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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Don't Speak 42

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Almost lost this chapter bc my computer went nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hit delete chat in the conversation settings. You leave it just as blank as before and close out the app. Just like Dr. Kemp said to. He can’t be there right away but he has a better plan. You’re not good at those anyway.

All you have to do now is wait out Andy. He’ll be going to work come morning and you’ll be alone. Then you can take your things, the things that are really yours, and leave. Finally. You realise that’s exactly what you’ve been longing for. A way out.

The hard part is still ahead of you. Freedom is still just out of reach. You have to pretend that everything’s fine but you’re realising, you’ve been doing that for a while.

You shake off your nerves and roll the tears back behind your eyes. You can cry later. Even as your cheeks strain and your nose tingles, you resist. Not yet, not yet.

You finish tidying up the tablet, trying to leave it as you found it. With not much else than your drawings. You close the cover and bring it with you as you turn off the lights and head upstairs. You sop up the mess in the bathroom and leave it dark.

You hesitate to approach the bedroom. You hear Andy’s snores, low and steady. Your skin crawls. You enter and put the tablet on the small side table where you charge it. You hang the damp robe and face the bed.

For the first time in your life, you want to hurt someone. You’re not afraid of being the one hurt. You really want to hit him and kick him and just let out your fury on him. You can’t and you won’t. You’re not who he told you you are. And you’re not strong enough for that. You’re still too small, too weak.

So you near the bed and climb under the covers. You move slowly as you pull the duvet to your chin. He snorts, making you wince, and sidles up behind you as he wraps his arm around you. You go rigid but fight through the ice that threatens to encase you. He can’t know, he can’t know.

“Mmm, where were you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Had a bath,” you squeak, putting your hand over his. You want to rip him away but instead, you squeeze, holding him tighter. “Sorry.”

“Nmph,” he grumbles and nuzzles your crown, just as quickly drifting back into his rhythmic snores.

You exhale little by little. You close your eyes but just as quickly open again. You know you won’t sleep. You can’t. Not with him as good as on top of you. Not knowing what awaits you in the morning. But mostly, not with that needling guilt in the nape of your neck.

Amber.

You betrayed your own sister. You treated her like a villain. You demonised her. You ostracised her. You left her!

You don’t know if she can ever forgive you. You can’t blame her for that. Worse, you don’t think you’d let her forgive you. You don’t deserve it.

You feel brittle as you bite down on your cheeks. No crying, not yet, you remind yourself. For once, you have to do things right. You have to follow through. It’s up to you now.

🕊️

“I didn’t know you could make crepes,” Andy smiles as he cuts into the roll, compote fruit and syrup oozing out.

You do your best to mirror him, making a show of nibbling away at your own food.

“I found a recipe,” you tap your tablet, not far from you.

“That’s great. You’re… doing better.”

“I’m trying,” you assure him, “I hope it doesn’t make you late for work.”

“Hm? Oh, no, breakfast with you is worth it,” he pops a bit into his mouth and hums. You regret not spitting in it, repulsed by the thought when it came to you, but now, not so much.

He can sit there and lie to you. It makes it easier for you to do the same. He’s been lying this entire time. Making you feel like you’re a problem. A burden. No, you were a thing to be used. To be exploited. He never liked you, the girl he calls dove, he only liked what he could get out of you. And he got off on it.

He took Amber from you. He did that. Yes, you’re stupid for falling for it but he knew what he was doing. He lied to you. And you know exactly how he did it.

He took all that therapy and twisted it around on you. You wonder why he even bothers with Dr. Kemp when he’s not trying to change. More than the narcissist he branded your sister, he’s a psychopath. You found that on the internet too.

Bitter, angry, hateful. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never truly loathed anyone. Not even your grandfather. His fists were nothing compared to Andy’s emotional battering.

“Well, don’t let it get too cold. They get gummy,” you force a smile, only fed by the thought of what comes after. Of what you’re going to do when he leaves.

Run.

🕊️

When Andy leaves, you’re in the kitchen tidying up. You left all the dishes in a stack to make a convincing show for him. You’ll be busy all day scouring the skillet and the fruit stuck to the inside of the pot, along with your plates and the cutlery. Oh and the mess you made of the counters.

The door closes but you don’t break your charade right away. You give it ten minutes. Fifteen, just to be sure. Then you tiptoe down the hall and look out the window. The tire tracks are already snowed over.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. This is your chance. You spin and race upstairs.

You search the closet and the dresser, everywhere for the bag you brought there. It’s gone. Along with all the clothes from your old life. All that was you. Andy took them along with everything else.

Whatever. You grab a few pieces of the more practical slant; turtlenecks, some leggings, a pair of jeans. Socks and underwear. You work quickly, with intent. Just enough to get out, not a lot. Not too much. As little as you can. You don’t want to keep too much that will remind you of this place.

