anonymous asked:

"Fight me, you attractive stranger" Shisaku

“Fight me, you attractive stranger,” Shisui says, posturing in the street like the puffed up peacock he is.

Sakura eyes him flatly before turning eyes to his much more reasonable cousin. “Control him,” she demands, arms crossed.

Itachi smiles ever so slightly, looking sympathetic. “I apologize Sakura-san; you will soon learn that no one controls Shisui.”

The Iwa nin looks unimpressed. “The Bingo book says you are the finest ninja in Konoha out of your generation,” she says, mint green eyes glinting. “Surely you can get…creative.”

Itachi ignores the way his pulse increases ever so slightly at the comment. It must be from the apparent challenge in her words or the food he ate earlier.

“He can’t catch me!” Shisui brags, striking another ridiculous pose, this time draped provocatively across the street lamp. His hips are canted outwards and Sakura blithely wonders if he is attempting some sort of awkward mating call. It’s failing, miserably. “I’m Shunshin Shisui; fastest man alive.”

Suddenly he is in front of her, looming.

Sakura restricts the urge to flinch away, wondering again why Ōnoki-sama sent her to this backwater country filled to the brim with fancy dōjutsu eyes. She isn’t allowed to start an incident.

Instead, she Shunshins out from under him to the top of the pole. Sakura knows that she is showing her hand too early, but this Uchiha gets under her skin like nobody else.

Both Uchiha are gaping at her.

Sakura smirks, salutes, and Shunshins away.

Shisui is the first to shake off his daze, smile wide in a way that belies future destruction and mayhem. “I’m going to marry that girl,” he sighs.

Itachi’s eyes cut his way, Sharingan springing to life unconsciously.

hungarianbee  asked:

Clint/Bruce/Tony with “please don’t leave me alone"

WARNING, desrciptions of a panic attack, If it bothers you, skip this, please!

They find Clint curled up in a corner of the lab.

Bruce draws his eyebrows together and looks over to Tony, who chews on his bottom lip. It has been quite a while since Clint last had a flashback, last had a panic attack, but the one today has been bad.

Even from the distance, Bruce can see the archer shaking.

Something touches his arm and he looks down to see Tony’s fingers curled around his. He squeezes back.

Seeing Clint thrashing in panic hasn’t been easy on Tony, either. He’s shaken up as well and clearly fighting whatever memories are coming up now.

Bruce pulls him a little closer. “He needs us”, he says quietly. It has an immediate effect on Tony, who goes from nervous and worried to determined and strong. Sometimes, it’s that easy with him; give him something to do, especially when he is unsure of himself.

Tony likes to be able to help, that’s something Bruce found out quite quickly.

He watches Tony nod once and then they approach Clint carefully.

“Clint”, Bruce says and his heart twists in his chest when the archer flinches.

“Sweetheart”, Tony tries again, crouching down in front of Clint. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

There’s no reaction other than that Clint hunches in on himself even more, as if trying to disappear. Tony keeps talking to him, soothingly and low, but it doesn’t seem like it’ll bring a result.

Eventually, Bruce puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Maybe he needs some space”, he suggests. After all, not everyone deals well with proximity right after a panic attack; Bruce himself feels better when he is alone for a while afterwards. Maybe that is what Clint needs, too.

Tony looks uncertain, but eventually he nods.

Just when they both make a move to get up and leave, Clint’s hands shoot out and catch their wrists.

“Please-”, he says and his voice sounds raw and small. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Tony and Bruce react at the same time. They pull Clint forward, into their arms and hold him, hold him tight when he starts shaking again.

It takes a long while, but eventually, Clint starts to relax again, melting into his boyfriends.

He’s not okay just yet, but he is getting there.


Welp, okay, I have never heard of this pairing, I hope this is okay-

Spent several days trying to work out whether this counts as NSFW. Kind of? A little? I guess??? Anyway, the writing on my phone continues.

