my mind in an entire fucking year. Every thought, every dream, every time my heart beats, it’s all for you, and I had to tell you.” He took a deep breath, scanning your face for even a twitch, any slight tell of an emotion he could get, but you were offering him nothing. “I couldn’t say it before, I was scared and I didn’t know what I was feeling and I know that I hurt you. It kills me every day to know what I did, to think about your face, and the way you’d cried when I walked out, because it haunts me, okay? A year ago today, I lost the best thing in my god damn life, and I just had to tell you, because in another year, and another ten years, and forever on, I think I’ll still love you then. I had to know that you knew.”

You were staring at him, eyes wide and a little glassy as he took a deep breath, lungs screaming out for oxygen and his mind was finally blank. The incessant buzzing he’d become accustomed to as his mind whirled around you on a loop had finally stopped, and he was left in calm, the aftermath of an event, the silence that came after an explosion, the harmony after a fight when everything just went still. 

But there was always more to come. 

Only then did the thoughts about what you were wearing catch up to him. Pretty painted lips and sharp eyeliner and that sinful dress that made his blood run warmer in his veins as he burned from the inside out. A quick glance behind you confirmed that there was a pair of black strappy heels to match the outfit, a necklace with a gem that he’d never seen you wear before was hanging between your breasts in the low neckline of your dress, skin soft and freshly shaven on the slit up your thigh on your dress. 

He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little, but he tried to offer you a reassuring smile nonetheless. “Date?”

Your brows pulled in with confusion, and he could physically see the walls surrounding you begin to crumble away, before you let out a heavy sigh, your arms dropping as you caved under his faze, finally speaking to him; “No. Drinks with the girls.”

“Ah, right..”

A tepid silence took over, and he tried not to drop his eyes from yours. Soaking up every moment he had with you before you inevitably kicked him off of your doorstep, and you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning on the doorframe. “A distraction. They’re taking me out to cheer me up, because it’s been a year since the best thing in my life walked out on me.”

Mitch felt his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at you.

If the world was ending You'd come over, right? The sky'd be falling while I'd hold you tight No, there wouldn't be a reason why We would even have to say goodbye If the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over, right? You'd come over, you'd come over, you'd come over, right?

A fistful of his shirt, a harsh tug that he wasn’t expected that made him fall over his own feet, and then there were lips on his own. He couldn’t help it, the embarrassingly needy whine that left him the second his brain caught up with what was happening, and he dropped the bouquet to the floor, hands finding your hips as he pulled you into him. Bodies collided, flush and pressed together, your hands circling his neck and fingers in his hair, heat flooding him from where you were pressed to him, and it felt like he’d been cold for the entirety of the past year, goosebumps rising and falling along his skin as he fell back home, into your arms.

Your cheeks were wet as you gasped into his mouth, tongues sliding together, panting from breath as noses bumped. It was urgent and rushed, not the kiss he’d imagined with you if you’d forgive him, but the one that seemed most fitting. Messy and uncoordinated as if you were learning each other for the first time, becoming familiarised once again with every inch of the other, hands roaming and tongue exploring, until you were satisfied that you were thoroughly reconnected. 

He let out a wet and hoarse laugh, raising one hand to sit on your jaw and wipe his thumb under your eyes, clearing away the tears that were already threatening to spoil the masterpiece you’d created, and he knew how long it took you to do it.

“Baby, please don’t cry. You’re going to ruin your makeup.”

You let out a laugh, and he cleared your face, stealing a few more pecks as though at any moment you were going to realise what he’d done, go back to hating him, push him away as if this was the last he’d ever get to see you. You were staring up at him, with glassy eyes and the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, and Mitch swore he couldn't even feel the floor anymore, as if he was floating, up in the clouds and lost to the world. 

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait right here, until you come back. We can talk, or you can yell, whatever you want. I’ll be here.”

“I‘m not going anywhere.” You pulled him back in, another collection of sweet kisses that he didn’t deserve but would always accept, never willing to give them up again. “I’d rather stay in and watch TV with you, but you have to go and get us takeout. You know I hate walking to get it.”

“I do, I do know that.” He sniffed, breathy exhale like a laugh as he held onto you tightly, before dipping down to collect the discarded flowers from the ground. A few crumpled petals fell away to the floor, but they were otherwise intact, and he pressed them into your hand carefully, watching as you admired them, thumbing at the delicate leaves and bringing them to your nose. 

“This doesn’t get you off the hook, you know.”

