okay but imagine derek standing in his kitchen making tea when all of sudden he’s hit with an aching empty feeling and he’s associating it with stiles. he grabs his phone and he scrolls through his contacts 10 times and he still can’t find stiles’ contact. he calls scott but he gets no answer and now he’s hyperventilating because the polaroid of him and stiles he had pinned to his fridge is suddenly just a picture of him. he can feel himself falling apart and then suddenly he takes a deep breath and wonders why he was so upset but he can’t seem to remember.
Author’s Note: WHAT’S UP GUYS!!! Now that I have successfully survived midterms, I have returned. During a study break, I was scrolling through and I saw an ask on my feed that I just had to write about. So with the blessing of the absolutely fantastic @bucky-plums-barnes (love ya😘😘), I turned one of her Fluffy Friday scenarios into a fic. I hope you guys enjoy!! :)
Summary: “Bucky returning home form a mission, tired, but refuses to let you get up during the night with the newborn because he knows you need your sleep.”
Other Characters: None
Warnings: A little self doubt/anxiety and extreme fluff
A vacation was totally what the pack needed, I mean sure they weren’t going to the beach but Alaska had the Aurora Borealis….and igloos! Stiles refuses to admit that seeing a certain alpha swaddles up in heavy fur coats makes him feel warm inside, because it doesn’t okay!
But this trips not all fun and games, with a new evil on the loose under the ice, the pack races to discover this threat and end the string of sudden deaths plaguing the small town. Careful what you wish for, Stiles gets all up close and personal with the new big bad, I mean it’s not like he wanted to die…it just kind of happened.
Finally, the net broke. Derek sighed with relief, rising to his feet and grunting at how stiff he felt. The boy continued to sit there a moment longer, staring still. Derek was about to attempt interrogating this boy again when he saw something that about made him check in to a mental hospital.
Instead of legs…there was a glistening, blinding, orange tail.
A fucking tail!
Derek is a reluctant fisherman in order to pay off his parents’ debt and he caught one hell of a, well, catch
The guy nodded jerkily and stopped twirling his keys. He narrowed his eyes before he blurted out, “You’re a mermai– ah, uh, merma- merperson, right?”
Derek rolled his eyes and turned back to the notes in front of him. He was beyond tired of being treated like he was fucking Ariel from that damn movie. He didn’t even have a sister named Ariel. That name was too average for his uptight father. Nor did he have an uncle named Percy. Not that he had ever met, anyway.
“That’s none of your business.” He muttered as he went back to attempting to translate Erica’s notes. Why did so many females have to write with such curvy letters?
“It’s just… okay, my– I think my goldfish is depressed.”
Hey Bonny, don't mean to be rude or invasive but wondering why is it that you only post videos when you're doing some sort of 'challenge' or 'streak'? only during travel too? Why not be more consistent for your fans? It kind of makes some of us feel like you all of a sudden make a ton of videos only when you need to earn money. Do you even like what you are doing? I just want you to be happy and make videos because you want to, not because you're worried about your next adsense payment.
Had to answer this one because it made me really sad that you would think it’s money that motivates me on YouTube… because trust me if I wanted to make more money I could be taking sponsorships (paid promo videos and posts) left right and centre…😂 (which I don’t)
Truth is that I just struggle with being consistent in uploading, I let things get the better of me like videos “having” to be a certain way, perfect in a sense, also lots of other little things play into it that I am working on and trying to not make excuses!!!
The reason I do “challenges” is because when I set them I usually follow through and complete them, it MAKES me upload and I love that!! And when I am traveling I want to capture the moment and share that experience with you guys. So we I am at home with nothing super exciting happening I get carried away with other projects, and distracted from uploading consistently. I must say being your own boss is HARD, you don’t have anyone telling you exactly how much to work or what to work on so it’s easy to get side tracked. All part of the learning process.
It’s funny because I literally feel like I’m always working on something to do with my “business” but then I look at my videos and they just aren’t consistent and I understand it’s not good enough so it’s definitely something I need to work on! This year I will do better.
I went for a few drinks last night. I didn’t get too drunk, but I managed to pick up a cold halfway through the day and I ended up going home a snuffly mess. I felt worse when I woke up this morning. I had a coffee, which made my insides hurt a bit, then I got a sudden need to poo. It was making me feel unwell to hold it though, so rather than get dressed and head outside, I went to the toilet, but stopped it at the point were it got quite loose. My bowels were screaming for more relief but I held it and went back to bed.
