pinched face

boldbiscuit  asked:

So how about Magnus who has used all of his energy and is so burned out that he just physically (or mentally) can’t function?

(TYSM for the prompt! Also tagging @andy-selfish-quinn as the reason this got written today – much love to you both <3)


Alec had been at Magnus’ loft for several hours by the time his boyfriend - his fiancé, he reminded himself - opened the front door, key grating in the lock, dropped his things on the floor with unnecessary noise and drama, and stumbled into the living room.

That was Alec’s first clue that something was going on. When did Magnus ever use something as mundane as a key for something as banal as entering his own home?

“Hey,” Alec called out, from the kitchen, when Magnus didn’t say anything. “I’m making coffee—do you want any?”

A muffled jumble of incoherent syllables met Alec’s ears, and his brow furrowed. Was Magnus on the phone to a client, or to a friend? That would have explained the lack of response, but Alec couldn’t hear the hum of voices.

He finished making his coffee, and left it on the side in the kitchen along with a book Magnus had insisted he read (he was halfway through, and horribly, horribly addicted, much to Jace’s amusement) while he headed out to the hallway to investigate.

Magnus was on the floor.

For just a second, Alec’s heart rate skyrocketed, fluttering painfully against his ribcage in a moment of blinding, agonising fear at the thought of Magnus being hurt, or worse—

But the tight band around his lungs eased when he saw Magnus’ chest rising and falling steadily, if a little heavily. His eyelids fluttered, and he turned his head to look at Alec from where he was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, head lolling a little.

“Are you becoming reacquainted with the floorboards?” Alec asked, still feeling mildly concerned, but less so by the moment. Especially when Magnus’ lips turned up, and he made a concerted effort to put as much exasperation as he could into his eye roll.

“I’m burnt out,” Magnus murmured, words slightly slurred.

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anonymous asked:

heres a prompt if u were interested: neil being oblivious when flirted with constantly while andrew doing nothing, passing by, twirling his racquet is enough to get neil's attention (the rest of the foxes smirk)

“You’re all zoned out,” Matt says in her ear. Dan tips him immediately backwards with a hand to the chest.

“Shush,” she tells him, gritted through the straw she’s worrying between her teeth. She ran out of the watered-down pepsi they’re serving in battered plastic jugs a half hour ago.

“Dan.”

“Shush,” she insists, pressing two fingers to his mouth. She’s watching Neil trying to fill his water cup over at the far side of the banquet hall. He’s hovering in that way he does, like a shark who hasn’t figured out if something’s food yet.

There’s this sweet brown-eyed boy trying to talk to him, possibly the only male cheerleader in the room, certainly the least in the loop about Exy gossip. Dan watches him touch Neil’s arm and Neil jerks backwards into the table, toppling an entire icy water jug so it slops onto the floor and seeps through the tablecloth to the dark wood underneath.

Heads pop up, the boy falls all over himself to pour Neil a new glass, and Neil wanders off, bored.

Dan has noticed that people really want Neil to have a heart of gold. They like the news stories and they want them for themselves. They want the seams showing on his face and the tragedy in his back pocket, and they want to show everyone how accepting they are for finding his scars sexy. 

All they really want is his trim waist and his pretty eyes and his vice-cap badge and the way he shoves cameras away and has more history than any twenty-year-old has any business having.

Dan’s seen it all before. The way people like the character you’re playing so much that they want to take you home and open you up and see how deep it goes.

Neil’s worse at knowing when it’s happening. Dan’s a professional. She can see the way their eyes follow him because at least a dozen are always following her too, especially in places like this banquet. They look at Neil, or Dan, and a little part of them expects a show.

She watches Neil walk towards them with his eyes pouring over the room like liquid and finding every crevice, every exit. She looks at Matt.

“He’s doing that thing where he’s making a spectacle but he thinks he’s being very subtle.”

“That’s his whole shtick. I’m fond of it, now.” Matt grins.

“Do you think he actually noticed he was being hit on?”

Matt hums, watching Neil wind through the tables back to the fox—trojan extravaganza at theirs. “I doubt he knows anything about that boy other than the fact that he was in front of him for a bit.”