“I’ll spend the entire rest of my life making it up to you, I swear.” You only nodded, letting him into your apartment as you led him inside, smiles and tears and he dipped down, lips brushing your earlobe as he listened to you gasp in surprise. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Mitch. Even if you are a fuckin’ idiot.” He only nodded, following your lead as you took him by the hand and guided him through to find a vase and water for the flowers. “Go get my phone, I need to text my friends.”

He did as told, trailing through the apartment, bringing your purse back with him and presenting the item to you, his hands searching for your body once again, just needing to hold you and know that it was real, to know that this time, you weren’t just a dream his mind was conjuring up to torment him with.

He didn’t need a night out, he didn’t need you to be dressed up, he didn’t need anything but you. You and him, and the love you shared, it was enough to get him through anything. 

If the world was ending You'd come over, right?

[em0avacado]

Only You

( Angel Reyes x Reader )

trigger warnings : none i think, guys being dudes, soft at the end. Language maybe.

word count : 2.1k ish

You were difficult to figure out, that was one thing you knew very well. You’d grown up around teenage boys all your life, being rough, chaotic and careless is all you knew. It’s who you were. Everyone knew that, but what no one knew? Was that you very, very capable of having a soft spot for someone. It was rare, when you were in highschool you swore to yourself there wouldn’t be another man you’d let close to your heart, and you were doing so well being, well, that bitch™, that when you met Angel Reyes, it threw you off, horribly so. You didn’t know how to handle it, you saw him, and you wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself, which, was likely that he wasn’t. It only got worse when you and him quickly became the best of friends. For some reason, when you started liking him a little more than the rest of your friends, you were lost, so unfamiliar with any emotions, having shut that out eons ago. Somehow, you’d worked it out in your head that you had to be more mean to him than the rest of them.

You had come home late from work one night, you were exhausted, and very much irritated when you heard rustling and noise behind your door. Nearly groaning, you shoved the key in your door and let yourself in, clearly, the boys had done the exact same who knows how long ago. You dropped your bag, and keys on the table before wandering into the very noisy living room where Angel, Ez, Coco, and Gilly were sat on your couch, feet up, beer in hands. Clearing your throat was what caught their attention, their cheers of excitement hurting your pounding head. They looked happy, and relaxed. You wouldn’t admit it but that was your favourite thing to see. Except, Angel. He didn’t look impressed.

“well look who decided to show up.” he said with an unimpressed tone, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, sorry I came home late to guests I didn’t invite over.” you muttered, pulling your coat off and setting it aside. “next time i’ll let the boss know I can’t take the last shift there might be a bunch of weird men in my home.”

“you sure it was just a late work shit? You not fucking your boss?” he asked with a hint of.. something? In his tone. Who the hell did this man think he was? Rolling your eyes once again, you didn’t have the patience to fight with Angel tonight, you’d said your boss was attractive once in response of him gushing over some girl at Vicky’s and he hasn’t let it go since.

“Why? You jealous?” you asked, and very quickly got a reaction, he got defensive.

“No.” he nearly spat “why would I be jealous of your boss?” his arms crossed over his chest. The rest of them watched with wide eyes. Except Coco, who was too invested in Tiger King.

“Because you want to fuck me.” you said blatantly, he, and Gilly, choked on their beers as Angel quickly tried to regain himself.

“I do not!” he protested, coughing and wiping at his face.

“mhm.” you hummed, pushing off your boots and heading off to the back, wanting to just have a shower before getting comfortable for the night, hoping to forget, even for just a moment, that there was a bunch of home invaders in your living room. Just as you were shutting your bedroom door, you heard mumbles and a then very clear conversation.

“You wanna fuck [Y/N]?” Gilly asked Angel, Ez could only laugh, he knew his brother, he knew he did.

“no.” grumbled Angel.

“Isn’t that kind of gay?” asked Coco. “I mean - she’s one of us, she’s literally beat you up, she’s a bro. That’d be like fucking me.” You snorted at that, of course he’d say that shit. Always. “Isn’t she.. a lesbian?”

Next you heard “Oh shit I thought she was too.” from Gilly.

“She’s not a lesbian! She thinks Bucky Barns is hot, she’s said she wants him to crush her head with that metal arm of his.” Said Ez, you heard Angel huff like a child.

Great, you thought to yourself, now you have a living room full of idiots trying to figure out your sexuality. You grabbed a towel, rolling your eyes at your friends, and went for your shower. Washing away the days stress, replacing the stench of oil and hard work with your signature cucumber, aloe vera scent. You settled on a thick sweater and plaid pj shorts before heading back into the living room where you expected to see the rest of your friends, now more ready to deal with them until you went to bed, but when you saw no one, you grabbed a water and headed to sleep.