My stomach was not happy with me for doing this. I kept getting the need to fart when I knew it wasn’t going to be a fart, but I wasn’t in the mood for going outside to mess myself. I managed to wait for an hour then I realised there was diarrhea in me wanting to come out and it’d be a shame to waste a good opportunity.
I peed carefully before I left, noticing that my underwear was already slightly stained from holding it in. I kept the same underwear on (white), put on some black jeans, and put a coat over my pajama top so no-one could see I was still half in my pajamas. I left the house and wandered to the nearby shop.
At the shop, there was quite a few festive shoppers around, even though this wasn’t the main shopping area of the city. It is more like a small shopping arcade. I went into the supermarket and picked up a couple of things I needed. There was a cute girl on the checkout, and quite a few good looking women around, one behind me had a girl who looked around 10 years old.
As I queued, I let out a small fart. It was warm and wet, and I knew it was more than a fart but it was difficult to tell. There was an immediate smell. I was alarmed to see that the woman and the girl was standing very close to me, and I didn’t realise they were so close. The woman said to the girl ‘was that you?’ and the girl replied no. Straight after this I moved forward to get served.
The girl serving apologised for making me wait in a robotic way, even though I was only waiting for about 15 seconds. She smiled at me, and I smiled back, releasing my bowels a little. There was a definite movement, and I felt a soft ripple of mess filling my pants quite quickly. I stopped though as it was so wet that I worried it would show through the back of my jeans. It was dangerously wet.
I bagged my shopping in the bag I had taken with me, releasing a little more mess as I was walking away, and I felt my legs get wet. Uh-oh.
I walked home, feeling behind me to see if I was wet. I couldn’t feel wet, but the mess was barely solid at all. It quivered as I touched it lightly. It was running down my legs a little so it was a race against time to get home.
As I neared the house, I pushed again as a couple of teenage girls walked towards me. This time it was audible, and my pants ballooned out. It was an explosion and the wetness was everywhere now. I knew my pants were sagging badly but I didn’t want to check as it would make it obvious. I also peed a little here. I walked past the girls, feeling the mess run down my leg and pool into my socks. What a disaster. I wish I looked back here but I was too nervous.
As I crossed the road to my house, a female jogger ran past from behind me. I wondered how it looked from the back. I entered the house, pushing again but getting no more mess out, only a little more pee.
I checked myself in the mirror and the stain wasn’t noticeable but the bulge certainly was! It was huge.I pushed it a little and it ran down my legs even more so I retreated to the toilet. There is no doubt that the jogger saw the huge sagging bulge.
I spent so long cleaning up. The toilet floor was a mess as I dripped everywhere when I took my jeans off. My pants were utterly ruined, soaked through. I’m amazed that the jeans didn’t soak through too, but I think it was because the big explosion was so near the end.
I forgot to mention, both my flatmates are away for a week. That’s why I was able to get away with this! It’s the first time since I moved here that I’ve had the house properly to myself.
Underwear is in the washing machine now. Might have to bin them as the stain might not come out.
Pairing: Dean x Reader Summary: Returning home from a long, hard hunt you realize you need a little space from Dean as your feelings for him start to overwhelm you. However, Dean realizes that space is the last thing that he wants or needs. Part I. Prompt: This is for @kittenofdoomage Classic Movie Challenge. My prompt was “Go ahead, make my day,” from Sudden Impact (1983). Warnings: A good bit of swearing, temporary angst (if you squint), the beginning of fluff & smutty goodness. Word Count: 3,517 A/N: Originally this was going to be a one shot, but it (and time) got away from me. Seriously. I’m already posting this at the last possible moment. Traveling for grad school to places where the internet is not a sure thing, plus some anxiety and stress issues had me pushing this baby off for way too long. So this is going to end up being two parts. Maybe more. I’m growing kinda attached to this reader. And yes, I’m sorry, I’ve basically cut it at the most inconvenient moment possible. Smut will likely (okay, will) follow in Part 2. You know, once life sorts itself out and I have time to write for real. Also: this hasn’t been beta’ed, so any and all feedback is welcomed warmly. If you’d like to beta things for me in the future, please let me know! Updated (12/1): fixed some (really awful) typos and an inconsistency that was making my eye twitch.