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6
Two Types of Signs

Aries: Either really chill or really crazy.

Taurus: Either really lazy or really hardworking.

Gemini: Either really clumsy and introverted or really “lit” and extroverted

Cancer: Either emotionally unstable on the outside or emotionally unstable on the inside. Either way they’re feeling some type of way.

Leo: You get a total sweetheart or you get a critical bitch.

Virgo: Very smart and wants to stay in and relax or is a social butterfly and can’t ever stay in the house.

Libra: Either completely sweet and loyal or annoying as hell with a pinch of two faced.

Scorpio: They can be positive and bring good vibes or really mysterious and quiet.

Sagittarius: They either like to be apart of the mainstream crowd and be loud or have their own small group of friends.

Capricorn: Either extremely loud or extremely shy.

Aquarius: The cinnamon roll or the asshole.

Pisces: They either enjoy staying inside all day or need to be around human company.

anonymous asked:

andreil pda around the foxes pleaseee my soul needs it

my marvelous anon, i am here to grant thine request, with a small side of accidental lowkey renison. enjoy <3. also on AO3.


He did it. He actually did it. After months of constant warnings and threats, Wymack finally followed through.

Neil can do nothing but stare at the flyer in his hand, mildly in fear and majorly in shock. A mere thirty seconds prior, Wymack had stormed out of his office brandishing this piece of paper like both a white flag and a declaration of war. He had paused just inside the lounge, making sure to gather everyone’s attention, before striding over to Neil and shoving the flyer in his face.

“This is for last weekend,” Wymack had said. “I already—don’t give me that look, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. I already signed you up. It starts at 8:00 AM on Saturday, and unless you want your ass glued to the bench for the rest of the season, I suggest you be there.” He had then turned back around and disappeared into the hallway, leaving a room full of confused and curious Foxes in his wake.

A full minute passes before chaos breaks out and everyone starts moving at once. Various forms of “What the hell?” can be heard from all corners of the room. Neil blinks as the flyer is yanked out of his hand. He looks up to see Andrew, his eyes scanning the paper. Andrew looks up at him, and Neil’s heart nearly explodes because this look on his face, it looks like the honest-to-god beginnings of a smile. And sure, it’s at Neil’s expense, but he would embarrass the fuck out of himself at every turn if this was his reward. Andrew moves to hand the paper back to Neil.

“Okay, seriously,” Kevin huffs out with impatience as he pushes through his teammates. He snags the flyer away from Andrew who couldn’t be bothered to stop him. Kevin reads aloud, “The Annual Hilton Head Island Marathon…a MARATHON? Really, Neil?! Is this a joke?”

“I don’t know, Kevin,” says Andrew, his voice taking on the persona of a kindergarten teacher. “Did it look like a joke to you?”

Kevin’s only response is to scowl and shove the flyer into Neil’s chest. “This better not affect your performance at our game on Friday. You don’t get to take it easy just because you have to run 26.2 miles the next day.”

By the time Kevin has stormed out of the building, the rest of the Foxes have commenced their team wide freak out.

“Seriously?! He actually came through on that threat?” Dan is caught halfway between being genuinely worried and dying of laughter.

“Neil…bro…what the fuck…” Matt says from somewhere on his left, placing a consoling hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Neil. We have to be there. I have to witness this historic moment. You finally get to put your insane running habits into practice,” Allison is rambling from across the room.

“Wait, what was Wymack talking about ‘last weekend’? What did you do?” Asks Nicky, unaccustomed to being out of the loop.

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anonymous asked:

86 and andreil??

86: “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” (I combined this with a prompt from foxpaws10 from ages ago based on this post, and I kind of warped both of your prompts i hope this is still okaaay basically it’s doctor andrew and that’s all u need to know)

His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.

Andrew chose surgery almost entirely for the distance of it, the sterility of a room with a slab of meat, a tray of knives, and a sickness he can actually cut out.

He’s a doctor because he can be, and patients sometimes like that he doesn’t speak a word to them, like silence equals genius.

He likes that there are some patients that come into the ER unconscious and leave the OR unconscious, and all he has is a problem and a ticking clock. He always solves the problem. He thinks maybe it’s because he is one.