The next few days were an endless series of hectic, and tiresome hours put into work, every day something went wrong. You hadn’t been so close to having a total breakdown in forever, but the weight on your shoulders felt so heavy. You couldn’t wait to go home, you had the next two days off and you couldn’t wait but dream of catching dreams and nothing but that. But when you got to your door, it was unlocked. Pulling the gun from your waist, you cocked it and raised it as you entered, only to find Angel at your table with his head in his hands. Setting down your things, you locked the door behind you and shed your work clothes.

This was a routine whenever either one of you had a particularly hard day, you turned to one another, despite the endless banter, you two easily fell into being each other’s safe haven. You deemed it to be because you understood each other, like best friends did, it worked. At some point, though, you’d began to fall for Angel and you had no idea how to deal with it.

“am I okay to shower?” you asked softly, crouching down beside where he sat, running a gentle hand over his head. He aches for your affections, even the slightest of your touches calmed the man, but he knew that you had to be the one to instigate it. You hated physical contact, it was rare you trusted, let alone liked someone enough to let them touch you. You were picky with it. Angel respected that, though he did sometimes want to just pull you into a hug when his world was spinning, yet he didn’t. You saw it in the way that he involuntarily followed your hand that it was a hard day for him, when he nodded, you gently squeezed his shoulder. “okay, take off your kutte and boots and go lay in bed, i’ll be there after, okay?” when he nodded again and began to move, you headed off to the bathroom quickly to rinse off.

Not all that long after, you’d met him in your room, like you promised. You wore pj shorts, and a tank, he was in his wife beater and boxers. You climbed in, and lifted the comforter wordlessly, inviting him in. He quickly settled against you, his face laid against your chest. You trailed your fingers over his back, drawing soft shapes on his skin a mark that didn’t stain much more than his mind. You both laid in a comfortable silence, his hands were secured at his sides, eventually yours sat in his hair, playing with the short strands as he listened to your heart beat. He never thought he’d be more thankful for someone else’s beating heart.

“Do you like Bucky Barnes more than you like me?” he asked, breaking the silence after a while. You furrowed your brows slightly and looked at him. You saw his glassy brown eyes staring right back at you. Your heart melting at the sight.

“Angel, Bucky is a fictional character.” you answered simply.

“So you do.” he said in disappointment, sighing. Jealousy hung heavy over his head, perhaps it wasn’t just that, perhaps he had an exceedingly difficult day. When he started pulling away from you, you wrapped your arms around his head and pulled him in, the gesture was.. sweeter and much more gentle in your head, but everyone knew you weren’t the most graceful, so you accidentally jabbed him not only in the eye, but also picked his nose for him. Dismissing the fact that you did that, you took his face in your hands and had him look to you.

“Bucky Barnes has nothing on you.” you said, doing your best to sound reassuring.

“What about his arm?” he asked, puppy eyes on full display. This man will be the end of you.

“I’d let you run over my head with your bike.” you told him, trialing your thumbs over his cheeks. Something inside you told you that there was a fine line between platonic and romantic, and that you’ve both bolted passed that line ages ago, in private, at least.

“you really mean that?” he asked yet another question, you knew you were playing into his ego but you could only give in to him.

“i do.” you said, yawning. He wrapped his arms around you again, and settled back down. Shutting his eyes. You had a few minutes at best before you were out, and Angel knew that once you started yawning, it only took a little while till you were out.

But the next morning, when you slowly started to come back to the world of the living, you heard Angel mumbled something into the phone. Being the nosy son of a bitch you were, you listened in. “I don’t know, man. All I know is that if I don’t leave now, I don’t think I ever will. She doesn’t see me the way I see her, I can’t force this on her, I’ll lose her for good and I’d rather have her as a friend, but I can’t lose her. On god little brother I can’t.” he mumbled, and you felt your chest heat up. He was talking about you. To Ez. Shutting your eyes again for a moment, you took a deep breath and climbed out as you heard him rustling around. You grabbed one of the blankets, surrounding yourself with it to try to warm back up after your toes were kissed by the cold. You headed out of the room, your toes padding against the hard wood floor. You’d caught him in the middle of opening the door, and talking to Ez still.

“Please don’t leave.” You said, your voice soft, almost timid. Angel turned around, looking at you all wide eyed.

“Wh - huh?” he looked at you dumbfounded.

“Come back to bed, I’m cold.” you said, clutching the blanket tighter.

