#once again using my favourite brush ever this scratchy the scratchy holds it hugs it i nearly cried when i thought i misplaced it in my fil

[cuteiemonster]

sweaters your stress

[romanoffswifey]

Point Blank Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha struggles to deal with the aftermath of that night, and life still has a few surprises left to throw at her.

Contents/Warnings: mentions of serious injury, some angst (but don’t worry too much)

Words: 2,280

AN - As promised here is the second part to Point Blank. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to get this out (uni came along and kicked me in the head) but I hope that you still enjoy it

PART 1

Natasha stares into the bathroom mirror, barely recognising the woman who gazes blankly back at her. All bloodshot eyes and puffy eyelids, her face red and blotchy as loose strands of hair cling to the slightly damp trails that mar her cheeks.

She swallows thickly against the soreness of her throat and raises a shaky hand to her reflection. The skin of her fingers raw from where she had scrubbed at them. As if she could simply wash away the feeling of your blood on her hands.

You had started to feel so cold when Steve had finally pried you from her arms, he and Tony quickly rushing your limp form from the room. Leaving her frozen there. Watching as her world imploded around her, haunted by the knowledge that she’d been the one to cause it.

The muscles in her jaw and hands clench as realisation washes over her again. Her vision blurs as tears well in her eyes, and she draws back her fist, letting out a grief stricken roar as she slams it into the wall in front of her.

She has no idea how long she stays there, weeping quietly, before Wanda’s hands wrap around her arm. Gently taking her hand away from the web of cracks she’d just created and pushing it under the stream of water once more. 

The redhead tenses when she’s led back into the main part of the room. A wave of nausea hitting her as she catches a glimpse at just how much of your blood now stains the bed sheets. 

The younger woman notices her reaction and hurriedly guides her down the hallway to her own room, knowing that the redhead wasn’t going to stay in your shared room any longer but certainly not trusting her to be in her spare room alone.

Natasha spends the rest of the night laying awake next to the brunette. Staring at the ceiling as silent tears run down her face, as every time she closes her eyes she’s back there. Reliving that moment over and over again.

Morning comes, and a small part of Natasha is glad for Wanda’s grounding presence as Tony leads the pair to the labs. A warm hand on her shoulder helps to calm her when he begins to place machinery around her head, the billionaire hoping to discover the cause of her actions.

It turned out that when she was separated from the team during your last mission, she had actually been captured by a set of Hydra operatives. The agents deciding to try out their latest form of brainwashing on her. A type of subliminal suggestion.

Clearly they had underestimated her skill as she had put up one hell of a fight, even while under the influence of whatever they had given her. This, combined with the approaching battle from the rest of the avengers, meant they had been forced to let her go before they were finished. Only managing to implant a small piece of their directive into her mind.

But a piece is all they had needed.

To take out even one avenger would be a win for Hydra, and you were the obvious target. Your relationship with Natasha meant that it was normal for you to be in close proximity with each other and for you to have your guard down around her. All she had to do was stick by your side as usual and the programing would kick in and do the rest.

This knowledge did nothing to lessen the pain and the guilt that filled her. Did nothing to change the fact that she had been the one to pull the trigger. 

She can’t stand the looks of sympathy that the others keep throwing her and the way they don’t seem to hold her accountable. So she avoids them. Choosing to forgo team meals and quickly dismissing their offers of company.

But she doesn’t go down to see you either. She thinks whatever is left of her heart would crumble if she saw you now. How could she sit next to your bedside when she was the one who put you there in the first place? She’s not sure you would even want her there if she did.

Over the last 5 years you had provided her with everything she had searched for her whole life. Giving her all your love and support, and helping her believe that she was deserving of it. She felt like she was where she belonged when she was with you, like she had found her home. You were the only person she’d ever had the desire to spend the rest of her life with, and she had repaid you by putting a bullet in you.

When the day drags into evening Wanda gets fed up with watching her self destruction and puts her foot down. The Sokovian forcing the redhead to get something to eat or drink before she makes herself sick. 

Natasha now sits quietly at the kitchen table, her dull eyes fixed on the grain of the wood as Wanda busies herself off to the side. The sound of bubbling fills the silence followed shortly by the clanking of metal on ceramic. 

Careful hands come to adjust the blanket around her shoulders, and a mug is placed in front of her. The scent and colour tell her what it is immediately; Yorkshire tea, milk, two sugars. Your hot beverage of choice. 

She finds it laughable that she should seek comfort from your favourite drink while you could be fighting for your life right now. And yet, some traitorous part of her still does. The familiarity of it ghosting soothingly over the ache in her chest.

Her gaze remains drawn to the rising steam but she’s aware of the way Wanda moves to join a couple of people by the door. A small hint of anger flaring within her as she registers the happiness in their hushed tones. Her annoyance grows after she hears only two sets of footsteps walk down the hall. Leaving her with the feeling of being watched by whoever stayed.

“You know, I was a bit upset that you didn’t come and visit me at first.” Natasha’s head  snaps up at your voice. “But then I realised that you’re probably stuck in that beautiful ginger head of yours.”

“How?” is all she manages to rasp. Gaping at you as you stand leaning on the doorframe like nothing had happened.