Tags: At the end of the story.
Walking into the bunker you peeled off your blood-stained t-shirt and threw it directly into the trash. Damnit, you grumbled in your mind, I loved that fucking shirt. It had been a long day — longer than usual. Scanning the room from the bottom of the stairs you were reminded of just how grateful you were to have a home now.
You still savored those words.
Sure, you shared the space with two overgrown children, but the bunker provided a sense of refuge that had been absent from your life for so long. When Dean had told you about this place and then when he and Sam had insisted that you move in to one of the empty rooms, you resisted. That wasn’t the life of a hunter - you didn’t get to have a home. Didn’t get to have a place where you could hoard more possessions than could fit into the trunk of your car.
But they had insisted, hunt after hunt, and finally you caved.
But it wasn’t their repeated invitations or Sam’s puppy dog eyes that had won you over. It was the promise of a hot shower whenever you wanted one. Even more, it was the fluffy, non-roadside-motel towels and full-sized bottles of shampoo that you got to pick out and buy for yourself. Those were the things that constituted heaven for you, so you said yes. The boys were elated.
AN: Cinderella-esque drabble set in the 1800s (or thereabouts). Unbetaed because lately I’ve just been flying by the seat of my pants and it’s starting to show in research/quality. Will need to stop that soon. :)
Walking toward the enormous, ornate doors, Molly took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her stomach in hopes of calming the sudden fluttering of butterflies.
She could do this.
Her black gown fit her like a glove. She had spent the better part of three months sewing in what little free time she had to make the ball gown out of her mourning dress. After her father passed the year before, she was left with no more family; no one left to mourn. A black gown was surely a social faux-paus, but with the mask on her face and the silver chain threaded through her flowing, uncovered tresses, no one would recognize her as the morbid morgue mouse. And she couldn’t afford to buy even a third-hand dress. She’d had to scrimp and save for the silver beading she’d added to the sweetheart neckline. The fitted sleeves ended at her elbows and the skirt billowed out from the bottom of the corset, the fabric brushing the ground with every twist she took.
She couldn’t stop the excited and nervous smile from spreading across her face.
The manservants on either side of the entrance opened the doors to the ballroom. Music and laughter filled her ears and she pulled her shoulders back.
She was going to the ball!
He’d danced with seventeen women. And all of them were insipid little dullards. Sherlock caught his mother’s pointed glare over the head of his current dancing partner, a particularly arrogant duchess with nefarious designs on his crown, and forced an emotionless smile.
They whirled about the floor and Sherlock glanced at the line of masked ladies waiting for their turn with him. It stretched around the enormous room. He inwardly groaned. Why had he agreed to this?
Behind him, the doors opened and a subdued hush came over the attendees in a wave.
Latecomers were not an uncommon occurrence, so it was a surprise to Sherlock that the small orchestra trailed off in a discordant mess and the conversations around him come to a stumbling halt as everyone turned to look up.
Sherlock followed their gazes and turned around.
A woman stood at the top of the stairs, petite with soft brown hair. Her features were pleasing, if a bit plain. But was most striking about her was the black gown she wore. The silver beading along the neckline shimmered in the lights as her chest rose and fell. Already he could hear the snide comments from those around him about the audacity of the stranger for brash, inappropriate colour she wore, but he found himself admiring her for that alone. Her hair was loose and fell to her waist in a gentle wave and, unlike all the other women, her arms were bare of jewelry or gloves.
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow in intrigue.
At last, someone not concerned with ‘proper etiquette’.
Abandoning the duchess, Sherlock kept his eyes locked on the newcomer and slowly made his way toward her as she descended the stairs. A dark blush stained her cheeks at being the center of attention, but she kept her head held high. When she reached the bottom, Sherlock broke free of the crowd and stepped in front of her path.
She looked up at him and her brown eyes widened behind her mask in shock when she realised who was blocking her way.
'Your H-Highness.’ She belatedly remembered to curtsy and Sherlock cursed the ridiculous custom even as he bowed at the waist.
A small gasp escaped her lips when he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the soft skin. When she tried to pull it back, his fingers caressed the flesh of her palm and he felt the callouses on her fingertips and he glanced down to note the minute scars on her fingers.
This woman was most certainly not born of royalty.
A genuine smile creased his face and he held fast to her hand.
'May I claim the first dance?’