“[Y/N], I - I have to go.” he responded, fumbling with the phone in his hand as Ezekiel yelled at him to get his head out of his ass on the line.

“You’re an idiot.” You quickly shuffled closer to him, letting go of your grasp on the blanket, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands and you lead him closer to you. Looking into his eyes, you felt his hot breath brush against your face, taking a second to really look at him before connecting your lips to his in a soft kiss. This was definitely crossing the friendship line, but he was intoxicating. “Don’t leave now. Don’t leave ever.” you said when your lips parted for air. Your eyes on him, all you heard was his heavy breathing, and the cheering on the other end of the phone.

The sight of you right then and there let Angels heart melt into puddle, he hadn’t seen it before but you looked at him like he was the world, and he was, he was your world, even though you’ve quite literally sucker punched him in the stomach for taking your last cheese bun.

“So she’s not a lesbian right?” you heard Coco ask everyone.

“Coco I’m gonna beat your fucking ass.” you said, grabbing the phone before hanging up. “but first imma eat yours.” you tried to say in a serious voice, but the moment Angels face twisted in disgust, you lost it.

“Way to ruin the moment.” he groaned.

“You want me to bring the moment back?” you asked, raising a brow at him when he nodded. You reached up, brushing back his hair, taming the bed head ever so slightly, you brought your hands down to his beard, scraping your nails gently against it as you brought your lips back to his. “give me another kiss then, baby.” your voice drawled out softly, meeting his lips in a soft, yet passionate kiss.

Taking his hand after a few moments, you pulled him back to the bedroom, he was completely caught in a trance. So, as you walked, you set his phone aside, you pushed off his kutte and tossed it on the couch, you unbuttoned his flannel and tossed it on a close by chair. “Are you trying to fuck me?” he asked, bewildered.

“No, not right now.” you chuckled softly. “I want to lay with you, I want your warmth, and your smiles, and your laughter when I tell you some stupid joke, I want your arms around me. I want to hold you. Only you. Let me feel safe in your arms because I don’t anywhere else.” you admitted, pulling him into you. He looked like a lost puppy as you spoke, but then he fully dove into you, not wanting to look back.

“and after our nap? I’m making waffles.” you said in your donkey impression, making Angel roll his eyes. “Angel baby.. When we fuck I’m gonna moan like I think Donkey does when he and that dragon fuck, okay?” you ask, entirely serious.

“oh god please no.” he laughs, hiding his face in your chest.

Tag List :

@mayans-sauce

@queenbeered

@lilacyennefer

[beybladefanboy]

Top 5 Metal Masters Episodes

Honestly, out of the three main seasons, Masters to me is the weakest. That is by a slight margin, it’s still a very good season, but it is a more noticeable margin than the one between Fusion and Fury. I think we can all agree that the time they spend in America in the last twenty five or so episodes is the most consistently good part of the season. Before that, this season goes up and down in quality like a rollercoaster. In the end though, this season was more good than lackluster so here are the best episodes.

Honourable Mentions

Episode 98: The Fallen Emperor

This is the episode where Da Xiang and Julian battle. I honestly really relate to Julian’s story where he was held to really high expectations and was never allowed to fail so when he did, he didn’t know how to handle it and felt like he lost everything. This episode also made me really like Da Xiang. He was annoying at first but seeing him become a leader who has found strength supporting his team and getting back up after every defeat and teaching Julian to do the same was really nice. It was a great moment for both of their characters and it was cool seeing Da Xiang use the full extent of his abilities. I didn’t really think of him as a really strong blader before this episode.

Episode 100: The Wild Beast Unleashed

This is Kyoya and Damian’s battle and once again, I’m biased toward Kyoya. I like his battle against Damian more than Gingka’s because Gingka was sort of guaranteed to win while Kyoya could’ve gone either way. I don’t really have much to say: it’s just an epic battle and an interesting look into Kyoya’s character. I won’t go into that because another Tumblr user has already done a much better job and I don’t want to copy them, it’s just really in line with the Kyoya we know.

