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fictionalmenmakemecry · 3 years

Text

Hot Public Shit

SPOILERS ALERT: If you haven't finishing watching TVD, there might be some spoilers for you. I don't tell any of the story but it might spoil some of the character relationships that later develop in the show. (I personally hate spoilers so I'm making this as clear as possible)

Character: Damon x reader, Enzo, Stefan, Caroline and Bonnie

Summary: During a celebration dinner you try your best to push Damon to brink of losing control. He doesn't let you get away with it. He doesn't even wait til you get home.

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT (+18) , Spoilers, Cursing

(HEAVY SMUT includes unprotected sex, daddy kink, public sex, choking, heavy sexual terminology and masturbation)

"How long is this going to be?" Damon whined getting out of his Camaro and slamming the door shut.

"Damon, you promised that you would behave tonight. It's Stefan and Caroline's night." I looped around the car placing my hands on his chest looking him in the eyes.

"They've been married for like what? A year? That's nothing when your nearly 180 years old" Damon rolled his eyes

"They've been through a lot this year" I brushed his shirt down bringing my eyes to his chest

"So have we." Damon brought my face back up to his gently holding my chin.

"We can have our own celebration" I whispered giving a flirty smile.

"Mmm, I like that sound of that" Damon hummed bringing his head down to my neck and kissing it.

A soft moan escaped my lips feeling his warm breath hit my skin.

"How about we celebrate tonight, with me eating your perfect pussy out until you make a mess on my face" Damon whispered bringing his face up giving a lascivious smile.

I could feel my face turning red and my core starting to wake up from memories of familiar nights.

I snapped myself out from zoning out and pulled away from Damon kissing my neck.

"I would love that, but right now we should go in and be good guests. I know Caroline has been slaving over the oven all day making sure we were still going to come." I took Damon's hand and dragged him up the drive way.

We knocked on the door and in a instance Caroline was opening it.

"Welcome guys!" She cheered raising her arms to gesture us in.

I could just feel Damon's eyes roll into the back of his head hearing her high pitched voice.

"Thanks for having us Caroline" I grinned bringing her into a hug.

"I'm just happy that you're hear" She said chipperly

I walked further into the house to see Stefan, Bonnie and Enzo all chilling near the fire, enjoying their drinks.

"Hey!" I greeted walking towards Stefan.

We hugged and Damon and I plopped ourselves down on the couch on the other side of the fireplace.

We chatted and enjoyed our drinks soaking up the heat of the fire as Caroline and Stefan finished cooking the dinner. I look over to see how happy Bonnie was as Enzo showered her in kisses and wrapped his arm around her waist keeping her close to him. Bonnie deserved happiness and Enzo was that person that could give her that. I glanced over to Damon who leaned back onto the couch enjoying his bourbon. I rested back into his chest wanting to appreciate the rare and happy memories we were making.

"You okay?" He looked down, bring his arm around me caressing my lower back.

"Yeah, I'm just happy I'm here with you" I raised my head, meeting his cold blue eyes.

As the night went on, dinner was served which seemed to be a never ending trail of food. It felt like we were having a 12 course dinner. By the end we were all stuffed and continuing to slowly get through our drinks. We were starting to get more relaxed and happy as the liquor made its way around, leading to interesting conversations between us all.

I looked over to see Damon finishing off the bottle by pouring the rest of it into his glass. Seeing his hand grip around the glass and bringing the liquor up to his pink lips, sparked a little flame deep inside of me. I squirmed in my chair, feeling the affect of all the alcohol playing a part in my random horniness. I brought my hand down under the table and rest it on his thigh, leaning closer to him. He looked over to me with his eyes slightly gazed over. I know he was also feeling the same buzz I was feeling. I ran my fingers lightly further up his thigh and rest it on his stiffening package. I glanced up at him while palming him gently. He shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. He looked at me with narrowed eyes telling me not to test him. I bit my lip knowing what that did to him. He came close to my ear and I could feel the heat radiate off his body.

"You want to play this game?" He whispered softly in my ear.

I turned my head giving him a quick smirk and brought my drink up to my mouth knowing I was going to have a fun night ahead.

"So guys, I think we need to bring out the real guns" Caroline said walking up to the table slightly hyper from all the activities.

We all turned our attention to her and saw her with two massive bottles of tequila.

"I'm ready" Enzo shifting in his sit giving a quick look to Damon.

I knew both of them were going to want to test each other which would mostly result in both of them passed out on the floor from neither of them wanting to tap out.

"Let's make this more interesting... How about truth or... drink?" Caroline arched her eyebrow cracking the fresh seal on the caps of the bottles.

"I like the sound of that" Damon smirked bringing his hand under the table resting it on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze.

When Damon drank, he would heat up like a furnace. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with his body keeping up with burning off the alcohol. The heat from his hand spread across my delicate skin on my leg. It made me shift uncontrollably.

The questions were getting pretty detailed early in, bringing people to drink more tequila than they liked. In turn making people more loose with their thoughts and secrets.

"Okay, I got one" Enzo leaned over, his eyes getting more gazed and speech slowed down.

"If you could only have sex in public or sex once a month?" He looked around watching people think about it.

"Um.. H-how public?" Caroline hiccupped.

"The chance of a stranger catching you any minute" He explained

Stefan took a swig of a shot of tequila.

"Really Stefan? You're no fun" I complained

"What do you expect? Stefan doesn't like to have interesting conversations" Damon looked away in annoyance.

"Sorry, I just think that's kinda private" Stefan put his hands up laying back in his chair.

"Come on Stefan!" Caroline exclaimed with a frown on her face.

"Well, public shit is pretty hot. So I wouldn't have a problem with it" Damon winked at me bringing his hand an inch higher.

I took a deep breath to stop myself from moving against his hand as it was dangerously close to my covered pussy.

"I think so too. Some of the best sex I've had has been in public" I smirked seeing Damon's mouth open slightly from the corner of my eye.

"I think you're right, there's something about it" Bonnie added leaning into Enzo grinning.

"Let's get to the nit and gritty" Damon wiped his bottom lip with two fingers and continued.

"Choking. Yay or nay?" He looked around the table.

"Okay, I call quits. I'm out." Stefan got up from the table

"Stefan?! it's just a game." Caroline protested bringing her hands onto the table.

"I'm not talking about this with my brother across from the table" Stefan walked away from the table and made his way to the kitchen.

"Vanilla like always" I heard Damon say under his breath.

Caroline's face was covered in disappointment. She gathered some empty plates and glasses and followed Stefan.

Damon cleared his throat bringing our attention back to him.

"I never had it done to me" Bonnie replied looking at Enzo.

"No?" Enzo smirked rubbing her hand gently on the table.

"What about you... baby girl?" Damon whispered the latter part not wanting to draw attention

"I haven't tried it..." I hesitated ".. but I want to" I looked down at his lips feeling my pussy pulse with his hand graze against my underwear.

"We are gonna have to fix that, aren't we?" Damon leaned closer licking his lips.

We heard someone lightly cough bringing our minds back to where we were. We broke our trance and pulled away. I could feel blood to rush my face in embarrassment.

"I think it's time we should head out" Damon trying to act casual and cover up his eagerness to get out.

I looked over to Bonnie who was moving her eyebrows up and down smirking. I glared at her, knowing it was obvious why we were in a sudden rush to leaving.

Damon gave one last tight squeeze to my thigh, feeling his strength in his hand, did not help my self control of keeping everything PG. He brushed his hand lightly against my underwear before lifting it away. I whimpered uncontrollably but no one heard.

We all got up from the table and said our goodbyes, put on our coats and made our way out of the house. I could feel Damon's eyes never leaving me as we walked out onto the driveway. We got into the dark Camaro, feeling the cold leather on my bare legs that brought shivers up my spine.

"You're in trouble now" Damon said taking a deep breath in and revving the Camaro to life.

He swung the car out of the driveway and sped up the road. I looked over to see that there was definitely something else on his mind and I had an idea of what it was. I trailed my eyes down to his now, tight black jeans.

"Those jeans look awfully tight and uncomfortable" I teased keeping my eyes on him.

"Don't. I can barely think straight as it is" Damon kept his eyes on the road.

"What you waiting for then?" I bit my lip, wanting him to lose control.

He looked over at me with the same lust I had in my eyes.

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week." Damon clenched his jaw

"That's fine by me..... Daddy" I added feeling myself soak through my underwear.

Damon suddenly swerved the car into a empty parking lot and drove to the end, shaded with trees. He put the car into park and turned off the engine. The only sounds were us breathing and the distance sounds of the city in the distance.

He pulled his seat the whole way back. and leaned over grabbing my waist bringing me onto his lap. I let out a moan, finally feeling some fiction against my pussy.

"Try to stay quiet, understand?" Damon grabbed my jaw looking into my eyes.

I nodded willingly, wanting any relief possible. He moved his hand to my cheek and we brought our mouths together, feeling his tongue dip in and out. I grinded up against him to bring us any kind of pleasure. I could hear his groan in the back of his throat.

"I can't take this anymore" I pulled away panting.

I lifted up reaching down to unbuckle his belt and he helped pulling down his jeans, making his cock spring up enthusiastically. I brought my hand down, pumping him gently and seeing his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure. His head leaning back to the head rest.

"You like that Daddy?" I whispered

"Fuck, I want to ruin you completely" He opened his eyes pushing my hair out of face.

"What's stopping you?" I said softly.

In that instant, he couldn't control himself, he raised my dress and ripped my underwear with ease.

"These will just be in the way" He smirked tossing them to the passenger seat.

I could feel his finger ease into my folds and feel myself falling apart. I rested my arms on his shoulders leaning my head back and savoring the pleasure spreading across my body.

"You like when I rub your clit like this?" He kissed my neck while his finger lightly circled my clit, my juices covering his hand.

"So wet for me, baby girl" He hummed bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking on them.

"Fuck me" I moaned bringing my hand down and easing his cock inside me.

We both sink into it, taking each other in for a couple of seconds. I could feel myself sucking him in deeper.

"I don't think I can be gentle with you tonight baby" He looked into my eyes

"I don't want you to be" I leaned in kissing him. "Fuck me hard" .

I kneeled up, giving him room to thrust, wanting to feel the power of him. We moaned in ecstasy. Feeling him completely raw in me made us feel close wanting each other even more.

The sounds of our skin slapping and our heavy breathing and moaning. I never felt so wet in my life.

"I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you" He breathed out.

I gathered up my dress in one hand and brought the other down massaging my swollen clit.

"Damon, fuck" I moaned feeling my orgasm starting to built.

"That's it baby girl, keep touching yourself" He said breathing heavily staring at me pleasuring myself.

We fucked and I could feel the car heating up and fogging up the windows. He pulled down the shoulders of my dress exposing my breasts. He slowed down his thrusts, leaned down to suck on my nipples. His warm breath was enough to get them hard.

"..daddy" I whimpered feeling the edge getting closer.

"Close?" He whispered bringing his hand to the back of my head and grabbing my hair.

I nodded eagerly moving my hips. He start fucking me harder, not faster but harder which meant he was close. I wanted him to completely control me. I wanted him to overpower me.

"Choke me" I moaned looking into his eyes.

Something switched in his eyes. He looked into my eyes a second longer, making sure I wanted it.

I could feel his hand grasp my bare neck. I could feel his fingers tightening on the side. My pulse in my ears. My blood constricted. It was the very thing to push my over the edge.

Feeling his cock pound into me while choking me made me fall apart with a burst of pleasure

"I'm-I'm cummin" I moaned loudly, meeting my eyes with his as I shake uncontrollably.

"Fuck, baby.. I-i can't hold on" Damon groaned feeling his pumps getting messy and feeling his cum erupt inside me, pleasure covered our bodies bringing them close together and falling into each other. Damon's hand dropped from my throat and bringing it around my waist holding me against him as we recovered.

"I never have had..." I breathed out not having the energy to think of the words.

"Me neither" Damon sighed stroking my hair

All I could hear were both of our racing heart beats. Our sweaty skin pressed together feeling the heat in the car and completely forgetting we were in a parking lot.

Masterlist for other fics

#damon #Damonsalvatore #damon salvatore #damon x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries #bonnie #enzo #caroline #stefan salvatore #vampires #smut #imagines #fluff #fanfic #fan fiction

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bonkie-barnes · 3 years

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Apartment 3C

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: brief mentions of injuries

A/N: does the dog die.com.....yes, i am sorry. enemies to lovers kinda?? idk she’s mean to you until she’s not. i try to keep it gender neutral, but if you see something that isn’t please let me know! i hope you enjoy!

- - -

The first time you ever saw her enter apartment 3C was when she was moving boxes from the hall into the room. She had the most beautiful red hair and green eyes that made you lose your breath the instant she made eye contact with you.

The woman looks down at your hand then back up at your face, confused and suspicious. She simply nods before picking up one last box and entering her apartment. You stand there in the hallway for another minute before shaking yourself off and going back to your own home, your thoughts on the green eyes of the woman whose name you don’t know for the rest of the night.

You walk over to introduce yourself to her, sticking your hand out for her to shake.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, your neighbor in 3D,” you say, gesturing to the apartment across the hall with a shake of your head.

- - -

The next time you saw the mysterious woman of apartment 3C was on your way to the laundry room in the basement of the building. She was just locking her own door when she looked up and made eye contact with you. You gave her a small smile and she simply rolled her eyes at you.

As you both climb down the stairs, the woman trying hard to ignore your presence, you try to come up with a topic of conversation.

“So, nice day we’re having. Good weather,” is what you finally come up with. You mentally smack yourself for being so dull.

She looks at you with an annoyed look in her eyes and a smirk on her face.

“Really? You’re resorting to weather talk?”

“Well, you’re not that easy to approach. I’m not sure what to talk to you about,” you finally manage to get out after a minute.

“You ever think maybe I don’t want to talk to you?” she asks.

“Oh.”

She leaves you standing alone in the stairwell, wondering what you did to offend her so badly.

- - -

It’s about eight at night when your dog starts barking from the living room. You look up from your book to the smell of smoke. The lasagna you were making was currently in the oven, but you were sure you set the timer.

As you walk out of your room, the smell of smoke only gets stronger. It takes you checking your oven and the sight of your dog barking at the door to realize the smell is coming from outside your apartment.

You open the door and struggle to keep Smokey, your dog, in the room as you peek your head into the hallway. The smoke is coming from 3C. You’ve managed to avoid the woman inside since the stairway fiasco a week ago. As embarrassed as you are, you figure you should probably go check on her.

She opens the door a minute after your knocks sound, looking out of her element. Instantly you notice the smoke coming out of her own oven. She is definitely not a chef by any means, you realize with a smirk.

“Are you okay in here?” you ask her softly.

“Does it look like it?” she responds with an edge to her voice.

“Do you need some help?”

She simply rolls her eyes and shakes her head. You’re about to respond when her phone rings. She picks it up with a firm “Natasha” before closing her door on you. At least now you know her name.

When you get back into your own home, you come up with an idea. You take half of your now-cooked lasagna and put it in a tupperware container. You attach a little note before running it over to Natasha’s doorstep. You knock and try to hurry back to your apartment before being detected.

Smokey, however, has other plans for you. He manages to sneak out into the hallway and over to the container of food.

"Smokey, no!" you exclaim as Natasha opens her door, no longer on the phone.

You quickly run over to grab his collar and usher him back to your home, muttering apologies the whole way. You quickly sneak inside your apartment before Natasha can say something about the food.

What you don’t see is the small smile Natasha gives as she reads the note.

- - -

The next time you see Natasha leave apartment 3C is drastically different. The rainy weather is reflective of your current mood. You're on your way up the stairs having just come back from the veterinarian, empty collar in your hand.

Natasha notices you from her doorway and lets a small smile go before it drops into a frown. There's a somber air about you and she'd be lying to herself if she said she weren't concerned. She has to keep up her mean girl act, though, because she doesn't want you to know you're growing on her.

"Well don't you look like shit. Who peed in your cheerios this morning?" she asks you snidely.

You stumble a bit, not expecting Natasha to even speak to you. You don't even look up at her before mumbling a quiet "Not today, Natasha".

Her heart breaks at the sadness in your expression and it breaks even more at the sight of the collar in your grasp. She's seen you walking around the city with Smokey a few times and knows how much you love him.

"Wait, hey, are you alright?"

You look up, surprised at the fact that Natasha is speaking to you in a kind manner. You don't fail to notice the concerned look in her eyes. Still, you're convinced she doesn't like you.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you sigh, not wanting to get into it with her.

"Where's Smokey?" she asks softly.

You break out into sobs. Natasha reaches a hand out to you, but you're across the hall and into your apartment before she can come up with something to say.

This time it's you who is receiving a knock on the door with no one around to claim it. There's a mug of steaming tea and a note at your feet.

In neat, loopy writing you see:

I'm really sorry about Smokey. This will help with your throat <3

You crack a slight smile for the first time that day.

- - -

It's dark when you're startled out of your sleep. You could have sworn you heard something, but there is nothing but silence now. The clock jarringly flashes 3:35 at you.

Then you hear it again. There's someone knocking at your door, you realize.

Rushing out of bed, you trip on the sheets before regaining your footing. You enter the living room and turn on the lamp in the corner, covering the room in a soft glow. You inch the door open slowly, before throwing it open the rest of the way upon realizing the late night visitor is Natasha.

She's covered in cuts and bruises, and she's nursing her right wrist. Your eyes widen at the stain of blood on her shirt.

"Natasha, oh my god," you gasp, as you usher her into your apartment. You guide her to the couch and she groans as she plops down.

You rush to the bathroom to get some medical supplies and hurry back to her. She has her eyes closed, and if the blood and dirt weren't there, you'd think she looked almost at peace.

"What happened to you?" you ask softly, as you start wetting a washcloth with rubbing alcohol.

"Ah, this is nothing. You should see the other guy," Natasha says with a smirk. You can see just how tired she is, though. "I'd do it myself, but I think I’ve sprained my wrist.

You simply nod and get to work cleaning up her cuts. Both of you are silent, minus her small hisses of pain, until you finished taping up the last bandage.

"So, are you going to tell me why you came over at three A.M. looking like you just got mugged?"

Natasha sighs and plays with her hands. "I couldn't patch it up myself, as I already mentioned, and I trust you," she utters softly.

"I thought you hated me," you blurt out.

"What? No!" she exclaims, her eyes widening. "Okay, I can see why you'd think that."

"Why are you so mean to me, then?" you ask quietly, without looking in her direction.

"I’m scared," she says bluntly.

You look at her in complete confusion.

"You're so sweet all the time, and I was scared to talk to you in fear of you seeing just how opposite I am," she finally mutters.

You look at her softly. "Nat, you're not as bad as you think you are."

She scoffs. "I treated you like shit when all you've ever been is nice. I'm not just bad, I'm cruel."

"As you said, you were scared. You just need to stop being so hard on yourself all the time," you say, grabbing her hands in yours.

"Can you ever forgive me?" she asks hopefully.

"Take me out to get coffee and we can start over," you say.

She smiles and says, "Deal."

- - -

You knock on the door, just under the rusted 3C. You subconsciously smooth down your shirt, hoping to get rid of the nonexistent wrinkles.

You've been dating Natasha for four months now, but she still makes you just as nervous.

You're taken out of your thoughts by the sound of her door opening. Standing in front of you is the most stunning woman you've ever seen. She's in simple jeans and a shirt, but she still takes your breath away.

"Hi, love," she chuckles, as you struggle to find words.

"Hi, you're absolutely gorgeous," you finally stutter out.

"Shut up," she says through a smile, a light blush coating her cheeks.

"You ready for our date?"

"Absolutely." She turns around to lock her door.

You take her hand and interlock your fingers as you both start down the stairs. You've never been happier, you think.

- - -

The last time you see Natasha exit apartment 3C is a hot day in July.

The apartment has been cleared out, nothing but a box at the doorway left.

"It's sort of bittersweet, isn't it?" you ask, wiping the sweat from your brow.

"Sort of. I have better memories in your apartment, though," Natasha says.

"Our apartment," you correct her with a gleaming smile on your face.

"You just had to ask me in the middle of July, didn't you?" she teases. "I'm sweating bullets over here."

"I just couldn't wait any longer, sorry babe," you respond, leaning your head on her shoulder.

"C'mon, one more box then we officially live together."

Natasha bends down to pick up the box.

"Last one there's a rotten egg," you yell as you sprint across the hall.

"It's funny you think you can outrun me, baby," Natasha yells, hot on your heels.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #my fic

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 4 years

Text

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.

“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.

Yours,

Bucky”

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #SSB2020 #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist #tattoos #tattoo trope

5K notes · View notes

aries-writingblog · 3 years

Text

Detonation

Summary: As an FBI agent, YN deals with bad guys all day long. So does Bucky as an Avenger. When their worlds collide, it’s never pretty. Especially not when they are the targets.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4620

Warnings: language, violence, bombs and explosions, bomb threats, hostage situation

AN: This was another request from @cherry-season and if you can’t tell by reading this I’ve been watching criminal minds again so I hope you guys like this one. GIF is not my own credit to original creator.

YN leaned back in the desk chair, spinning it halfway back and forth. Boring a hole into the scattered papers of the police department. She was exhausted. Their team had been after this same guy for a week now. A real piece of work: planting bombs in DC banks. Leaving cryptic messages with them. Fortunately, their bomb squad made it in time to dismantle the charge before it blew. But they were no closer to catching the guy than before.

“Shitty coffee?” A deep, masculine voice approached her side. Placing a coffee cup in front of her. YN smiled, gratefully accepting the beverage. She glanced up to the provider, one of her teammates, Alex Knowles. “Look like you could use it.”

“That a way of telling me I look worse than the coffee?” YN teased, chugging the lukewarm drink down. So accustomed to cheap, watery coffee, she barely even gagged at the bitter taste as it went down. “No leads?”