The blush traveled down her neck and spread across her collarbone.
'You may,’ she replied in a soft, but confident voice.
The gaping onlookers parted as he led her to the center of the dance floor. Sherlock turned and placed his free hand on her waist, tugging her closer. She had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. He could see the pounding of her heart against her throat and, for the first time, found himself flattered to be admired by a woman.
The first notes of a waltz flowed through the air. With confidence, he stepped forward and they fell into the dance with ease.
'You are not royalty.’
Instantly, her red cheeks paled and fear crossed her features. Sherlock regretted his untethered tongue and rushed to reassure her.
'Do not worry, I have no intention of outing the one person in this room who has not made me wish to perish from boredom.’
She swallowed nervously and glanced over at the King and Queen, who watched them unabashedly. But then she looked up at him and suddenly Sherlock felt as if she was reading his very thoughts. How could this stranger see him so well?
'Then I have arrived just in time,’ she quipped with a mock serious frown. 'One cannot have the crown prince dying at his own ball!’
Sherlock chuckled and spun them in a quarter turn. The skirt of her gown billowed out around his legs and he found himself entranced by her smile. Though not as conventionally beautiful as many of the other women, with thin lips and a small figure, her gentle confidence and courage made her all the more beautiful in his eyes.
'What is your name?’
Her eyes twinkled mischievously. 'Now, why would I tell you that? It would rather spoil the anonymity of a masque ball.’
'True,’ he agreed. 'But I find myself at an unfair disadvantage. You know who I am, yet I must spend the evening wondering who you are.’
'I doubt that. Once our dance is finished, you will be on to the next woman and forget all about me.’
Sherlock sobered and slowed to a stop. 'I doubt that.’
Her cheeks darkened further and she lowered her eyes. But Sherlock could see the shy smile she was trying to hold back. Readjusting his hand on her waist, he pulled her just a bit closer and led them back into the dance.
Because Stiles had the worst luck ever, all the flights out
to California were cancelled and he wouldn’t be able to make it home for
Christmas. He called his dad, giving him the disappointing news before throwing
himself onto the couch, huffing in despair.
Being alone in a big city was daunting and Stiles was
looking forward to getting to see his dad and his friends again.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur and all of a sudden
it was Christmas morning. After an afternoon of cleaning his apartment, Stiles
decided he needed a change of scenery. He made his way down to the bar that was
only a block away.
The bar was unsurprisingly not busy but there were a few
people scattered around the place. Stiles walked up to the bar, ordering
himself a drink and some snacks before taking a seat.
A/N: Here’s me being me again. I needed a break from all of the requests to write something purely mine and this is what came from it. I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, ptsd
“I love you so much.”
They were the same words he spoke every night as he watched her fall asleep, curled into his arms like the frail girl she was. His hands traced the curve of her back lightly, scared to make a sudden move that would send her spiraling into hysterics again.
She was broken, a beautiful glass figure that had been shattered to pieces by a man who had carelessly held on too tightly. She’d never been quite the same again and all Spencer could do was watch as she tried to pick up the pieces and make herself whole again. But like any true glass piece, there were shards that were simply gone once shattered- vanishing into thin air, and they left empty holes in her body where the cold draft filled her with a sense of emptiness, a cruel reminder of how hollow she was.
Spencer felt useless as he held her in his arms. He should have seen the signs. He should have noticed the way she cowered whenever someone raised a hand. He should have realized what was happening before it had been too late.
His heart had filled with irrevocable sadness when he received the phone call from the hospital. She had listed him as her emergency contact, him, not the other man. She had trusted so much in him to save her and he had failed.
He cried when he saw her bruised face. How anyone could ever do something so cruel to something so lovely was beyond him. How someone so beautiful could allow themselves to be treated in such a way, that he understood. He knew her better than anyone. He knew that deep beneath her smile was a sad being looking for validation. Looking for love.
If only he would have confessed his love to her before. Before she met that despicable man who turned her into his personal ragdoll. Before she had fallen so deeply into her own self-hatred to allow such a thing.
And so she whimpered as she lay next to him in his bed, images of the man’s violence still flashing vividly in her mind. They haunted her for days, the constant fear of him returning enough to make her lose sleep. She knew she was being irrational. He wasn’t coming back. Spencer had made sure of that.