The sinking ship of his Sunday in the emergency room goes from slippery to debilitating with one patient.

Two showy ER doctors with their lab coats off and their sleeves rolled up go into the private room they’ve cordoned off, and they both come out looking pinched in the face with their stethoscopes clenched in their fists.

“He’s a fucking disaster,” one of them says, leaning up against the information desk with his eyes still pulling back to the closed door of the room.

“I know. I thought, I dunno. That the news was exaggerating.”

Andrew tilts his head and listens without making any move to leave his post, filling out inane charts as illegibly as he can.

One of the residents chances a look at him and Andrew makes a point of catching him. The guy startles, then juts his chin.

“Maybe you’ll get along with him, Minyard. He’s as crazy as you.”

“You’ve mistaken the hospital for a playground,” Andrew says mildly. “Give me his chart.”

“What?”

“His chart.”

He looks at his friend, mouth slack, and then the one holding the chart holds it out like a dirty rag.

“He’s Boston’s starting striker,” he stage whispers. Andrew takes the clipboard and ignores him, scanning the details. “We’re not supposed to let any patients know.”

“That Neil Josten is causing a scene ten feet away from them?” he says, and the men titter uncomfortably. “Why should he get the luxury of privacy?”

“How did you—“

“The news is available to everyone, Bryant, you fuck.” He rounds the desk and makes for the closed and shuttered room, dropping the chart in the receptacle outside.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to practice,” someone says behind him, and then someone else, softer, scornful: “surgeons”.

Andrew wrings the door knob and finds himself abruptly face to face with the singular most swollen person he’s ever seen. He’s obviously bolting for it, his gown gaping at the neck and someone’s stolen shoes jammed on. Andrew scans the defiant face, the shock of red hair, the near invisible trail of blood from an incorrectly removed IV.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

Andrew watches Neil Josten— and it is him, one of the handful of strikers on Boston’s team and certainly the most newsworthy — size him up. His eyes run the same circuit Andrew’s would if he were looking to fight his way out: door, threat, surreptitiously behind him for a weapon, back again.

“I’ll drug you,” Andrew says simply. Neil’s good eye, the one that isn’t purpling, goes narrow.

“Are you allowed to say that?”

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Runaway Groom

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings:
Smut
Summary: Bucky goes missing before the wedding.
A/N: This is based off this post, after I read it I just couldn’t get it out of my head and had to write it. Come let me know what you think!
Word count : 1,348

Originally posted by heartsandwheels

You nervously flatten the soft white fabric of your dress, taking a shaky breath. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you fix a stray hair and adjust your dress. “You look beautiful, Y/N” Natasha’s hands are cold on the warmed skin of your shoulders. You smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. “Barnes is a lucky guy” she says sincerely, her beautiful eyes locked on yours.

You cant help but shake your head and a small laugh escapes your mouth before you speak “pretty sure, I’m the lucky one Tasha”.

“You’re both lucky-” she moves a curl of your hair back in place “-to find such perfect love in this world” she smiles but you notice the sadness behind her words.

Turning around you take her into your arms, a strong loving embrace. Clearing your throat of the tears you murmur “I wonder how Bucky is doing” laughter dancing in your words. 


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Business and Pleasure - Part 15

Summary:  Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.

Word Count: 1,833

Warnings: Swearing, angst


Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain


By the time you arrived back in New York, you were pretty sure that you had cried out all the tears your body could possibly produce. Your eyes were dry and bloodshot, and you couldn’t stop the constant shivering that had started sometime during the flight back. You spent the entirety of the flight trying not to cry. You hugged your knees to your chest as best as you could in the cramped plane and stared out the window. Thankfully, you had plenty of music on your phone, so you simply plugged in your headphones and tuned out the rest of the world.


Once you landed and collected your baggage, you realized just how late it was. The sun had set during the flight, and it was now well past midnight. You could have easily called a taxi, but you weren’t sure that you could handle being stuck in the back of a taxi for the ride back home. You didn’t want to have to make awkward small talk. All you wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep. 