Alex shook his head, pulling up a chair and plopping beside her. He sighed, gazing out over the bustling police station. Watching the beat cops go in and out of the doors, suspects and victims all being questioned or held in the same room. A Mecca of activity unfolding before their eyes. Progress. Just not the progress they needed.

“Kinda hoping Bryant would bring something back in- he went to question a couple witnesses that were around the bank at the time the guy dropped the bomb off.” He reported, sitting forward to shuffle through the papers on the desk. “What’s all this?”

“Those are previous reports…” YN explained, brushing stray hair back from her face. “I thought he could’ve had a previous record… he built these bombs with some kind of knowledge- whether it be academic or street smarts, I’m not sure yet. Besides, not doing anything else.”

Alex nodded, letting the paper slip through his fingers and back to the desktop. He watched his teammate reorganize the stacks- the glittering diamond on her finger catching his eye. A devilish grin cracked his lips, whistling appreciatively.

“Barnes finally asked that question, did he?” He asked, putting his cup down and gesturing for her hand. YN rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile as she complied. Alex studied the rock more closely, examining the quality. “Got good taste for somebody as old as he is.”

“Oh shut up.” YN laughed, yanking her hand back.

She and Bucky met on a case. Their FBI team had been invited into a local investigation of suspicious activity. Turns out, the Avengers were also looking into it. Well, a team of four Avengers anyways. Bucky Barnes being one of them. He was smooth, a sweet talker. Managed to wriggle his way into her phone, later he would swing a date. Two years later, Bucky was down on a knee in her bedroom. Asking one of those life altering questions.

That had been three weeks ago. They barely had time to see each other after that night. She was pulled back into work, he was pulled halfway across the globe on a mission. He did call every night, checking in. Asking about her day. Making outrageous, silly promises about the wedding and their new home, their future. Making her smile, distracting her from her day. At the same time, allowing himself to dissociate from the mission he was on as well.

“I’m happy for you.” Alex’s tone turned sober, serious. YN glanced over to him. He leaned his elbows on his knees, smiling broadly. “You both deserve someone like the other… you deserve each other. I mean it in the best, possible way.”

“Thank you, Alex.” YN replied, reflecting her sincere gratitude as best she could. Alex was always in her corner. No matter what- he trusted her. In their world, that meant everything and more.

“Hey, LN- Knowles!” Ricky Bryant came rushing into their area, flushed and out of breath. “Listen, I think we might’ve found the bomber’s identity: Casey Griffin. ”

“What?” YN leaned forward, staring up at him. Her eyebrows furrowed, a faint pin struck the back of her head. “Griffin… Casey Griffin- that sounds familiar. Why is that familiar?”

Ricky opened his mouth, ready to spill all the information he had gathered about the man. A woman interrupted their circle, a panicked look in her eyes.

“Agent LN- there’s a call on line six for you. He claims to be responsible for the bombings and he’s demanding to speak with you.” She interjected, nodding to the desk phone. YN glanced from Ricky to Alex.

“Get Robbie on the phone- tell her we need to trace this call immediately.” She instructed, rolling to the desk to pick up the phone. She waited a moment, allowing Ricky to call Robbie, the fourth member of their team. Their tech analyst. “Ready?”

“Yeah- go ahead.”

YN took a deep, calming breath. Her fingers tightened around the phone anxiously. Swallowing back her creeping nerves, she pulled the phone off the receiver.

“Agent LN, may I ask who’s calling?” She began slowly, giving Robbie a chance to snag the call’s location. There was heavy breathing on the other end, as if he had been running.

“You know who’s calling, YN. Don’t play coy- it isn’t a good look on you.”

Recognition struck her like lightning as she heard his voice. He had been one of the hostages in the first emergency scene. YN had taken down his statement herself. She ground her teeth together, anger flooding her system. She had been played.

“You’ve got me there, Casey.” She chuckled, her free hand wiping down the thigh of her tactical pants. “This is the first time you’ve called- why are you just now contacting us?”

The sound Griffin made was far from a laugh- the dark, slow noise was bone chilling. Nauseating. She could feel it deep into her clothes, settling like frost against her skin. She bit her cheek, staving off the urge to shiver through the discomfort.

“I’ve decided I want to give you front row tickets to the show, of course.” He crowed, voice leaping in octaves. “Corner of West and Fifth. You have half an hour, unless you want all these lovely people to end up blood splatters and burn marks on the floors.” YN winced, clenching her jaw. “Oh, and YN? Come in alone.”

The telltale click and beep ended the call, leaving YN to stare blankly at the desk before her. Clenching the phone in her grasp so tightly the plastic creaked. Knuckles lightening. She swallowed, something was clutching her throat. Restricting her lung capacity. Her shaking fingers pressed the phone into the receiver. Pushing her chair back, she stumbled to her feet.

“YN- “

“I just need a minute, okay?” She snapped, snagging her jacket from the chair across from the desk. YN shoved past the incoming traffic of people, fumbling her way outside.

The city was full of noise; Blaring car horns, shouting, a low murmur of pedestrian conversations. Sirens. The thrum of the city’s heartbeat under her feet. Taking a left into the alleyway, YN dug through her pockets, fingers brushing against the carton of cigarettes and lighter.

Hands trembling, she put a stick between her lips. Blowing smoke as soon as she lit it. Tilting her head back against the weathered brick of the station. A shaky exhale following the wavering grey smoke. She clenched her jaw, bowing her head.

She knew it was a trap- Casey was asking to meet alone. But he was holding hostages in a bank loaded down with explosives. And who knew what he wanted, why only her? Why alone? And why was that name familiar? None it made sense- facts blurring together. Shrouding him from her senses.

A sudden buzz against her abdomen sent her reeling back into consciousness. Her cigarette was gone- flicking the filter to the ground. Pushing it into the cement with her boot. Her fingers scuttled through her pocket, retrieving her phone.

Bucky’s contact photo- one of him fast asleep with fridge magnets on his arm. She smiled- somehow Bucky always knew right when she needed him. Like he had a sensor on her emotions, giving him timely reports. Updating him constantly.

“Hey, Buck.” She greeted, begging her voice to not crack. It sounded normal. Or at least enough that she hoped Bucky didn’t question it. Tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear, she lit another cigarette. Blowing the stress away from the speaker.

“Hey, sugar,” She could hear his smile through the phone. That excited one he always got when he first saw her. Wide, showing off his teeth. Stretching his face so much she wondered if it hurt. “I’m just callin’ to tell you I’m home. And I know you’re busy but, I wanted to hear your voice again.”

YN laughed, falling into the regular rhythm with him. Allowing herself to feel the stress melt from her bones. Bucky always had that affect on her. Something she couldn’t quite understand. Why the man was such an addictive drug.

“Well, you’re in luck- I’m on a break right now.” She wanted nothing more than to sit and talk with him, listen to his baritone drawl. Lulling her into a state of comfort and security. But she knew she couldn’t- she had limited time. She had to make a decision. And soon.

“Are you smoking again?” Bucky asked. YN smiled, biting down on her lip. She made a noncommittal noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his statement. He had been after her for their entire relationship to make her quit the habit. Trying to help her kick it. Nothing ever really helped. “YN…”

“I know… I’ve only had two. I just… I needed a break.” She admitted, bowing her head. She shifted her eyes to the alleyway opening, seeing Alex and Ricky approaching her. “I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yes, I’m making that soup you like for dinner. Don’t let it go cold.” He warned.

“I won’t. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She shoved her phone into her back pocket, meeting her partner’s halfway. Their faces drawn with concern and hesitancy.

“Gear me up.” She pushed between them, not looking back. She feared if she looked at them again, she would lose her nerve. Holding her shoulders back, chin tilted with her head held high. She had to keep the air of confidence around her. If she didn’t- they would never believe her. YN needed full backup for her plan. “I’m going in.”

~~~~~~

The building seemed to loom over her, taunting her as she stood before it. The large windows were gaping at her, a threat to her minuscule presence. YN swallowed back the terror she felt, pushing it down and locking it away. Out of reach.

“We’ll be talking with you through the comms unit the whole time.” Ricky explained, securing the equipment over her ear. He carefully tightened the straps on her vest, glancing to meet her eyes. His brows dipped. “You don’t have to do this you know? We can raid the building or get a sniper down here. This isn’t the only option.”

YN shook her head, clipping her holster over her belt, around her waist. She sighed, the exhale was shaky. Biting down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, she clipped extra ammunition to the side.

“It’s the one where everyone makes it out. Those hostages are the main priority right now.”

“Hey.” Ricky stopped her nervous movement, hands on both of her shoulders. Forcing her to look up at his face. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it seem like some small bust… this is serious. We’re worried about you. About this. It’s dangerous. Give a little of that focus to yourself.”

“Okay.” YN agreed. She inhaled again, this time a little more steady. Giving a final affirmative nod, she squared her shoulders and backed away. She turned, facing the group of DC police officers and FBI squads. “Alright, these comms go both ways. I’m negotiating for hostages first. If anything goes wrong, clear the site. We don’t know how many explosives he has in there.”

YN watched the groups follow her orders, setting up to accept hostages. Loading guns for a raid if needed. Both ambulance and fire department had been called in. The companies were also preemptively preparing for the worst. She began walking toward the bank, eyes forward. What felt like thousands of eyes followed her to the door, fire burning against her back.

As she approached, she could see a woman standing at the glass door. She had been crying- her face stained with tears. YN stopped at the glass door, standing face to face with the woman. After several moments of staring, the order was finally given to open the door. The woman’s shaking fingers unlocked it, pushing it open.

“You’ve served your purpose.” A quiet voice spoke across the lobby, echoing on the tiled floors. “You may go.” The woman burst into tears, shoving past YN and onto the street. “Agent LN… how courteous of you to take her place.”

YN entered the lobby tentatively, keeping her head on a swivel. She turned the corner, coming face to face with the bomber. Casey Griffin stood behind the group of hostages, hands tucked behind his back. A twisted, sacrilegious grin on his lips. The group at his feet were huddled together, most were sobbing quietly. Holding people they most likely didn’t know. She knew from experience that tense situations erased all lines between humans. Everything begins to blur when terrified panic sets in.

“I’m here, Griffin. What do you want?” She demanded, her hand resting on her weapon. There was a buzz of static in her ear, the line opening.

“We don’t have a visual of you anymore, LN. Get back into sight.”

Griffin took a step forward, around his subjects. A small, black remote in his hand. Eyes steady on her face. Studying her. He exhaled sharply, coming to a stop right before her.

“I was hoping you’d be more… well, more.” He frowned, disappointed. YN’s eyebrow lifted, unable to follow his thoughts. “Such a shame… I’ve read all these great things about you. Every case you’ve solved, every step you’ve made to get here. You’re much more impressive on paper.”

“Get to the point.” YN sneered, her jaw clenched. Griffin smirked, eyes scanning down her face again. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

“All you feds- no taste for the theatrical. I much rather prefer the Avengers.” He grinned, eyes sparkling dangerously. YN felt her heartbeat pick up It’s pace. Heart threatening to burst out of her chest. “Oh, that’s right… congratulations, by the way. What’s it like- being engaged to a fossil? Are his brains still scrambled?”

“Shut up.” She hissed, fingers itching to reach out and wrap around his throat. He only tilted his head, pouting. He began pacing, orbiting around her slowly. Her shoulders tensed, defenses began raising even further. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you see, I’m very well acquainted with Sergeant Barnes.” Griffin slowed to a stop again, on her right. He leaned in, close enough she could feel his breath against her skin. “He murdered my husband.”

The pounding in her chest seemed to have leapt into her throat. Breathing was much harder now, her skin crawled as her brain went into overdrive. Something was wrong… what was going on?

“He doesn’t do that anymore.” YN admitted, her voice lower than she thought it would be. Threatening to crack.

“But he does.” He hissed, gripping her arm tightly. Yanking her to his chest. His free hand came up to her ear, ripping the unit out and flinging it into the wall. His fingers fluttered down to her chin, grasping it tightly and forcing her face to his. He stared down at her. Anger burning in his irises, the dark circles under his eyes. His nostrils flared. “What makes it even worse is that he chose to do it. With Hydra, he had no choice. But with the Avengers? He had every decision laid out before him and he chose.”

YN flinched, flecks of saliva landing on her cheek. Her jaw clenched down tighter, eyes closing momentarily. Griffin’s hand crept down from her face, into the pocket of her pants. His fingers grasped the device, pulling it out. He held the device to her face, unlocking it then shoving her away.

“So now,” Griffin gave her a maniacal grin. YN was beginning to get whiplash from his mood swings. He was unpredictable. Unstable. Devolving before her eyes. She glanced back to the group of hostages. “He gets to flex that autonomy again. Oh, how lovely- he was your last call.”

“Why do you have me here, Griffin?” YN demanded, attempting to take control of the situation. If he was distracted, she could maneuver and gain the upper hand. “If you wanted to go after Bucky you would’ve done it. Why do any of this? Why do you need them?”

Griffin spared a quick glance to the group of shivering civilians. He hummed quietly, pressing dial for Bucky’s number. YN felt a drop of sweat bead down her neck. Rolling to meet the bulletproof fabric over her torso. She was alone in here, responsible for the lives of those petrified people. Staring and waiting for her to do something. Help them.

Her eyes fell to the remote in his hand. She could snatch it. The bomb was his power move. His leverage. Then again, the hostages were bargaining chips. He had to give something up. She had to remove variables.

“Let them go.” YN urged, holding her hands out in surrender. “You’ve got me, you’ve got my attention. Let them go.” He sighed dramatically, eyes rolling as he pressed the button for speakerphone.

“It’s no fun without an audience.” He whined, shrugging as he turned to the hostage group. “And to think- we were just getting to the good part. Fine! Leave, all of you.”

The group all scrambled to their feet, taking their leave before he changed his mind. The stampede rushed the door, cramming themselves out into the street. YN’s heart slowed, the adrenaline fading in her veins slightly. Her priority was taken care of- they all made it out alive.

“Hello?” YN never thought she would be nervous to hear Bucky’s voice. Casey smiled at the phone, eyes boring into her skull. “YN? Hello?”

“She can’t make it to the phone right now.” Griffin responded, giving her a mocking pout. The other end fell silent. YN could almost feel the paranoia settle over his body. “I would ask you to leave a message but I’m afraid she won’t be around much longer to hear it.”

An idea began to form, tingling at the base of her skull. YN gulped nervously. She had to keep him distracted- keep him focused on Bucky. But that also meant she had to stay focused on Casey. She couldn’t say a word to Bucky. Not yet.

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” Bucky hissed. YN closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She could pull her weapon. But could she pull it fast enough? Griffin could blow the place to smithereens. She could try to get the remote- every solution seemed to fall back to the same outcome. She grit her teeth- he had the upper hand. She could do nothing but wait it out.

“Joshua Rivers.” Casey replied. While his voice was smooth and unrestrained, his eyes told a different story. Seething, red hot rage burned in his veins. “Does that name ring any bells to you, Sargeant? Let me give you a hint anyways- I know how fragile the mind can be in the older years. He was a lead operative for Hydra. Four months ago, you raided his warehouse and instead of arresting him, you put a bullet through his skull.”

“He deserved more.” Bucky hissed, his voice crackling through the speaker. Echoing in the empty building. Casey scowled, his nose scrunching in anger. “That warehouse housed human experimentation projects.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Casey screamed, veins in his neck popping out against his skin. Pumping adrenaline in time with his heart. “He was a person- he had people who loved him, cared for him. You took that away from me. I can’t help but wonder… how you’ll feel about the same circumstances.”

“Where is YN?” Bucky demanded, keeping his voice level. YN began to creep her fingers up, toward the gun in her holster. She had one chance. He was distracted- she could gain the upper hand.

“Well, that’s a tricky question. It’s only a matter of time before she’s… everywhere.” Griffin shrugged, swinging his gaze back to YN. Her fingers faltered, halting at her hip. She was close, her thumb brushed the cold metal of the gun. “So now… now I think I’ll return the favor. You took something from me. The only person that ever mattered. You destroyed my world.”

“If you touch her, I swear to-“

“You don’t believe in God, Sergeant.” Griffin’s slow drawl interrupted the threat. His tongue ran over his lips, taking a deep breath. “He’s not real. If he were, don’t you believe that none of this suffering would happen?” There was a ruckus of noise on the other end of the phone, Bucky panting heavily. A door slamming. “This is your repentance, James Barnes.”

YN’s fingers wrapped around the metal plating, her nerves settling. She could make this draw. It would be fast enough. It would be accurate. She could end it once and for all. She exhaled slowly, counting down.

Three…

Two…

One…

In a flash, YN pulled her gun from her side. Aiming it at Casey’s chest and pulling the trigger. The loud gunfire echoed- ringing in her ears. Her heart sank. Stomach plummeting to her feet.

She missed.

Casey’s expression settled into one of contempt. Disappointment. The hell fire turned to her, his focus shifting from Bucky to YN. Surging toward her, his hand swung out, shoving the muzzle to the ceiling as she fired again. Casey’s fist tightened around her phone, a strong punch to her kidney sending her to her knees, wheezing for air. YN grunted, her hand swinging at a wide angle, but it was only deflected as the heel of his hand connected with her nose. Releasing a sharp cry, YN cradled her nose carefully. Eyes watering and face stinging. Bucky’s frantic shouts barely audible as she knelt, gasping in pain. Her thoughts muddled and slow.

Casey sighed dramatically, ripping the weapon from Yn’s hand. She groaned, disoriented as a fresh wave of pain throbbed from her face. Blood seeped from between her fingers, dripping down into a puddle on the tile floor.

“Say goodbye to your fiancée, Sergeant.”

~~~~~~

Bucky all but tossed the motorcycle onto the curb as he skidded to a stop. A blazing inferno consumed the building, scorching the blackened trees that once surrounded it. The hand gripping his throat squeezed tighter as he stumbled toward the police line. Shoving his way through bystanders.

He felt sick- choking back the nausea bubbling from his stomach. Fire bellowed from the gaping, blown out glassless windows. Portions of the building were collapsed, the rest soon to follow. He barreled through shouting police officers, desperate to reach the building.

“Barnes!” He didn’t turn- even though the voice was familiar. He had to get to her- she was still alive, he knew she was. She had to be. “Barnes- man, you can’t go in there!”

Hands grasped his metallic shoulder, pulling him back roughly. Bucky grunted, swinging his arm around, taking hold of the man’s bulletproof vest. He clenched his jaw, staring down at Alex Knowles. One of her partners. Knowles’ eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. His skin was irritated, probably from wiping tears away.

“She’s still in there.” Bucky stated, without asking if she had been pulled out yet. He knew the process of these kinds of situations. The fire chief had to clear it and the area was nowhere near safe enough. But his girl was in there, in danger. Dying slowly, the longer he stood around. It had already been too long.

“Teams haven’t been sent in yet… I know you’re scared but you could make it worse if you go in there guns blazing. It could collapse the rest of the way.” Knowles warned, his eyes begging Bucky to stay put. Bucky shoved him away. Stripping off his jacket, Bucky scowled at the man.

“I will be the something worse if she’s not alive. Don’t test me, Knowles.” He growled, tying the jacket sleeves around his waist. Bucky turned on his heel, sprinting for the blown out doors of the bank. Ignoring the shouts of the firemen and police officers on the scene.

Inside, the flames locked the walls, staying maintained. It seemed the only thing the department had been doing since the explosion was clearing the fire. They had been prepared somewhat.

Bucky stumbled through the rubble, boots tripping over chunks of concrete and twisted metal. He had to find YN, she was somewhere. He had to keep himself from thinking the worst- she was alive. She would be okay. He just had to find her first.

He turned what would’ve been a corner of the bank, his heart rocketing through his chest. The beat thumping wildly.

Two bodies. Lying side by side.

“YN!” He picked his way through rubble, skidding to his knees beside her. Deep cuts laced her dirtied features, trapped under a chunk of concrete from the waist down. For now, he didn’t care of the implications that could lie beneath the rock. His trembling fingers found the pulse point in her neck, bowing his head and stifling a sharp sob as he felt a faint, slow thrum. He brushed the hair from her face gently, biting his lip to keep himself together. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Bucky shuffled down to her waist, hooking his fingers into the rock. Just as he began lifting, a sharp gasp startled him, almost dropping the rubble. He glanced back at YN- wide awake and sobbing. Carefully, Bucky spared a glance under the concrete. A metal rod went directly through her thigh, blood seeping from the wound.

“Shit…” It had been contained until he lifted it- now she was going to bleed out. He had to move fast. “YN, doll, I’ve got you. This is gonna hurt but it’ll be okay.”

She didn’t respond, sobs ripping from her chest as he stilled. Bucky took a deep breath, collecting his nerves. He moved quickly, throwing the concrete across the room with a loud grunt. An ear piercing shriek fell from Yn’s lips, her fist pounding the ground at her side. Bucky untied his jacket, wrapping it tightly around her injured thigh.

“Okay, sweetheart. We’re gonna get out of here.” Bucky’s chest tightened as he gathered her in his arms. She was shivering, huddling close to his body as best she could. Her skin was filthy, covered in soot, dirt, and blood. “Try to talk with me, sweet girl. Stay awake.”

“Ja- James…” YN’s fingers twisted into his shirt, tears soaking into his fabric. His heart clenched. It was his fault- that idiot had gone after her because of him. He held her closer, tighter, as he picked his way back to the doors. “I… I think I’m done- done smoking.”

Bucky almost laughed, forgetting his location. The situation fading as he spared a glance down to her face. She was grimacing, lips pulled and forehead wrinkled. But here she was- trying to joke with him.

“Why’s that, doll?” He questioned, emerging from the collapsed bank. The sunlight was strong, glaring down into his eyes. He hunched slightly, trying to block the intense light from her sensitive eyes. YN groaned, tugging weakly at his shirt. “We’re almost there, doll. Keep talking. Why’re you quittin’?”