You walk over to her, not missing the rough quality of her voice or the way she still squints slightly against the soft light of the room. Your heart twinges at how small and broken she looks as she sits there.

Green eyes watch intently as you kneel in front of her and pick up the tea, humming at the taste as you take a sip, then blowing gently over the brim before offering it to the other woman. Your lips quirk into a small smile when her fingers brush over your own as she takes it from you.

Natasha has to admit that it does feel nice against the scratchiness of her throat.

“How are you up here right now?” she asks a bit easier this time, setting the tea back down and hesitantly reaching out for your hand.

“Well, it turns out that enhanced physiology and the best medical treatment a billionaire can buy are very useful when you get shot,” you explain with a half-smile. “In fact, they said that I'll be perfectly fine and left with minimal scarring.”

You place a kiss on the back of her hand and push it under your jumper, guiding it up towards the tender spot at the top of your abdomen. “See, it’s not that bad.”

Through the bandages and the gauze that lay across your skin, the redhead can feel a small rough patch. It’s barely bigger than her finger tip. But she still frowns as she traces over it.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, dropping both her gaze and her hand, “I’m so sorry.”

Your brows furrow this time. “What have you got to be sorry for, dorogoy?”

“I did this to you, Y/N. I was supposed to protect you and I shot you! You should hate me! You should want nothing to do with me, not be sat here calling me darling!”

“Hey, look at me.” Her teary eyes reluctantly meet your own as you cup her face. “Hydra did this to me, not you. We both know how their brand of mental warfare works and I’m not going to let you torture yourself over it. I love you too much for that.”

“But I still hurt you. I could have done something to stop it and I let you down,” she argues.

“No you didn’t. You tried to fight it. You knew that something wasn’t right and tried to warn me.” You let out a huff of amusement. “Even subconsciously you did try to protect me, just like you always do.”

Her eyes become more focused and her ragged breathing slows down, showing that she was listening to what you said.

Natasha stands and you follow suit, watching quietly as she studies you for a moment before pulling you into a fierce hug. She buries her face in the crook of your neck while her fingers dig into the thick knit of your jump, clutching at you tightly as she breathes in your scent. She sighs softly as you begin to rub comforting circles across her back.

The pair of you stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the embrace. Glad to be back in the other's arms once more.

When she pulls back, you bring your left hand up to caress her face and a small glint catches her eye. The Russian finally noticing the ring you’re wearing.

“You found it,” she murmurs as she runs her finger along the metal band.

You flash her a sheepish smile. “It was an accident I swear. And in my defence, for a super spy you do sometimes pick terrible hiding places.”

The place she had chosen to hide it was not the best, she had to give you that, but at the time she was kind of freaking out. She had known for a while that you were the only person she wanted to be with but the actual purchasing of the engagement ring had been a spur of the moment decision, and once she’d returned to the compound the panic had set in.

Despite the fact she had long since learnt that everything the Red Room had spouted about love was a lie, she couldn’t help the hint of fear that rose in her at what her desires meant. What that ring represented. And then there was the worry that you wouldn’t actually want to spend the rest of your life with her. Even though you had been with her for so long already. After everything that had happened recently, the latter of her fears only seemed to grow.

She looks away, nervously picking at the edge of the blanket as she voices her thoughts. “Would you even want to?”

“Would I want to what?” you ask, biting the inside of your lip to keep from smiling as you try your hardest to play dumb.

Her eyes flick back to yours. “Would you want to...get married?” she trails off quietly, finally saying the words you were waiting for.

A bright grin appears on your face, and she can’t help the way her own lips tug upwards as she rests her forehead against yours.

“Of course I want to get married, moya lyubov.” You bump your noses together playfully. “Though, I’ll only do it on one condition.”

Natasha hides the flash of panic that runs through her. She’s not entirely sure she can cope with any more emotional turmoil.

You pull away slightly so you can reach into your pocket, pulling out a small velvet box that you hold up in front of you. When you open the lid the redhead lets out a little gasp at its contents. “That condition being that you, Natalia Romanova, would be my wife.”

For the first time that day the tears that well in her eyes are ones of joy. 

Placing one hand over the ring you’re holding and winding the other around the back of your neck, she pulls you into a bruising kiss. The passion behind it makes you weak in the knees and you can’t help the moan that escapes as her tongue pushes into your mouth, brushing over yours in a way that has no business feeling as good as it does.

After a while she releases your lips with a soft pop, leaving you both breathless and not quite able to open your eyes just yet. You can still feel her smirk though.

“I take it that’s a yes then,” you murmur against her lips.

She chuckles and responds by drawing you into another kiss.

Later, once you’ve made sure she’s eaten properly and she’s helped you with a very relaxing bath; you lay in bed together. Natasha wrapped around you protectively while you read a dog eared copy of your favorite book.

She hums contentedly into the side of your neck as she presses herself closer to you. Her smile widens when she glances down to where you’re absentmindedly playing with her fingers. Knowing that soon you won’t only have each other’s hearts, but each other’s names as well.

Natasha L/N-Romanoff had a nice ring to it, and she has a feeling it’s the one that she’s finally going to keep.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Coffee - T. Holland

Okay, I know I have requests but this song came on at work the other day and I felt super emotional and I had to write. The use of Tom was very last minute because I had no actual person in mind for the fic, and there are very little actual defining characteristics so you can imagine it to be absolutely anybody you want!