You rush back downstairs after you change. You grab your tablet and message Dr. Kemp, the chat log still blank. You delete each message once he responds. You can’t be too careful.

‘He’s gone. When can you get here?’

His reply isn’t long; ‘ten minutes, been waiting a block away.’

‘I’ll be outside.’

You close the cover of the tablet and stare at it. You hover it over the countertop but stop yourself. No, you earned this. It’s yours. Andy never did pay you for the painting. Not in full.

You hug the tablet and go to retrieve the bag you found in the front closet. A tote bag with faded floral print. You don’t wonder where it came from. You don’t want to think too hard about him or this place. They’ll soon be long gone.

You pull on your boots and your coat. That’s all he’s left you of your former existence. You don’t suspect you would have them for much longer if you stay. You shudder and grip the fabric handles of the bag.

You open the front door and step out into the drift. The snow floats down in fluffy flakes. As you step off the porch, it collects on your lashes. You make slow progress, lifting your knees high as the unshoveled walk makes each step a task. As you come up to the curb, a distant rumble comes from down the avenue.

You shield your eyes against the steady snowfall and squint. You think it’s Dr. Kemp. You’re not sure. When you saw his car, it was dark and you were more focused on other things.

He rolls down the snow-carpeted road cautiously and pulls in the next driveway before turning around and coming up along the curb. He grins at you through the passenger window and the doors unlock with a loud thunk. You grab the handle and pull.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Thanks, doctor, I… thank you. I…”

“You sounded scared, how could I say no?”

You nod and look over your shoulder at the house.

“Let me deal with Andy when the time comes,” he insists, “come on, it’s hell out here. Get in.”

You nod and haul your bag onto the floor ahead of you and put the tablet on top. You stop yourself before you release the device. You look at Dr. Kemp. He stares.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I forgot something,” you say as you let go of the tablet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be two minutes,” you hold up as many fingers, “promise.”

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he assures with a smile, “I’ll be here.”

You take and breath and close the passenger door gently. You whip around and stumble back up the walk, stepping into the holes you left on your way out. You burst inside, not carrying for the melting snow you leave in your stead or the undone dishes, or anything about this place. There’s only one last thing that needs to be done.

You take the stairs two at a time as you complete your final chore. You barrel back down and don’t bother with a final goodbye as you head back out. For once, you feel accomplished. Like you’ve done something and you don’t give a heck what Andy feels.

You don’t look back, you just keep going. You falter but not from doubt, only the snow. You get back to the car and rip the door open, climbing in with a heave. You fall into the seat as you snap the door shut. You lean your head back and sigh.

“I’m ready to go now,” you say.

“Great,” he shifts into gear, “put your seat belt on, sweetheart, the roads are awful.”

You do as he says as you catch your breath. Your skin is buzzing from more than just the cold. You fold your hands as you try to settle your nerves.

“Good girl,” Dr. Kemp praises, “we’ll be home soon.”

🕊️

It’s real once you walk through the front door. You look around at the home decor and nearly fall apart. The stringent, almost sterile walls of Andy’s house haunt you. It’s only then, with something to compare them to, that you realise how much you dreaded them. How much you despised them.

You look around and take in every inch. The brown leather bench beside the door, a tall coat rack on the other side of the entryway, a mat for your snow laden boots, and a runner rug with the honey coloured curlicues on a deeper shade of brown. There’s a faint smell of cedar in the air.

“Ann made up the guest room for you,” he says, “and the kids are at school so they shouldn’t be a bother.”

You stop short, your hands on the collar of your coat. You look at him, dull with shock. Your cheeks tremble as you gulp.

“Ann… your…”

“My wife, yeah,” he says coolly, “she’s excited to meet you.”

“She is?” You blink, “I uh…” your eyes flit all around, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he intones, “really. She understands how vulnerable some of them a safe space.”

It’s like a slap in the face. You don’t know what you expected or why you expected it. He’s your doctor, you’re his patient, a crazy person. How did you forget that?

You glance down at his hand, his left hand. There’s a gold ring on his finger. It wasn’t there before. Not in your sessions, not at Thanksgiving. Never. Why wasn’t he with his family during the holidays?

“I thought I heard the door,” a woman appears from the other end of the hall, “oh, this must be her.”

You bat your lashes, fighting to hold yourself together. Don’t cry yet.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak as she struts down the hall.

“Hello, hon,” the tall blonde pulls you into a hug as you cower.

“Ann,” Kemp clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forget–” she lets you go, “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

You only shake your head. Your eyes are dry and itchy. You can only look back at her before slowly glancing at Steve. Your cheeks twinge and your lips pinch. He never told you about her. Why would he?

You feel like your chest is empty. There’s an icy whirlwind inside of you, flowing through you, sending a shiver up your spine. This is the worst thing you've ever felt. What is it?