“I’ve had enough smoke for one lifetime.” She replied, eyes fluttering. Paramedics rushed toward them, a gurney wheeled to their side. Bucky carefully lay her back, grasping her hand tightly as they rushed toward the ambulance.

Bucky didn’t reply, lips pressed together. Concern running rampant as they moved. His eyes caught Knowles and Bryant’s, averting his as soon as they landed. Loading into the ambulance.

“Bucky?” He quickly stepped up, sitting down in the back. Squeezing her hand tightly. YN gave a half- hearted return. Her fingers tangling with his, eyes closed. “Stay… please…”

“I’m here, sweetheart.” Bucky smiled, hoping his face could mask the desperate panic he felt in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #james barnes x female reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader

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madmilkboi · 3 years

Text

┈┈⋆

━🧋⌒*. Asking them to buy a non-existent feminine product

summary: you ask your boyfriend to buy you the "breezy cooch 3000"

genre: fluff kinda,crack? Idk lmao

warning/s: suna casually talking abour a vibrator 🥶

a/n: i saw these all around tiktok last time lmao and i decided to write one with the hq boyos—also this has been sitting in my drafts for how long now lmao

₍ ♡ ₎ bokuto, lev, suna

• "kou, can you please buy me something?" You asked, holding your lower stomach as if it hurted

• "oh baby, is it that time of the month?" He asked seeing that you were in 'pain'

• you nodded while trying to hold your laugh

• "Alright,what do you need?" He guided you to the couch telling you to sit, to which you did.

• "the breezy..." you wheezed making him tilt his head to the side in confusion.

• "the breezy cooch 3000" you looked at him hoping that you fooled him.

• "breezy cooch 3000 and?" He asked

• "McDonald's" you added

• "okay! I'll be back in a few" he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and went to the nearest convenience store

• he opened the door and immediately went to the aisle where the feminine products were

• "breezy cooch...breezy cooch" he muttered while looking for said product

• but to his dismay breezy cooch 3000 was not there

• and so he asked the woman next to him

• "excuse me, miss, do you know where they place the breezy cooch 3000s?" He asked

• the woman looked at him weirdly and quietly left without answering his question

• "oh no, y/n" his hair plopped down thinking about how much 'in pain' you must be right now.

• since he couldn't find the breezy cooch 3000 he decided on grabbing 3 packs of napkins and proceeded to the counter

• after paying for the napkins he immediately went inside his car and drove to McDonald's drive thru getting you your favourite food.

• he hurriedly drove back home, the thought of not getting you the breezy cooch 3000 occupied his mind.

• hearing the soft creak of the front door made you smile

• "hi, did you get me the breezy cooch 3000?" You asked

• he shook his head, eyes glistening

• "i couldn't find it, sorry"

• you don't know if you should laugh or cry, he's too precious

• "but i bought these instead..will it help?" He raised the napkins and food from McDonalds that he bought.

• "yes, it will" he placed down the paperbag on the table and immediately hugged you.

• "sorry"he muttered, nuzzling his head on your chest

• "it's okay, there's no such thing as the breezy cooch 3000 it's just a prank" you giggled while he only groaned in response

• "i even asked a lady about it...how embarrassing" he covered his face with his hands

• "the breezy cooch 3000" you repeated

• "the what?" He asked

• "does that soothe your lady part down there?" He asked, you smiled holding your laugh

• "yes it does" you answered

• "okay, I'll be back!" He exclaimed and immediately walked to grocery store

• "breezy cooch 3000...breezy cooch 3000...breezy cooch 3000" he mumbled while walking down the road making sure that he won't forget

• he went inside the store and quietly walked to the feminine products aisle

• he carefully scanned and read each product

• but he couldn't find "breezy cooch 3000"

• he looked around for employees to ask but nobody was there at the moment

• he went to the cashier and asked

• "Excuse me, do you guys have the breezy cooch 3000?"

• the cashier smiled, holding a laugh

• "I'm not sure sir..." she smiled

• "would you like me to announce it on the microphone?"

• lev nodded his head and hoped that what you wanted for him to buy was there

• "does anybody know if we have" the cashier wheezed making lev look at her in a weird way

• "the breezy cooch 3000" she announced

• most of the women in the store were all smiling and giggling while some of the men looked confused

• lev waited for someone to go up to him and say "Here's the breezy cooch, sir"

• but nobody showed up

• he sighed and left the place, a pout slowly forming the closer he got to home

• he angrily opened the door and plopped on the couch

• you peaked your head from the kitchen and saw that he looked angry and sad at the same time

• he noticed you and muttered something, to which you didn't heart

• "what was that?" You placed your hand over your ear

• "i couldn't find the breezy whatever" he huffed

• "That's because there is no breezy cooch" you laughed

• "you meanie" he mumbled, thinking about how embarrassing it was when the cashier announced it on the speaker

• "hey babe"

• "yeah?" He asked

• "can you go to the store real quick and buy me the breezy cooch 3000?" You asked making it convincing as possible

• "is that like a vibrator or something?" He questioned

• "no, it soothes period pains" his lips formed a small "oh" knowing what it was for

• but really you can't fool him

• he's seen those on tiktok

• he grabs his car keys and drove to the convenience store

• he was hungry so why not go and make you think that you fooled him

• he grabbed his usual favourites

• ice cream, chips, ramen, and his favourite jelly fruit sticks

• he sat inside the store for a bit knowing that him going back after 5 minutes and telling you he has the product would be a bit suspicious

• after finishing a pack of chips he finally decided to go home, thinking what to say to you

• while driving home he was planning everything out from what to say to what he should and all that he could say to his little plan was it was perfect

• he parked his car and immediately went inside the house

• "y/n~" he called

• you peaked your head from the living room

• he walked up to you with a smug smirk while you looked at him confused

• "they had it and it was on sale" he showed you the paper bag that he was carrying.

• "really....?" You looked at the paper bag and questioned yourself whether there really was such product.

• "let me see" you said

• he put his hand inside the bag and pretended on looking for something

• after a few seconds he finally "found" it

• "ah here it is" you walked closer to get a better look

• "here!" He pulled out his hand

• he had his middle finger out while giggling like a little child

• you smiled in disbelief after what this son of a devil did

• "but really y/n it sounds like a vibrator..." he muttered

• "i could buy you-"

• "No, thank you" you answered leaving the room while he tailed behind you.

©️ madmilkboi 2021 do not copy or repost.

🏷: @crescenttooru @leronddesorciere @fleurdedyo @owlnymph (shoot an ask or dm if u wanna be added on my taglist! ^v^)

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milfgritty · 3 years

Text

give (take) | c. hart

❀ ⇢ requested: yes | no ❀ ⇢ genre: angst | gender neutral reader ❀ ⇢ word count: 1.4k ❀ ⇢ a/n: this was written at like four a.m and not at all proofread. read at your own risk

a relationship is give and take, back and forth, like the ebbing of an ocean. but with tension and a growing wall between the two of you, you find out just how impossible it is to give help to someone who refuses to take it.

⇢ posted: 03.20.21 . | . masterlist . | . taglist prev. | next.

Muting the tv, you tried to avoid looking at the final score again. Not that it was much use anyway, the numbers already burned behind your eyes, bringing forth a familiar bottomless pit of dread.

9-0. Nine nothing.

Swallowing harshly, you attempted once more to get comfortable on the sofa with your laptop. It would take a while still for Carter to get home and you were determined to try and finish up at least one of your assignments before that. He had already given you enough shit for not being able to go to the game tonight in the first place, not wanting to accept that it wasn’t your fault your professors were piling work onto you.

Things had become...tense between the two of you lately, for lack of a better word. It wasn't like you could fault him that much, you knew how much he’s been dealing with. The team slumping, fans on twitter shitting on them at every turn, him being scratched and pulled nearly every game—and if that wasn’t happening, then he was letting in far too many goals and blaming himself for all of them. You knew it was a lot to handle and you were quick to forgive him, but you just didn’t know how much more you could take.

What used to be a strong relationship was now strained. You used to barely be able to wait to see him after games and now the only thing you felt was anxiety. You tried so hard to be supportive, but god, all you wanted was for things to go back to the way they were.

Time passed as you lost yourself back into your work, trying desperately to keep your mind off of everything else. You managed to finish up a few of the smaller assignments before you heard the front door swing open and Carter let himself in. Steeling yourself, you took a deep breath and closed your laptop, turning to face him.

He looked about as good as you were expecting. Which is to say, like shit.

Hair disheveled and sticking up at odd angles, you just knew he had been running his hands through and pulling at the strands. Hell, his posture practically radiated tension. You let your eyes wander up to his face and drank in his tightened features. From the furrowed brows and creased forehead down to the clenched jaw that you could see from where you sat.

Sighing, you moved to stand. “Cart—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, dropping his stuff by the door and making his way to the kitchen.

Plopping back down, you let your head fall down into your hands, running your fingers through your hair. Part of you wanted to just stay where you were, but the other part was yelling at you to go comfort him, to hold him and talk him through everything the way you used to.

Except things had changed, and you still weren’t quite sure when.

Regardless, you couldn’t bring yourself to go against old habits and you found yourself rising to your feet. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.

Coming up behind him and leaning against one of the counters, you crossed your arms and studied him. He noticed your presence despite his back facing you, one of the remnants of your relationship left unchanged. He let out a ragged breath and turned partially to you, raising an eyebrow.

“You know this game wasn’t your fault,” you told him softly.

He scoffed, turning back to his original position. “Yea, that’s what you say after every game we lose.”

Tilting your head, you made a face, “And I’m usually right.”

There was a beat of silence, one in which you could practically feel him rolling his eyes. You waited somewhat patiently for him to respond and found yourself rewarded soon enough.

“I could’ve been better. I should’ve been better.”

Shaking your head, you reached out to lightly tug on his arm. He let you pull him to face you, avoiding your eyes.

“The entire team should’ve been better,” you responded, trying to catch his gaze, “you came into the game when it was already what? 5-0? There wasn’t exactly much you could do at that point.”

His hand found its way into his hair and tugged roughly at the roots. You watched his face contort as he gathered his thoughts, looking so achingly frustrated that your heart clenched.

“But that’s the point, I should’ve come in and gave them a chance to come back and I didn’t. I couldn’t do my fucking job and that’s on me, not them.”

Frowning, you internally cursed his habit of blaming himself for everything that could go wrong. No matter how much you’ve tried to get him to stop doing it, he never got over it.

“Carter,” you tried to reason with him, “the score was 9-0—”

“Yea, thanks. I kinda already knew that,” he grinned sarcastically, the smile holding no humor.

Gritting your teeth, you continued what you were trying to say. “You let in the goals, but the team in front of you couldn’t get a single one in the other net. It wouldn’t have mattered if you stopped every damn shot when you were put in because the game still would’ve probably ended up 5-0.”

He shrugged off your hand from its place on his arm and walked away. “That’s not the point.”

“Why do you have to always martyr yourself?” You called after him, resisting the urge to yank at your own hair.

Barely sparing you a glance, he shook his head. When it became clear to you that he wasn’t even going to bother answering you, you couldn’t fight back down the words that had been bubbling up inside of you for weeks.

“Why can’t you just let me help you?” you nearly begged him, chest tightening to the point of pain.

Why can’t you just let me help you? Because that’s exactly what it was. This refusal of his to let you in anymore, to comfort him, to help talk him through the things that you used to. It was all pushing you away, building a wall that you couldn’t scale on your own.

And it seemed like that well inside of him flooded over, too, because faster than you could process, he spun around to face you and with a wave of his hands, yelled back, “Because I don’t want your help.”

Rearing back as if he had slapped you, you could feel something inside that was already cracked split wide open.

Ignoring the way your face had crumbled, he steamrolled on. “You always try to ‘help me’,” he mimed air quotes in the middle of his wild gesturing, “but it’s not helping. I don’t want it. Why can’t you just fucking get that already?”

Trying desperately to hold back the tears you could feel building, you gave him a bitter smile. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Silence greeted the tension already suffocating the room like an old friend, blanketing over the two of you with far more weight than you could ever hope to carry. Screwing your eyes shut, you focused on your pounding heartbeat and not the ragged breathing from across the room.

The sound of footsteps heading towards the front door had your eyes reopening, gaze slightly blurry but still clear enough to see the man you loved, trusted, leaving the home you shared.

“Where are you going?” you could barely find the energy to ask him, all the fight leaving your body in a single breath.

It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t look back at you, never strayed from his course as he picked up the bag he had only just recently put down back up. “One of the guys’ house,” he told you, voice soft and head down as he opened the door. “I’ll let you know whose when I get there.”

And with that, he was gone.

Finally caving in on yourself, you let yourself slide down to the floor. Already, you could feel the tears you had been able to hold back in front of him leaving wet tracks down your cheeks. Breath was harder to come by than it had been, but it gave you something to focus on.

In, out. In, out. Curling your arms around your knees, you let everything go.

You should’ve known that it didn’t matter how much you gave and gave because in the end, he was never going to take.

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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years

Text

Bad Day || Douxie x Reader || One Shot

Summary: Title says it all

Warning: None

Word count: 2,293

You were really tired of customers today. But you had to get over the fact that you were working at a bookstore. The place you used to worked at, Stuart Electronics, the owner said that he didn’t need any employees, since he could manage the customers by himself. Plus, he didn’t get many customers. If he didn’t earn enough money from the shop, Stuart would just get his taco truck out and earn money from there. But you just took it as he fired you. You were fine with that. But you were definitely not fine with having to deal with customers everyday. Stuart always let you deal with the storage stuff.

“Y/n? Hello? Anyone home?” a familiar British accent spoke, getting you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m home,” you replied.

“You’re not home, you doofus. You’re at the bookstore. Home is upstairs,” Douxie chuckled.

“Uh, yeah,” you said.

“Y/n, you have to focus. I’ll take care of the front. Can you go to the back and get 5 books from the new shipment box that arrived a few days ago?” Douxie asked.

You nodded and walked to the back, grabbing the books that Douxie requested.

After about an hour, Douxie finally closed up the shop.

“Finally! I’m so done!” you sighed and plopped yourself down onto an armchair.

“Yep! Just another day of our casual life,” Douxie agreed, walking over to the counter and counting the money we earned today.

“Don’t you get tired of working everyday?” you asked.

“Nah, I don’t. Why?” Douxie replied.

“I just can’t, I get bored very easily, if you haven’t realised yet,” you replied.

“I think I now that. I’ve known for almost a millennium now!” Douxie laughed.

Then Archie came flying down, and onto you lap.

“How was your day y/n?” Archie asked.

“Hmm... let’s see. Boring, tiring, oh and have I said boring?” you replied.

“I believe you have,” Archie replied.

“Well, yeah. I’m kinda getting bored from the bookstore,” you whined.

“Please, it’s not that boring,” Douxie said, getting a stool and sitting in front of you.

“It’s boring to me, as you already know,” you said.

“How about we go upstairs?” Archie asked.

“That’s a good idea,” you agreed getting up.

The three of you walked upstairs, and to the back. Douxie pulled an ancient book out of its place just a bit. Slowly, the whole shelf slid away, revealing a huge room. That ‘huge room’ was your apartment.

You and Douxie shared an apartment together, since the two of you only had each other and Archie of course.

You walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. You looked around, not much, just a milk carton, eggs, salmon and some vegetables. You groaned and slammed the door shut.

“Someone’s a bit grumpy,” Douxie teased.

“Technically, I’m hangry,” you corrected him.

“Let me guess, no food?” Douxie asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Yep! I’m not making pasta again, cause that’s all we’ve been eating for the last week,” you forewarned.

“Okay, okay. What about we go to Mr. Benoit’s?” Douxie suggested.

You looked at him briefly, and rushed into your room, slamming the door shut behind. You quickly got changed into a hoodie and a pair of jeans. You combed your h/l (hair length) h/c hair and tied it into a pony tail (if you have short hair, then it’s just left out). You rushed out of the room to see Douxie ready to go.

“Come on, let’s go,” Douxie said.

The two of you walked to the cafe and sat at a table outside. A waiter came and took your order.

“So, have you found another place to work?” Douxie asked out of the blue.

“W-What do you mean?” you asked.

“I thought you would be searching for another place to work at, since you clearly don’t like working at the shop,” Douxie explained.

“Am I that convincing?” you asked.

Douxie looked at you confused. You sighed.

“Douxie, look, I actually really love working at the bookstore. I might sound like I hate it, but I actually really love it there. I might get bored sometimes, since I’m at the counter, working with the customers. I don’t want to work anywhere else,” you explained.

“But you were complaining like 20 minutes ago!” Douxie exclaimed.

“Can’t anyone have a bad day?” you laughed.

But when you saw Douxie’s face, you instantly stopped laughing.

“Uh, Doux. You good?” you asked.

“You had a bad day?” Douxie whispered to himself, making sure you couldn’t hear him.

“Douxie?” you asked.

“I’m fine,” Douxie replied and fell silent.

“Okay,” you said, and turned to see the waiter with food.

The dinner went good, but none of you said anything to the other. The walk home was also very quiet. When you had gotten to your apartment, the two of you just wished each other good night and went to your rooms. You wondered why Douxie was so quiet through the whole dinner. You shook the thought off and concluded that he just must’ve been tired. You changed into your night wear and fell asleep.

Douxie on the other hand, was at his desk, planning for the next day.

“Douxie, what are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” Archie asked.

“Arch, y/n never told me she had a bad day today,” Douxie said.

“Well, everyone has a bad day every once in a while,” Archie shrugged.

“Arch, you’re not getting the point. Whenever I have a bad day, y/n is always there for me. She would make me my favourite food, play a few songs on her piano or would just talk to me. Either way, she always eventually makes my bad day better,” Douxie explained.

Archie was catching on what Douxie was trying to say.

“And there’s me. Today she had a bad day, and what did I do? Nothing,” Douxie said.

“So your planning something for her?” Archie asked.

“Exactly! Tomorrow, I’m going to make her day the best. I’ll take her to a nice place for breakfast, go out of town and have a picnic. Then, I’m going to take her to the cinema’s at night, where we’ll watch Danger House. After the movie, we’ll grab something from the taco truck and then head home!” Douxie explained his plan.

“Why not also confess your feelings for her as well?” Archie added.

“Wait what?!” Douxie gasped.

“You heard me right, Douxie. I’ve seen the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. But the both of you are so oblivious,” Archie said.

“What if she rejects me?” Douxie asked.

“That’s what has been stopping you from confessing your feelings to her. Just trust yourself, Doux,” Archie said, and walked out of the room.

After Archie left, Douxie got into bed but before he feel asleep he promised himself that he’ll confess his feelings to you tomorrow.

The next day, you got up and walked into the kitchen. But before you got to the fridge, Douxie stopped you.

“Stop right there, love,” Douxie said.

“Why? Are you the police?” you joked.

“No, but we’re going to go to a cafe for breakfast,” Douxie announced.

“But-” you started but were cut off by Douxie.

“No buts or ifs. Now get ready, I’ll meet you downstairs,” Douxie said, pushing you into the bathroom, handing you your towel.

You quickly took a shower and got dressed into an off-the-shoulder shirt and ripped jeans.

Once you were downstairs, you saw Douxie holding the door open for you. You smiled and walked outside. Douxie closed the shop and the two of you walked to Mr. Benoit’s.

The two of you had breakfast. It was a pretty good one. Douxie did a trick to make the coffee cold, which made the waiter go and get a another cup. Douxie kept on doing that, until you were crying from laughing. After breakfast, the two of you went out of town in Douxie’s car. Douxie didn’t tell you the place but it was beautiful. The two of you explored around the mountains and alleyways. After that, the two of you had a picnic. He had brought sandwiches, a pie and juice. The two of you chatted away while eating your food. The two of you then looked at the clouds pass by, pointing out shapes, animals or anything you could make out.

“Hey, do you see that cat. It looks like Archie,” Douxie pointed to a cloud.

You tried to find it but you couldn’t.

“Where?” you asked.

“There,” Douxie replied, grabbing your hand and pointing to the cloud.

While you were looking for the cat, Douxie was looking at you. You looked cute when you tried to look for something. He just couldn’t get his eyes of you.

After a while, you gave up looking and turned around to see Douxie staring at you. You blushed at the way he was looking at you.

“Doux? You home?” you asked, waving your hand in front of him.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m at home,” Douxie replied.

“Your not home, you magical doofus. Your at... well I don’t know where we are actually,” you tried to joke.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t since you had no idea where the two of you were. Only Douxie knew. Douxie started to crack up, noticing your joke didn’t turn out too well. You playfully glared at him, trying to be angry.

Douxie then slowly stopped laughing.

“You know you look very cute when your angry,” Douxie commented.

You blushed at his comment.

“And even more cute when you were trying to look for the cat cloud. Even more when your focused on your work. Whenever your trying to get a recipe right, whenever your trying to get Archie to give your belongings back,” Douxie continued.

“Well... I... um... thank you,” you said, blushing even more. “Why are you all of a sudden saying these things?” you ask.

“Because I want to tell you the truth. You’re very kind, caring, selfless and much more. I’m so lucky to have you in my life, y/n. You’re always looking out for Archie and me. I-I love you y/n l/n,” Douxie confessed.

You looked at him wide eyed. You always had feelings for him, but you never knew he had feelings for you as well. You looked into his hazel eyes, while he looked into your e/c eyes. Slowly the two of you leaned forward. As you got closer, you slowly closed your eyes. Then, your lips touched. The kiss was soft and passionate. The two of you pulled away, looking into each other’s eyes.

“I love you too, Hisirdoux Casperan,” you said.

The two of you then continued cloud watching, while you leaned your head on his shoulder and his on top. The two of you watched the sunset and returned to Arcadia.