This has broken me, so I apologize in case it has the same affect.

TW: This story contains mentions of cancer, allusions to death, mentions of death, sadness, angst, allusion to suicide, a character with cancer, and all round sadness about death.

If this content may trigger you in any way possible, please do not engage with this fic. Your personal safety and wellness is important so please take care of yourself, my lovies.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17. Please do not copy, translate or share outside of the boundaries of tumblr without my permission. Please do not steal my work and market it as your own. Basically, don’t be a dick. Also, the above gif does not belong to me. Credit to @thollandgifs

Also, sorry the format is shit. I write on my phone so it’s hella bad.

Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed. I'll make a cup of coffee for your head. It'll get you up and going out of bed.

While his life stood still, hers moved. Most days he could barely move without the nausea taking over. His head pounding, body exhausted and weak beyond recognition. She had established a routine the minute she could. She made sure he had his morning coffee everyday. Whenever his eyes opened, she would be right by his side with his favourite beverage, bringing him breakfast and a warm, loving smile to entice him to get out of bed. She understood on days that his body fought him more than it already was - she was compassionate and considerate. On those days she would help him prop himself in a comfortable position, switch on whatever show they were watching at the time and curl up next to him with her work beside her.

His heart was often overwhelmed with the care she provided him. They were well into the fourth year of their life together, and he had no doubt in his mind that he would love her until his last days. He often solemnly thought of the ring he still had hidden in his drawer of their shared cabinet. He had made a vow to pop the question if he ever recovered, but the thought of that day never coming simply tore another piece from his already dwindling soul.

He would often sit in his chair, or on the bed in their small, studio apartment, watching her flutter around the house in a graceful way only she could. He had memorized her every move when she conducted the most mundane activity. The way she poured a glass of water, the way she tapped her fingers against her thigh to the tune of a theme song, the way she always made his coffee to pure perfection - in a way that nobody else had been able to do.

He had so much love for her, that he was terrified of it slipping away at any moment.

Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep, I don't wanna pass away. I been thinking of our future 'cause I'll never see those days.

He was 24, and she was 25. They had already planned a life together. They had steady jobs, an intense and passionate love, names picked out for future children, dinner at his parents house every Sunday, lunch with her parents every Wednesday.

He just knew that he had done something to deserve such a fate. At first he was angry, terrified of the possibility of his soul leaving this earth, but as time went on, his self-deprivation grew. Apparently it was common for people in his situation. The fear of dying was clouded by a justification that this was meant to be. He had done something terrible in a past life, and karma was giving him the painful ending he deserved... but he despised the thought, because Y/N didn’t deserve to watch her boyfriend meet his end in this way.

He had thought of near every scenario in his life in which he hurt somebody - cheating on his girlfriend in his first year of college, letting Y/N down time after time, only for her to forgive him. The hurt he caused his parents when he was a teenager and full of such hate for the world. But now, all he could do was pray for forgiveness. He had hope that there was some way he could make it out of this, but he was losing hope rapidly.

Even as he sat with his love on their bed, watching re-runs of How I Met Your Mother, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander.

“When I’m gone,” his voice was croaky, his throat dry and scratchy. “Please tell me you will find somebody else.” He fumbled around to grab her hand, winching as he caught her head snapping towards his in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t turn to see the expression on her face. “You’re so young, so full of life. Your life is going to be so beautiful.”

Her hand was pulled from his, and he steeled what was left of his nerves to get ready for whatever tongue lashing she had planned, but instead he felt the bed dip further beside him, her hands framing his sullen face on each side and softly turning his gaze to meet her own.

“Don’t you say things like that, Tom.” He forced his eyes to stare into her own. His eyes seemed as if they were always ready to release tears, and the intensity of the hurt in her own made his pool unconsciously. “There is no somebody else when the other half of my soul is already with me. I don’t need anybody else because you’re not going anywhere.”

Her thumb brushed away the tear that slipped from his chocolate orbs, ignoring the dark circles underneath that made his face seem further sunken than it was.

“You don’t know that,” he sniffed heavily, dropping his eyes down to his lap. His fingers unconsciously toyed with the bracelet she had given him years ago. A soft, black, faux-leather band. An unfit symbol charm dangled close to the strap, reminding him of her favourite line from her favourite book/movie - the perks of being a wallflower. He had gone wuth her when she got the titular floral piece tattooed on her forearm. She was so happy that day. “One day you’re gonna be in a nice house, a ring on your finger, watching your husband dote over your little baby and you will be at peace in the way I know you crave. I just... I know that will never be me, who slips a ring onto your hand, or waits for you at the end of the aisle. I won’t be the one who holds your hand when you meet your baby, or the one who can give you the life you deserve - the one you want.”

His eyes snapped up to meet her own when he heard her breath grow shaky, but the action caused his brain to lose its equilibrium and he had to close his eyes for a moment. He hated doing so. Every time his eyes were shut, it was a moment that he lost of memorizing every line, curve, angle of her body. He opened his eyes again when able, and he was met with her own eyes as red rimmed as his, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

“Don’t you every talk like that, Thomas Stanley. You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to be the one to do all of those things because you’re going to make it and we are going to love each other until the end of our time, together. I’ll fucking Romeo and Juliet this shit if I have to,” her dark joke was met with a wet laugh from them both, before her face melted back into seriousness. “I’m never gonna need another person, Tommy. I have you, and I will have you forever.”