He had sent Morgan himself to arrest him, sending the man to jail on charges of domestic abuse that he had no choice but to plead guilty to due to his previous records involving similar incidents. Spencer had felt a repulsion to the man. An incredible anger that would have led him to do something he would have regretted if he himself had gone after him.
She lay with him every night, her own body craving the safety he provided. She cringed away from all other touch that didn’t originate from him. Not even JJ, who’s whole being exuded a matronly comfort, was able to come near. She clung onto Spencer as if he was her savior, her lifeline that had only just barely reached her.
He didn’t complain. He didn’t force her to talk, to speak aloud the worry she held on her face. Instead he would simply arrive home with her favorite foods, a spark of excitement in her eyes for a mere second before it dimmed once again. They would sit and eat in comfortable silence, an understanding between them that some things were better left unsaid. Sometimes she would ask how everyone else was and he would fill her in on the team’s shenanigans. Sometimes her eyes would sparkle with amusement, other times she’d simply nod.
She lived most of her days in a limbo, existing only enough to do what was required of her. She had not gone back to work yet but Hotch had been understanding. He had sent her a gift with Spencer once, a journal and a fancy pen. She’d opened it to find a note written down.
For the things you need to release but can’t bear to say.
That small journal had been her second salvation. Spencer constantly found her curled up on the couch, fast asleep with it open in her lap. She’d nearly filled all of its pages and he felt a wave of relief flush through him. She was venting somewhere and that was good. It was healthy. It would help her healing process.
Every night she’d curl into him without a word, although he understood that she cared. She cared that he was there. There were times when he would be woken by her tight grip in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against the feelings her own body raged against her. He would simply hold her against him, his long fingers stroking her skin comfortingly as she cried. They never spoke of it but she was grateful.
Tonight was different. There was a sense of serenity in her as she curled up in his bed. She dared to throw a leg over him, earning a small raise of an eyebrow from Spencer. This time she looked at him and smiled, a small smile that belonged to a girl who was only just beginning to love herself once more. He felt his heart flutter as he realized that the warmth in her eyes had returned, a sign of the girl she used to be. He wrapped his arm around her as they settled into their usual positions, the sense of familiarity between them enough to bring a small spark of comfort to both. He pressed his lips against her forehead in a tender kiss, smiling as he heard her sweet voice fill the space between them.
me, an intellectual: alec needed to make sure that shit was happening and had to push away because it felt so unreal??? he’s having his first kiss???? with the high warlock of brooklyn???? so he also needs to make sure magnus wants this cause magnus has been nothing but considerate never touching alec unless he agrees on it so alec pushes away but sees magnus chasing him. magnus just couldn’t believe this was happening all of a sudden alec’s lips were on his and the universe froze so once alec pushes away he’s scared this was all in his imagination but alec comes back, alec tilts his head to the side seeking more of magnus and magnus thinks it’s the sexiest, sweetest thing ever so he smiles. alec gives magnus his bottom lip for more access and magnus accepts it but like seriously this boy has never kissed anyone how he be knowing??? so they smack lip until finally it’s over and magnus still can’t believe it and alec still can’t believe it and you never cease to amaze me alexander.
I laughed at Aaron as Grayson wrapped his arm around me. Today, we were in the boys apartments along with Aaron, Jack, and Cameron. The bouts had all been busy lately and they all were free today and decided to hang out.
“let’s play Mario Cart!” Ethan said jumping up grabbing the wii remotes. He took one and handed the other three a remote, leaving me and Grayson without one. As the started up the game, they began concentrated and didn’t notice Grayson or myself. Grayson looked at me.
“what?” I asked knitting my eyebrows together in confusion.
“let’s go make out.” he said seriously.
“what?” I asked a little taken back at his sudden need.
“please babe, they won’t even notice we’re gone. look,” he said gesturing towards them, “they’re concentrated on the game.”
“okay,” I said.
He quickly stood up and grabbed my hand, almost as if he was afraid I would change my mind. He led me to his room. He stood in front of his bed and made grabby hands at me. I walked over and stood in front of him. He wrested his hands on my cheeks and leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me hungrily, like he hasn’t kissed me in years, when in reality it had only been like two hours. I grabbed his wrist and placed them on my waist. I reached up and put my hands behind his neck, playing with his hair that wrested there. He sat down on his bed and I was standing in between his legs. He pulled me down so I was straddling him. As we continued to make out, I heard giggles, I pulled away.“
"wha—” Grayson said but was cut off by roaring laughters.