“So, did you have a good day, my love?” Douxie asked.

“Yes, thank you Douxie,” you replied.

“Well, what about we go watch Danger House?” Douxie said, holding up two tickets.

“Really?! I’ve been wanting to watch that for ages!” you squeal.

Douxie chuckled at your excitement. He drove to Lucia.

The two of you walked into the cinema, hand in hand. You two watched Danger House together. There were some scenes you didn’t want to see, so you hid your face in Douxie’s shoulder.

After the movie, the two of you were walking out of the cinema, when you saw Stuart’s taco truck.

“Doux, you hungry?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

“Well, now that you mention it, love, I am,” Douxie chuckled, looking down to his stomach.

“Let’s go to Stuart’s taco truck,” you suggested, pulling him behind you.

The two of you walked over to the taco truck. You saw Jim, Claire, Toby, Steve, Aja, Krel and Eli, all grabbing burritos.

“Hey, it’s Douxie and y/n!” Toby shouted, pointing to you and Douxie.

“Hi Toby,” you greeted.

“Hey,” the others greeted.

“Don’t you all have school to go to tomorrow?” Douxie asked, walking over to the truck and ordering.

“Well, yeah. But we all just came back from trollhunting and we’re starving,” Toby replied.

“That’s a reasonable excuse,” you nodded.

“What have you two been up to?” Steve asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Nothing. Just went out of town and just watched Danger House,” Douxie replied, handing you a burrito.

“Nothing else?” Claire teased.

“Uh... nope,” you and Douxie answer, nervously.

“Sure, sure,” Jim teased.

“You too, Jim?” you gasped.

“What can I do? You two are fun to tease, since you two haven’t even said ‘I love you’ yet,” Jim shrugged.

“Technically, we already did,” Douxie grinned.

“Wait, what!” all the kids exclaim.

“Spill!” Claire and Aja begged.

“Maybe another time guys. I’m sorry, but we got to go,” Douxie said, pulling you towards the bookstore.

They all started to whine, but they all eventually stopped and waved bye.

You and Douxie walked into the bookstore and were greeted by Archie.

“So... how was your day?” Archie asked.

“The best!” you replied.

“So did Douxie...” Archie started.

“Yeah,” you and Douxie finished.

“Finally! I was getting so tired of looking at the two of you!” Archie cheered.

The three of you laughed and made your way to your apartment.

You were going to close your bedroom door when Douxie stopped you.

“Uh, Douxie, what are you doing?” you asked.

“I came to give you a goodnight kiss, duh,” Douxie replied.

You rolled your eyes. He quickly gave you a peck on your lips and wished you goodnight. You closed your door and jumped into bed. Today was the best day of your life.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #one shot #toa #tales of arcadia

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maxinaptak · 3 years

Text

(AoT/ SNK) Key to Salvation: Eren X Abused!Reader

WARNING: REFRENCED NON-CON, FORCED DRUG USE

This is a rough one you guys. Proceed with caution.

You groaned as you rubbed the fairly fresh bruise on your shoulder, letting your head fall against the locker in front of you. The bruise on your shoulder wasn’t the only one you had; in fact, you had several more, both new and old, littering your body. You groaned again as you heard your best friend’s voice coming down the hallway. You lifted your head off your locker and pulled your sweater sleeve down your arm more, making sure it covered your bruise and the needle marks.

“________,” Eren called loudly, causing you to cringe lightly at his volume, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

He stopped next to you and looked at you with such innocent turquoise eyes. Oh, how you loved those innocent eyes. You could never tell Eren about what was going on at home. You just couldn’t.

“I was sick, that’s all,” you lied, faking a smile up at the boy, “Just a little cold. I'm fine now though.”

It almost pained you physically to lie to him, but how could you tell him that you had spent the last three days being given drugs against your will in a dirty basement where dozens of men abused your strung out, limp body while your mother collected their payment.

“Well, I'm glad you’re feeling better!” Eren said, smiling brightly.

You smiled almost sadly and sighed. Eren was your sweet, caring best friend. He had been since you were both in diapers. Fifteen years of friendship and you still couldn’t tell him what was happening; couldn’t tell him that you need help, beg for his help.

“Eren, will you lower your voice? I can hear you all the way down the hallway.” Mikasa, Eren’s adopted sister, said, flicking the brunet in the ear.

“Ow!” He cried, cupping his assaulted ear.

She rolled her eyes and looked at you.

“Are you sure you’re feeling better ________,” Mikasa asked, frowning, “You look more tired than normal.”

You faked another smile and said, “Yep, just fine!”

In all reality, you were going through a nasty withdraw from the clonazepam and oxy your mother normally gave you. This last time, she decided to give you something else to sedate you through your ‘work’, something she injected several times into your veins over the days. You had a feeling that if anyone would notice something was off, it would be Mikasa.

The other girl didn’t look too convinced, but nodded anyway and said, “If you say so. It’s almost time for class to start, so we should get going. You too Eren. If you’re late again, mom will have your ass.”

The tall boy rolled his eyes and hugged you goodbye. You tried your hardest to hide your pained flinch as he squeezed you tightly, but you knew Mikasa had seen it. Once he left, Mikasa set her hard gaze on you again.

“I saw that,” she said, crossing her arms, “What was that about?”

“Ok, so I may have hurt my back trying a new yoga pose yesterday. But I wasn’t gonna tell him that.” You said, jutting your thumb in the direction Eren had left in.

It wasn’t a total lie this time. Your back did hurt, but it sure as hell wasn’t from doing yoga. Your slightly older friend rolled her eyes and turned to head to your first hour class. You quickly ran after her, trying your best not to limp. You reached your AP Psychology class and took your seats. Your teacher had the desks in clusters of six or seven seats and you two got lucky enough to be put with your friends.

“Hey guys.” You said, plopping your book down onto your desk.

Krista, Ymir, Sascha, and Max all smiled back and greeted you both. You made small talk for a few minutes before the bell rang, signaling the start of the school day. You turned your attention to your teacher, Mr. O’Neil, and swallowed hard when you saw what he was writing on the board.

Drug Addiction: The effects, the signs, and withdrawal symptoms.

‘Fuck my life with a cactus….’ You thought, slowly sliding down in your seat a little.

You prayed to whatever god there may be (though you didn’t really believe that there was one anymore) that none of your friends, especially Mikasa, would notice that you were exhibiting some of the signs and symptoms.

You had managed to make it through the class with your teeth clenched and practically sprinted out of the room when it was over. You made it to your economics class in record time and slumped into your seat, letting your head slam down on your desk.

“Damn kid, rough morning?”

You slowly raised your head to look at your student teacher, Levi Ackerman. Apparently, he was a distant cousin to Mikasa, but she didn’t really know him.

“Rough couple of days.” You admitted, voice flat and eyes dull.

The short male regarded you carefully, as he had taken note that you had been absent for the past three days and went to his bag.

“Alright kiddo, I’ve got some dark chocolate and a Red Machine Naked Juice,” he said, placing said items on your desk in front of you, “You look like you’ve been through some shit, and you need these more than I do. Besides, it looks like you’ve lost a shit ton of weight since the semester started.”

Your face flushed bright red. You didn’t think Mr. Ackerman paid that much attention to any of his students, let alone you.

“T-thanks Mr. Ackerman….” You said, opening the chocolate bar and taking a small bite.

“No problem kid.” He said, turning to go back to his desk, but stopping.

He hesitated for a moment before turning back to you and crouching down next to you.

He waited for you to meet his gaze and quietly said, “________, you can come to me if you need to talk or if you need help, ok?”

You stared at him in shock and slowly nodded. You’d never heard him speak like that and it almost freaked you out. He nodded at you and returned to his desk. You let your eyes fall onto your desk and stared at it blankly.

“________?”

You jumped and whipped around to see Eren setting his stuff down on the desk next to you.

“What was that all about?” He asked, discreetly nodding his head in your teacher’s direction.

You swallowed hard and stumbled over your words as you tried to reply.

“N-nothing,” you said, averting your eyes from his, “He was just telling me that I looked like crap and needed to eat something, so he gave me this, that’s all.”

You quickly grabbed the bottle of juice and tried to open it, but struggled. You knew you had been having a bit of a hard time doing normal things, but never had you struggled to open a beverage bottle. You frowned and stopped trying to open the juice.

“Here, I got it,” Eren said, taking the bottle from you and cracking it open easily with his large hands, “I'm kinda shocked he’d be nice enough to give you something, but you should drink this. It’ll help you feel better.”

He carefully put the bottle back into your hand and you weakly smiled at him. You took a long drink from the juice and sighed, satisfied by the taste. Soon the room was full and the bell rang, class starting.

Levi’s eyes scanned over his students as they worked on the small packet he had given them to complete before the end of class. He heard a snore from beside him and looked at the teacher he was supposed to be shadowing, Dot Pixis, and rolled his eyes when he saw him asleep again. How that man became a teacher was beyond him. He heard footsteps approaching his desk and turned his attention forward again.

“Eren and I are finished with the packet.” ________ said, holding out two packets.

“As always, finished before anyone else. The brat is lucky you partner with him every time.” Levi said, shaking his head and reaching out for the papers.

As ________ pulled her hand away, she accidently knocked over the cup of pens and pencils on the desk.

“Shit, sorry Mr. Ackerman. I’ll take care of it.” She said, crouching down quickly.

“It’s fine, kid, don’t worry about it.” He said, looking over the side of his desk at her.

His eyes widened as the left sleeve of her sweater raised up, revealing a bruise vaguely shaped like a handprint and several track marks on her upper forearm. He froze, not knowing what to do as he watched her quickly pick up the scattered writing utensils and put them back into the cup. He swallowed hard and tried to formulate words, say anything to her, but he couldn’t manage it, too shocked. She smiled smally at him before going back to her desk. His eyes followed her and jumped over to Eren, her best friend. If he couldn’t talk to ________ directly, he sure as hell could talk to the brat.

“Jaeger, see me after class.” He said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Eren groaned loudly.

“What the fuck did I do this time?” Eren practically whined.

He dramatically draped himself over where your desks were pushed together, making you breathe out a laugh.

“I don’t know, but this happens at least once a week and you know it.” You said, petting his shoulder length hair.

He sighed deeply and peeked up at you with his beautiful turquoise eyes, pouting. You stared at him and couldn’t help but smile lovingly at him. You’d never told anyone, but you’d been in love with the tall boy since you were eleven and he was twelve. He’d always been there for you, doing everything he could to make you laugh and smile. Usually, he’d drag Armin into his antics too, but it was all in good fun and you all laughed together.

“Your hair’s get long,” you murmured, playing with the little bun that was tied at the base of his skull, “Are you gonna cut it?”

Eren hummed and said, “Nah, I kinda like it like this. What do you think about it? Does it look bad?”

You shook your head and said, “No, I like it. I think it looks really good on you.”

“Then I’m definitely keeping it long.” He said, smiling up at you.

You smiled back and continued to talk to him for the rest of class. When the bell rang, you gathered your things and gave Eren a sympathetic look.

“I’ll see you later Eren. Have fun with Mr. A.” You said, waving.

“Yeah,” he groaned, standing up, “Have fun in anatomy with Armin. Embarrass him for me, would ya?”

“Sure! I’ve got a good dirty joke or two that I haven’t told in front of him yet.” You said, grinning.

Eren sighed and picked up his bag before walking up to Levi’s desk.

“You wanted to see me sir?” He asked, shoulders slumped.

Levi nodded and said, “Yes. What class do you have next?”

Eren was confused but answered, “German. Why?”

“Are you doing well in that class?” Levi asked.

“I’ve been speaking German since I was born basically,” Eren said, still confused as all hell, “My dad’s family lives in Germany, and my grandparents don’t speak English very well. I only took the class so I could get an easy A…. Why do you ask?”

Levi stood from his desk and motioned for Eren to follow him as he said, “I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem if you missed part of the class. I need to speak to you, but somewhere private.”

Eren was beyond confused now but followed his teacher anyway. The shorter man always seemed rather serious, but this time, he seemed deadly serious about whatever it was. He followed Levi to one of the biology labs and went inside.

“Hanji, I need to borrow your lab for a little bit,” Levi said, addressing one of the other student teachers he was friends with, “I need to speak to Eren alone.”

The crazy science teacher looked up from her notes and said, “Oh! Ok, sure! Just let me know when you’re done!”

She quickly left the room and closed the door behind her. Levi sat down and motioned for Eren to do the same. The younger boy did, facing his teacher.

“What’s going on Mr. Ackerman?” Eren asked, frowning.

Levi took a deep breath and said, “I need to talk to you about ________.”

Eren’s eyebrows furrowed and he asked, “________? What about her?”

“Something’s going on with her. Has she said anything to you?” He asked.

Eren thought for a moment before shaking his head as he said, “I mean, she said that she had a cold and that’s why she wasn’t at school the last few days. Other than that, no.”

Levi nodded and thought for a moment before he asked, “Eren, you’re her best friend, right?”

The brunet nodded.

“Do you pay close attention to her? The way she looks, the way she acts?”

Eren blinked a few times before shyly nodding his head.

“Then have you noticed that she’s lost quite a bit of weight since the semester started?” Levi asked.

Eren nodded again and said, “I tried to ask her about it once, but she got really upset about it and snapped at me, so I didn’t say anything after that. But I noticed that she was losing more and more weight as the weeks went on. And every few weeks she looks really sick and upset, but she won’t talk to me about it….”

Levi sighed deeply again and said, “Eren, I saw something on her arm today, in class when she was picking up the pens. That’s why I asked you to stay after.”

“What was on her arm?” Eren asked, worried and confused at the same time.

“There was a large bruise that looked like a handprint. And she had several… track marks on her forearm.” Levi said, letting his own shoulders drop in sadness.

“What are track marks?” Eren asked, still confused.

Levi looked up at Eren and said, “Needle marks, Eren. From using drugs.”

Eren’s eyes widened.

“Drugs?! No way! ________ would never!” Eren said, denial evident in his voice.

Levi sighed again and said, “Eren I know what track marks look like. It’s no secret that I grew up on the streets. A lot of people I ran with did drugs back then. I know what I saw.”

Eren’s heart dropped into his stomach, knowing that his teacher couldn’t be wrong. He thought back over the months and remembered seeing ________’s forearms and elbow crooks all the time. There were never any needle marks before. Bruises, sure, but ________ was clumsy.

“I-it must be new…,” he said, looking down at his hands, “She’s never had needle marks on her arms before….”

“What about the bruises?” Levi asked.

Eren shrugged and said, “She’s always had a few bruises here and there, ever since we were kids. She’s clumsy as hell, always has been. And she bruises easily because she’s anemic.”

“Has she always been anemic?”

Eren shook his head and said, “No…. It started around the time we started high school. That’s also when she started to look sick and upset every few weeks…. And her weight started fluctuating and her eating habits changed too….”

Eren’s eyebrows furrowed again and he started to get more upset, thinking about how something was wrong with his best friend, the girl he was in love with, and he didn’t even realize, even though he saw everything.

“I should have known something was wrong….” Eren whispered, clenching his fists.

“Eren, it’s not your fault. You guys are kids still. It’s not your job to watch every little detail about her.” Levi said, trying to make the teen feel less guilty.

“But I love her,” Eren almost cried, a desperate look on his face, “I have been watching every detail about her for years! I should have known!”

Eren hung his head and let out a shaky breath, resting his head in his hands. Levi looked at his student sadly. He knew that the boy was in love with ________; it was pretty obvious, at least to him. And he could see that ________ loved him back. It was beyond him why the two hadn’t began dating yet, but that was beside the point at the moment.

“Now you know something’s up with her. Use the information you have now and talk to her.” Levi said, putting a hand on Eren’s shoulder.

The younger male looked up at his teacher and sighed, nodding.

Levi nodded back and said, “Alright. Now come on. I’ll write you a note to excuse you for missing class.”

Eren nodded again and sadly trailed behind his teacher. He got his note and trudged to his German class. He gave the note to Herr Ham and took his seat in the back of the classroom, spacing out. It didn’t matter if her paid attention or not. His teacher was horrible and taught in a ridiculous way that confused most students. The only reason he was top of the class was because he’s a native speaker. All he could think about was ________. He would see her again fifth hour for lunch and he didn’t know how he could face her without saying anything. He didn’t want to talk to her in front of their friends. He sighed and rested his head on his arms on his desk.

“For fuck’s sake….” You muttered, sitting back on your legs.

You were currently on your knees in a bathroom stall, retching into the toilet every so often. It didn’t surprise you that this was happening; you were going through oxycodone withdrawal after all. Nausea and vomiting were normal. You’d gone through this a few times before, but never this badly. You wondered if whatever drug your mother gave you the last few days was making it worse this time around.

“Oh god,” you groaned, feeling bile rise in your throat again, “Not again…!”

You heaved into the toilet again, hot tears running down your cheeks. All you had had to eat that day was what Mr. Ackerman had given you during econ, and there was no way any of it still resided in your stomach. All you could taste was stomach acid, your throat burning. You checked the time on your phone and sighed. Fifth period was almost over and you knew Eren would be worried that you weren’t there. You tried to get up and leave a few times, but it was obvious that your body wasn’t done. You shakily unlocked your phone and typed out a choppy text to Eren.

Eren frowned as he arrived at his normal lunch table. Armin and Max were sitting together, holding hands and feeding each other like normal; Mikasa and Annie were sitting across from each other, glaring at each other with an awkward sexual tension between them, like normal; and Jean and Marco were holding hands and eating quietly, like normal. What was not like normal, was the fact that ________ was missing. Eren was always the last one to arrive at the table and ________ was always sitting in one of the two open seats left at the table when he got there.

“Has anyone seen ________?” He asked, sitting down.

Max swallowed a strawberry Armin had fed her and said, “Not since third hour.”

“I saw her heading towards the cafeteria on my way here,” Marco said, frowning slightly, “But then she ran into the bathroom. I haven’t seen her since.”

Eren frowned deeply and stared down at his food. He sighed and ultimately started to pick at his food, eventually shoveling it into his mouth quickly as his dumb teenage body demanded him to. Near the end of the hour, his phone vibrated. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at it. It was a text from ________.

Felt sick, stuck in bathroom. Sorry. See you later.

Eren frowned again and sighed.

“What’s wrong Eren?” Mikasa asked, finally breaking her gaze away from her (not so secret) secret girlfriend.

“________ texted me. She said she was feeling sick and was stuck in the bathroom.” Eren said, shoulders slumping.

Max frowned and said, “I can go check on her if you’re really worried.”

Eren looked up at the red-haired girl gratefully and said, “Yes, please.”

She smiled and nodded. She leaned over to Armin and gave him several quick kisses before getting up and leaving the cafeteria.

“________?”

You jumped as you heard someone call your name. You knew that voice; it was your friend Max.

“M-Max?” You choked out, coughing.

You heard her run to the large stall you were in and try the door.

“________, are you ok? Eren said you were sick and you don’t sound good at all!” She said, voice full of concern.

You weakly moved to open the door to let her in before going back to slumping against the wall. She quickly came in and dropped to her knees in front of you.

“Oh my god, hon, are you ok?” She asked, gently putting her hands on your arms.

You sighed as more tears slipped from your eyes and shook your head as you breathed, “No…. I’ve been throwing up all hour….”

“Oh no, ________...,” Max said, looking at you sadly, “You need to go to the nurse and go home!”

You sighed again and said, “My mom won’t come get me….”

“I’ll take you home. They’ve let me do it for Armin before, and he wasn’t nearly this sick.” Max said, pulling her phone out.

She called Armin and asked for him to come to the bathroom and help. She hung up and pocketed her phone before gently stroking your (h/c) hair.

A minute later the door to the bathroom opened and you heard Armin call out, “Max, ________? Is there anyone else in there or can we come in?”

“It’s just us, come in.” Max called back.

Soon Armin was in the doorway of the stall, Eren behind him. Eren quickly pushed his way past him and gently scooped you up into his arms. Armin grabbed your backpack and followed you out of the bathroom. A security guard saw you being carried out of the bathroom by Eren and Armin following behind and asked what was going on.

“Our friend got really sick and needs to go to the nurse, but she couldn’t walk. I couldn’t carry her on my own, so I asked them to come and help.” Max explained, giving the older man puppy dog eyes.

The security guard was a little flustered by the look she was giving him and he let you guys go. You giggled a little, knowing your friend would use her incredibly seductive puppy dog eyes to get you out of any trouble. Armin may not like it, but you thought it was hilarious. Your little group made its way to the nurse’s office and Max explained the situation to the woman. Taking one look at you, the nurse gave Max permission to drive you home. She called the office and asked for a teacher to escort you out so you wouldn’t get in trouble. You were a little surprised to see Mr. Ackerman walk into the room, concern written all over his usually stoic face.

“I knew you were feeling sick this morning, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” He said, frowning.

You looked down shyly and shrugged your shoulders as best you could in Eren’s arms. Your group, now escorted by your teacher, made its way outside to Max’s car. Eren carefully placed you in the passenger seat and handed you a plastic bag for ‘just in case’. Armin put your bag in the backseat along with Max’s and kissed the girl before she got in. The three males stepped back and your friend pulled out of the parking spot. She drove carefully to your house and parked in your driveway.

“Do you need help inside?” She asked, turning to look at you.

You hesitated, not know if you really wanted to bother her anymore.

“You know what, don’t answer,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt, “I’m helping you to as least the front door.”

She got out of the car and you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your door opened and Max helped you out of the car. She grabbed your bag from the back. She took your arm and helped you slowly walk to the door. You unlocked it and stepped inside, taking your bag from your friend.

“Thank you.” You said, smiling at your friend.

She smiled back and said, “Anytime. And if you’re not feeling better by Saturday morning, one of us is taking you to the doctor.”

You opened your mouth to say no but you didn’t get a chance.