“You make every day a blessing, my love.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over hers as he gathered the strength in his lead arms to pull her into a hug. “You make hell feel like a summers day, and I cherish every moment I have left with you.”

My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings. Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending

Their days continued on for another three weeks, the same routine of morning coffee and testing the boundaries of his own fatigue. Three weeks without the dreaded conversation arising again, until she woke to find him staring into the ceiling with such an intense and thoughtful gaze. She knew instantly what was on his mind, and she could feel her heart breaking into more little pieces.

“Tommy?” Her melodic tone was soft, snapping him from his nightmarish reprieve. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing honey. Thinking about us... when we were young and full of life,” he snorted into the dark room, Y/N’s soft laugh pushed through her nose and he felt her smile against his neck. “Just, thinking about how sorry I am for all of this. I’m sorry that I’ve turned your life upside down, that we have changed so much.”

He felt weaker. His body was fighting to hold on, and he felt that they both knew that. He was being eaten up from the inside out, but he couldn’t bear to leave. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t leave her alone. He needed her, he loved her. He wanted to be her husband and give her everything she wanted in life. He wanted to live, for her.

“I would change everything if it meant I could be here with you,” her voice was heavy, riddled with sleep. Neither of them get much rest anymore. He is always up and down, and she frets too much to sleep through his late night jolts and retches. “You’re worth every minute of every day, Tom. You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not like you chose to have Can-“

“Don’t say it, baby, please?” He pled, silencing her before she could say the word. He hadn’t once uttered it since the day he found out. She had relayed the information to their families, holding his hand the entire time as he sat motionless. “Makes it more real than my emo ramblings.” His laugh was humorless, but he didn’t intend it to be so.

She apologised softly, snuggling closer to him. She knew how much he loved the feel of her body on his, how the intimacy of the comfort made him feel warm. Back when he could handle the weight, she would sometimes wake up curled on top of his chest because he had sought her out in his sleep.

“I would do anything for you, Tommy. I would give up everything I have just to see you smile. You’re the other half of my soul, my infinity.”

He felt a tear slip down his cheek. Her words always had that affect on him, but he loved the way she could send his heart beating with no effort. He loved her. So intensely.

“Sing to me, please?” A request he had let loose so many times before. He adored her voice, and the soft melodies that fell from her lips and lulled him to sleep.

She obliged with a smile on her face, and let the words tumble into his pale skin.

“If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do...”

Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me

Two more months passed. His doctors were satisfied, stating that he was slowly improving. His body was beginning to regain strength. He had begun to grow more hopeful, slowly but surely.

Until there was no chance for hope left.

Y/N made his morning coffee, but when she went to rest it on his bedside, he could barely breathe.

Her fingers dialed emergency services faster than she thought possible, her voice cracking as she sung to him over and over, hands cradling his head in her lap as he whispered his love for her.

The coffee went cold as the red and blue lights approached.

Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed. I'll make a cup of coffee for your head. It'll get you up and going out of bed

Tag list: @starshonerose @snookiebrookie @another-lonely-heart @mantlereid

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[welcomethefears]

The Captain’s Bride - Steve Rogers x Reader - Chapter 1

Oh no, I made another fanfic. This one is based on the Princess Bride and stars Steve as Westly, with the reader as Buttercup. I hope all of you enjoy this, you can find the story here and here

Chapter 1 (This is it) || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7  || Chapter 8

Cassie sat in her room, playing Mario Kart as she coughed quietly to herself. Her brown hair was a tangled mess and she felt utterly miserable as if she was drowning in her own snot. She paused the game quickly, trying to clasp a tissue on her wooden bedside table. She sneezed harshly into it, blowing her nose afterward. Her head felt heavy, and she sighed, her nose and dry from her use of tissues. Maggie stood at the door to her daughter’s room, leaning on the frame with on hand on her hip. She shook her head as she watched the young girl, hating seeing her sick. Maggie walked in, sitting on the edge of Cassie’s bed. She laid a hand on the girl’s head, feeling the heat from it she frowned.

“Hi Honey…” She trailed off, watching her daughter carefully with soft eyes.

“Hi Mum,” She replied meekly, reaching for yet another tissue and blowing her nose. Maggie’s frown deepened, her eyes glazing with worry.

“You feeling any better than last night?” Maggie asked, stroking Cassie’s hair out of her face.

“A little bit I guess,” Cassie trailed off, coughing lightly. She reached for the Thomas the Tank Engine drink bottle on her bedside table and took a sip from it.

“Well, guess what?” Maggie asked, a small smile painting itself across her face.

“What?” Cassie asked, excitement sparkling in her eyes. Cassie had always loved surprises, and she could almost feel her sickness evaporate from her sinuses.

“Your dad is here,” Maggie smiled lightly as she saw Cassie’s face light up even more. Cassie threw her arms in the air, cheering the best she could in her condition.

“Yay! DAD’S HERE!” Cassie cheered, coughing from her outburst.

“He’ll be looking after you today while I’m at work,” Maggie informed the child, who nodded in response.