Ethan, Cameron, Aaron, and Jack stood at the door laughing and recording us.
I groaned and Grayson crossed his arms, clearly annoyed.
“really guys?” he said.
My cheeks were flushed and they all began to leave. I groaned and buried my head into him.
“Y/N, it’s not the first time they’ve caught us.” he said chuckling a bit about how embarrassed I was.
“I know but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing or uncomfortable.” I said.
He chuckled, and his chest vibrated. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “baby you’re so cute.”
a wild Caryl date night ending at 2am at a Dennys. Carol is drinking coffee
with a crazy straw, and Daryl is eating a stack of pancakes slowly, cherishing
every bite like he’s never had pancakes before. One of them is just drunk
enough to ask the waitress for some lemon slices, having a sudden need to see
the other suck on the lemon and make a funny face.
Recently, you have noticed something off. Something had
changed in your body and you weren’t too sure what it was. It all started with
food. There were foods that you usually loved that, all of a sudden, made you
feel sick. Then, in the mornings, you began to throw up. Once the morning
sickness started, you made the assumption that you were pregnant and went out
to buy a test, just to make sure you hadn’t actually caught some deadly disease.
Now you were sat in your bathroom, waiting for the result of the test. Luckily
your husband, Jinyoung, had needed to run errands which meant you could find
out if you were actually pregnant without him knowing and then prepare how you
would reveal it to him.
Time moved agonisingly slowly as you waited. After what felt
like forever, but had actually only been a few minutes, a little beep sounded
and you picked up the stick that now held your future. The little sign
presented on it proved what you can expected; you were pregnant. Tears of
happiness spilled from your eyes as you thought about yours and Jinyoung’s
child. You had actually been thinking about asking him to start a family soon
and this was definitely a sign that you should. In fact, there couldn’t have
been a bigger sign! You threw the test away and thought about how you should
tell your husband. Maybe you could buy some baby clothes? No, there’s not enough
time for that.
In the end, you decided to just ask him about starting a
family and then surprise him. Your fingers were crossed that he would say yes
to starting a family else your plan would fall apart. A noise came from the
front door and Jinyoung called out to you, “I’m home!” You stood up to greet your
husband with a quick kiss as he took off his jacket.
“Did you do everything you need to do, Jinyoungie?”
“Yep, I only had a couple things anyway. Are you okay, jagiya?”
“I’m more than okay. In fact I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Curiosity, confusion and worry filled Jinyoung’s face as he followed you into
“What is it?”
“Well, recently I’ve been thinking about us. We’ve been married for a year and
a half now and I was wondering if we could maybe start a family soon…” you
trailed off, waiting for his response. “I want nothing more than to have children
with you, (Y/N). It’s all I’ve wanted for years now.” He held your hand,
stroking it absentmindedly with his thumb. Now it was time to bite the bullet
and tell him.
“I’m glad you said that because guess what?” His eyes went wide, “Really? Are
you?” The tears began to spill again from your eyes as you nodded, “Yes. I’m
pregnant.” He jumped up in disbelief and happiness. “I can’t believe it! We’re
going to have a baby!” He knelt down to feel your stomach, looking at you with
pure love and affection. “I love you so much, (Y/N).” He wrapped you in his
arms and you stayed like that for a while, savouring the moment.
A/N - This one was so much fun to write, especially since I’m Jinyoung biased. Send in requests!
Summary: Bucky needs your help after an unfortunate run-in with Peter Parker.
Bucky x Reader. FLUFF. Word count: 1.2k
A/N: This one’s nothing too romantic or anything, just something fun! Hope you like it!
“I swear I’m gonna break that kid in half!” yelled Bucky as
he barged into your room unannounced. You had been laying on your bed reading
and Bucky’s sudden appearance startled you, causing you to drop your book on your
“Ow! Ugh. Who are you breaking in half? And why?” Bucky didn’t
need to answer your question once you removed the book from your face and saw
“Oh. Peter got you. That doesn’t look like the normal web
goo he uses though,” Bucky was covered in synthetic webbing from the left side
of his head all the way down to the star on his metal arm.