“No arguments,” Max said, finality in her voice, “If you’re still this sick, you’re going to the doctor.”

You sighed in defeat and said, “Ok. Thanks for today. I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully.”

Max smiled at you sadly and nodded before getting back in her car and driving away, heading back to school. You closed the door and dragged your feet towards your room.

“What the fuck are you doing home?”

You silently groaned and turned to look at your mother.

“I got really sick.” You said, rubbing your face tiredly.

“That’s no excuse for you to come home.” The woman said, irritated.

You dully stared at her and said, “I was throwing up every few minutes all of fifth hour. It finally seems to have calmed down but I still feel like shit. My friends took me to the nurse and they made me go home.”

Your mother glared at you and said, “Well why the fuck are you sick anyway?”

You glared back and said, “I don’t know, maybe it’s because I'm going through serious withdrawal from the clonazepam and oxy. It’s been four days since you last shoved oxy down my throat and it’s hitting me hard as fuck this time.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and turned back to her magazine. You shook your head and made you way to your bedroom. You set your bag down by your desk before falling face down on your bed. Luckily, your bed was still sacred and safe. The only man that had ever been in your bed was Eren, and those times were never sexual. Only lazy weekend naps and scrolling through social media together, showing each other things you found funny. You sighed heavily again and wiggled your way under your covers, managing to fall asleep a little faster than normal due to how horrible you felt.

Max pulled back in to her parking spot at school and turned off her car. She sighed and stepped out, shocked to see the three males she’d left fifteen minutes ago standing in the same place.

“You guys waited here this whole time?” She asked, confused.

They nodded and Armin took her hand, leading her back into the school. Eren and Levi slowly trail behind them and spoke quietly.

“Did you get a chance to talk to her?” Levi asked.

Eren shook his head and said, “No…. She got sick before I even saw her….”

Levi nodded and they walked in silence. They’d figure out the best way to talk to her eventually.

You groaned as you rinsed your mouth out for the fourth time that morning. You hadn’t made it to school the day before and you were still sick. It was now Saturday, and you knew your phone would be ringing soon. One of your friends would be taking you to the doctor today, and you were dreading it. As if on cue, your phone began to ring. You sighed and walked into your room to pick it up.

“Hello?” You asked, answering without checking the caller ID.

“________, how are you feeling?” Eren’s voice came through.

“Oh, Eren…,” you said, not expecting him to call this early, “I-I’m… not doing so hot….”

You finally admitted to him that you weren’t alright. You sat on your bed and wrapped your free arm around your stomach.

“You’re still feeling sick?” Eren asked, a frown evident in his voice.

You sighed and answered, “Yeah. Honestly, I'm not feeling any better than I did at school the other day.”

“Alright, I’m taking you to the doctor,” Eren said, sounding like he was getting up, “Get ready, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

You were surprised, but said, “O-ok…! Um, I’ll be ready.”

He hung up with a quick goodbye and you stared down at your phone, blinking owlishly. You sighed again and set it down on your bed so you could get ready. You pulled on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt with your school’s mascot on it. You grabbed the hoodie that you had been wearing to bed, which actually belonged to Eren, and pulled it on, smiling at the way you drowned in the large garment. You pulled on a pair of slip-on boots and grabbed your small backpack purse. You grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs. Your mother was snoring loudly on the couch, an empty bottle of vodka still gripped in her hand that was hanging off the edge, resting on the floor. You rolled your eyes and leaned against the wall next to the window by the front door. A few minutes later, Eren’s beat up old car pulled into your driveway and you slipped out the door, locking it behind you. Eren met you halfway to the car and gently took your hand in one of his and braced your arm with the other, helping you to walk to the car. He opened your door and helped you in, even buckling your seatbelt for you.

“Thank you.” You said, smiling up at him.

He smiled back at you and carefully closed your door before going around the car and getting in the driver’s seat. He backed out of your driveway and took off down the street, heading towards downtown.

“Where are we going anyway,” you asked, biting your lip, “You know I don’t have insurance….”

He grinned over at you and said, “We’re going to my dad’s clinic. He said he’d see you free of charge.”

You smiled hearing that. Grisha Jaeger was a good man. Since your families had known each other since you and Eren were babies, you grew up seeing the man often. He was always kind to you, and you knew he was a good man since he took in Mikasa after her parents died when she and Eren were ten. He was the only father figure you had left since your dad died when you were eight. It was around that time that your mom started drinking and selling sex for money. When you turned fourteen, she realized that she could sell you instead and get even more money without her having to do anything. You sighed lightly as all of these thoughts swirled through your head, making it throb slightly.

“Hey, you good? Need me to roll the window down or something?” Eren asked, looking at you worriedly.

You smiled nervously at him and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna throw up in your car. It’s passed for now at least. I was just kinda spacing out, that’s all.”

Eren nodded and said, “I’m glad you feel better now. And you throwing up in my car probably wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened in here. I’m pretty sure Jean and Marco fucked in the backseat that time we went camping last summer.”

“Oh my god, seriously?!” You asked, shocked and kind of amused.

Eren nodded and said, “I saw them sneaking back to the campsite from the parking lot and then my car smelled nasty the next morning. And Marco couldn’t look me in the eye for a week.”

You laughed harder than you had laughed in a long time at this, holding your stomach as it cramped lightly.

“Ow…,” you cried, tears of laughter streaming down your face, “It hurts! It’s so funny it hurts!”

You quickly pulled you phone out and dialed Jean’s number.

“Hello?”

“Jean, did you and Marco really fuck in Eren’s car last summer when we went camping?!” You asked, still laughing.

You could hear the horror in his voice as he said, “How did you find out about that?!”

You barked out another laugh and said, “Eren’s known about it since it happened! He saw you guys sneaking back to the campsite that night!”

Jean swore and hung up on you, causing you to laugh even harder. You put your phone back in your purse and leaned back in your seat, your laughter dying down.

“I can’t believe you called him.” Eren chuckled, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe he admitted it to me. Well, in a way.” You said, giggling again.

Eren rolled his eyes and pulled into the empty parking lot of his dad’s clinic.

He must have seen your confused look and said, “The clinic doesn’t open until 11 o’clock. Dad wanted me to bring you in early to make sure there was time to do a thorough exam and run any tests needed before any other patients were here.”

You nodded in understanding and bit your lip nervously. At least one of your secrets was about to come out and you were not ready for that. Your door opened and you jumped slightly, looking up to see Eren shaking his head at you. He leaned down and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. He took your hand and helped you out of the car. You expected him to let go of your hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he held onto your hand tightly and guided you to the back door of the clinic, unlocking it and opening it, leading you in.

“You have a key?” You asked.

He nodded and said, “I sometimes help dad out by coming in before or after hours and help clean and stuff.”

You nodded and looked around hesitantly, not ready for this.

“Dad, we’re here!” He called into the mostly dark clinic.

“Back here, room 3.” His father called back.

Eren lead you down two hallways to the only room with lights on. You saw Dr. Jaeger setting up several different things and you immediately froze. He must have noticed because gave you a gentle smile.

“Relax ________,” he said softly, “Eren told me that you haven’t been to a doctor in quite a while, so I figured we’d just do a full work up.”

You swallowed had and nodded, letting Eren lead you over to the exam table, helping you to sit on it. He smiled at you a little before letting go of your hand, turning to leave the room.

“W-wait…,” you said, reaching out and grabbing his arm, “Stay… please…?”

He blinked at you a few times before looking at his father and asked, “Is it alright if stay dad?”

“As long as she says it’s alright, then yes.” He answered, nodding.

Eren nodded as well and moved to stand next to the exam table. You didn’t look at him or his dad, instead, just staring down at your hands in your lap.

“Alright, let’s start with your height and weight.” Dr. Jaeger said, motioning for you to come over to the scale.

You slipped off the table and went over, letting him measure your height (A/N: anything shorter than 6 foot so you’re shorter than Eren). You couldn’t look at the little screen on the scale where the numbers would pop up, indicating your weight.

“94 lbs,” Dr. Jaeger said, frowning, “________, that’s extremely low.”

You swallowed hard and said, “I know…. I knew my weight was low but I didn’t know it was that low….”

You trudged back to the exam table and climbed back onto it, not meeting the eyes of either Jaeger. The older man came over and grabbed the blood pressure cuff.

“Can you take your sweater off please?” Dr. Jaeger asked.

You took a shuddering deep breath and slowly pulled off your hoodie. You shyly offered the doctor you left arm, looking anywhere but him. The room was silent as you felt both males staring at you.

“________, I’m going to ask you some questions, and I need you to be completely honest with me, do you understand?” Dr. Jaeger asked.

You nodded, pulling your arm back, wrapping both your arms around your body.

“Are you taking drugs?” He asked.

“Not willingly….” You answered quietly.

“Someone’s making you take them?”

You nodded again.

“Who?”

You swallowed hard and said, “My mom….”

You felt Eren’s eyes boring into the side of your head but you refused to look at him.

“What is she giving you?” Dr asked.

“Normally she gives me clonazepam and oxy when I… have to work…. But last time she injected me with something instead. I don’t know what it was though….” You said, bringing one hand up to bite on your nails.

Dr. Jaeger was quiet for a moment before he asked, “What kind of work do you do?”

You squeezed your eyes closed tightly and said, “Sex work….”

“What?!” Eren cried, making you cringe.

“Eren, calm down,” Grisha said, “Freaking out right now isn’t going to help her at all.”

“S-sorry….” Eren stuttered, gently taking your hand.

“Does your mother force you to do this work?” Dr asked.

You nodded and said, “Yes…. When my dad died, she couldn’t pay the bills anymore and started selling herself. When I turned fourteen, she realized that if she sold me, she could make twice the money without having to do anything herself. I struggled and fought at first, and she would always get mad and say that I was too loud and that we’d get caught. So, she started drugging me to get through the meetings. It started out with just the clonazepam, but somewhere along the way she added the oxy.

“It was only once every few weeks at first, but then she started taking me to that place every week. Now it’s at least three nights a week, for… well, I’m actually not sure how long were there for since I’m drugged the whole time…. After she started bringing me every week, my body got dependent on the drugs…. That’s how she controls me now…. I've been going through really bad withdrawal this whole week…. The last time I had either was Sunday night….”

Both Jaegers were quiet for a moment.

Dr. Jaeger sighed heavily and said, “________, because of what your mother has been forcing you to do, I’m going to have to ask you some difficult questions, alright?”

You nodded.

“Do you know how many men have… been with you?” He asked, sounding like he didn’t want to be asking you these questions, just as much as you didn’t want to be asked them.

“I’m not sure…. I’m drugged every time now…. But if I had to guess… probably at least 300, maybe 350….” You said, rubbing your arm in shame.

Another sigh came from the doctor and you could hear Eren breathing heavily.

“Do you know if protection was used?”

You sighed and said, “Mom never put me on birth control and from the number of times I woke up to… fluids dripping down my thighs I assume not.”

Sighs were heard from both males in the room and you finally looked up. Dr. Jaeger looked conflicted and Eren looked so sad and so angry at the same time.

“I’m sorry I never told you Eren,” you said, hesitantly gripping his sleeve, “I was so embarrassed and… I was scared that if anyone found out that I would get in trouble….”

Eren shook his head almost violently and said, “Don’t apologize! It’s not your fault she made you do that! I’m sorry that I never notice anything was going on!”

“It’s alright Eren. I did everything I could to make sure you didn’t know.” You said, shrugging.

You both fell silent and Dr. Jaeger cleared his throat. You turned your attention back to him.

“Given the information you’ve provided me, I’m afraid I need to perform a pelvic exam and take some swabs and samples to make sure you’re not seriously sick.” He said, looking at you apologetically.

You sighed and nodded, figuring this was coming.

You looked at Eren and asked, “Will you stay with me still?”

He looked at you confused and asked, “Are you sure you want me to stay in here while he exams your… you know… girly bits?”

You nodded and said, “I already know it’s gonna be uncomfortable as hell. I've heard these exams can hurt a little, especially if samples need to be taken. It’s also going to be awkward as fuck since it’s your dad and all, so I might as well have some sort of comfort. You can face the wall behind me if it helps.”

He hesitated, but nodded. Dr. Jaeger began to gather all of the instruments and things he needed for the exam while you put on the paper gown he gave you. You asked Eren to tie it for you and her did. Once it was tied, you slipped off your leggings and panties without him seeing anything. To spare both of you any extra embarrassment, you folded your panties inside your leggings so he didn’t see them.

“Lay back and place your feet into the stirrups, then slide your bottom towards the end of the table.” Dr. Jaeger said, sitting on the rolling stool.

You did what you were told and held your hand out to Eren, who was facing the wall behind you, but could still see you. He took your hand and held it tightly. Dr. Jaeger started to examine you and you breathed deeply, closing your eyes. You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment and couldn’t bring yourself to look at Eren, even as he squeezed your hand reassuringly. Once you felt the speculum touch you, you breathed deeply again, anticipating the pain of something entering you. It didn’t hurt while going in, but when it started to open, you whined slightly at the burning pain.

“I apologize ________,” Dr said, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

You nodded and bit your lip. After what felt like forever, but was only about a minute and a half, the speculum was pulled out of you and you sighed in relief. You sat up and looked at Dr. Jaeger, watching as he collected all of the swabs and samples he had taken.

“I’m going to go process these and we should have the results in about twenty minutes. I’ll also need to take some blood samples to check a few things.” He said, standing.

You nodded and took the towel he handed you. He left the room and Eren turned his back so you could clean yourself up and get dressed again. You did so quickly and tossed the towel into the labeled basket.

“I’m done.” You said, sitting on the table again.

Eren turned back to you and leaned against the exam table, pulling you into a tight, but gentle hug. You hugged him back and buried your face into his neck.

“I love you,” he said, stroking your (h/c) hair, “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but I was too scared. But after hearing that your own mother was forcing you to do that kind of stuff, I felt like I had to tell you… tell you that someone loved you….”

You teared up a little and said, “I love you too Eren…. But I was so scared to tell you because I thought no one could love me when I’m so used and disgusting….”

“You’re not disgusting,” Eren said, kissing your forehead, “You’ve been abused. None of it was your choice or your fault. Nothing could make me stop loving you.”

You looked up at him and he smiled at you. He leaned down and kissed you gently. You kissed him back before resting your head against his chest while he stood between your legs, hugging you. You stayed like that until the door opened again.

“Can I assume that you two finally confessed?” Dr. Jaeger asked, raising an eyebrow.

You giggled quietly and Eren nodded.

He nodded back and said, “Congratulations, and finally. Now, I’m sorry to have to separate you two lovebirds, but I need to take some blood samples.”

You nodded and pulled away from Eren to offer your arm to his father. He tied a rubber strip around your arm and felt for your vein. Once he found it, he skillfully stuck the needle in your arm and collected the blood he needed.

“Eren, hold this here for me.” He said, nodding down to the folded cotton pad he had placed over the needlestick.

Eren’s tanned fingers gently pressed down on the cotton and his father went to dispose of the needle. He came back with a roll of (f/c) coban and wrapped it around your arm. You thanked him and moved back to your embrace with Eren.

“I’ll run these tests and when all the results are back, we’ll go over them. For now, relax.” Grisha said, nodding at you two.

You nodded and rested your head back on Eren’s chest. He rested his chin on top of your head and hummed happily. You talked idly for a little over half an hour before Dr. Jaeger came back in, a dark look on his face.

“I know that look,” Eren said, sounding a little scared, “And nothing good comes after it….”

Grisha sighed and pulled the rolling stool over again, sitting down in front of you.

“Don’t sugarcoat it.” You said, trying to steal your nerves.

“There are a few things that we need to discus,” Dr. Jaeger said, looking down at the clipboard in his hands, “Are you sure you ok with Eren hearing this information?”

You nodded and said, “Yes. He knows everything else now. I’m not going to hide anything from him anymore.”

Dr. Jaeger nodded and said, “Alright. We’ll your anemia has gotten worse, which judging by how low your iron levels are, is probably due to your lack of nutrition. And your extreme weight loss is most likely due to your body’s dependence on the drugs.”

You nodded at his words. You had kind of figured that would be the case, but you were dreading whatever other diagnoses you might get.

“You have a few other vitamin deficiencies and insufficiencies, but that’s to be expected.”

You nodded.

“Unfortunately, I have two more rather serious diagnoses for you.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, holding onto Eren’s hand tightly.

“The lesser of the two is that you have a bacterial infection. It can be taken care of with antibiotics though.” Dr. Jaeger said.

You closed your eyes and sighed sadly.

“It’s an STD… isn’t it…?” You asked, looking at him.

“Yes. You have chlamydia, which, like I said, is treatable,” Dr said, trying to reassure you, “All you have to do is take the antibiotics that I give you and abstain from any sexual activity for a while and you’ll be cured.”

You nodded sadly and asked, “What’s the other bad news?”

Dr. Jaeger fell silent and his face grew dark again. A chill ran down your spine at the look.

“Dad,” Eren said, “What is it?”

The man sighed heavily and said, “________, according to your blood test, you’re somewhere between four and six weeks pregnant….”

The blood drained out of your face and your heart dropped into your stomach. You could see Dr. Jaeger’s lips moving, but all you could hear was a high-pitched ringing. It hadn’t been the withdrawal that was making you so sick…. It was because you were pregnant….

“I think I'm gonna be sick…!” You said, jumping up from the exam table and running to the garbage can that was built into the counter next to the sink.

You hunched over it and heaved roughly, bringing up stomach acid again. Gentle hands gathered your hair away from your face and another hand rubbed your back. You retched a few more times before gasping and coughing.

“Rinse your mouth out dear.” Dr. Jaeger said, turning the water on and grabbing a small cup.

He filled it and handed it to you. You took the water in, swished it around and spit it out in the sink. You coughed a few more times before straightening up, stumbling slightly. Eren quickly steadied you and brought you into his chest. Tears flooded your eyes and you began to sob.

“What am I going to do…?!” You cried, grabbing onto Eren’s shirt tightly.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, hugging you tightly, “We’ll get through this. I swear…!”

You spent a while crying into your boyfriend’s chest before you were able to calm down.

“Eren, I want you to take ________ to our house,” Grisha said, taking his phone out, “I’ll call your mother and explain what’s going on. She’ll know how to help.”

Eren nodded and lead you out of the clinic and back to his car. He got you in and quickly drove to his house. He helped you out of the car and to the front door where his mother met you.

“Oh ________, darling.” She cooed, pulling you into a hug.

You started to cry again and she slowly brought you to the couch. She lowered you both down and stroked your hair. Eren came and sat on your other side and rested his hand on your knee, letting you know he was there. You managed to calm down quicker this time and pulled out of Carla’s loving embrace.

You sniffled and said, “Did Papa call you yet?”

Carla smiled lightly at the name you had called Grisha since your father died and nodded.

“I have a plan.” She said, petting your hair.

You nodded and Eren asked, “What is it?”

“There are obviously a few things that we need to address, but the first one is ________’s mother. We need to get the police involved.” Carla said.

You sighed. You were afraid she was going to say that.

“I know you don’t want to ________, but we have to,” Carla said, petting your hair gently, “But don’t worry, we’ll be with you the whole way.”

You nodded and asked, “What do we do after that?”

“We get you in a rehab program to get your body to not be dependent on the drugs anymore.” She answered.

You nodded again and looked down at your hands.

“What about… the baby…?” Eren asked, hesitant.

You peeked up at Carla through your lashes, curious to see her reaction.

She smiled a little sadly and said, “It’s still early on. We need to take care of those two things first, and then we’ll turn our attention to that. Oh, and we need to get that infection cleared up! That’s really priority number 1. Well, 1A, since we can do that and the police at the same time.”

You giggled a little at her, causing her to smile at you.

“Mom, can ________ stay with us from now on?” Eren asked.

“Of course! We’re getting that bitch thrown in jail so she needs somewhere to live. And this is the safest place for her.” Carla said.

You and Eren looked at the woman in shock.

“Mom!” Eren exclaimed, wide-eyed.

She looked at you two and asked, “What?”

“You never swear,” you giggled, “At least, not like that!”

The woman shrugged and said, “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

You giggled again and nodded.

“My mom should be out doing god knows what right now, so we should probably go get my stuff.” You said, looking to Eren.

He nodded and you stood, say goodbye to your new mother and going to the car. It didn’t take long to reach your house and you sighed in relief when you saw that your mother’s car was indeed gone. You quickly went inside and to your room. You went to your closet and reached for the large duffle bag that was on the top shelf, but couldn’t reach it.

“Need some help there?” Eren asked, coming up behind you and putting a hand on your waist.

“Yes please.” You said, tilting your head back so you could look up at him.

He smiled down at you and gave you a quick kiss before grabbing the bag. He placed it on your bed and helped you shove your small wardrobe into it. You didn’t have a lot of stuff, since you didn’t see any of the money you made from ‘working’, so your belongings were few and far between and all fit into your duffle and backpack. Shoving the last item into your bag, a photo of you and Eren from when you were kids, you froze as you heard the front door slam shut.

“________, are you back? Whose piece of shit car is that?” Your mother yelled, sounding mostly sober.

You took a deep, shuddering breath and felt Eren wrap his arms around you.

“We’ll make something up and get out of here quickly, I swear.” He whispered, kissing your forehead.

You nodded and took another deep breath before steeling your nerves and walking downstairs.

“There you are,” your mother said, her drawn on eyebrows pinching together when she saw you, “What the fuck is all this?”

Your mind blanked and you started to panic slightly, looking to Eren for help.

“Max asked to barrow some stuff from ________ for a project and since we were all planning on hanging out today, I just decided to drive her.” Eren said, forcing a smile.

Your mother eyed you both for a moment before nodding slowly.

“Whatever. As long as your back in time for our plans tonight.” She said, staring you down.