“Ann,” Kemp says, “she's had a long night.”

“Oh, of course, you take her up to the guest room,” she backs off, “you take your time, hon, do whatever you need to do.”

You nod and mouth a thank you, unable to get any noise out. She goes back the way she came and you turn, focusing on undoing your coat. What have you done?

“I guess I should've warned you, huh? What with your… issues,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Just let me know if it gets too crowded around here.”

“Okay,” you croak.

You bend to wiggle free of your boots. You don't know what to do. You just want to be alone.

He leads you through the house. Into a cozy front room and to a staircase curled up to the second floor. You follow behind him, the tote bag dangling from your grasp.

He opens a door as he faces you. You try to hide your emotions but you can barely keep from frowning. He rests his hand on the door frame.

“This is you. I'm down at the very end,” he points over his shoulder, “if you need anything…”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? For…”

“Coming here.”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn't say yes if it was a problem,” he coos as he reaches to caress your shoulder, “I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I don't make sure my patients are safe, huh?”

“I guess not,” you murmur.

“Look, you just get yourself situated. Try to relax. I know a lot's happened but you're strong. You can do this,” he leans in, “I believe in you.”

He kisses your forehead and you wince. His hand goes to your chin as he pulls away. You stare up at him.

“I meant it when I said you're special,” he hums.

“I…” you turn your head away from him, slipping free, “I need to lay down.”

“Sure,” he smirks and drops his hand, “I'll check in when I can.”

You turn into the bedroom, slouching through as you sense him behind you. You feel him watching, as if waiting for something. You refuse to look back.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you're exactly where you need to be.”

The door shuts and you gasp as the bag falls from your hand. What does he mean?

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #steve kemp #fresh #au #library au #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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goldnhourwrites · 3 months

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Not enough people talked about these so I'm gonna do it myself because oh my god (commentary and headcanons below, it's just long)

Sett has a little travel-sized sewing kit in his bag... it's so tidy... sett stitching things back together when his bandmates rip them...

Sett just casually carries around like 20+ pounds of dumbbells. Mans is literally always working out. The grind never stops.

"yo Ezreal can you grab my bag for me?" "Yeah sure--what the FUCK do you have in here? This thing weighs a hundred pounds."

His little exercise headband... and is that a hair tie behind it? Sett with his hair tied back??

Sett's energy bar collection. Sett's the type of person to pack an entire backpack full of snacks for a road trip.

Ezreal has a plushie OF HIMSELF on his bag.

this guy practically collects aesthetic glasses. 3 pairs in the bag plus the circle ones he had in PARANOIA.

Sharpie (for signing autographs???) His signature on the polaroids of himself???

The photo under the lip balm looks like it might be Ezreal and Aphelios. Ezreal's the type of person to make sure he has photos with all of his friends. Ezreal hanging up his favorite polaroids in his room.

can we talk about the all-white fit in the very bottom photo omg

Aphelios has back-up headphones for his headphones.

WHO SENT THE SNACKS. WAS IT ALUNE. WAS IT SOMEONE ELSE.

The writing on the note looks like Korean but unfortunately I don't know any Korean :(

his sticky noted book... is it a journal? is it full of lyrics? who put the little smiley face sticker on the front!! does he write in it!!

I love the idea of Aphelios just pulling out a little keyboard whenever he wants to write down a tune. How well can he play the piano? Only enough to write music, or does he have songs memorized? Does he ever play for anyone?

K'SANTE'S DRAWING TABLET

he's not just in charge of putting together their fashion, he designs it himself. i'm going to scream

I am in love with those glasses. I need art of k'sante in those glasses ASAP. i will do it myself if i have to.

What is his book!! What does the W stand for!!

The way the button on his gloves matches the one on his jacket in his LoL splash art. This tiny detail is driving me insane.

Also, the cologne? The top is the same as his necklace? Does he have a specific personal cologne? So elegant...

Kayn's Pentakill guitar pick. Let me see him play the guitar I beg

The crumpled up receipts. This man goes Shopping (also see: cash, various coins). And he just has a bunch of random shit in his bag because he never bothers cleaning it out.

the open leaking bottle of hair dye. please. do you NEED that

The random jewelry... I love the idea of him either a) taking it off, shoving it in his bag, and forgetting where he put it or b) bringing backup drip with him everywhere in case he needs more

While Sett, Aphelios, and Yone all opted for headphones, Kayn's gone with good old-fashioned corded earbuds. Does he not like headphones? Is it because they mess up his hair?

Big ass box of matches and For Why? Does he smoke? Is he too cool to carry around a lighter? Does he just like setting shit on fire?

Yone keeps a little emergency travel kit. Band mom energy. He's got band-aids and a toothbrush and toothpaste At The Ready.