“It’s not. Parker tried making some new stuff with the tech
in Tony’s lab and this shit is way stickier. He said he got me ‘by accident’
but that’s bullshit. As soon as I get this crap off I’m getting even. Speaking
of getting this stuff off, I was hoping you could help? It’s mostly in my hair
and I figured you might have something that would wash it out,”
“Okay, just have a seat and let me see what we’re dealing
with,” you instructed as you motioned toward your desk chair. Bucky sat down,
and once you saw how much of the webbing had gotten into his hair you had a
horrible feeling that the only way to remove it would be to cut it out. That
was going to be the last resort though.
“Did you try washing it out with shampoo?” you asked.
“Do you seriously think that wasn’t the first thing I tried?
Of course I tried shampoo, and it didn’t even touch it. Please tell me you have something else,” he pleaded. At that, you
ran to your bathroom and came back with an armful of various bottles.
“Okay, we’ll try rubbing alcohol first. Tilt your head back—I
don’t want to accidentally get this in your eyes,” Bucky did as you asked, and
with one hand you slowly poured the alcohol onto his hair while you used your
other hand to hold a towel underneath so it wouldn’t drip onto the floor. Once
his hair was soaked with the alcohol, you tried running a comb through it.
“Anything?” asked Bucky.
“Umm…no. I’m gonna try putting some coconut oil on it. Maybe
if we grease it up it’ll just slip out,” You scooped some oil out of the jar
and slathered it in Bucky’s hair to no avail.
“The oil isn’t working either, is it?” Bucky asked with a
hint of dread in his voice.
“No, but I still have ideas. Don’t give up hope yet,” You
started pouring liquid onto Bucky’s hair, and when the smell hit him he
“Geez, Y/N, what the hell is that stuff?” he asked.
“Nail polish remover. It’s not working though. I have
another idea—I’ll be right back,” you said as you ran out of the room. You
returned several minutes later with a bucket, some rubber gloves, and a
“Is that paint thinner?!” Bucky asked with worry.
“Yeah. Honestly it’s the last thing I can think of. I got
the brush because I don’t want to pour it on your head—I’m not sure if this
stuff can hurt your skin or not, so I’m gonna just brush some onto a little
piece of hair and we’ll see if it works,” you explained.
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“I cut Steve’s hair all the time. Clint’s and Bruce’s too.
Tony’s really the only one who insists on going to an actual barber,” Bucky
cringed at the suggestion of cutting his hair.
“How did you learn to cut hair?” he asked.
“Well someone had to cut Steve’s hair while he was sleeping,
so Fury had me do it. I’d never done it before then, so Steve looked a little
goofy for the first year or so after I joined SHIELD, but I got better with
practice. I think there are pictures somewhere…” you said with a giggle,
remembering the hack job you did on Steve’s hair the first time you tried
“Okay, well, let’s just try the paint thinner first,” said
Bucky. You began brushing it on and it did absolutely nothing.
“I’m getting a haircut today, aren’t I?” he asked, knowing
the answer. You both stood up and Bucky followed you into the bathroom. First,
you rinsed his hair in the sink to wash out the chemicals. You dragged the
chair into the bathroom and had Bucky sit down once again, facing away from the
You started with scissors so you could get the webbing cut
out and then even out the length, then you moved on to clippers to clean it up
a little bit. You were able to peel the dried webbing off of his skin and the
metal of his arm, and you ran a comb through Bucky’s hair one last time before
having him stand up and turn to face the mirror. Bucky’s jaw dropped when he
saw his reflection. Not only had you cut out all of the webbing, you had styled
it just like he used to back in the forties.
“Y/N! You’re amazing! Damn, I haven’t looked like this in
decades. It’s great! Thanks, doll!” he said as he wrapped his arms around you,
trapping you in a big bear hug.
“You’re welcome, Buck. I’m just glad you like it! I tried my
best to do it like it was in that picture of you and Steve that he keeps on his
fridge. The one of you guys at Coney Island right before you left for the war,”
“Well I love it, but I have a spider to kill now, so I’ll be
seeing you later,” said Bucky before planting a quick kiss on your cheek and
running out of the room.
“Don’t hurt the little bugger too badly! Remember he’s just a kid!” you hollered as you started
sweeping up the hair on the floor.
An hour later, after you had finished cleaning up and had
returned to your book, there was a quiet knock on your door.
“Come in!” you yelled as you sat up and closed your book.
When the door opened, Peter walked in, followed by a grinning Bucky. Peter’s
head was covered in webbing.