5) Episode 77: The Dragon Emperor Returns

I mentioned having a Kyoya bias but if there’s a character I have even more of a bias for, it’s Ryuga. Long story short, this is the episode that made Ryuga my favourite character. I liked him as a villain in Fusion, and was already starting to get a bit of a crush on him, but this episode made me fall in love. In fact, I can pinpoint the exact moment it happened: when he explained how the dark power was man made so he could overcome it and draw L-Drago’s power from its original source, showing that he was willing to admit his mistakes and determined to grow from the experience. How could I not admire that? He’s also just a total badass. His entrance in this episode, walking in with a sadistic looking smile as he makes meteors fall all around him before he beats the crap out of everyone there was just amazing. This is also a great episode for Tsubasa, another favourite character of mine. He’s going crazy due to the dark power in this episode, letting his dark side take over and drive him to battle Sophie, Wales, and Julian in the woods at night with the intent to destroy them. It’s tragic but the Dark Tsubasa arc was the best part of Masters so I really liked seeing him struggle with this darker side and seeing Ryuga provide him the solution: to become one with the dark power. Just a really interesting episode overall.

4) Episode 69: The Scorching Hot Lion

Here’s more of my Kyoya bias. This episode was a huge breath of fresh air. Masters before this point was really uninteresting for me, with the exception of the Dark Tsubasa stuff which hadn’t been portrayed much at this point. It was mostly battles I didn’t care for and Gingka, Masamune, and Yu being insanely obnoxious. So to get away from them, and see a character’s return I was personally waiting for with baited breath, it was like a drink of cold water on a hot day. This is a simple episode all things considered: it’s just the formation of Team Wild Fang but that was more interesting than anything else in the season at that point. Kyoya and Nile’s camaraderie/friendship is developed and showcased well, to the point where they already really feel like a team. Demure is sort of just inserted into their group but he does prove himself to be useful and to kid me, it was a nice surprise that he was the one to make their team. So yeah, just a simple episode showing fun interesting characters forming bonds.

3) Episode 91: The Furious DJ Battle?!

This episode is honestly just funny. It doesn’t accomplish anything plot-wise: it’s just Gan Gan Galaxy trying and failing to find a replacement member for their team since Tsubasa and Yu are both hospitalized. Kenta and Wang Fu Zhong all battle for this honour, when Ryo interferes in his Phoenix costume. He tries to join the team, stupidly not knowing the rules of his own tournament and in one of the most satisfying moments EVER, Hikaru puts this idiot in his place and Ryo is disappointed. His suffering is points in my book. Then the American and Japanese blader DJs come in. Rewatching it now, this episode was probably fan service for people that wanted to see them battle but it’s honestly great fan service. Seeing the main cast react to such a terrible bey battle, with the series’ over the top announcing, is just amazing. Words can’t really give it justice. Just watch the episode. It’s the funniest one in the show.

2) Episode 72: Eternal Rivals

In my opinion, this was Gingka and Kyoya’s best battle. I always have fun seeing these two battle but at this point in the series, they hadn’t battled one on one since Metal Fusion. The battles got much more layered and fierce since then. Gingka and Kyoya are constantly going back and forth between who is winning, trading special moves and keeping you on your toes and wondering who’s going to win. And then… neither of them do. Gingka and Kyoya end up being equals in power, using up every ounce of their strength trying to defeat their opponent before collapsing from exhaustion. Yeah, it’s kind of disappointing we never saw Kyoya defeat Gingka. However, I think a tie was the perfect way to end this specific battle. Before this, Masamune lost to Nile so one more loss would’ve kicked Gan Gan Galaxy out of the tournament but simply giving Gingka the win would’ve sort of discredited the hard work Kyoya put in. Having them tie keeps Gan Galaxy at the disadvantage without making them lose and showcases how far Kyoya has come as a balder. Overall, just a really epic battle that makes the slower parts before it worth it.

1) Episode 79: Dark Eagle

There’s a very simple reason I love this episode: it’s the culmination of the Dark Tsubasa Arc, aka the best thing about Metal Masters. It was an interesting look into a character's psyche and added a darker layer to the earlier part of this season. However, this resolution was what made it really stick out to me. In other shows I've seen (Yugioh for example) the goal is always to drive out/destroy the darkness within people but this episode decided to go in a more realistic direction. Realistic in an representational way I mean. In real life, we can't drive out our "darkness" so to speak. What we can do in real life is accept ourselves and learn to overcome our inner demons rather than denying them, which is what Tsubasa did in this episode. He accepted that his darker self was part of him but that it didn’t define who he was, overcoming that darkness and creating a new special move on the spot to defeat Sophie and Wales. Yeah, the battle itself is still really good but the flashback of Tsubasa as a kid and him overcoming his dark power is what propels the episode into being one of the best.

[masonscig]

beach

wayhaven summer fic #4

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 1.4k

warnings | body image issues

author’s note | hi here’s something i wrote last minute because i wanted to get back to writing one of my favorite pairings! i don’t go too in depth with her body image issues, just general discomfort, but just know she’s uncomfortable with showing skin because of it. let me know if i need to add anymore warning tags!