A chill ran down your spine and squeezed out “Yes ma’am….”

She nodded again and waved her hand dismissively as she walked towards the kitchen. You quickly ran out the door and Eren threw your bags into the back seat. You got in the car and Eren sped the whole way back to his house. Once there, he put your things in his room and you sat down with his mother again.

“So, you’re supposed to work tonight?” She asked, pulling out her phone.

You nodded and watched as she dialed a number.

“Hannes, hi, it’s Carla,” she said, tilting her head a little, “Listen, Grisha and I need a favor.”

She listened for a moment before humming.

“Great,” Carla said, smiling, “You remember Eren’s friend ________, right? Well, turns out her mother is a horrid bitch and has been forcing ________ into sex work for the past few years. She was so scared that she wasn’t able to tell us anything before today when she saw Grisha for an exam. The bitch has also been forcing ________ to take drugs. Is there any way to set her up tonight to get her arrested?”

She listened again and you could faintly hear someone talking on the other end of the line, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Wonderful. We’ll come by the station when Grisha gets home. Thanks.”

The woman hung up and looked at you with a smile.

“That hag should be in jail tonight.” She said, a sly smirk on her lips.

You were still a little shocked to see this side of Eren’s mother, but you kind of liked it. You smiled yourself and hugged your new mom, thanking her.

“What do we do after she’s arrested?” Eren asked.

“Well, first, since ________ is still 17, your father and I will have to take care of whatever legal paperwork needs to be done to become her guardians. Then, rehab.” Carla said, stroking your hair.

You nodded and reached out for Eren’s hand. He laced his fingers with yours and brought your hand up, kissing it lovingly. You ended up cuddling up with Eren on the couch watching tv with his mother while waiting for your father to get home. Once he arrived, you all got into his car and drove to the police station.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding as you watched a cop handcuff your mother.

“You little bitch! How dare you do this to me! I’ll make you regret it!!” She screeched, fighting against the cop.

You huffed out a breath and turned away from her, searching for Eren. You spotted him quickly and made your way to him. He hugged you and kissed your forehead. The next step now was rehab. It turns out that your new mom had a friend that ran a really nice rehab facility. And you didn’t have to pay for a thing, since the courts had decided that your biological mother owed you sever hundred thousand dollars for all of the trauma and damages she caused. You kept up with your school work while in rehab, but a little over two weeks into the program, you ended up in the hospital. They called Carla and your family quickly raced over.

“________,” Eren cried, bursting into you room, “Are you ok?! What happened?!”

You smiled tiredly at him and reached out for his hand. He quickly came to your side and held your hand with both of his.

“I miscarried.” You said simply.

Eren’s eyes widened at the news, and he didn’t know how to react, not knowing how you felt.

“How do you feel about the situation?” Your mom asked, sitting next to you on your bed and petting your head.

You smiled sadly and said, “I’m a little sad but, it’s best that this happened. I’m not ready for a baby and I honestly don’t know how I would have handled having a child from that situation. So, I'm ok.”

Eren frowned and said, “You don’t look like you’re ok.”

You laughed lightly and said, “I meant mentally and emotionally. Physically I’m tired as fuck and still in pain. Both from rehab and this. But I really am fine. I’ll be better in no time, I promise.”

Eren sighed lightly but nodded. You leaned up and kissed him gently before resting back in your bed.

Two months later, you were back home with Eren and your new family and you would be graduation high school soon. You were clean and sober a little over two months and you had recovered from the miscarriage completely. Your life was normal now, and you couldn’t be any happier with your boyfriend and your new family.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #eren jeager #eren yeager #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader

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myelocin · 3 years

Text

tomato sauce for hello, and mornings for i love you

synopsis: “you are the who, love is the what, and this is the why.”

genre: fluff | wc: 2,300+

characters: konoha akinori

this is why i need you | jesse ruben

a/n: HALLOW??? HALLOWWW?????? @gg9183 MY ANGEL MY LOVE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO U we will ignore the fact that i am late i meant to post this yst but my laptop updated and i didnt save a fat chunk of this LOL. (speech aside) i love you. konoha loves u. i’m in this corner of the world blowing a candle for u and cheering u on always. happy birthday my best girl <3

It’s a good day to love you today.

Konoha’s up by seven, then at the grocery store by seven forty-five. A quick breakfast in the car: just a bottle of orange juice and a bag of chips that he just knows you’ll scold him for.

Pick up the balloons after heading to the bakery, then finding a way to somehow sneak all of what he has prepared in the house before you wake up. He smiles, delighting in the thought of another year with you.

Three birthdays together, a little apartment situated close to the city, and a multitude of inside jokes that would piss off Bokuto on the days he feels excluded. You snicker with him when he whispers his commentary towards you in the theaters, and he’ll do the same when you critique how the popcorn tastes that day.

There’s a lot of unknowns that balance what keeps the joy afloat, he thinks. He doesn’t know what to say when calling the doctor for his yearly checkup, and he doesn’t know how to counter the what-if scenarios the two of you usually talk about.

Sitting in his car, he chuckles. The rush hour of the morning borders unforgivable today, and while he could have sat still in his car, grumbling about the inconvenience, he settles for huffing towards it instead—defining factors like that as one of the inevitables in life.

So he thinks of you.

He left the house a little before sunrise, with you still asleep in bed. On the left side, wrapped in 75% of the blankets, with the plush cradled in between your arms. Some days he regrets winning that for you. While you said the expression on the hamster’s face mirrors his when he’s coming home from a rough day at work, it’s also the same plush that’s usually sandwiched in-between the two of you every time he tries to hold you at night.

Some days it’s like that, but today, he’s thankful it’s there to keep you company while he’s out here.

He’s always heard about the things people do for love, and while in the beginning he was never one to believe in its influence, as he catches a glimpse of himself on the rearview mirror, he laughs. There’s at least ten paper bags from the grocery store—all of which are meant just for breakfast, and a box with the god-awful hot pink wrapping paper he couldn’t have changed at the very last minute.

It’ll have to make do, he supposes. Slip ups happen sometimes, and in love, perfection is only a far-fetched dream.

In youth, love is make believe. Love is the ice cream truck that passed by his street every afternoon, and the coins his mother would leave out on the kitchen table for him just enough to treat himself. Love is the stories and the idea that he’d find a hand to hold and squeeze tight, even if all the boys in class would roll their eyes and stay away from the cooties.

Love is good.

Then as it stays good, love becomes great.

He learns of that the second he turned twenty and met you on aisle three of the grocery store at 2 in the morning. Pyjama bottoms, hair in a bun, and you’re squinting at the labels—trying to decide whether to get chocolate or vanilla for the frosting.

He said his hello then, because love at that time was also the three second push that came into his life as a show of brevity.

Konoha eases off the brakes, letting the car roll for a good couple of meters before slowly coming into a stop again—the traffic still present.

With a sigh, he resorts to tapping on the steering wheel and reliving through the memories again. He had no game then, he realizes. He approached you with half of the pickup line he plucked from reddit jumbled up as he said it, and he had a tomato sauce stain on his shirt.

Now that he thinks about it, he looked a little sleazy.

But the world has its ways of redefining what it means to be perfect, he supposes. What happened after was you turned your head, two tubs of frosting on either of your hands, and a smile already cracking its way through the prior confusion on your face.

And shit, he remembers, that’s all it took for him to realize that perhaps this is what they mean about the great that comes with the redefinition of love.

From then, you became a fixture of his every day. Three years since tomato sauce stains and your icing dilemma, he still learns more and more about you, finding home and falling in love as the days go by.

So today is a good day to love you.

Your third birthday you’re celebrating with him, and he’s in his car crawling his way through the traffic with a jar of tomato sauce and two kinds of canned icing in the paperbags in the back seat just to commemorate the first hello.

Tapping his finger against the steering wheel, he smiles. There’s a comfort in knowing that you’re headed home. Back to you, back to love.

He hopes that god awful plush is keeping you warm, Konoha thinks with a smile. Then with a laugh, he steps his foot off the brakes again, the world letting what’s there flow as motion comes once more and eases him into the road that brings him closer to you.

An hour later, he’s trudging up the stairs.

To be fair, in the parking lot he did try to think of at least a speech to present to you. Perhaps the classic ‘I love you, babe. Happy birthday,’ followed by a suave look, a bouquet of flowers, and breakfast in bed. He smirks, knowing even though blunt sentimentality has never been you nor his’ style when it comes to communication, you always had a soft spot for the moments where he did remind you that his love will always have the intention to stay.

Staring infront of the door, all it takes to put himself together is a deep breath, an honest smile, and just like that, he’s good to go.

Cake in hand and the strings to the balloon pinched in between his fingers, he nudges the door open, trying to be quiet as he cranes his neck and listens for noise inside the house. Delighting in the silence, he makes his way in, careful so he doesn’t disturb the peace.

Mornings have always been easy with you.

You wake up around the same time as he does, and breakfast is always shared at a table for two. Easy conversation, sleepy smiles, and little chuckles sprinkled before the beginning of the day is kickstarted.

Konoha smiles. There’s a cake with a smiley face iced in the center and a bouquet with all your favorite blooms in tow. A whole lot of love is the product of the bits built one on top of the other from the everyday that remains his—though it’s as much as yours too.

There’s love found in home, three years shown within, and the subtle promise of a lifetime in the presence that stays.

“You know,” a voice jolts him. Konoha, wide eyed, turns towards the kitchen, quickly spotting you.

You’re sat in your usual spot by the window, a bowl of cereal in front of you, and his hoodie wrapped around your frame. You smirk at him, spoon in hand, eyes to him. “If you’re going to surprise me, you could have probably pulled it off if you didn’t have a whole concert in the shower.”

His tongue pokes his cheek, the red on his face displayed in full colors because of how bright the morning is. “Last night you said you were sleeping in, so I figured you’d be knocked the fuck out till 10 or something.”

“That was the plan,” you laugh, shifting your eyes back down to your breakfast and scooping up a bite.

You hear a huff, then when you turn to him, you smile again. Konoha’s standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the living room now. His Donald Duck house slippers on, and his socks aren’t even matching. On top of the paper bags on the table, he’s still trying his hand at balancing the cake, bouquet, and strings from the balloon in his hand.

He’s looking at anywhere but towards you.

Laughing softly under your breath, you throw him a lifeline. “Want me to turn around and have you clean up your entrance so that I can pretend to be surprised when you say happy birthday?”

When you look back up, he’s already made it halfway across the living room, just now stepping into the kitchen to plop down on the seat in front of you. Puffing his cheeks, he sets the boxes down on the clear end of the table and leans forward. Meeting him halfway, you smile as he presses a quick kiss on your temple.

In laughter, he eases into love. “Happy birthday,” he smiles.

Smiling along with him, you hold out the spoonful you meant to give to yourself in offering towards him. “Morning.”

Even though he’s a little disappointed he couldn’t pull off the surprise, the smile on his face is still cheeky when he faces you. Mornings are easy, he thinks again, because love is.

“I can still cook for you,” he offers, taking the fork from your hand and reaching in the bowl to pick at the bits of fruit instead of the actual cereal.

You quirk a brow in his direction. “By that do you mean you’ll just plate the takeout you got and hide the boxes so you can tell me you cooked for me?”

“Will that impress you?” Konoha laughs, the smile on his face easy.

“Depends,” you shrug. “What kinda takeout did you get?” Peering into the boxes he tries to shield with his body, he eventually moves away with a laugh when you swat him on the shoulder and poke him to the side. “Was anything even open this early?”

He points the fork with the slice of strawberry in your direction, his face smug. “I ordered in advance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lean forward and take a bite, laughing when he gives you a look for biting the piece you don’t doubt he’s been eyeing for a while now.

You snort, recalling the memory of him hunched over the desk the other night, shooing you away everytime you’d enter the room. “Tell me you didn’t bother that poor auntie at 11 in the evening just for this?”

He looks away, eyes closed. “I’m a resourceful man.”

“She’s in her sixties and 11 is probably three hours past her bedtime!” you laugh.

Konoha looks at you anyway, smiling. “But are you happy I got you your pastries?”

Eyeing the box, it doesn’t take much for love to resettle into peace again, your joy quickly mirroring his. “You drove all the way there for me?”

“Always for you,” he responds, like it’s the most obvious thing.

You reach forward and pinch his cheek, finding love in the silly bits of him too. “But you always complain about how annoying it is to drive this early in the morning. I know rush hour’s a bitch,” you try to reason.

He shakes his head. “I know. But it’s your day.”

“You drove there last week too when I was craving,” you mutter. Konoha crosses his arms one over the other, and leans his head against it down on the table. Looking through his lashes and up at you, he beams. “That’s because I love you.”

Poking through a bigger piece of fruit from your bowl, you bring the fork towards him, until it’s just barely poking at his lips. “You know, you’re really sweet when you’re decided.”

Accepting the strawberry, Konoha suppresses a chuckle. “I’m always decided when it comes to you, what do you mean?”

Shrugging, you sift through the contents of your bowl, looking for more slices of fruit. You’ll add more next time, you note in the back of your mind. He smiled more when he ate the strawberries instead of the initial blueberry.

“I also got tomato sauce and icing,” he admits, tilting his head to the paper bags still on the coffee table in the living room. “To commemorate hello.”

“So you’re a poet now, I see,” you tease.

“I can be a lot of things in this life.”

You tilt your head. “Like?”

“I’ll tell you once I think about more things that impress you the most.”

You smile. “Just be Akinori.”

He smiles again, love written along the peace in his expression. “Deal.”

“It’s nice to be loved,” you tell him, eyeing the bouquet with the blooms and the cake with the smiley face peeking through the window of the box.

“Because I love you, that’s why,” he replies.

Morning is easy.

A table for two, light conversation, and a history lived and loved even though silence tends to resettle in the room from time to time. Memory relished through love and the flow of the day nurturing enough for him to delight in the moment and feel at ease because this is the kind of love that’s meant to stay kind for a lifetime.

“Happy birthday,” he smiles, and when you look at him, he thanks his lucky stars for that three second rush of brevity that pushed him to begin love with a hello.

ily always <3

#gray <33

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dirtyoatmeall · 3 years

Text

Bokuto’s Cool Sister (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

A/N: Here is an actual fic! I have a list of shit to write I’m slowly working through, next will either be more head canons or a one shot. I’m re-watching AOT rn to get caught up with the new season so sorry about being absent! Luv u guys a lot

Pairing: Tsukishima x Bokuto sibling reader (No pronouns or gendered language used toward reader, not referred to as sister just used for title purposes), Bokuto x Akaashi, Kenma x Kuroo

Word Count: 2k! (longest ever!)