——–

Agatha couldn’t quite say what had awakened her. Not a sound, certainly, for hers was the only head lifted. She peered around the room. Nothing seemed out of place, from the dark shapes of the furniture to the door hinges to the pool of moonlight just touching the foot of the bed. Strange. She felt certain something had jolted her from her dreams. Frowning, she sank back into her pillow. It didn’t make sense. She usually slept so soundly…

A faint tremor beside her snapped her out of her thoughts. What…? Agatha leaned closer, listened to unsteady, shuddering breaths, nearly silent in the darkness.

Tarvek. Tarvek was crying.

Agatha pressed her palm to his chest. A faint wave of tension rippled through his muscles, but his heartbeat remained steady. Agatha whispered his name. No response. Sound asleep.

Well. What to do about this, then?

Agatha stroked his hair, his dampened cheek. Tarvek turned his face to the pillow. Fine. Be that way. She reached into the darkness, caught Gil’s hand, and gave a firm tug.

Gil’s head lifted a little, a darker shadow in the night. Agatha guided his hand to Tarvek’s shoulder. Groggy though he was, Gil understood. His hand smoothed down Tarvek’s arm in firm, reassuring strokes. He leaned closer, and between soft, soothing kisses pressed to Tarvek’s back, he mumbled, “Jesteś bezpieczny. Bezpečí. все буде добре.”

Agatha had to admit that her vocabulary grew a bit thin once the words started coming with Cyrillic letters, a fact that did nothing to stop the shiver that ran through her body at the sound of it. She wanted to hear more, but now really wasn’t the time. Not with Tarvek trembling in her arms, breaking her heart with every silent sniffle.

Gil continued to murmur soothing words, placing a gentle kiss upon Tarvek’s skin between each language. Another time, Agatha might have let a display of tender affection between them overwhelm her with joy. Tonight, she thought bloody thoughts. Tonight, she wanted to destroy everyone who had hurt Tarvek.

Something—perhaps the sound of Gil’s voice?—caused Tarvek’s sniffles to grow into quiet sobs. Agatha pitied him the headache he would have when he awoke. She held him close, stroking his hair. How could he weep like this, like his heart and soul had shattered, without even waking up?

Her ears caught one of the words Gil kept repeating in a dozen languages. Safe. You’re safe.

Oh.

Oh, but that was it, wasn’t it? Tarvek sobbed softly in his sleep because finally—perhaps for the first time?—he felt safe.

Agatha tightened her hold on Tarvek. What could she do? If she and Gil both got up and left, Tarvek might sink back into quiet slumber. Maybe. But abandoning him would be far crueller than letting him cry. She could wake him—also cruel. This way, with him asleep, she and Gil suffered for him. Perhaps that was for the best.

“S'rry,” Tarvek mumbled, startling a flinch out of both of his bedfellows. “‘Nevka, I—”

Agatha hadn’t imagined he would start talking in his sleep. She felt like someone had kicked her right in that spot below the solar plexus that makes a person want to vomit and dismember someone at the same time. Gil’s grip tightened on Tarvek’s arm. At least she wasn’t alone in her vengeful thoughts, though the urge to devise a way to punish the dead nearly drove her up and into the lab. Tarvek needed her. She stayed.

Gil’s hand brushed against hers. He paused, his fingers curling around hers in an unspoken question. Do we wake him? A minute ago, Agatha would have said no. A minute ago, Tarvek’s sobs had remained silent. Now he choked on hiccoughs, and she could not bear another minute of it. Agatha gave Gil’s hand a squeeze: I’ll handle this.

She slid her hand up over Tarvek’s shoulder. Gripping him by the back of the neck, she pressed their foreheads together. “Tarvek, my love,” she murmured. “I need you to wake up.” Gently, carefully, she kissed him.

For a moment, Tarvek didn’t react. Then, slowly, his lips began to move against hers. Agatha tasted the salt of his tears, and his anguish ached all the way down to the soles of her feet. Please wake up. Please.