Bottle of lotion? Yone with a skincare routine? Yone who stays moisturized? Everybody in Heartsteel asking Yone for lotion?

Earplugs (for sleeping on long bus rides, maybe?) I want to see Yone going "I'm sick of this shit" and tuning the fuck out.

Yone is the only one with a real headphone case. Aphelios has his around his neck 24/7, but his wireless earbuds have a case. Sett's just shoving his in there with twenty pounds of dumbbells and hoping for the best.

Yone's got so many little gadgets and I don't even know what they all are. He has his laptop and (probably) his phone, plus a smartwatch, and maybe a portable charger? He's that prepared.

I can't tell what the object beside his smartwatch is (looks wooden?) If anyone knows, let me know? I'm so curious

This man's got even more stuff inside his bag. Yone doesn't leave the house without like fifteen things in case of an emergency.

good news everyone. i'm still losing my mind over them

#heartsteel #heartsteel sett #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel yone

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rhodesrider · 4 months

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Special Princess

Mafia!Roman R. x Little!Black!Fem! Reader

Warning: mentions of violence, mentions of weapons, age regression, affirmations, praise

Minors! DNI! 18+

In the car, Y/N was criss cross on the seat watching different gameplays on her iPad while teething on her toy silent in the back, Roman was humming the bluey theme song while driving which gave some looks from solo and jimmy. Worried about him keeping his reputation up for a while now they wondered that if it’s mostly Y/Ns fault. I mean Roman is suppose to be this big bad mob boss, controlling the territory and keeping things under control with an iron fist. Instead, he balances work with his girlfriend who acts like a child. She doesn’t dress like the other women Roman has messed with, when they would wear night dresses and show as much skin as they want, Y/N just wears hoodies or overalls. Long sleeve shirts or short sleeve but overalls and sneakers not heels. It worried them that Y/N was probably a bad influence on Roman their boss.

“Hey Ro, when we get back to the house can we talk in private?” Solo asked as he was in the back with jimmy nodding at him planning the convo in their head. “Hm? Sure man. Oh do me a favor and tap Y/N when I pull over?” He nodded and looked at her examining her again. A child. A child in a grown woman’s body. He never understood it and nether has jimmy. But they don’t question it because it’s their bosses girl. After they pulled over to the stop they were doing the drop off, solo did as told getting Y/Ns attention making her jump some looking around. She took off her headphones taking in her surroundings looking directly at Roman as he opened the door. “Sweetie I’ll be back with the boys ok?” He asked in a calm sweet tone as solo and jimmy got out, “Stay here with mr.heymen.” He ordered and she nodded getting a kiss on her forehead. She waved at Paul sweetly and he waved back watching them go in the building. She started looking around every inch of the buildings and corners of the area and went back on her tablet drawing a picture for Roman. Sending it straight to him.

“Hey boss man you know we never question you…” Jimmy started getting a bit impatient needing to know why this girl is with them. “Sounds like you are about to question me thou.” He looked at jimmy slightly. Jimmy just shut it down and looked around the warehouse building. “Why they wanted to meet us here?” “I am not sure but keep ya eyes peeled.” They nodded. Roman looked at him phone seeing the photo Y/N drew and texted her “Thank you princess.” Soon hearing the other doors open the meeting is starting. Showing to the meeting was mister Ziggler and his bodyguards, simple transaction. Roman smirked seeing the briefcases behind him as well. “Mister Reigns, how are we today?” Dolph asked. “Good, I’m glad we were able to get some more supply. Especially from a trusted source.” Roman smiled. “Likewise, so ready for the wire transfer?” Dolph asked quick being money hungry but Roman looked at him not born yesterday. “Go on and put some product on the table, solo examine it.” Dolph smirked. “You don’t trust me big man-“ “I don’t bring snipers to my transfers. Especially ones that are ready at the mark.” He smiled as Dolph was starting to turn pale. Jimmy and Solo were confused, they couldn’t see out the window but were looking around outside not seeing a set up anywhere. “You got paranoid last time we met Roman-“ “Not the slightest.” He smirked. “Now let’s check that material.”

After the transaction, they walked out the building untouched. Jimmy and solo still had the guns out. “Put them away, she doesn’t like seeing that mess sometimes.” He warned them and they nodded following orders. They filled the back with the briefcases and Roman checked on Y/N seeing her in the same spot watching bluey sucking on her thumb some. “Hey we talked about that pretty girl, where is it?” She shrugged her shoulders. Roman went in her bag and pulled out a box with a fresh pacifier. He slowly removed her thumb making her pout but gave her the paci as she was calm again. “That’s my girl.” She giggled from the kisses he gave all over her face and went to the front to drive. The boys got back in looking at Y/N again getting a weird feeling now but let it go till they got to the house.