“Peanut!” A voice exclaimed before the figure even entered the room, causing Cassie to squeal in utter delight. Scott soon rushed into the room, Maggie standing from the bed and watching the two interact together. Scott ran to Cassie’s bed and embraced her in a hug, giving her cheek a sloppy kiss, drawing a giggle from the girl’s scratchy throat. Scott grinned down at his daughter, placing his backpack on the floor beside his daughter's bed.

“I had better get to work, thanks for doing this Scott,” Maggie announced, giving her daughter a kiss on the forehead and leaving the room. The father and daughter waited until they heard the front door close and a car driving away, and two giggling in each other’s faces once they were sure Maggie was gone.

“So, what first? Eat all the ice-cream in the house? Watch some violent movies?” Scott teased, tickling his daughter's side. Cassie was practically screaming from joy until she pushed her father off to sneeze into a tissue again. Scott sat back on the bed, watching his daughter.

“Maybe nothing too crazy then,” He murmured, looking a little disappointed to not be participating in childish activities. Cassie blew her nose rather hard and groaned after she did so.

“How about you read me a story! I really like the ones you get for me,” Cassie suggested, Scott clicking his fingers as the words left her mouth.

“That reminds me, I have a present for you,” He smiled as he hastily unzipped his backpack, pulling out a parcel wrapped in gold paper, “Go on, open it.”

Cassie grinned toothily up at her father, tearing the paper apart. She slowed down however once she got a look at what was inside.

“A book, without pictures?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow at her father.

“Not just any book. This is the exact book my father read to me when I younger, and his old man read it to him. I grew up on this thing,” He replied, carefully taking the book from her hand and running his thumb over the cover.

“Today, I’m gonna read it to you,” Scott grinned as he said this, feeling proud of himself.

“Does it have any action in it?” Cassie questioned, thinking anything from her father’s childhood wouldn’t be interesting for her.

“Are you kidding me? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escape, true love, miracles. This book has the whole shebang!” He exclaimed, causing Cassie to giggle at his excitement.

“Doesn’t sound terrible. I’ll try and stay awake!” Cassie joked as her father scoffed.

“Thanks for the reassurance. Look to help make it better, we’ll use characters that I know, and that you probably know too. Alright, The Princess Bride, S. Morgan Stern, Chapter 1…” Scott trailed off as he begun the story.

~*~

“(Y/N) was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin. Her favourite past times were horse riding and tormenting the weak farm boy that worked there. His name was Steve, but she never gave him the privilege of being called by his first name. Isn’t that a wonderful beginning,” Scott questioned.

“Yeah, she seems really nice,” Cassie said sarcastically.

“Nothing gave (Y/N) as much pleasure as ordering Steve around,” Scott explained. You came running around the corner, your (H/L) (H/C) hair flying behind you as you found Steve. He was quite skinny, with a tuft of fair blonde hair covering his head. He had hardly any muscle about him, but he was the hardest worker on the farm, even more so than your father.

“Farmboy, varnish my horse’s saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning,” You instructed, leaning on the wooden pole near where he stood. He took in her form, a slight smile coming to his lips as he looked over you even though you were dressed in plain brown clothing. He marveled at how beautiful you were, even with peasant clothing on.

“As you wish,” He promised, already pulling the varnish from its spot. He sent you a small smile, causing you to scowl in return, throwing your head around and stalking off.

“‘As you wish’ was all he ever said to her,” Scott explained. You walked up to Steve, holding two empty water pails in your hands, huffing at the effort it took.

“Farm boy, fill these with water,” You paused, thinking your words over before you quietly added, “Please?” Steve walked up to you, carefully taking the water pails from your hand. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of your (s/c) hand, and he heard you draw in a harsh breath. He blushed in response to this, taking the water pails away from you.

“As you wish,” He smiled, his eyes staring at you softly, causing your face to flush a deep red.

“That day, she was amazed to discover that when Steve was saying, ‘As you wish’ what he meant to say was ‘I love you’. And even more amazing, was the day she realized she truly loved him back,” Scott narrated.

You entered the kitchen of your house, spotting Steve pouring himself some tea.

“Farm boy, fetch me that pitcher,” You instructed, your (E/C) meeting Steve’s blue ones. He pulled it from the top self, walking over to you so the only thing between the two of you was the pitcher. He leaned towards your ear, his hot breath blowing onto your neck.

“As you wish,” He whispered softly, before pulling away, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitched as your gaze trailed down to his lips. You felt his gaze on your lips as well, so you both leaned in, no longer denying the chemistry between you.

~*~

“WAIT, WAIT STOP!” Cassie yelled, Scott looking up from the book and over at his daughter.

“Are you playing a joke on me, you told me there was action. But it's a soppy kissy book,” She complained, rolling her eyes at her father.

“Just wait,” Scott chastised.

“When does it get good?” Cassie moaned, letting her arms harshly slam onto her quilt.

“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, let me read,” Scott instructed.

~*~

“Steve was a poor man and had no money for marriage. He did get an offer however from a program, promising him fortune if only he traveled across the seas. So, Steve packed his few belongings and left. It was a very emotional time for (Y/N),” Scott narrated. The sun was rising as you stood outside the farmhouse with Steve, embracing him in your arms as your foreheads touched, as you were nearly the same height. He gave you a loving kiss, tangling his hands in your hair before he pulled away from the kiss. He held you tightly in his arms, your hands bawling into fists in his shirt.