•─────────────────•

Summer was her least favorite season.

She had a full list of reasons for hating the heat. She hated the way her bangs would cling to her forehead, the way her glasses would fog up the minute she stepped out of an air conditioned car, the way her skin would glisten with sweat no matter how thin the fabric she wore was.

She hated the way her shirt clung to the small of her back, and she hated the way her underarms felt when she sweat through her clothes.

Most of all, she hated the pressure of wearing certain things that she’d never choose for herself.

No, no one was telling her she had to wear a bikini.

There were just… pressures.

When she saw Tina running around town in a sports bra and a cutoff shirt that showed the rolls at her side, she couldn’t help but feel a little envious of her friend. Happy for her, but a little jealous of her confidence.

She’d always been that way, though – the one to always wear a tankini bathing suit top and shorts at pool parties, regardless of how many boys she had crushes on were there.

Fall and winter were the times of year in which she found the most solace. Stuffing her closet full of long sleeves, sweaters, jackets until it was bursting at the seams was pretty much how she felt when she noticed the first hints of orange bleeding through the leaves.

And similarly, when the temperature began to rise, dread creeped up the back of her neck and laced itself in the collar of her turtleneck, clinging to her skin tighter and tighter with each day.

So no, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to this day.

But she didn’t want to alarm them – they’d risked their lives for her before, so in comparison, they weren’t asking much when they wanted her to come with them to the beach, if you could even call it that.

Wayhaven’s beach was riddled with more rocks than sand, and most people sported wetsuits for the chilly weather, unless it was the rare warm and sunny day, like that day – the one day Tina invited Sofía and Unit Bravo to the beach.

Felix took off like a rocket the minute his feet hit the rocks, splashing and flailing as soon as he was chest deep in the water. Tina followed suit, trying to float on her back, but opting instead for a dunking contest with Felix after he splashed her.

Adam kept watch, his mind already made up that he’d be the one to do so (and there was no changing his mind when he was set on something).

Nate had walked ahead, umbrella tucked underneath one arm, and a tote bag full of books slung over his shoulder.

(When Felix joked that Nate would play lifeguard, both Adam and Nate glared in his direction. Felix since apologized – and Nate said he didn’t mind as long as he didn’t have to touch the water.)

As for Mason? He was leaning against the side of the car, cigarette in mouth, clearly trying to figure out his next move.

She didn’t pay much attention to him in that moment – she was frozen where the grass kissed the gritty, dark sand.

The linen pants and loose t-shirt she wore gripped her tight, like they weren’t ready to let go.

She curled her hands into fists, clutching the fabric until her hands shook.

This shouldn’t be that hard, Sofía. You’ve faced supernaturals who tried to kill you. You can handle a little sun and skin, she reassured herself, sucking in air through her nostrils, exhaling a shaky breath through her mouth. This isn’t your worst fear. You’ve conquered worse.

She tried to make herself move.

On the count of three, I’ll go. When the next wave crashes, I’ll go. When Tina comes up for air, I’ll go. When the sun goes behind the clouds, I’ll go.

Her feet were all but nailed to the ground, planted firm like she was rooted there. Her heart was thudding faster than she realized, her palms sweating around the linen she clutched in her pockets.

A soft, featherlight touch against her elbow stopped her from thinking in circles.

“What’s wrong?” Mason asked, mumbling around his cigarette.

She shook her head, blinking. “I’m alright. Just haven’t been to a beach in a while, that’s all.”

He crossed his bare arms, the lean muscle flexing with the movement. The only thing that’d changed about his summer outfit was him ditching the sleeves.

“Doesn’t seem that simple to me. There’s always more with you.”

He didn’t say it as an insult – he’d passed the point of unsubtle digs long before.

He was just transparent. Blunt. It was refreshing for both of them.

Shrugging, she finally tore her hands from her pockets to reach back and rake her hair into a ponytail.

“Your hands are shaking.”

As he pointed that out, the band snapped, breaking around her hair and she mumbled an expletive and tossed it into her tote bag.

Wordlessly, Mason pulled one from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Huh? What’s this –” “The shit you tie your hair back with. You know what it is,” he rolled his eyes, teasing.

She took it from him, her heart slowing down just a bit when she noticed his faint playful smile.

“Thank you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence a bit longer than she was used to. The faint laughter from both Felix and Tina echoed off the rocks, and soft music from a speaker nearby floated over to them. The waves were loud, and the seagulls were louder.