Tarvek made a small noise in the back of his throat, a sigh and a groan and a question all at once. His arms slid around Agatha’s waist and, holding her close, he rolled over, pressing her down into the mattress. He kissed her harder, and for a moment there was nothing else. The pain and the worry faded out beneath the weight of Tarvek’s body, the heat of his kiss, the firm caress of his hand over her hip and down her thigh.

“Oh, come ON,” Gil muttered. Agatha lost the taste of sweet salt kisses in a breathless laugh.

Tarvek opened his mouth for a reply, but his words disappeared into a soft groan. His hands clutching the sides of his head, he sank back onto the bed. Yes, there was the headache. Agatha nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, now somewhat louder and faster than before. The elevated blood pressure would do his head no favors, poor thing.

Tarvek wrapped one arm around Agatha, holding her comfortably close. His other hand scrubbed at his eyes. “Well, that’s new,” he said, his tone more of curiosity than distress.

“Yeah.” Gil sounded distressed. “Are you—”

“I’m fine. I mean, my head is fit for cracking, probably not unlike yours after that incident with the absinthe, but otherwise, no harm done.”

“I don’t get hangovers.” Gil sounded apologetic.

Tarvek’s chest rose in a deep sigh. “Of course you don’t. For the duration of this headache, I might have to hate you a little.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Agatha’s fingers played in abstract patterns across Tarvek’s chest. “Dehydration, muscle tension, and blood pressure.” A little self-conscious, she added, “I know headaches.”

“I’ll be right back!” Gil sprang out of bed and bolted for the door, snatching up a lab coat as he went. Tarvek chuckled.

“Smart money says he forgets to put on trousers.”

Agatha prodded him in the ribs. “No way are you getting me to bet against a sure thing.”

Tarvek’s arm tightened around her. “What CAN I get you to bet on?” The sound of his voice carried his grin to her ears. This could be fun.

Agatha propped her chin on the back of her hand. “Any minute now, Gil is going to burst through that door with a noxious headache cure for you. It’ll work, of course.”

“Of course.”

“So…” Agatha rubbed her feet together, gleeful with anticipation. “What kind of disgusting will it be?”

“Bitter.”

“Vinegar.”

“Done.” Tarvek placed a kiss on the top of her head. His fingers trailed up and down her spine. Three slow, deep breaths later, he said, “Thank you.” For waking him gently? For not mentioning the crying? For knowing what ailed his head? All of those?

It didn’t matter.

Leaning up, Agatha kissed him underneath the jaw. “Any time,” she murmured. She settled back down, her palm flat on Tarvek’s chest, her cheek on her hand, and together they waited for Gil.

archiveofourown.org
find the one(s) who my soul loves - Unclesteeb - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Soul Bond, Depression, Codependency, Sexual Content
Summary:

“I…I never thought I’d feel this way again.”

“What way?” Sam had asked, puzzled but soothing Steve’s hair down with his palm.

“Bonded. I forgot how good it felt. I haven’t felt it since…” He let himself trail off.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. He’d never heard of someone bonding with two people before and if Steve was bonded with another person does that mean-

“It was with my best friend, Bucky. He, uh, died back in the war.”

Sam felt Steve’s touch turn blue and sad. He didn’t like the feeling. He gave Steve a kiss to try and remedy it. It helped a little.

“I didn’t know you could bond with more than one person.” Sam said, because there wasn’t any use in hiding his confusion. When Steve stopped feeling so strongly he’d be able to pick Sam’s confusion out easily.

Steve kissed him. His touch returned to that pleasant warm orange feeling. Sam let himself smile about it. “Neither did I, but I’m not about to let my second chance pass me by.”

vine

Imagine your ot3

This has definitely happened at some point
  • Blanche:Candela I swear if you go jump off a skyscraper without a permit and end up arrested, I am not bailing you out again.
  • Spark, quietly to Candela:I will. Have fun and be safe.
  • Blanche:SPARK DO NOT ENABLE HER I S2G