“I’m afraid I’ll never see you again,” You whimpered, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Steve wiped them away with his thumb, humming lightly at your remark.

“Of course, you will,” He whispered.

“But what if something goes wrong, what if something happens to you?” You questioned, panic rising in your chest.

“Hear this now, I will always come for you,” Steve assured, pulling you further into his chest.

“But how can you be sure?” You asked once again, hoping to quell the worry swirling in your mind.

“This is true love. You think this happens every day?” He questioned, before leaning down and capturing your lips once again. He held you there, your lips dancing in sync as you tasted the salty tears that escaped your eyes. He pulled away, both of you panting quietly. He kissed your forehead lightly, pulling away from your embrace and walking towards the horizon. You felt empty as he did this, watching as he left. Before he went completely out of sight, however, you saw him blow you a kiss. And so, you returned it, tears spilling down your cheeks at a rapid, unstoppable pace, staining them.

“Steve didn’t reach his destination. His ship was attacked by Hydra and their leader the Red Skull, who never left captives alive. When (Y/N) got news that Steve was murdered-” Scott’s narration was cut off by his daughter’s exclamation.

“Murdered by Hydra, that’s a good start!” She cheered, Scott sending her a glare, unhappy with her reaction to Steve’s death.

“She went into her room and shut the door, and for days she neither slept nor ate,” Scott narrated.

You sat in your room, staring at the wall. Your eyes were raw and puffy from your constant crying.

“I will never love again,” You croaked, tears spilling down your face. You did not sob, however, having no energy nor voice to do this any more than you already had.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Yoo you know what I really fucking love?? Contagion. Like what If.. juggie got sick and archie took care of him and THEN he got sick and betty was like "y'alls are Dumb" and took care of them. Thank you! !

(Hey anons! I’ve decided to combine both of your prompts together, as they’re very similar and I would end up writing the same exact fic for both! So, this way, it’s longer and has more content so hopefully that’s okay with you guys! Also this has an abrupt ending, sorry! Didn’t know how to!)

Archie was really affectionate.

He loved being touched, being held, whatever. A complete opposite to Jughead, who only allowed people to touch him in special occasions. Jughead had recently found he enjoyed smaller gestures, like shoulders brushing, little back or shoulder pats or the occasional hair ruffle.

But it did not compare to Archie, who lived for cuddles and snuggles and still hugged his dad every time they parted or reunited. Even if it was just from school.

So when Archie was gone for three days on an away game for football, he was definitely in need for some cuddles.

Jughead had been sick for a few days now, his sickness starting just as Archie left. He had managed to catch himself a flu, which was a culmination of both an awful chest cold and a head cold. Jughead had been sneezing and coughing nonstop, and was just a disgusting mess of bodily fluids.

He didn’t want to worry Archie, so he hid it for a while. Jughead wanted Archie to be at his best for the game (which he found out was worth the effort, because he and Fred received a very excited call from Archie at night proclaiming their victory) so worrying Archie was most definitely a no-go!

However, once Archie was on that bus, and the bus was out of sight, Jughead had finally released that sneezing fit he had been holding in. It then accelerated into a coughing fit, which Fred just tutted to and sighed. Of course Jughead was sick. Fred simply shook his head and put an arm around the boy, leading him to the car that would take them home where he would take care of him for the next few days.

Fred had been a very good caretaker, but Jughead was nowhere near better yet. In fact, Fred had just left to buy some medicine and other supplies, not expecting Archie to return yet. He had come back quite early.

“JUGGIE!” Archie yelled as he practically smashed into the house, like the Juggernaut in that shitty X Men movie.

“Fuck!” Jughead yelped in surprise as Archie tackled him down onto the couch to give him a massive hug, squeezing the smaller boy.

“Fuck, Archie–you are literally deflating me like a–” A tickle in his nose caused him to drop his sentence, his entire body being overtaken by the sneeze.

He used whatever control of his body he had left to warn Archie, “..A-arch..hh..I’m sick..hh..! Get off..!! I’m go..gonna.. snee–”

Archie didn’t seem to care that his best friend was going to splutter germs all over his face, because he just shook his head and kept on hugging him. Then Jughead sneezed all over him, and again, and blushed so hard in embarrassment. Archie didn’t care; and just laughed loudly, missing his friend far too much to even care about the gross act.

Archie finally let him go, to see Jughead red as a strawberry.

“Archie! I’m so sorry–fuck you’re going to get sick, that was so disgusting!”

“It’s fine Jug, honestly? I’m in dire need of some coddling and I’ll get more of it if I get sick,” Archie grinned.

Jughead rolled his eyes, “You’ve got this sick fascination with sickness. Honestly, it’s the bane of my existence and it happens to me so often!”

Archie tapped Jughead on the nose, “Its probably a side effect of your great metabolism. Besides, you get to miss school and get to stay in bed all day, which are things you like??”

Jughead huffed, “Yes, if it weren’t for the fact I lose my appetite, which is the most tragic thing that could happen to me, which is really something given my life’s miserable track record, and also for the fact I hate sneezing and coughing. It’s the worst.”