“I figured that I probably wasn’t the only one who could use
a haircut today, isn’t that right, Peter?” asked Bucky.
“Yes, Sergeant Barnes. Y/N, could you please cut this stuff
out of my hair? It’s way too sticky—it actually clogged up the new web shooters
Mr. Stark made for me. Needless to say, I’m just gonna go back to the old
stuff,” said Peter. You nodded and motioned toward the bathroom as Bucky carried
in the chair.
Once you cut out all of the webbing, there wasn’t a lot of
hair left for you to work with. You ended up giving Peter a look that was barely
longer than a buzz cut. He sighed when he saw himself in the mirror.
“Sorry kid, there really wasn’t much I could do. It’ll grow
back though, and I assume you learned your lesson about shooting webs at people’s
heads,” you explained.
“Yeah—I learned not to play pranks on cranky old men! Thanks
for the help, Y/N!” yelled Peter as he ran out of the room.
If you’d like to read more of my fics, you can find my masterlist here
((Sudden inspiration while watching videos. Tyvan, anyone?))
“Future googling man, am I ever going to get married?”
A joke. It was just a joke. Evan didn’t know what he was saying. He didn’t know what kind of heartache he was putting him through by asking such a simple question. After all, Evan was from the past; he didn’t have the knowledge that he had, or the memories he was plagued with as this Evan had yet to make them.
This wasn’t his Evan, and he needed to accept that. This Evan was meant for the Tyler of this timeline; a Tyler neither of them had yet to meet, and a Tyler he couldn’t personally know without breaking the space time continuum. Evan couldn’t possibly know what was going to happen to him, or the sad reality that the answer to his silly question was. He was merely making a joke; a dumb light hearted joke that was never meant to hit him like a knife to the chest, paired with an easy smile that only twisted it. He was just trying to tease him.
But it hurt, it hurt so very much. It hurt to know that this Evan was so blissfully unaware of the horror that he was going to put him through. It hurt to know that in a few short weeks after Tyler had long returned to the future, Evan was going to meet the him from this timeline in a crowded bar, and fall hopelessly in love.
It hurt to know that they were going to share their first kiss against the passenger seat door of his car outside Evan’s apartment building, and it hurt to know that he would invite him to move in with him but a few months later. It pained him to remember the long nights spent playing video games and laughing over pointless inside jokes; the nights when they drunkenly stumbled home from their dates hand in hand as they were much too tipsy to drive; the nights spent stealing kisses beneath the covers as fingers traced over ribs and toes brushed against shins.
This Evan had never experienced that, not yet. This Evan never gave him his heart in the form of a shiny silver ring and a promise to love him until death did them part. This wasn’t the Evan he was engaged to. This wasn’t the Evan that he fell so deeply in love with.
This wasn’t the Evan that he left for dead.
His Evan was long gone, and long devoured by undead that had yet to rise from the soil they were buried in. His Evan had screamed for help and called out his name so desperately, even after it was clear that Tyler wasn’t going to return for him and was choosing to save his own life instead. He had lost his Evan all because he was selfish, and now this Evan, this sweet innocent Evan with bright eyes and a hope for the future, was going to suffer the same fate.
He wanted to warn him but he couldn’t. He wanted to hunt down the Tyler from this timeline and warn him of the mistake they would regret for years to come if he chose to be selfish, but he couldn’t. If he influenced the past, then he’d mess up the future, and as he much as he wanted to alter the course of time and try to bring his own Evan back, he couldn’t. The only reason the apocalypse happened to begin with was because he fucked with time travel, and now he couldn’t fuck with it further out of fear of making things even worse. He missed his Evan, and he wanted to protect this one from himself, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He was already playing a dangerous game just by talking to him, and he couldn’t risk making things even worse.
His Evan was gone and he needed to accept that. Karma had ripped his Evan away and he didn’t deserve to miss him, but he felt a hollow ache in his chest regardless, and regret ate away at his insides as he silently wished this Evan had asked him something else. He didn’t need the reminder that he could have married him, if only he had tried to save him. He thought about that enough as it was.
Playing with the silver band tightly wrapped around his ring finger, Tyler finally gave him an answer. “No, you’re going to die alone,” he said bluntly, and Evan laughed, mistaking it for a joke, and the sound echoed and rattled around in the empty hole inside his chest.