Whatever siren song the beach was singing wasn’t one that enticed Sofía.

“I always fucking hated sand.”

Startled, she glanced his way, a bit confused he spoke first. He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger, inhaling deeply, before tilting his head back and exhaling a plume of smoke.

“I’m not going down there,” he said, head lolling to the side to make eye contact with her, his bright eyes honest. “I’d rather do Felix’s chores than get near that shitty water.”

She laughed, and he watched her as she did, fully aware that it was her first genuine laugh since they’d gotten the invitation from Tina.

“We could watch the clouds?” She asked, pointing at the fluffy cumulus pillows that lined the sky.

Within minutes, they’d covered the top of the Agency-issued SUV with beach towels and blankets, layering as many as they could to protect them from the hot metal.

There was just enough room for the two of them when he curled his arm around her neck and tugged her closer.

“That one kind of looks like a dinosaur. There’s the head, and the streak is the arm,” Sofia hummed, pointing to one to the far right of them.

“I can’t see anything,” he shrugged. “They all look the same to me.”

“You’ve gotta have a bit of an imagination,” she rolled her eyes, laughing when he poked her stomach once.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he chuckled, nuzzling her neck, pressing a soft, quick kiss there.

“Thank you for this,” she said, turning her head, nose to nose with him. “This is the most fun I’ve had on a beach in years.”

His brows furrowed. “Nothing to thank me for, sweetheart. I could just tell.”

“Tell what?” “That you didn’t want this.”

An open ended phrase that said so much, told her so much about him, and where they were.

She reached out to cup his cheek. “I don’t know what to say, besides thank you.”

“You don’t have to know what to say all the time,” he said, matter-of-factly, kissing her before she could respond.

He kissed her deeply, smirking when she sighed into it.

Kissing Mason had been a desperate affair for the longest time, because it always ended the same way. At first, kissing Mason always led to something, and that was fine, because they were caught in the heat of the moment. But it’d seemed the longer they practiced, the less eager he was to rip away her clothes.

Before, there was intent behind each press of their lips, knowing that it’d lead to mutual gratification, like it sealed their exchange.

But these kisses were different. He kissed her just because he could.

[theplushmaker]

Oki since someone asked for the Silver headcannons I'll post them, there's quite a few so I hope you enjoy!

Please let me know if I should put a warning

• Silver loves to look at the night sky to see the stars since he came from an apocalyptic future where ash and smog covered the sky

• Silver was originally part of Sonic's time but was transported 200 years into the future by Mephiles to insure the (rewritten) events of Sonic 06

• Silver enjoys botany

• Silver was taught English by Mephiles

• Silver knows seconds and days but has trouble when it comes to hours, weeks, months, and years

• Silver at first had trouble understanding how birthdays worked

• Silver was a lot shorter when he first met Sonic due to malnourishment, making him look like a 10-year-old (despite being 14)

• only Silver remembers the events of Sonic 06 due to Mephiles' interference

• Silver had to ask Sonic what certain words meant ex: parents, mom and dad, sister/brother, etc, etc, the first time he asked Sonic what family was, Sonic was, understandably, confused then worried, afterward, Silver had asked Shadow instead only to get the same results (albeit less obvious) so now he only asks if he can't figure it out on his own

• Silver is used to hot temperatures due to the lava and fire in the apocalyptic future

• Silver gained the ability of foresight, albeit weak, (after Sonic 06) and is only able to use it when meditating (this is so that Silver doesn't have to appear JUST because "oh the future's in danger and he has to prevent it" like in the games)

• Silver can not time travel, that was all Mephiles' doing (^)

• Silver has a fear of fire (pyrophobia)

• Silver can not tell when someone is being sarcastic and will take everything someone says literally, Charmy learned this the hard way when he told Silver to "throw the bucket of water at Sonic" Sonic was knocked unconscious with Tails panicking, safe to say Charmy learned his lesson and was later grounded by Espio when he found out

• Silver's first "food" when Mephiles sent him back was ham sandwiches

• when Shadow had to keep an eye on Silver, (along with Rouge and Omega, due to him getting a head injury because Shadow "accidentally" kicked him and Rouge felt it was their mostly his responsibility to take care of him till he recovers) he saw Silver laying on the ground outside, when Shadow walked over Silver looked at him with big eyes saying "it's so small" with the tone of an amazed child, upon closer inspection Shadow found out that he was referring to a caterpillar he found eating a leaf, Rouge was there recording the whole thing

• Silver managed to make Shadow smile when he first saw snow and started acting like a child on his first snow day