Later that night, the boys sat in the office to finally talk to Roman about this. “So y’all wanted to talk?” They look to the side seeing Y/N in a giant pink play tent in her own little world watching tv and coloring. “Well it’s about…um…it’s about her.” Jimmy said finally pointing at the tent. Roman looked to the side where the tent was then at the boys, “About her? How do? Also she had a name. Don’t be afraid to say it.” Roman said looking through his phone some. “Look we know Y/N is yo girl and we respect her but-“ “But?” Roman asked surprised that solo was questioning him as well. “-why doesn’t she act normal?” By the time this was asked, Y/Ns headphones were off and she listened in. A bit hurt by their questions making her think she did something wrong. “Well y’all she’s been through a lot, she does this to cope, this is her therapy. I will admit that I was a bit worried about it as well, but I support her no matter what.” Jimmy nodded his head in understanding. Solo was still a bit worried. “What about your image sir?” “My image is fine. She doesn’t affect my imagine.” Roman said paying full attention now. “For all know she’s more help then you both ever was.” He was starting to get mad with all the questions. Y/N didn’t like the look on their faces, so she sighed getting out the tent and going over. “Baby we talking go back to your tent.” Roman asked low but still a bit pissed which scared her some but stood her ground. “I’m sorry that I’m hurt your image, I can just stop if you want. To help a bit better…” Roman’s look softened and he sighed, “Baby you’re always big help.” Jimmy and solo looked at each other, how and she’s always in the car? “Remember that nice picture you gave me?” She nodded and went to get her book she drew in showing the picture. Solo looked at it and recognized it some. “Those buildings…” “Yea there were people looking at birds up top so I drew them too!” She giggled. It hit Jimmy and solo so fast looking at the photo again seeing the truck parked and the other building they were in to do the transaction.

“That’s how you knew.” They both said in unison.

Roman knew about the snipers because of the drawing she drew, matter of fact she always draws something and shows Roman when he’s in meetings and other functions. She’s technically doing a perimeter check. “Yep my little artist helps me like that.” “And other ways…” she mumbled. “Oh right, we didn’t see anyone when we were escorting you out back to the car-“ Jimmy stopped and looked at Y/N who was smirking some evilly. “Ain’t no way.” “I was trying to find a bathroom.” She smiled. What really happened was she went in the building and handled the snipers so they wouldn’t be ready to shoot. Solo remembered Dolph trying to contact the snipers but no answer came their way of course. “So you just lil miss killer?” “You worry about yourself next time please.” She hissed. Her eyes from a lightly playful brown to a dark evil black made it clear that what her lifestyle was is her choice. Roman choose right, he smirked and was honestly proud. But what he noticed was she was out of her headspace. “Go take it up to the bedroom princess, we can watch a movie tonight if you want.” She nodded trying to calm from her sudden anger and walked away going to the master bedroom. “Wow…” Jimmy said never seeing that outta her. “Did you know Paul?!” They turned to him while he was in the corner the whole time. “I had no idea.” He smiled and went back on his phone. The brothers looked a bit dumbfounded and Roman just sighed. “I appreciate yall worrying about me and my image because my image is y’all image, but I assure you as yall saw. We will be fine.” They both nodded and left the room leaving Roman in a smirk. “I know what I’m doing.”

Roman got into the bedroom seeing that the anger got Y/N tuckered out. She was sleep hugging a pillow and the tv was on My little pony. Roman got ready for bed and as soon as Y/N could smell his body spray she cuddled up on him smiling. He smiled as well and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much baby girl, I’m sorry they questioned you. Never change ok?” She nodded half sleep and Roman turned off the lamp light drifting to sleep.

#wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #age regression #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns fanfic #wwe roman reigns #age regression caregiver

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bekaroth-reads · 7 months

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Astarion x Reader

[I’ve finally gotten some time to play the full version of BG 3, unfortunately not enough to get past what was available in the early release versions. Hopeful to write more characters when I run into them. For the time being, though, I’m more than happy to show love for everyone’s favorite vampire. Technically a x reader, but also sort of for x Tav too. Not proof read, my tablet’s about to die and I want to get this up, lol]

The rain was steadily coming down. It wasn’t flood levels or anything drastic like that, but there was enough that you didn’t want to go out unless you absolutely had to. You were thankful that the tent you had gotten ended up being a nicer one that kept all of the water out. You weren’t the only one thankful for that either.

Astarion, seeing how clouded over the sky was, refused to budge an inch. The others in the group wanted to keep going, not finding a chance of rain a good reason to stall progress, especially seeing as the next town was only about a day or so away. You had volunteered to stay back with him, using the excuse that you didn’t think anyone in the group should be left alone. In all honesty, you didn’t feel like being caught in the rain either.

It seemed like you made the right call too. You were wondering if you had been overly cautious like the others thought, but once things started to pick up you were glad you weren’t either trying to rush the rest of the way to the town or setting up tents in the rain.