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sweet

At age five, the grocer’s wife cracked a stick over Levi’s knuckles when he reached for an apple. It took years for that ache to heal. At age twelve, he took that stick from her hands and broke every window pane in their storefront. At age seventeen he bought his first apple from the grocer himself. It was mealy and had spots, but it was his, he’d paid for it with his own money—sure it was dirty money, but still. At nineteen, he joined the Survey Corps and the rations were better than anything he’d ever tasted in the underground.

He never forgot Isabel’s face their first day training on mounts.

“They give the horses apples,” she whispered to Levi, face ashen.

“Only the rotten ones,” Dita said grinning, feeding a spotted apple to a mare and completely unaware of the horror in their expressions.

That was it. That was the moment he realized his life, Isabel’s, his mother’s…everyone in the Underground was worth less than beasts. Even the luxuries he was denied as a child were fed to the livestock as slop.

If he could have, Levi would have given Isabel apples every day. On his last ride outside the walls, they passed by an abandoned orchard. He snagged one for himself. The first bite was so crisp, the juice fell down his chin and onto his cravat. He’d frowned at that, but the taste was unbelievable, like nothing he’d ever experienced. It didn’t have the brine of walled life on it. It was unsullied and wild.

As a captain of the Survey Corps, he learned that he had to lead by example. He lived a spartan existence. The higher ups look for any reason to withhold funding. He kept his meals small, but proportional. He passed by stands of overpriced fruit in the market. He knew he could easily slip one into his pocket without the store owners seeing him—and if they did who would deny Humanity’s Strongest?—yet he kept walking. Tea was his only vice and now they were getting whole shipments for free from the Reeves Corporation thanks to his little side deal.

At a meeting with Zacklay and the other Commanders they offered him sugar for his tea. Typical Military Police gluttony. He declined the artfully shaped sugar cubes, instead taking his seat by Erwin in his usual show of silent support.

Eren sat in on the meeting, as the plans often included him or his abilities, but he had a hard time paying attention. He nodded his head and then jerked awake, wiping a spot of drool from his chin. He caught Levi looking and flushed in embarrassment. Levi turned his attention back to the meeting. When he next looked over at Eren, the bowl of sugar cubes was empty. Levi’s eyes trailed from the empty container to Eren’s face pointedly. Eren pretended to look outside at the birds. Levi glowered.

Levi waited until after the meeting to say something. He didn’t want the other Commanders to think he didn’t have complete control over his subordinate. It wouldn’t bode well for the Survey Corps or Eren’s life. Levi fell into step behind Eren as they made it to headquarters. Sensing his Captain behind him, Eren quickened his pace. Levi stepped around him, cutting off Eren’s path to escape.

Before Levi could utter a single word of admonishment, Eren pressed a sugar cube to his lips. Levi’s mouth closed around it. Eren kept his finger there, his lips hovering over Levi’s own. Levi could feel Eren’s panting breath against him, hesitant and unsure of what to do next. His thumb brushed against each little grain of sugar still left on Levi’s parted mouth, index finger caught under Levi’s chin.

And just like that, he was gone. Eren staggered back, shoulders tight, face pinched, his entire body preparing for Levi to chastise or punish him. Taking advantage of Levi’s shock, he ran down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Levi stood there, tongue rolling over the treat, looking out at the sunny day.

“Huh,” he said to himself.

That day Levi bought a whole bushel of apples for the kids at the orphanage.

oooo okay so i’m going to need a scene where Sana is over by Isak and Even and the boys in the lunch table discussing whatever it is they discuss in between class periods when all of the sudden Sara and Ingrid walk up to discuss the bus with Sana. And Isak just, slowly freezes and moves to cover his face because these are not one, but two girls that he sort of kinda maybe had a hand in screwing over? And Even is right next to him and of course notices the way his boyfriend is slowly trying to melt into his chair. And Jonas has a palm over his mouth to keep from laughing.