• Silver never told anyone about the events of 06 after the "time-line reset" thinking it was best left forgotten (that and he's afraid of what everyone will think should he tell them that he helped a man, who no longer exists, almost end the world)

• Silver sleeps at 12:40 but will wake up at 4:00 IN THE MORNING just because he's still not used to the concept of time, the only reason why everyone knows this is because one-time Sonic let Silver stay the night at his and Tails place, and Tails ended up finishing a project at 4:33 AM the boy walked out of his lab expecting for Sonic and Silver to be asleep, only to get the absolute daylights scared out of him when he finds Silver (trying to but shh!) Reading a book at the kitchen table, Silver fell out of his chair and Sonic came down running (but not without falling off his bed and hitting his head hard) to check on them, after that they told everyone of Silver's "messed up" sleep schedule

• Silver is illiterate but is trying his best to learn how to read without anyone knowing, so far no one suspects a thing

• Silver has quite a bit of pain tolerance given the fact that Knuckles dislocated his shoulder once and Silver didn't even flinch, even after they fixed it by taking him to a doctor

• Silver can not stay in one place for too long, given the fact that he traveled all over the place in the apocalyptic future, it was only a given that the habit never died, of course, Sonic and co can keep him from leaving by simply keeping him busy, this has helped greatly with surprise party's

• Silver's first "language" was just a mix-mash of 40 other languages

• if Silver doesn't use his psychokinesis he can end up building up too much energy for his body to handle, so what happens if he can no longer handle it you may ask? Chaos, absolute chaos, he ends up acting like Charmy on a sauger rush and Sonic when he has coffee, his abilities go haywire and he doesn't even know it, the worse part is, the only reason he did stop using his psychokinesis is because he made a bet with Shadow to see who can go the longest without using their abilities, Rouge, of course, recorded the whole thing, along with Omega, no one has let him live it down since

• the gold bracelet things (what are they even called?) Silver has can store excess energy and it can store a lot, (so combine that with energy build-up)

• Silver has nightmares of when his primary caretakers were killed, (PTSD?) Though sometimes it would be about Blaze, Amy, Sonic, Shadow, or all of them, sometimes it's them getting killed or them leaving him once they remember or find out about the events of 06, which is why he tries his best to act as normal as everyone else, though sometimes it's about Mephiles telling him things, he tries to bury those memories

• Silver didn't know it at the time but he and Mephiles had a father-son relationship before he realized Mephiles was using him, it saddens him knowing that he might never have that type of relationship again

• Silver sometimes reminds Shadow of Maria with how he acts when he sees/ learns something new

• Silver, Shadow and Sonic have a brotherly relationship, Silver being the young oblivious brother, Sonic being the carefree middle brother, and Shadow being the strict older brother

• Silver may act like a child most of the time but if someone gets in his way of survival, he will go stone cold

• Silver's boots are made of metal so they weigh quite a bit, of course, the only reason why everyone knows this is because when Shadow "accidentally" knocked him unconscious, he, along with Rouge, tried to drag him inside only to find out his boots weighed him down and had to be removed, this lead to the discovery that Silver was underweight, (they left his boots outside, covered by a box because they didn't want to bother trying to move them inside)

• Amy and Vanille were the first to find out that Silver had quite the sweet tooth, he likes marshmallows best

• Silver gets vocabulary lessons from Amy while taking cooking and health lessons

• Vanille makes sure that Silver eats whenever she gets the chance, like a worried mother

• Silver's teeth are surprisingly healthy, just not the cleanest... with a little bit of red staining (though people assume that it's because his gums bleed and not because he ate something he shouldn't have) Amy had to teach him how to brush and had to remind him to brush every night until it became a good habit of his, his teeth are also pretty sharp for a hedgehog (I wonder why)

• due to multiple reasons, (take a guess) most of Sonic Co think that Silver didn't have a great upbringing, with most of them assuming that he had strict parents and lived during a famine in a dry/hot area that was prone to violence, which they aren't wrong but they are?

• with Silver's fear of fire, one would think that he and Blaze didn't get along, but the opposite is true, Blaze keeps using fire at a minimum when he's around and if she did use it then she'd give ample warning time and space before she does it, in return Silver stays close to the ground so he doesn't "trigger" her fear of heights

• Silver does not know anything about romance, so when he starts to suddenly feel odd around Blaze, ex: abnormal heart rate, weird feeling in his stomach, warm cheeks, etc, he asks Amy about it, (mostly because she's been teaching him about health) and she gets excited and tells him about love (she's secretly cupid, fight me)