Your vampiric traveling partner had himself sat snuggly in the tent, not risking getting caught in too much water moving too quickly. While Astarion did have a tent of his own, the one that you had gotten was more waterproof, so he insisted that he be allowed to stay in it. You didn’t have too much of a problem with that as there was enough room in the tent for both of you.

Or at least you didn’t think you did. Now that you were out here in the rain checking on the pikes that were holding the tent down while he was comfortable and dry inside, you were starting to think you weren’t too much better off than everyone else. Finally, after walking around the tent to make sure everything was still tightly fastened down, you finally went back inside.

“Oh, for-“ Astarion exclaimed as you opened the tent, “Close the bloody door!”

“The door?” You question as you take off your boots and your cloak off at the front of the tent.

“You know what I mean.” He huffed out and lounged back onto his bedroll. “I’m mean, really! I knew you could be dense but I didn’t think it was that bad-“

Astarion gave a comical, “oof,” when you threw your wet cloak onto his face.

When he pulled it from his face, his red eyes seemed to burn; you couldn’t quite tell with what emotion, but you did know something was coming.

It turned out that something was him as in a flash he had tossed the cloak aside, and pulled you down to the ground.

“Just like when we first met. What happy memories~” Astarion purred darkly as he held you down.

“I distinctly remember there being a knife involved.” You pointed out at the lack of things pointed at you.

“Mmm, you would remember that delicious, little detail. Should’ve known you were the type to enjoy that sort of thing.”

You swallowed at the lump in your throat, trying not to give him any indication that you were at all affected. You went to retort, but Astarion was quick to stop it.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh- Hush. Don’t even think about lying to me. In fact,” his hand moved up to cover your mouth, “how about you don’t speak at all. If you really want to feel something sharp of mine against your throat, duckling~”

Astarion leaned closer, grinned so that his pearly, white fangs peeked out from his lips, and hummed, “I’ve got the perfect, little tools right here.”

There was a slight gasp from his mouth when he opened it wide enough to properly bare his fangs that seemed to magically draw one from you. The chill from his skin sent a shiver down your spine as his cheek brushed against your jaw. His lips brushed against your neck-

-and his index finger moved up from your mouth to your nose, gave it a tap, and giggled a mischievous, “Honk,” into your neck.

Astarion leaned back to sit up and squished your cheeks. “Oh, you should see your face. Absolutely priceless.” He snickered.

Astarion groaned and leaned back onto his elbows, “Listen, I gave something a chance and it didn’t pan out.”

You shooed his hand away from your face and moved over to your bed roll and rolled your eyes. “Sure, if you say so…” then something struck you as you smirked yourself, “Duckling.”

He brushed his fingers through his mess of white curls, but stopped part way as he came to his own realization. “Or… perhaps it worked better than your letting on. It seems memorable at least.”

“Well, so was that dinner we had a few nights ago, but that doesn’t mean it’s good.” You retort.

“Fair enough.”

There was a spell of silence between the two of you with nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the tent with the occasional rumble of distant thunder. It was broken when Astarion gave a drawn out, dramatic whine.

You lied down on your bedroll and acted like you didn’t notice him staring at you. “Well, it seemed like someone should have taken the opportunity when he had it earlier.”

“Speaking of dinner,” he turned to look at you, his garnet eyes reflecting his hunger, “I’m positively famished.”

Astarion moved so that he was closer to you; while technically leaning over you again, it was more playful than predatory. He ran his hand under your chin to catch your attention and turn your head to look at him. “You have no idea how tempted I was to do so.” He sighed.

“Careful, or I might start to think your getting attached to me.” You teased, but there was not bite to it.

Astarion chuckled, a mostly light chuckle with a twinge of a bitter aftertaste. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m never more than friendly acquaintance with anyone.” He pinched your cheek and gave it a little shake. “Even you, my little duckling.”

It seemed that the two of you had quickly formed an inside joke from his attempts at a pet name.

Still not to be completely overcome by his charms, you pushed back with, “Of course. That’s why you were so eager to be so close to me a bit ago.”

“A tactical maneuver.” He brushed it off.

“And, have been flirting with me.”

“What’s a little flirting between friend—ly acquaintances.” He cleared his throat to try and act like he didn’t almost slip up and show attachment.

“And, why you’ve been wanting to bite me the whole evening.”

“And, still do.” He rolled so he was once again pinning you, propping himself up on his arms so he could still look you in the eyes, his usual, suave demeanor making its return.