Archie laughed, “They’re funny though, seeing as such loud noises can come from such a quiet person!”

Jughead groaned, “Which is why I hate them! I hate attention, and my sneezing always brings me so much attention cause I can’t be any quieter!”

Archie laughed and swung an arm around him, “You’re fine the way you are Jug, don’t ever change.”

Archie was a clingy sick person.

Jughead was still asleep, and still sick, when Archie woke up whining, asking Jughead for his dad. The moment he heard Archie Jughead felt absolutely awful and guilty for getting Archie sick. There was this pit of guilt forming in his stomach.

One emotion that Jughead could not deal with was guilt. Sadness was common enough in his life, anger was not as common but he accepted, and happiness he embraced. However guilt ate away at Jughead’s heart and sometimes he couldn’t even move he felt so guilty, that it literally consumed his every waking moment.

So Jughead put his remaining sickness aside, because he was getting better, he would be fine, and went straight into caretaking mode. A mode of his he wasn’t used to using with Archie, because Archie got sick once a year, but he was an older brother, and he had experience.

Archie had caught this weird version of his Flu, in which he had caught the chest cold part of it. He was a hacking, phlegmy mess and every time Archie coughed, it was like a pang in Jughead’s heart. He just felt so awful.

When Fred came up to check up on Archie, he gave his son the cuddles he was practically begging for. Jughead knew he was potentially thinking of staying; and he felt so bad, knowing that the Andrews were in a bit of a pinch for money. Fred should be working as much as he could; and Jughead had prevented that.

So in order to prevent this from happening, Jughead took control of the situation, claiming he was no longer sick. Fred naturally was skeptical, and felt for a temperature to find that there was none. Satisfied, Fred left Jughead to his devices with some supplies. What Fred didn’t know though, was that minutes before, Jughead had soaked his face in freezing cold water to temporarily remove the heat.

Jughead went downstairs to prepare Archie some tea to soothe his throat, and rubbed at his nose to try and hold back a sneezing fit. He sniffled for good measure and walked up with the tea, and once he walked into the bedroom Archie spread his arms out.

“Juuuuug~” He whined, clearly wanting a hug.

Jughead sighed and shook his head, “Yes, after you drink this and take your medicine.” He sat at the edge of Archie’s bed and handed him the said objects.

Archie pouted like a child, “I don’t want to! Pills hurt my throat.”

Jughead pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his eyes fondly, “Do you want me to fetch the cough syrup instead then and spoon feed you?”

Archie nodded, completely serious.

Jughead blinked, looking at Archie, trying to decipher wether he was genuinely serious, “..Are you serious?”

Archie smiled and nodded eagerly.

“You really are something, Archie Andrews,” He teased fondly, as he went downstairs yet again to retrieve the cough syrup and a spoon. As he returned, he once again sat at the edge of the bed and poured the contents of the bottle onto the spoon and brought the spoon to Archie’s mouth, hoping Archie wouldn’t notice that his hands were shaking.

Archie didn’t seem to notice and opened his mouth, letting Jughead spoon feed the medicine into his mouth. The medicine wasn’t as horrid as he expected; it tasted like strawberry. He took the cup of tea and sipped at it, letting out a sigh of content.

“..This is my favourite tea, Jug. The kind that you make,” Archie gushed, the tea soothing the soreness and scratchiness of his throat.

Jughead huffed, “Its the type of tea you buy at the supermarket. Not exactly gourmet, luxury tea.”

Archie grinned at him, “..Yes, but you made it.”

Jughead groaned and whacked him very lightly, “This sweetness is rotting my teeth. Stop it.”

Archie then pulled Jughead in with him, taking the smaller boy into his arms and snuggling his face into Jughead’s soft, black hair.

“You’re warm, Juggie,” Archie said softly as he pulled the boy closer, to absorb his warmth.

Jughead tensed slightly, wondering if Archie had caught him in the act.

“..it’s so nice,” Archie finished, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction as he closed his eyes, relaxing. Jughead relaxed.

The two stayed like this until Jughead took out his laptop and played on a Die Hard movie to keep them both entertained, running his hands through Archie’s hair to keep him happy. Jughead couldn’t even concentrate, and could only concentrate on how bad he was feeling.

“I’m hungry,” Archie said halfway through the Avengers movie.

Jughead was relieved, needing to get out of there to grab himself a glass of water, and relieve himself of a sneeze that he was battling for the past half an hour. He groaned to cover up his act.

Jughead went down the stairs to heat up some Campbell’s Chicken Noodle, waiting until it finished before pouring the soup into a bowl. Jughead then brought the steaming bowl upstairs, the steam causing his sinuses to start to run again, and Jughead bit back the temptation to sniffle.

Archie smiled as he walked in, “That smells, great, Jug!”

Jughead shrugged and sat down next to the boy again, handing him the bowl and spoon. Archie stared at the objects for a while, then looked back up at Jughead.

Jughead could not believe this little shit.

He raised an eyebrow, “Do you want me to fucking feed you?”

Archie grinned bashfully.

Jughead sighed, unable to refuse this stupid ass boy and took the bowl and spoon back. He dipped the spoon into the creamy soup and brought the spoon into Archie’s mouth.