So finally the girls get done and glance over to the other occupants and Sara just gets this pinched look on her face and is like ‘Isak’. And Isak winces at being noticed, but valiantly tries to put on a suave face and ignore the way Even is clearly looking in between him and Sara. And then Ingrid nods coolly to Isak as well with the same sort of ‘Isak’. So what’s a boy to do? Isak is sort of like ‘heyyyyy girls. what’s up?’ Sara just glares at him and then her gaze roams Even and she sniffs out a ‘nothing.’ and then walks away, quickly followed by Ingrid who gives Isak one last once over as well.

And Even is all ??!?!?!? and Isak just sighs and groans as the boys at the table jeer and nudge him. And Even is all, what the hell was that about? and Isak was like remember that I mentioned I kind of used to be a snake? Well that was Sara, my unknowing beard and Ingrid- who- well it’s complicated with Ingrid.

So Even turns at notices that Sara is still kind of staring coldly at them, so he shrugs and is like, might as well give her a show and pulls Isak in to a makeout session.

anonymous asked:

Hili :) Can you write andreil 81 for the prompts please? Thank you <3

81: “You’re too good for this world.” okay…. I technically didn’t do this exact prompt, I took off the last word, I hope this suffices my friend, bc it’s actually:

“You’re too good for this.”


The problem with living in a fortress of knives and anonymity is that Neil can’t find him in it. And the problem with that is that a treacherous part of Andrew wants to be found, and touched, and dismantled blade by blade.

The problem with knives is that they won’t stop terrifying Neil, but they won’t stop feeling sure and righteous in Andrew’s palm.

The problem is Neil, a taste Andrew can’t completely swallow.

He puts Renee’s knives in Neil’s safe and Neil says all sorts of sticky emotional things like they’re taking part in some sort of ceremony. Andrew clicks the lock and climbs on top of Neil so he’ll stop thinking, pocketing his ‘yes’ as he goes.

It’s not just that he does what Neil asks, anymore. He tries to do things for him before he can ask for them. He tries to make things happen that he knows Neil doesn’t have words for.

He keeps one knife for himself, and he knows Neil knows about it, because he hands Andrew his armbands some mornings, and the weight is there in his palms.

Sometimes, that weight is the only way to get through the day without his head and throat pounding.

Sometimes Neil jerks awake and thrusts his hand under the pillow, and Andrew has to pry his wrists away. Neil knows protection, so he understands the slim line of a blade at his forearm is to Andrew what Andrew is to Neil.

But Andrew can tell that it bothers him, to have a knife buried in something that matters to him. He sees wintery metal in the shade of Neil’s eyes, and Andrew knows he’s condemning him to a future that looks like his past.

Still, the knife is just a talisman. Andrew is the weapon.

Before an afternoon practice sometime in the middle of the rush towards winter, Jack is the target.

They get to the court early because Neil only has morning classes. He’s always antsy by the time Andrew gets back to the dorm, insufferable and single-minded.

Andrew parks, Neil enters the code to the side door, their runners squeak against the sleek hall floors, and they split up at the locker room. Rinse and repeat. So many times a week that Andrew would feel the monotony in his teeth if it weren’t for Neil darting into side rooms or slipping on floor wax or doubling back to run in the rain, unpredictable as a lightning bolt.

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For some reason, I could not find this scene. Like I know it exists, but I couldn’t find it. Anyway, I’m gonna roll with this! For @jigglejaggle (Sorry this sat so long!)

It didn’t take long for the Paladins to learn to not underestimate their Bayards.

When Pidge shocked Lance with hers, she didn’t mean it as anything other than an annoyed jab to hush the boy, and when he fell to the ground, she smirked.

But, he didn’t come back up.

“Um, guys?” She started, staring at Lance with furrowed brows, and when Lance suddenly started convulsing, she cursed loudly. “Shit! Guys!”