You instinctively placed your hand on the crook of his neck, which he adored in the secrecy of his own mind. Astarion was more than pleased that he seemed to have flustered you into silence as he brushed his cheek against yours, and whispered, his fang brushing against your ear,

“Now, be good and indulge me in a friendly, little,”

His lips moved to your hammering, stuttering pulse point as he purred,

“Nibble~”

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion

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thatonegayship · 9 months

Note

This probably feels weird to ask

But I love how you draw dipper in general and your art in particular! Is it possible you could do a little tutorial on how your process goes?

If you don’t want to, I understand completely. I felt really hesitant asking this lol. Anyways, love your art!!!

I'm not the *best* at talking technicality, and certainly not about drawing Dipper; I have three distinct styles when dealing with him, that being Billdip Dipper, Canon Dipper, and AU Dipper, all of whom have entirely different purposes both visually and narratively. This results in some pretty inconsistent representations:

That being said! I'm totally cool with going over my process with you! Layout, technique, brainstorming, all that.

Generally speaking, I like to start my digital work on paper. Nothing crazy, just a basic idea that captures the pose, expression, and clothing (these things are destined to change by the end).

Notice the cloud of dirt kicking up at his feet. Look how I position one arm out while the other pulls farther back, and his hair blows from his face. There's a clear emphasis on motion here, both in body language (feet turned against the force) and added attire (Pinetree cloak flowing back, dust cloud at his feet, etc.)

This design is destined to change, but for action scenes like this, it's good to begin with an expressive foundation, so that once we start chipping away at and remolding our concept, we're building off of a design that encapsulates the *scene* we're wanting to convey. That is, no matter how much we shave off, we still have a strong foundation to reference towards and lean into for inspiration.

The next step is transferring our rough sketch into a digital setting.

This is where I tinker with the lasso tool, maybe take reference photos of the exact pose I had in mind. Here, I'm just breaking down my original sketch on a tablet. I readjusted the feet's position, pulled that other arm in to his chest, and straightened his arm out for a more powerful pose.

The next step focuses on pushing the pose and correcting anatomy errors.

Alright, cool! Now he's not just bracing for action, he's *jumping* into it. The back arm's pulled in like a fist, his shoulder bunched up close to his ear. We see how his body's twisted at the torso, chest out, legs stretched, arm extended.

Notice too how I utilize my shapes to empower the pose. Front arm and leg, extended. Lots of straight lines. It *curves* because of muscle and fat, but outside of that, they're pointed in a distinct direction. Contrastly, his right side curves at the hip and follows subtly up to his chest. This helps emphasize his lean into whatever he's attacking, sort of like a bow.

Now we've added details! You'll notice I've changed a lot of my initial design from my rough-sketch to fit more into the style and personality of Dipper in this setting. Since he's, you know, a "Pinetree," I figured his clothing should reflect it. I'm still working in pencil at this point, blocking out the general shapes of what I want, but not really exploring my options.

The cloak follows a slight gust, his hair flows back, the mushrooms on his shoulder lean out from the action, but these are still only guidelines. Keep it loose! Explore things! Have fun with it!

Next step, Inking. Digital art is *very* forgiving, so I'm a lot less concerned about moving forward without a full idea of my vision. This is usually the step I'm most inspired at because it allows me to go back over my loose sketch and add those minute details that excited me so much. I do not recommend moving forward without full confidence in your initial sketch when using traditional art! YOU WILL CRY!

Clothes: changed. Pose: changed. Details: expanded on.

This is where a bit of knowledge in anatomy is really going to serve you well. Bridging the gap between sketch and ink has always been very difficult for me, and it's due in part to those uncertain, not-quite-right bits I have to build off of from my initial sketch.

It's good to keep your rough draft light and fluid so that they capture the emotion and general pose of your character, but it's also important to keep in mind how you'll have to balance *maintaining* that level of expression while incorporating more realistic aspects of their design.

Take for instance Dipper's left foot that went from being tucked up under his butt, to being in a more braced position- like he's about to land, or skirt to a halt. As a loose sketch, it captures the motion very well. However, incorporating muscle and kneecaps and detailed shoes brings out a lot of the visual flaws. Proportion and angle become a serious issue if you aren't entirely sure how a particular body part would flex/squish/shorten in a particular position. The more realistic you go, the more jarring your mistakes.

This is, of course, not me saying you're forbidden from drawing your characters with a leg under their butt with big, meaty thighs. It's *actually* me letting everyone know that I tried working with the pose, building on it looked weird, and I decided to take a different approach. You are 100% allowed to try something else if your initial plan doesn't work out.

This step is where we adapt and improve. Our digital rough sketch didn't really capture the full power of his motion. His cloak kinda billows out like "Yeah, I'm a cloak, I billow gayly." It's flat, hollow, uninspired. Here, you're looking at photo references of Pinetrees, both real and not-real. You're gonna have to make it look like needles and branches, while *also* being a flowy bit of clothing.

For this, keep in mind how *cloth* moves with a more exaggerated, majestic rough sketch to overlay atop our failure of a branch jacket. Die.