As much as Jughead groaned and complained, Archie knew that Jughead was secretly enjoying it. The action reminded Jughead of his little sister, and being an older brother again. Archie would often cuddle Jughead and he knew Jughead missed being an older brother. He hoped that this would help Jughead cope better, rather than make him miss it more.

When the soup was finished, Archie felt extremely sleepy. He tried to keep his eyes open but ultimately failed, grabbing onto a pillow to cuddle, thinking it was Jughead.

Jughead sighed in relief as Archie’s breathing evened out, needing a moment to himself and let out a few coughs and sneezes he had been desperately trying to hold in. He made sure Archie was comfortable and walked down the stairs into the kitchen, stifling some coughs into his sleeve. He pinched his nose as he began to sneeze, relieved he had finally tried to relieve the tickle in his nose, but still having to be quiet in case he woke Archie.

Suddenly, the door bell rang and Jughead groaned.

He made his way to the door and opened it, to see the bright and lovely Betty Cooper holding two tubs of ice cream.

“Hey Jug! I heard Archie was sick so I brought these in,” Betty said cheerily.

Jughead smiled at her, “That’s so nice of you Betty. Uh, he’s asleep right now so..”

“Okay!” She whispered as she let herself in and walked towards the kitchen. “Let’s get these ready.”

Jughead sniffled and rubbed his nose, hot on her feels. He hadn’t quite finished sneezing so the tickle was still there, irritating the heck out of him.

Betty made her way to the kitchen, knowing the place inside and out. The three were childhood friends, so of course she knew. She pulled the bowls out and began to open the tubs.

“Jug? Can you pass me the ice cream scooper?” She asked.

Jughead nodded and walked toward the drawer to locate it, and on his way back to Betty, a sudden headache flooded his senses, his legs gave way and he nearly fell, grabbing onto the counter.

“Juggie?!” She exclaimed as she rushed towards him.

Jughead gave a thumbs up, and went to look up when his hair that was peaking out from his beanie fell onto his nose, and all hell broke lose. Jughead fell onto a sneezing fit, harsh and rough.

Betty sighed in exasperation, “You’re so dumb, Jughead.”

Jughead sniffled, rubbing at his nose, “Well, at least I didn’t get sick because I refused to get off of someone who was about to sneeze.”

Betty facepalmed, “You’re both the dumbest people I’ve ever met. How you’re both not dead, I will never know.”

Jughead smiled sheepishly.

Betty groaned, “ugh, you’re coming with me!”

The blonde dragged the brunette up the stairs, literally by the ear and once they were both up at Archie’s bedroom, she literally threw him into the air mattress.

“Wh–huh, what’s happening Betty?” Archie asked groggily.

“Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way over here is still sick and is being a little..buttface,” She hissed fondly.

Jughead laughed nervously.

Archie raised his eyebrow, “Seriously, Jug? You are so impossible.”

“..You’d never let me take care of you if you knew I was still sick,” Jughead mumbled into the pillow he was thrown into.

Archie softened, “Did you..just admit you like taking care of me?”

Jughead shrugged, “Yeah I guess. It makes me feel useful again; and since..it’s always the other way around I feel like I owe ya this one.”

Archie pulled the boy into his own bed, even in his sickness strong enough. “..C'mere, there’s enough space here.”

Betty laughed at them, “You two are so weird. I’ll be back in a second.”

Betty came back up in a minute with bowls of ice cream, three flavours in each bowl. It was oddly a representation of all of them; chocolate for Archie, vanilla for Betty and Strawberry for Jughead.

As the boys basically lunged for the bowls, Betty pulled them back and shook her head.

“Medicine first, idiots,” She laughed, handing them both pills.

Jughead wolfed the pills down no problem; being used to constantly swallowing pills due to constantly being ill, and also taking pills for anxiety.

Archie pouted at Betty, “..but my throat hurts!”

Betty looked confused.

Jughead sniffled, “He’s saying he wants you to spoon feed you syrup.”

Betty rolled her eyes and poured out some cough medicine onto a spoon. She brought the spoon close to Archie’s mouth, putting on a mocking, cooing voice, “Here comes the choo choo train, little Archie!”

She shoved the spoon into his mouth and laughed heartily, and Jughead couldn’t help but join her until he began to cough again. Betty frowned and rubbed his back for him.

“Like I said, you both are so dumb,” She sighed, sinking further into the couch. They began to dig into their ice cream, as Betty put on The  Winter Soldier onto Jughead’s laptop for them to watch.

They all sat in a comfortable silence, somehow all fitting in Archie’s double bed. It felt all too familiar; the three childhood friends in Archie’s house (because Alice didn’t want FP’s son in her house, of course, and she also didn’t want her daughter in FP’s house either), watching movies with ice cream. Granted back then they were watching The Lion King and they’d all start crying, and now they were watching Captain America, but it still felt as safe and warm as it did then.

As a rather suspenseful scene came up onto the screen, despite already seeing the movie, the three tensed up. Suddenly, Jughead sneezed loudly and caused the two to jump in surprise.

“Jug!” They groaned in annoyance.

“..sorry!” Jughead exclaimed in embarrassment, until they all started laughing heartily.

Despite two of the three people sitting on that bed feeling awful and ill, they still had a great time, because there was no better medicine than each other.