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got7 as boyfriends

mark:
- the shy squish who’s not so shy around you.
- “are you alright babe?”
- he would make sure you’re eating well and that you’re always positive
- he would offer you his oversized shirts (it was big on him too) and would somehow never get it back
- kisses on the lips & hugs from behind
- sudden “I love you’s”
- driving you around while playing his kind of music (hip hop)
- always smiling because of you
- feeds you ramen
- intense eye contact

jackson:

- the clingy and jealous boyfriend
- he forces you to eat organic foods only and peers at you when he notices something unhealthy
- grabs your butt & boobs jokingly
- literally always following behind you never shutting up
- massages after a stressful long day
- the best of the best dates
- cringey aegyo which you find adorable sometimes
- takes care of you like a baby & spoils you in unnecessary gifts
- doesn’t like other men talking to you
- never fails to make you laugh

jinyoung:

- the intelligently sexy boyfriend
- offers you to read like he does to expand the mind
- shares his coffee with you
- always teasing and being mean to you as a joke
- stares with a death glare at other men who dare to look in your direction
- neck kisses that drives you insane
- showers together
- takes you on classy dates
- sips wine proudly while watching you open your tons of gifts from the shopping mall (get it)
- “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

jaebum:

- the hot boyfriend that has other girls’ boyfriends questioning themselves
- cooks for you all the time
- corners you or grips you when you do something he doesn’t approve of
- dominant
- always smirking and admiring you
- though you’re his, he still doesn’t like when you eat his fried chicken
- picks you up
- doesn’t allow you to talk to other men
- “you’re mine and mine only.”
- butt grabs

youngjae:

- the adorable cutie pie boyfriend
- short but innocent pecks all over your face
- always laughing loudly which makes you laugh
- pinches your face constantly as he showers you in compliments
- attempts English
- aegyo which is always cute
- always snuggling or holding you
- “we’re together forever!”
- both lovers & best friends
- dates to theme parks

bambam:

- the fancy pimp boyfriend
- always showing off his long legs to you
- inhumane screaming at random times
- makes you wonder why you’re with this dork
- buys you a 60,000 dollar watch
- your wardrobe is full of things you’re too broke to afford
- drinks wine with you at the Eiffel Tower
- cringey as ever
- always being sexual like a middle schooler
- dirty jokes & inside jokes you both only get

yugyeom:

- the giant cute boyfriend
- always praising you
- smiles and blushes just at the sight of you
- his clothes looks like dresses when he lets you wear them
- major height difference (depending)
- gives you things you can’t reach
- lap dances
- always teasing you
- “I’m always yours”

~ A Scrapped Fic: Honey ~

Request: I would love a Bucky smut where he and reader have to go undercover as a married couple.

Summary: You were supposed to go on an undercover mission with Steve, not the man you despised- James Buchanan Barnes. 

Warnings: smut, slight angst

A/N: This was the first attempt for an old request that I ended up writing a whole different story for and I reread what I had written and decided I didn’t actually hate it. So, I finished it and thought I’d post it. Here you go! Also, it’s 5:09 in the morning, I haven’t gone to bed yet, and I just finished writing this so I do apologize if anything is incoherent. Enjoy!


“You’ve got to be shitting me, Steve! I am not going on the mission with him.” You pointed at Bucky, dropping your bag to the ground. 

“Nat needs me on a mission with her, (Y/N), you two will get along fine.” He smiled and rested his hands on your shoulders. “I swear, it’ll be a painless mission. Just pretend you’re a married couple attending the wedding, alright?” 

“I can’t pretend to be married to him! He’s an ass!” You backed out of Steve’s grasp, frustrated that you knew there was no other option. “Damn it, Steve.” You sighed.

“Please, (Y/N).” He shot you his famous puppy dog eyes and pouted his lip. 

“Fine, but you fucking owe me one.” You picked up your bag and pushed passed him, avoiding eye contact with Bucky as you approached the Quinjet.

“I thought Steve was going on the mission with you…” Clint spun around in the pilot’s seat, looking worryingly between the two of you.

“Steve’s out helping Nat with a mission, he asked me to take his place.” Bucky flashed a smile at Clint.

“Fair enough.” Clint turned, starting the engine.

You were fuming. You hated Barnes; the two of you couldn’t be in the same room together for more than five minutes without chewing each other out. Barnes was just going to complicate things, he was going to ruin the mission.

“Be safe you guys!” Clint called to the two of you as you stepped out of the jet, and started walking into the airport terminal. You thanked Clint for having an inside friend at the airport, allowing him to land there and not in some random field. 

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OH MY GOD CAN I JUST HUG HIM FOR LIKE A SECOND? (or forever, maybe)