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (everyone at least 20), mentions of secs

~~~

You groaned as you neared the door to your apartment, seeing that the door was not cracked open a little for you to nudge open like you had asked your brother to do as you pulled into the complex. You remember him vaguely mentioning friends coming over, and you can hear music faintly coming from the apartment, but he always checks his phone, especially when you're coming from the store.

You try to balance the milk on your knee to open the door, and just as you think you have it, the door doesn’t budge. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your brother never locks the doors, why would he now? His car is in the parking lot and you can hear noise inside, so he’s home. Instead of putting groceries on the ground and fishing your keys out of your purse like a normal person, you make the decision to kick the door, not very hard, but hard enough to be heard in the apartment.

“Kou! Why is the door locked? Will you come open it for me, I have groceries!” You can hear your brother tumbling towards the door, apologies flying out of his mouth a mile a minute. The door swings open, revealing your brother, grimace on his face. “Sorry! I totally forgot you were at the store, I think ‘Kaashi might’ve locked it.” You sighed, not being able to stay mad at your brother’s friend.

You walk in, jerking your head in the general direction of the parking lot, “I have some more in my car, can you go grab it?” He nods, grabbing his key ring and jogging out. Both of you had the spare key to each other’s cars, which turned out to be more convenient then you originally thought.

You move toward the kitchen, yelling out a greeting to your brother’s boyfriend. “Akaashi! Next time you come over to fuck my brother let me know before so I can have my keys out, or just leave the door unlocked and go in his room!” You had a joking, yet scolding tone of voice, imagining his flustered state at your words. What you did not expect, was a hyena-like laugh to come from the direction of the living room. You were almost positive your brother said Akaashi was here.

You place the groceries on the counter and make your way to the living room, freezing in the doorway. Akaashi was there, but so were 3 other people. Akaashi was red, shaking his head that was resting in his palms. There was someone playing on a gaming console on the couch who had their legs thrown over the lap of the laughing one, and one on the other couch, tall and blonde, who looked weirdly familiar, who had a faint smirk on their face. You grimace, you didn’t realize your brother had actual friends over, he usually just meant Akaashi or the occasionally Hinata. “Oops sorry ‘Kaashi, didn't know Kou was having other people over.”

He lifted his head, face still slightly flushed and smiled. “It’s fine (Y/N)-san, do you need help with the groceries?” You shook your head, pointing behind you in the direction of the kitchen, where you could hear your brother rummaging around. “Nah, I made Koutaro get the rest. If you guys are staying for dinner let me know and I’ll make something instead of making him go to the food truck for me. By the way, who are the rest of you? I literally thought Kou was lying about having friends.”

The blonde one snorted, you narrowed your eyes slightly, he looked so familiar, you just couldn’t quite place it. The one playing the console seemed familiar too, you think you might’ve seen him on Twitter. The only one you didn’t recognize was the first to speak. “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro, we all played volleyball together in high school, I’m surprised he hasn’t talked about us before.”

You nod in understanding, “Oh so that’s where. I’m sure he has, I just probably wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. I mean you guys seem kinda familiar, more the other two than you, were you like benched a lot?” The quiet one next to him looks up to see his reaction and snorts at the disbelief on Kuroo’s face. “Yeah, Kuro wasn’t very good.” The half blonde says, giggling softly as Kuroo gasps and yells at him. “Kenma!” He turns to you, “I was the captain and a very good player actually.” You laugh as Kenma behind him makes a face that says ‘That’s what you think.’ Before Kuroo could whine some more, Akaashi speaks.

“Kenma-san is a YouTuber, which is probably where you’ve seen him. He and Kuroo-san played for Nekoma, I’m surprised you didn’t remember them from that, you remembered Lev-san.” Kenma actually laughs at that, and Kuroo is pouting as Akaashi continues, a cheeky smile on his face that told you he purposefully sprinkled that last little tidbit in.

“Tsukishima-san, aren’t you a museum-studies major?” The blonde on the loveseat across from the other three nods, and you snap your fingers, finally realizing where you know him from. “Oh, that makes sense! I think we’ve had a class or two together. I’m an archaeology major.” Tsukishima’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but before he could speak, your brother finally comes in from the kitchen.

“(Y/NNNNN), I put everything away, we were going to go to Onigiri Miya tonight, wanna come?” You nod and swat at his had when he ruffles your hair before plopping down to his boyfriend. You go to leave your brother and his friends, taking one last glance at Tsukishima, who seemed to have the same idea, he averted his eyes the moment yours met, and you smirked to yourself on the way to the kitchen to re-put away the groceries. You loved your brother, but he definitely did not know where to put things, your thought validified as you pull the eggs from the pantry, switching it with the instant ramen packets in the fridge. Good thing he was a great volleyball player. ` Later that night, you join the boys for dinner at Onigiri Miya. You take two separate cars, you driving your brother and Akaashi and Kuroo driving Kenma and Tsukishima. Kuroo made a joke about racing there, which you took as a personal challenge, much to the dismay of Akaashi. You would’ve won too, but you had to pull over to kick Koutaro in the backseat for playing Nickelback. He buys your food as an apology, and Kuroo’s food because he won (you venomed him later for your share of food, which he promptly venomed back to you with angry faces in the description.). The 6 of you sat in a corner booth, you were sandwiched between Akaashi and Tsukkishima with Kuroo between your brother and Kenma on the other side.

The table was loud with jokes, laughing, and yelling as everyone ate their meals. You snuck drinks of ‘Akaashi’s’ margarita when the waitress wasn’t looking (You were 20 and Akaashi submits to peer pressure from you easily). “(Y/N), are you not 21 yet?” Kuroo asked as he watched you nudge the drink toward Akaashi as the waitress talked to the other table. You turned to Kuroo, cheeks just barely flushed. “Hm? Oh no I’m not, I’m two years younger than you guys, I turn 21 in a few months.”

Kuroo hummed in understanding and got a suspiciously mischievous look on his face. “Oh, you’re the same age as Tsukkishima, and you guys have similar majors, how interesting” Your eyebrows furrow and you snort. “So do over a thousand other people Kuroo, its not a super niche subject.” You turn to Tsukkishima and continue, “Hm I didn’t realize we were in the same year, I thought you were older, must be your grumpy grandpa like disposition.” Akaashi explained what disposition meant to your brother and Kuroo snickered before he was shut down by Kenma, who has been doing an excellent job of roasting Kuroo at every chance he gets. “You laugh like everyone doesn’t call you old man behind your back.”

You laughed for the umpth time that night, Tsukishima watching you, he could really see the sibling resemblance when you laughed. You throw your head back and laugh loudly, from your gut much like your brother. Tsukishima looks away from you, catching Kuroos eye in the process, the blonde rolls his eyes at the smirk on Kuroos face. Out of the 5 of them, he was the only one not in a relationship and Kuroo has been trying to set him up since Bokuto and Akaashi finally got together at Akaashi’s graduation.

Tsukishima looks at you again, watching you take a sip of the margarita, and subsequently watches it almost come out of your nose as you laugh at something Akaashi said to Bokuto, clutching the former's shoulder, hand over your nose. There was no doubt that you were pretty, and you did have similar interests. His thoughts were interrupted by you turning to him, knee-knocking against his thigh. “Have you taken Anth 267?” He nods “I took it last quarter.” He replies and watches you sigh in relief. “Oh thank god, I’m having trouble meeting her insane essay expectations. I usually have ‘Kaashi read through mine but would it be ok if I sent them to you? Or at least bounced topics off you?” When he agrees you smile, unlocking your phone and sliding it towards him, a new contact open. “Oh great, here, why don’t you put your number in?” As he fills it out, his eyes involuntarily flit to the text message appearing at the top of your screen. From: That Sunny Bitch

Ew you think Tsukki’s hot? He’s a good volleyball player but he was a meanie in high school 😝

He held back the urge to smirk. That must be Hinata based on the name. He quickly finished the contact and gave your phone back before giving his to you, and you quickly typed in your contact info, as well as snapping a quick contact photo. It was super close to your face with your tongue out, a good tell of your personality. You give his phone back and the two of you talk more about school and classes before everyone gets ready to leave.

Your brother stands up first, and you take advantage of his large frame and chug the rest of the margarita down, smiling big at Akaashi who chastises you about drinking it so fast. You all wave to Osamu as you leave, and before Tsukishima can get to Kuroo’s car, he turns to the group, smirking. “I've got to run Kenma by our apartment to grab his charger, we’ll meet you guys.” You nod, handing your keys to Akaashi and turn to Tsukishima. “You can sit in the back with me Tsukishima!” Though you might be promoted to passenger if Bokuto makes bad music choices again.” You glare at your brother as you finish the sentence, and he whines about how his taste ‘isn’t that bad!’

The car ride back to your apartment is short, and you spend it chatting with Tsukki, as you’re now allowed to call him, and you spend the rest of the night with the boys, playing games and watching movies until early morning. Kuroo and Kenma leave first, and Kenma made your night when he looked you in the eye and said goodbye. Tsukki left about an hour later, his roommate picked him up. Akaashi ended up staying over, and you were glad your bedroom was on the other side of the apartment from your brother’s. You fell into bed content with the day, happy you were able to meet your brother’s friends.

You awoke mid-day, and you browsed your notifications before dropping your phone on your bed when you read one text message, heat spreading over your cheeks. You definitely do not remember changing his contact name.

From: Hot classmate Tsukki

Hey, how about we go over your essay over some coffee tonight?

#my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x you

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zuffer-weird-girl · 3 years

Text

Interruption (modern au)

The school of U.A was one of the most popular and importants around Japan and the area. You and a few other teachers were considered lucky to work as teachers there and some even envy you all for the payment.

Well... you and your coworker Aizawa could say other wise.... Toshinori, Mic and the others could sure be happy but the job was draining. And now with this pandemic thing going on it seemed that online classes were more exhausting then the normal ones... the hell?

'At least you dont have to get out of the house' you commented once on a teachers reunion and some answered you by laughter, others by whines and Aizawa only sipping his slcoffe while petting his cat as Eri gave all of you a cheerful greeting.

"Eh?!?!?!? So is not 160 the answer?!" You heard Denki Kaminari voice at your computer as you giggled at the bunch of laughter on the zoom chat.

"By my calculations is seems like the answer is 90, right (L/n)-sensei?" You nodded at your camera at seing and hearing Momo as you clicked on some things and showing the online board.

"You guys can see the results and the solving of the problem here. Any questions? Kaminari?"

"Oh shit it was that simple?" You snorted as some of the bakusquad as they named themselves laughed.

"Fucking stupid who cant solve a problem."

"Bakugou..." you scolded softly before you saw it Midoriya's hand raised "Yes Midoriya?"

"(Y/n)-sensei there is a problem of anatomy that I wanted to discuss with you!"

"Oh, of cour-!"

"No one cares DEKU!"

"Bakugou!" You scolded again and sighed, supporting your head on your hands as you tried to control your laughter... Those kids never failed to amuse or to entertain you.

You heard the door cracking open and you turned your head to the apartment door to see your boyfriend coming from work with a exausted face. Tossing his jacket aside as he called your name softly.

You mouthed a sorry to your students while pressing the mute and turning off the camera... well, that's was what you wanted to do at least.

"Hey." You spike softly as he only scotted to you, wrapping his bandages arms on your waist and making himself at home in your arms as you giggled softly, combing his dyed hair on your fingers as he rested his face on the crook of your neck.

You took the chance of grabbing your computer and your notebook with your pens, placing the laptop on top of you and your tired boyfriend as he breathed in and out on you, ocassionaly tightening his hold on you.

"Sorry guys, I will have to continue the class without the camera but moving on-" you heard giggles and snickers from many of your students but you simple brushed off as then messing ok his phones instead of paying attention to classes... you could only scold them softly with a joke or two but hey, is not like you can do what you usually did on classes.

The class moved on, you answering questions and praising everyone for their hard work as the male on top of you smuggled his face every once in a while on you, coincidentally the giggles getting just after that.

"Well usually we would have ten minutes left, but since I know all of you are exausted I will let you all have a break." You said while writing on your notebook some annotations as some students cheered.

"You're the best (L/n)-sensei!" You shaked your head with a smile at Kirishima's words, glad at least that your voice wasn't mumbled by your boyfriend's hair.

"Thank you thank you. Any more questions? I will be solving them." You hummed at seing Shoto's hand raised, Todoroki wasn't much of a talker yet his relationship with you was particularly interesting and like he was even a little brother to you as well. "Yes Todoroki-kun?"

"First, thank you for the class (Y/n)-san." You snorted, your only student who called you that "And second, Touya. Mom, Natsuo and Fuyumi send a hi and asked if things were okay for both of you."

Your eyes widened as one turquoise eye cracked open lazily, staring directly at the camera before you bursted in embarrased laughter along with your students, poor Shouto not understand why everyone was laughing that much.

"So you catched us huh?" You giggled as Touya sighed, closing his eyes once again and answering a few of questions including of his little brother.

"Oh gosh." You spoke after seing the time writen on your laptop "I took the break of all of you, I'm so sorry kids."

"Don't worry (L/n)-sensei!" Urakaka spoke on the mic as the others agreed to her words.

"You with Todoroki-kun's older brother is just so cuteeeee!!! I ship it!" Mina made a signal of heart with her hands on her camera as you giggled, your boyfriend shaking from the movement of your chest.

"Right right, thank you guys. Now I will leave the class to Aizawa before he rips my head out." They all whined as Touya tsked on your neck at they behaviour.

"Mom also asked if we could visit on this weekend." You snorted as the other students laughed at Shouto's words before Touya just raised his hand to give a thumbs up before plopping down to your waist. "He said yes."

"Okay now, dont forget to do your homework and study for the online text tommorow, I'm looking at noth of you Mina and Kaminari." They all made a salute out of joke as you rolled your eyes and wished them a good day before finishing your class.

You looked at your boyfriend, whose was still face deep buried on your neck a syou chuckled.

"Come on! It was kinda of funny!" You yelped at the pinch you received on your thigh before softening your gaze and playing with his hair, his natural color slowly growing and coming back.

"Is everything okay? You want to talk about it?" You felt him shake his head as a no on your neck before breathing in and tightening his hold on you.

"Shitty day doll..." he mumbled before you kissed his head as you cooed over your boyfriend.

"Its okay baby, take a nap, my job is over for today so..." you layed with his hair as he hummed, body relaxing and slowly giving onto slumber.

You soon received both messages of Natsuo and Fuyumi on the group chat you were added some months ago. The only member being the todoroki siblings, you and Rei.

Natsuo:

Party rock onto Touya's house tonight!😝🎵🎶

Fuyumi:

Thanks for accepting us in your apartment (Y/n)-chan!

Natsuo:

Yeah! Thanks a lot... but can you do us ust a favor? Send a pic of that sleepy head to us will you?😂👌 we saw through Shouto screen right when you ended the classes and we couldn't get it!

You snorted, clicking on the app of camera and snapping one or three pics of him sleeping on your chest as you sended only two, the most precious one where you got him smilling on your neck you decided to make as a wallpaper.

Natsuo:

Doesn't even look like the old man he is 😂😂😂🤣🤣

Fuyumi:

💕💓😚

Rei:

Thank you for taking care of him (Y/n), my son looks so peaceful on your arms sweety 😊🙏

Shouto:

Classes are over.

Natsuo:

ALREADY?!😱

Shouto:

Yes. I was just going to ask if (Y/n)-san would like to taste cold soba. Do you, (Y/n)-san?

"Look at what you got yourself into.." you yelped softly at the vibrations of his voice on your neck before carresing his cheek.

"I thought you were sleeping?"

"I have ears, the flash also bothered my eyes doll." He mumbled as you deadpanned.

Shit...

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha villains #bnha characters #bnha x reader #bnha villains x reader #dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #zuffer writings

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ghostfacesvalentine · 3 years

Text

It’s my dad - Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some mention of abuse/overprotective father, some cursing.

Type: One shot

Request: N/A

Word Count: 1538

Prompt: Billy Hargrove helps fen!reader escape home and she ends up being his girl

Notes: I kind of feel like I'm slacking in my writing a lot, but this just kinda popped into my head on the drive home so I hope you enjoy it. It was going to end in smut but maybe another time or a part two maybe??? idk

"I'm not scared of him Y/N" Billy protested as he slung his keys onto the nightstand, you tossed your tattered backpack onto the floor next to the bed and fell back into it. Relief overcame your joints as you looked up to see Billy, his messy hair, chest heaving from the adrenaline rush of your recent escape. "I know you're not, but if he finds me, I don't really know what'll happen." You admitted, you were sick of living at home with your father. There had been so many failed attempts in running away and far too many plans in the making. You tried everything, bus, trains, cars, even an airplane, but nothing was successful to your luck. Your father would always find you and it wasn't even like he had to try hard, you weren't the best at planning.

Each time you were caught, you were defeated more and more each day. He took away all your privileges, it was so frustrating. You were never walking to school with bruises or cuts, but this was all psychological. Your dad would tell you he's just looking out for you, or he's protecting you, but this wasn't normal and it was getting hard to breathe. This was your junior year of high school and you had absolutely no freedom. It was all helpless until a shiny blue camero revved up into the Hawkings high school parking lot. There was no way you stood a chance, there just wasn't. Still, you had Billy in history class and you caught his attention fast. After only a few weeks of hanging out you were making out under the stairwell, skipping class with him, mostly in his car. You didn't make much mention of your dad and he didn't really ask. It didn't come up until a few months into this little fling, he said he'd pick you up at eight. You would always put him off, using lame excuses about school work or that you weren't feeling well, eventually you said you just weren't feeling like it. Billy wasn't used to rejection and he didn't take to this kindly. "Alright so what the fuck is it? What's the deal? I'm just wasting my time or what." He sneered as you jolted when he slammed his car door shut. In defeat you looked down, hugging your books, pursing your lips you avoided his eyes. "Earth to Y/N." He snapped, visibly frustrated. "It's my dad Billy." You explained to him everything, absolutely everything. You didn't have many close friends to unravel in front of and so this all just poured out of you. Before you knew it tears were rushing out of your eyes, hot streams flowed through your cheeks as you took everything out of your chest. You didn't think Billy would care, but at least he'd know why you were putting him off. Rubbing the back of your hand across your cheeks, still avoiding eye contact, you could feel Billy just staring at you. Through the blurry vision, you could make out a frown, the bell had rung some time ago, the parking lot was empty, the cool breeze hit your exposed skin. You wanted to run and hide, but where to. Billy pulled you into a hug when you fell silent, trying to steady your breathing, he didn't let you pull away until you eased. "So your dad's a dick. You could've told me this before." He uttered, looking down to you, cradling your face between his hands, your eyes red and puffy as they looked up to him.

Now you were in a hotel room, in the same position, cradled between Billy's hands. "He's not going to come get you, he'll be dead before he takes a step into the room." It seemed like he almost promised. You were still taken aback as to how far Billy had gone for you. It had been weeks you were planning this with him. You packed up all your valuables, anything that could be replaced was left behind. Traveling lightly was key according to Billy. He parked at the end of your street at two a.m flickering the lights of his car four times. The week before he had snuck over to pry the screen off the outside of your window for tonight. He struggled a bit, but it came off, making it easier to slide out onto the lawn. When you plopped onto the dewy grass you stood still for a second, waiting for your dad's shadow to appear and your heart to fall to your stomach, but there was nothing. So you made a run for it.

You ran like you never have before, you almost slipped a few times but eventually made it into the car, Billy didn't take long to speed off.

"Thank you for helping me Billy." You winced as he pressed his lips down onto yours, walking you back slowly. The back of your knees hit the bed, causing you to fall back. Billy held himself up on top of you, pressing his lips against yours over and over. His lips tasted like peppermint gum and cigarettes, he smelt like cologne and smoke. You were intoxicated by his warmth.

You were still paranoid your door would come flying down, but you knew you could hide behind Billy. He pulled his head up to look down at you, his eyes meeting yours, noses barely touching

"What?" You whispered, frowning gently as he took a moment. He shook his head slightly, kissing your nose. He was progressively gentler, opening up slowly, you never expected this from him, only thinking yourself to be another girl of his, but it wasn't like he's done anything like this for anyone else no?

"You're safe Y/N. I promise. If we gotta keep running, then we will, but I'm not letting you out of my sight." He comforted as he kissed the top of your head. He slid onto the side of the bed, rolling you over onto his arms which you happily snuggled into. His hands flowed down to your sides, pulling you closer to him.

"Billy." You whispered again.

"Yeah?" He responded.

Your eyes opened and stared into his shirt "Why are you doing this, you could get in trouble you know." You wondered out loud. It was a real question. You liked Billy, you liked him a lot, but you were never sure if he felt the same way, not to the extent you did at least.

There was some silence for a second, you began to regret speaking until Billy interrupted your thoughts.

"I've never felt more at home with anyone, you know you started to push me away, find every excuse known to man to avoid seeing me, I thought you were seeing someone else for a while... or maybe that I wasn't good enough for you.. and that crushed me."

You could feel his chest tense up at the last pair of words.

Pulling your head out of the embrace to look at him, you frowned staring at him "No BIlly, it's not like that at all. I never knew if you were serious about, whatever this is, I don't know. Every girl in Hawkins has been all over you since you stepped foot in this town, I thought I was just another girl but, I haven't really seen you do anything this... crazy for anyone. Not that I know of."

You kind of regretted saying that, he could've of course replied by mentioning things he's done for other girls, but he didn't. Instead he took your head into his hands and pulled you in for a kiss, then another one and another one. Once you were out of breath, dazed and mesmerized, your eyes met him.

"Y/N. I've never done anything like this for anyone. I care for you, I want you to be my girl, I don't wanna see you hurt in the hands of anyone." He admitted with a soothing sleepy voice. "I mean it." You could only stare at him for a moment, it could be sudden, a few months in, but you didn't have this kind of softness or care from any of your exes, much less your dad.

"Do you wanna be my girl Y/N? Sweet face don't leave me hanging."

That cracked a smile in your face, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him softly. "Of course Billy I'd like to be your girl." A smile swooshed across both of your faces, laying there for a few seconds before BIlly broke the embrace and sat up "Come on sweetheart we gotta get ready for bed, I'm beat."

You sat up after him, he began to slide his clothing off, grabbing the tv remote and turning the box on. You scrambled through your bag looking for a tank top and some shorts to slide on. "Look at that, movie night." He grinned as he slid the remote onto the nightstand.

You smiled wide as you climbed back into his arms under the covers, you were exhausted and all you really wanted was to sleep and what better sleep than in Billy Hargrove's arms.

#Billy Hargrove #Stranger Things #Billy Hargrove x Reader #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billy Hargrove one shot

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star-spangledstud · 3 years

Text

MIND GAMES - THREE

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The team goes on a mission. You meet someone who might expose you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :) Sorry for being MIA for so long. I’ve been sad. Blegh.

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

Over the few days that follow, you become increasingly paranoid. It’s your own fault, because you shouldn’t have lied to the people that have welcomed you into their homes with open arms, but lying is a survival skill that you were taught many years ago, and old habits die hard. You become shadowy, avoid team members in the hallways and common areas of the penthouse floor you all share, and stay in your room as much as possible without alarming anyone. Of course Natasha knows something is up, but Steve doesn’t, and he waves off her concern as you simply ‘needing more time to adjust, Nat’. You watch their body language during breakfast – one of two meals a day you simply cannot get out of without causing anyone’s alarm bells to start ringing – and engage in light conversation wherever possible to keep them out of your hair.

Guilt gnaws at your insides when you find yourself wandering the deserted wrap-around balcony at nearly 3 a.m., brain searching for a clue to any bad things that might happen. If any one of them figures out you’re ex-hydra you’re done for, that much you know, but the man with golden hair and twinkling azure eyes might just be your ticket to safety.

The thought alone sickens you, because you vowed never to mess with someone’s feelings to get what you need ever again. It’s a twisted thought, but the vines of its root wrap themselves around the stem of your brain nonetheless.

A month after first moving in, you’ve already figured out their routines. Steve’s the early riser of the bunch, getting up every morning at 6:30 a..m. sharp to go on a run around the city. On rare occasions, he manages to convince Sam to come along with him, but more often than not, he remains in his bed until at least 10 o’clock, when Steve’s already come back to shower and get dressed for the day. Tony and Bruce are in the lab 24/7, both of them constantly bickering about artificial intelligence and microbiology among other matters you can’t even begin to understand. As a result, you don’t see them around too often, a notion you don’t particularly mind. Clint left to be with his family two weeks ago and hasn’t been back since, and Natasha leaves all the time, sometimes for days at a time. You don’t dare to ask anyone where she goes when she disappears, but nobody seems surprised to find her seat at the dining table empty again.

It’s a gloomy day when you wake up to find the entire place void of all life. Not even Steve, who’s adamant about his morning coffee, is there to grace you with his presence when you walk into the kitchen that Saturday morning. The counter is clean, no empty coffee cups, half-eaten bowls of oatmeal or bread crumbs to indicate anyone’s eaten yet, and all of the chairs are still perfectly lined against the table.

Your pulse involuntarily quickens to an uncomfortable pace, and you bite the inside of your cheek until the metallic taste of blood is heavy on your tongue. With quick steps, you walk towards the common room, footsteps loud in your ears when you consider where they might be. As expected, there’s nobody there. The TV is switched off, there are no dents in the heavy fabric of the couch from where Steve usually sits, and again, no empty cups or bowls can be found on the coffee table. You have the jitters when you finally get to the library, which is again void of all life.

Black socks covered in small holes squeak across the wooden floors when you walk around the room. It’s not surprising to see the library vacant. You’re sure Avengers have more pressing matters to tend to than reading books on any given day, but it was your last hope nonetheless. With your head tilted to the side, you focus on scanning the titles that line the walls. You follow every shelf in the room until your eye finally catches something. You take the book with a sigh, flip through its tattered pages, and wonder for a moment which one of the Avengers has read the crap out of Pride and Prejudice. Definitely not Sam, judging by his internal monologue. That guy doesn’t appear to have an ounce of romanticism inside him.

“They’re out,” a gentle voice suddenly says behind you, “Steve didn’t want to wake you up this morning to tell you.”

You slap your hand over your heart in surprise, and inhale sharply, “Jesus Christ, doc. You scared the hell out of me.”

Bruce throws his hands up in the air and shrugs his shoulders, “Sorry, it’s just me.”

“Are they on a mission?” you ask, feeling your heart jump in your chest like a skippy ball.

“Yeah, they should be back in a few days. Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You swallow thickly, noticing all of a sudden how your mouth is dry like sandpaper, “you just spooked me, that’s all. What kind of mission is it?”

“Intel gathering, in an out. That’s why I didn’t come. They only bring me when they need the green guy,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” you reply slowly, “how’s he holding up?”

“Asleep,” Bruce smiles, then clears his throat, “for now, anyway. Would you like to get some breakfast?”

You follow Bruce through the rain, which started to gust from the grey sky just as you were getting dressed. You’d rather have said no, but you knew you couldn’t; it wouldn’t be polite to decline his offer. Besides, he’s oblivious, and for whatever reason, he trusts you. When he bites into his chocolate croissant, you know why – Steve’s let you in. This notion once more confirms the thoughts that have been occupying your mind for the last week; Steve is your one-way ticket to inclusivity.

You shudder at the thought and fake a smile before taking a large sip of coffee. The cafe is small, mostly empty, and your seat by the window gives you a perfect view of pedestrians struggling in the howling, icy wind. One year ago, you could never have imagined yourself sitting in a café with a cup of coffee clutched between your fingers, chatting with someone who you could potentially call a friend. The idea alone of being able to enjoy a warm mug filled with freshly brewed coffee would’ve sounded preposterous to you.

There was no warmth with HYDRA. Only cold.

It takes the team three days to return from their mission. Three long days, during which you spend most of your time with Bruce in his lab, perched on a desk-chair with a book in your hands while he works on – actually, you have no idea what he’s working on. You quickly grow to become fond of him, because he doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill the silence between you with empty words. His thoughts are coherent, focused on his project, and the lingo is too advanced for you to understand, which makes it easy to drown out. His inner monologue is quiet, except for a few angry words from the Hulk when Bruce becomes frustrated with his work, but that only happened on day two, and only for ten minutes.

Steve smells like gun powder and sweat when he hugs you softly against his chest after exiting the Quinjet. Natasha waves at you, and the smile that dons her dirt-caked face surprises you, but you return it nonetheless. Sam even ruffles your hair, causes a sound to escape your throat that you haven’t heard yourself make in over a decade; a strange combination of a snort and a chuckle that sounds like music to your own ears. Your heart pounds again, but in a good way this time, because for a small moment in time, you’ve managed to put the guilt on the back-burner. The roaring engine behind you falls silent at last, and nobody else visibly exits the plane before you make it inside.

“You held up okay?” Steve asks as he follows you back inside the building.

You nod in response and shove your hands deep inside the pockets of your hoodie, “I’ve been helping Bruce with his research.”

“Oh, did you? How’s it coming?” he asks.

His eyes sparkle like two tiny stars even through the exhaustion that nearly forces them shut every time he blinks. He’s exhausted, you can tell, and you have to bite your tongue before you make a comment about the state he’s in.

“I mostly sat there while he did all the thinking. Turns out computer science isn’t really my thing after all.”

Steve fights a yawn that threatens to overcome him, and nods, “yeah, I feel you. I can barely get the damn things to start. I’ve given up on technology.”

He turns back to face you when he’s come to a halt in front of his room.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you where I went,” he tells you, meaning it as he says it, “we kinda left in a hurry, and you were still sleeping.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “I understand.”

He quickly retreats after that, leaving you once again with nothing to do. You go back to your room to grab the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice from your nightstand and, after plopping down on your bed, flip to the page where you last left off. You read for a while, before the idea to make some tea with warm milk and honey pops into your head, and you skip along the hallway to the kitchen with the book securely wrapped in your arms.

You’re surprised to hear Steve’s voice when you enter the common area, and a smile appears on his face the second his eyes fall on you. You raise one arm to wave at him, but a loud gasp and a large thud followed by the sound of breaking glass have you freezing on the spot before you can open your mouth to greet him at all.

Your head snaps towards the source of the sound, causing your neck to twist and crack painfully. Red, glowing eyes meet your large ones when you dare to look up at whoever made the noise, and the book in your hands falls to the ground with a loud bang that startles everyone in the room. You stumble backwards when you can feel the woman standing before you deep inside of your head, and you nearly trip over the rug when you instinctly try to get away from her. Frantically, you scramble to stop her from seeing more than she’s already seen. Still, by the time you manage to build up a mental barrier to keep her out of your head, it’s already too late.

You haven’t seen her before, and you can’t remember for the life of you if the image of her has popped up in any of the Avengers’ heads. Your brain is mushy, images hazy as you try to focus on keeping the woman from digging around deeper. You can see distant memories of your time with HYDRA flash before her eyes, and the images blur with the present in a spasm that makes your eyes water.

Wanda Maximoff lets out a shrill, piercing shriek, one that chills everyone to the bone. Thor, who you didn’t even know was there, is by her side before she can collapse onto the cold, hard floor, and Steve jumps up from his chair before you have time to register his movements. He grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen, fingers digging painfully in your tender flesh when he pulls you away from the scene. Sympathy fills Sam’s dark brown eyes when you turn back around to look at him, and guilt roils in your stomach when the redhead sinks to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

Your arms hang limply to your side when you watch Steve pace back and forth around his room. You’re waiting for him to yell at you, to tell you to get the fuck out of the compound and never return, but he remains awfully quiet. His silence confuses and unnerves you simultaneously.

His eyes, swimming with unimaginable depth, find your face while the scent of his cologne and pure testosterone invades your nostrils. Pressure clamps down on your chest, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to shiver. Never in your entire life have you wanted to read someone’s mind more.

“Are you alright?” your head cocks to the side, mouth twitching while you try to find words.

You nearly gave that woman an aneurysm, and he’s asking you if you’re okay?

“Yes,” you stammer, “I’m so sorry.”

“Wanda is telepathic,” Steve says, “she has trouble controlling what she sees sometimes.”

“Like I said, I’m so so-”

A soft exhale leaves your lips when Steve’s hands find their way to your shoulders, and your voice dies down in your throat when he bends down slightly to meet your eyes. Calloused fingertips penetrate the thin material of your t-shirt, and the warmth of his hands creates a buzzing sensation just beneath your skin.

“She was in Europe, scouting the location of the mission with Rhodey. She’s been in Eastern Europe for a while, that’s why you haven’t seen her. I should’ve told you about her.”

“Will she be okay?” you ask. You hardly recognize your own voice.

“Sam’s got her. She’s stronger than she looks. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You crave a cigarette all of a sudden, even though you don’t smoke. Alcohol then, maybe, to numb down the prickling sensation of firing synapses and goosebumps that line your bare arms. Yeah, a good couple of shots of whiskey will do the trick. Not vodka though, you hate that stuff.

You bite your bow-shaped lips and inhale deeply. Steve is so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. It’s wrong, being so near him after what just happened. You’re on thin ice. It won’t be long before the entire team, undoubtedly informed by what Wanda just saw, comes barging into Steve’s room, ready to drag you away to prison or worse, put a bullet through your skull. You deserve it, you think, for what you used to do. For who you used to be. You almost want somebody to call you out on your shit, because then at least you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.

But seconds turn into minutes, and nobody comes. It’s quiet, except for the sound of Steve’s breathing and the steady beating of his heart, and you realize when he looks at you with sympathy and sincerity that you hate yourself for lying. It’s an ironic realization, because lying is like second nature to you. HYDRA spent so much time ingraining it into your brain that it’s become almost like a second language, a means of communication that flows so naturally that you don’t even have an accent anymore. It’s brought you many things, and ruined even more people.

Your hands are going numb from how hard you’re clenching them into fists. Steve’s thumbs are rubbing small circles on your shoulders, and it takes all of your effort not to shake them off. You’re disgusted with yourself, bile threatening to rise to the back of your throat while the sensation of his warm fingers on you is the only thing left for you to feel. The world is dark and cold, but the heat radiating from Steve’s hands is just enough to stop you from getting frostbite. The concern is evident on his face, from the deep crease between his brows to the thin line of his lips; he’s worried about you, someone he doesn’t even know. Someone he would kill if he’d met you under any other circumstances.

You want to go home, you think to yourself, but as soon as the thought appears do you smack it down with your fist. You don’t have a home, you scold yourself, just like the doctors would tell you when you cried and screamed on the dingey operating table in the early days, when they didn’t control you yet. When they still wore their special masks to stop you from controlling their minds so they could freely fuck with yours.

It’s an icy reality, one that rattles you to your core every time it makes an appearance. Steve’s eyes are still scanning your face, which is twisted and contorted into a painful scowl before you even realize what’s happening.

An inexplicable panic washes over you, heart jackhammering in your chest while your cheeks turn a sickly shade of pink. A bead of sweat rolls down your back, followed by cold shivers that envelop your skin in ice. The scent of laundry detergent and cologne hits you like a truck, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from gagging.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice melting and morphing into the sound of rain slamming against the window like gunfire.

“My head,” you cry out in a desperate whimper, “it hurts.”

Steve forces your body down onto his bed, and while you begin to writhe in pain that causes white spots to dance in front of your eyes, he closes the curtains to keep the light from coming in. His mother had head aches all the time, and she’d be in bed for days on end if they got bad enough. He remembers her clear as day, lying in bed with an empty bucket next to her on the floor in the dark, because the light hurt so bad it would make her vomit sometimes. He’d tiptoe around the house because the sound of his feet creaking across the floorboards would pain her. He recognizes her in you, lying on his bed with your hands clutching the sides of your head.

“I’ll get you some aspirin,” he says, quieting his voice, the incident with Wanda long forgotten as instinct takes over.

Tears blur your vision at this point, and it takes every ounce of focus that you have left to keep yourself from screaming out in pain. Aspirin won’t help, but you don’t possess the capability to tell him not to bother. You’ve experienced this type of pain before, and have endured it without medicine each time. Many times actually; while you were forced to extract information from the people taken and captured by HYDRA with whatever means necessary. This time however, it’s come as a surprise and it’s caught you completely off-guard, although you suspect Wanda’s poking and prodding has something to do with it.

With all the strength you have left, you manage to pull the covers over your head, engulfing yourself in darkness and warmth to drown out your senses. The sudden darkness is disorienting, but you welcome it with open arms. Steve opens his mouth, but shuts it, and heads for the door without uttering another word.

All you hear when Steve exits the room is the sound of your former victims crying out in despair.

NEXT CHAPTER.

TAGLIST:

@foxyjwls007 @littlegasps @hurricane-abigail @idk123906 @ bubblicious-trashcan @wooya1224

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majesticbrownjawn · 4 years

Text

Delicate

Violet reluctantly goes to a house party with her bestie. Meets Erik. Is subsequently turned out. 😩

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"So you coming girl? It's gon be lots of niggas there."

"I'm good. I'm not tryna meet no niggas. I'm tryna meet a man."

Violet was thirty-three and far past the time for games. She was focused and didn't want a man to come and throw her off her game. That's what her 20s had been for and she'd left them behind almost four years ago.

"I need you to be my wingman though. Pleaseeeeee."

"Fine. I'll come, but I'm driving and just know I'm leaving yo ass when I'm ready to go."

Three hours later she was in her car listening to Siri giving her directions to the kickback.

"Girl, where the hell we going?"

"Uhhhhh..." Trina knew if she'd told Violet where the party was, she wouldn't have come. She loved her friend, but she could be uptight and snooty.

"Um, hello. I'm not talking to Siri's ass, Trina.

"Oakland," she squeaked.

"Trina!"

"I know. But I really wanted to come. This is Devante's best friend's party and I didn't want to go alone. I won't know anyone else there."

Trina was the opposite of Violet in that she was blinded by her desire for companionship. Most times she'd end up hurt or used, or both, only to make the same mistake with the next guy. Devante seemed to be a little better, but Violet hadn't met him yet, so she couldn't say for sure. Violet had a keen intuition and she rarely read people wrong. She was eager to see what Devante was all about.

Violet looked at the GPS and saw they only had about 10 minutes left on their ride. If they hadn't been so close, she would have turned back in the direction of her condo.

They pulled up to the home and compared to the others on the block, it looked out of place. It was, well, nice. No doubt an anomaly among the rest of what comes to mind of what people like Violet might think stereotypical Oakland looks like.

Violet groaned when she realized they'd have to park about a block down the street. Cars lined the area and she hoped the people who drove those cars weren't in the same place they were headed. It was a futile hope and as they got closer, the smell of ganja overwhelmed them. They were hit with another wave when they opened the door to the home.

"You're paying to get my hair washed, Trina!"

Violet was forced to yell in her friend's ear. Music was blaring from a wall of speakers to her right. It was artistic in a way. They resembled something she'd seen at a museum last summer in Brooklyn.

The pair weaved through the crowd of people. Some looked like Oakland natives, some looked like hipsters, others looked like something else entirely. It was just mid-afternoon but there were already people here and there passed out drunk.

A group of older men sat around playing spades and cracking jokes at each other. The sight was strange, down to the cheap fold away table. The house was immaculately decorated and the table just didn't fit in. Violet figured one of the men probably brought it with them. Maybe they lived just on the other side of this house on a block that looked more like the Oakland she saw on TV. She and Trina squeezed around the men to enter the kitchen, where they found Devante, but more importantly for Violet—drinks. She was already eager to leave and they'd just arrived. She meant what she said about leaving when she got fed up, but it wouldn't have been fair to tell her best friend she was ready to go now. Especially not after she saw the way Trina and Devante made heart eyes at each other.

"What up doe? I'm Devante." He extended his hand to her and she took it hesitantly.

The first thing she noticed was his strong accent. He was an Oakland native. Devante also wasn't yelling. The kitchen was far away enough from the speakers that one could have a conversation without risking losing their voice from screaming. They talked for about 20 minutes, but it was a one-sided dialogue that consisted of Violet asking him questions and him answering. He took her interrogation in stride, responding patiently and thoughtfully. At the end of it, she decided he was corny as fuck. But in a good way, kinda like Nick Cannon, but with a West Coast vibe. Her gut told her he was OK, for now. She wasn't interested in watching the two of them carry on like teenagers, so she made her way out of the kitchen and back out into the crowd.

She quickly regretted her decision as she was tossed about in the sea of people. She held her drink close to her chest, a strategy she hoped would save the Henny in her red Solo cup. Violet huffed as she finally made it to the front porch and glanced inside. There was a corner left and she scowled at it like that would magically refill it. She shotted the remaining liquid and licked what was left of the spillage from her index and middle fingers.

"Damn girl. That's how you feel?"

Violet nearly broke her neck moving her head in the direction of the voice. It came from across the porch. A shadowy figure stood just out of clear view, which was strange because it was still daylight outside. She hadn't noticed before, but the porch was of the wrap around variety and this person stood just as the porch took a turn for the other side of the house.

"Excuse me?" She was embarrassed that someone had seen her, but she'd be damned if she let one of these Oakland dudes shame her.

Shame.

Hmm.

The shadow man took a step forward and revealed himself to be quite interesting. She had a habit of looking at men she met from foot to head. She used to judge a man on his shoes first. She wasn't as shallow as she had once been, but the habit of doing it never went away. He wore a pair of those sock looking sneakers, gray joggers and a fitted long sleeve Henley tee. His thick muscular frame filled in everything beautifully.

To put it simply, he looked good.

"You ain't never been to the Town before, have you?" He took a few more steps into view and sat on an outdoor couch on the opposite side of the porch.

"What town?"

"Guess not," he scoffed.

She scrunched her brows confused and annoyed. She didn't like not knowing something. Was the Town a club? Maybe he thought he'd seen her there befo—

"Oakland. That's what we call Oakland."

Oh.

She watched him as he rolled his sleeves up casually, but there was anything casual about the way his forearms looked. Violet's intuition sensors started going haywire. The alarms in her head were about as loud as the music inside the house.

"Want more?" A sly half grin swept across his face as he tempted her, waving a nearly full fifth of Hennessy at her.

"You looked like you wanted more...the way you were licking those fingers a second ago."

She stared at him, fuming. Even more embarrassed now.

"C'mere."

She didn't want to, those alarms were still warning her to stay away from this man.

But Hennessy.

She took a deep breath as she rose and walked to him. The few steps felt like miles.

"Sit."

Violet plopped to the far end of the outdoor couch.

"Why you all the way over there? You scared?"

Yes.

She hadn't been close to a man this fine since—never, actually. He was the finest man she'd ever laid eyes on. She was certain of it now that she was up close. The realization made her nervous.

"What's your name babygirl?"

"I'm not your baby or a girl. Are you going to give me some or not?" She raised her empty cup to his face. Her attitude and entitlement was almost unattractive but it was something different than what he was used to. She intrigued him.

He grinned again, shifting closer to her.

"Yea, but first lick your fingers again for me."

Violet yelped at the request. She'd never been asked something so vulgar in such a forward manner, by a complete stranger. Had she not been in the hood and had this man not been so damn fine, she likely would have slapped him and got up to find her friend. She instead just stared at him appalled, offended and anxious.

He crept closer, as close as he could get, approaching her like a jaguar ready to pounce. The shadow man's arm rested behind her head on the back of the couch, the smell of him refusing to be ignored.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

The combination of sweetness and spice made blood rush through her veins like whitewater in a rapid. He leaned into her neck and her eyes fluttered at how close he was. She could feel the heat leaving his body.

"I don't like to repeat myself, babygirl." He rested his hand on the curve of her neck, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the length of her throat. He finally gave her a bit more breathing room, but his hand stayed put.

Violet was a deer in headlights. Completely struck by the situation. His boldness. His beauty. His dominance. And that she was fighting the fact she liked it. She glanced down at her own hand seriously contemplating doing it. Not for the Henny, but because she wanted to please him.

She looked back up at him.

"I-I dunno—"

And suddenly her fingers were in her mouth. He'd grabbed her hand while she was distracted trying to make a decision.

Violet's eyes widened and she let out a soft whimper as he guided her fingers in and out her mouth.

"That's right. Look at me. You got some pretty ass eyes." He spoke his words slowly and carefully, allowing her to see the slugs on his lower canines for the first time.

She cursed herself in her head as she now willingly sucked and licked on her fingers, giving him what he wanted.

After he was satisfied, he removed her fingers from her mouth and studied how wet and blush her lips were now. The thought of sliding his dick between them made him twitch.

"Open up." He tapped the bottle to her lips and gave her a shot's worth before pouring more in her cup. He got up and headed for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Her question sounded desperate. He heard it too, the smug look on his face was a clear indication of such.

"We going back inside. C'mon."

Violet sprung up like a weed. She was surprised to see his hand outstretched to her. She didn't want to take it so easily, but she knew the mass of people standing around on the other side of the door would likely separate them if she didn't. She held his hand and marveled at how warm it was. She felt this odd sense of comfort holding it.

Violet's gaze then became fixed on his arms and those scars. She moved her hand above his wrist and gently padded the first few rows on his forearm. The touch made him jerk his head back at her and the look he gave scared her enough to move her hand back to his and keep it there.

She noticed her and Shadow Man's walk was much easier than hers and Trina's. People seemed to move out of his way as he approached them. Some moved out of the way with a look of awe, it seemed. Or was it respect? Maybe even fear? His stride was smooth and confident as he parted the crowd like Moses and she wondered just what she was doing with him. What possessed her to follow him in here, holding his hand? What did he have planned for her?

She was relieved when they approached that table with the men playing cards. Maybe they were headed for the kitchen and Trina could talk some sense into her.

"Y'all old niggas still playing? Ain't it time for y'all to report back to the nursing home?" The table erupted in laughter. Violet even snickered to herself a bit. The Shadow Man had a sense of humor it seemed.

"If you don't get yo' mop head ass outta here, E," one of the old men replied.

Another gentleman threatened to 'whoop his ass' like they used to for wearing that size ‘smedium’ shirt.

"Watch ya mouf unc!" Shadow Man joked. Or was it E? The first man called him E. It should've mattered. She didn't plan on telling him her name anyway.

Violet was disappointed to see that her best friend wasn't in the kitchen. That meant she was on her own in trying to be rational about this situation.

"Why you looking like that?"

She raised a brow at him.

"All worried and shit." He pressed his thumb against the wrinkles between her brows. She was sure he didn't mean for it to be, but the action was calming. She shrugged at him and that seemed to be answer enough.

There were still a few people milling about in the kitchen, but it mostly cleared out when they entered the space. He seemed to know the few stragglers still there and it made her wonder just who he was.

"Who are you?"

He laughed at her question as he leaned on the counter across from her. He was taking too long to answer and her mind raced with the possibilities of who he might be.

"I don't like repeating myself either...E." She took a satisfied swig from her cup.

That'll teach him.

Shadow Man didn't seem to like it though. He quickly stepped to her and forced himself back into her space, clenching his jaws.

"You went to college, huh? Prolly grad school too." Not the response she expected but he was right, nevertheless.

"Yea. And?" She didn't feel as intimidated as she had before.

Had to be the Hennessy.

"You smart." She smiled at his compliment.

"Problem is," he continued, "You think you smarter than me and everybody else in here."

E was also a good read of people. He knew her type and she stuck out like a sore thumb here, but only because of her bougie ass disposition.

"You not though." He cupped her ass firmly.

"See, I know I'm smarter than yo uppity ass...Cuz I knew you'd like my hands on you like this."

He slapped her behind and the sting rang across the kitchen. The short, thin dress she wore did nothing to muffle the sound. She started to look around her to see if anyone was looking but he grabbed her chin, keeping her eyes and focus on him.

"And you weren't smart enough to stay away from me." Her heart pounded. He was telling her everything she knew already.

"Why should I stay away from you?"

"Exactly, babygirl."

What? That's wasn't an applicable answer to her question.

He was watching her lips again, but this time she noticed. His tight little eyelashes blinked slowly at her pout before traveling back up to her 'pretty ass eyes.'

"You wanna kiss me,” she whispered.

"That's a question or a statement?"

"You tell me, since you so smart, E." He slapped her ass again for her sarcastic remark. This time she didn't try to scan the room for a potential audience. She didn't seem to care.

His frame enveloped her, despite her being a good 5'8" and thickly. She rarely felt small but she did now and it was a complete turn on.

One hand on her ass and the other on her face was how he started the kiss. She started it with a gasp. His lips were velvety soft. Her eyes were open at first. She had to make sure he was really kissing her. When she saw his were closed, she followed suit and was thrust into a kiss unlike any kiss she'd had in her life. Who knew thug type niggas kissed like this? It was rough, yet gentle and hot all at the same time. He pulled away from her only after suckling her full lips and finishing their kiss with a surprisingly sweet final peck.

She was stuck there for a moment, eyes still closed and leaning towards him. Until she realized he was gone. She looked back out the kitchen, past the old man card table and saw his short, stiff, dreadlocked ponytail hovering just above the crowd. She darted out the kitchen after him.

She found the courage to muscle through the crowd, because this time she had good reason to. Her own height assisted in her effort to keep an eye on the tips of his locs. Where the fuck was he going? The fact that he'd abruptly left after their kiss made a swell of insecurity rise up in her, yet she continued following him.

Violet felt some relief when she saw him heading up a flight of stairs above her. She hurried to the base of the steps and took a deep breath. She didn't want to be here just an hour ago and now she was following the Shadow Man up the stairs in some stranger's house.

Those pesky sirens in her head were blaring now. She could barely hear her own thoughts.

When she saw him disappear into the darkness of the hallway upstairs, her feet involuntary took the first step, and the one after that, until she found herself at the top looking down into the sea of people below. She continued down the dark hall looking for him. There was a slightly ajar door at the end of it that had a light shining from underneath it.

She pushed the door open slowly. There were sketches and what looked like computer parts all over the room. She gave herself a tour of the room and assessed that whoever lived in this house was probably a genius or at least smart as hell.

Impressive.

She was intrigued to the point that she momentarily forgot about him. When she was done being nosy, she headed for the door, flipped the light off and simultaneously felt two hands around her throat. The strength of the person was terrifying. It had only been a few seconds and she already felt lightheaded. Violet's arms flailed around, trying to grasp the light switch. If she was going to die tonight, she would at least see her killer. They must have sensed her plan and pulled her closer to them.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

"E...," she croaked as her hand made contact with the forearm of her attacker. His raised skin gave him away. She felt relieved that she knew it was him, despite the fact that his grip hadn't loosened around her neck.

"Please...I'm gonna...pass out..." she tapped at his hand and he released her.

"The fuck you doing up here, babygirl?!"

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