See how despite the spikey pine needles, his cloak follows a distinct pattern? Additionally, this coat works in 3-dimensions. There's an outside and an inside, and it curves like a dome around him. It floats behind him, curves in front of him, lifts up, dips down. Really, it's up to you, but always consider your work on the third plain.

ALSO! Very important: Keep an eye on your line weight! Seriously, this took a long time for me to get a firm grasp of. Not *shading* really, but put a bit more emphasis on those bent spaces with darker lines. See that bold line connecting his thigh to his glutes? And the one behind his knee? DEPTH!! IT ADDS DEPTH!!

And *here* is the final product! This is the shading section, arguably my favorite and least-favorite part about my drawing process. Working in black and white, you don't really have to worry about getting every little shadow on your character. Just shade what needs emphasizing; everything with a shadow gets an added layer of depth as well. This is the part that gives your work an additional POP.

Consider too that shading isn't just solid black, even if you're working in black and white. His arm and under his hood are pretty solid black, but the interior of his cloak is far more textured and light. We see where it's darkest at his sides, but leading out, it lightens into distinct markings that (in my opinion) are visually more appealing. Using this tool is ultimately up to you, though.

Okay, the end!

#dipper pines #gravity falls #asks

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camsthisky · 1 year

Note

I am so excited for this! From the loyal/protective prompt list, I'd love "get your hands off my __brother__". Up to you which one :)

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I said no!”

A scoff from behind Dick. “And I said, yes, you imbecile.”

There’s a sound of inarticulate frustration, also from behind him. Dick waits two beats, three. A fourth. And then–

“Fine,” Tim mutters. “Fine, but I’m not paying for any of it.”

Dick can practically hear the triumphant smirk on Damian’s face, and as entertaining as the argument between his two brothers has been, Dick is also still trying to teach Damian that he can’t demand things, so–

“Tim isn’t going to set up your studio for you,” Dick says, turning away from the selection of tablets to face the two. He turns just in time to see Tim’s eyebrows go up in surprise and Damian’s sink down as he scowls. Dick raises one of his own eyebrows in challenge as he stares Damian down. “At least, not until you ask him politely.”

Damian’s scowl deepens, but he doesn’t immediately snap in anger, and Dick bites back a smile when Damian thinks it over a moment before sighing.

“Would you help me set up my art studio, Timothy?” Damian murmurs, not quite looking at Tim.

Dick takes it as a win. It’s progress. A thousand and twelve steps further than a few years ago when Damian’s pride was keeping him from any sort of kindness or politeness at all. And he’d even used Tim’s first name.

Now if only Dick could get Damian to treat the staff at Gotham Academy with the same sort of politeness. It’d probably mean a lot less frustrated calls from Bruce asking Dick to pick Damian up from school when he or Alfred are busy. And considering Dick gets a call at least once or twice a month, Dick thinks Damian’s probably been wreaking havoc on the place.

In front of Damian, Tim’s eyebrows have basically flown off his forehead. He opens and closes his mouth with wide eyes for a few moments, before he says, “Uh. Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

Damian nods, spinning on his heel and stalking towards a fancy drawing tablet that’s at least fifteen feet away from the awkward turn the conversation has taken.

Tim stares after Damian before turning towards Dick. “We’re not in a simulation, right?”

Dick snorts, curling an arm around Tim and bringing him to Dick’s side. “Nope. Damian’s been trying harder, lately.”

“Wow,” says Tim. “Yeah. He called me by my first name.”

Dick shrugs. “He calls me by my first name.”

Tim pulls a face and mutters, “Yeah, but he likes you. You and Cassandra are the only ones he ever calls by their first names. The rest of us are distanced to surname only.”

“He’s not as bad as you guys make him out to be,” Dick says quietly, smile falling to something more melancholy. “He’s just got a lot of the al Ghul brainwashing still in his head, and it takes time to unlearn that sort of stuff.”

Tim sighs. “I guess.”

“Well,” Dick says, pushing Tim towards Damian, “why don’t you see if you can help Damian pick out the best tablet for what he needs before we head over to the monitors. I’ll go grab the USB hub we were looking at earlier and meet you back here in a minute.”

“Dick,” Tim whines. “Seriously?”

Snickering, Dick shoos Tim towards where Damian had disappeared to. “Go bond with your little brother.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Dick is still laughing to himself under his breath when he reaches the aisle he needs. Tim and Damian are both such teenagers that Dick sometimes can’t help but mess with them.

“Hi. Can you help me?”

Dick looks up from his perusing, meeting the dark-eyed gaze of a woman he has never seen before. He’d noticed she was there, of course. Bruce would have thrown him into training a hundred times over again if he’d let someone sneak up on him in an electronics store. He just hadn’t thought that she was going to start talking to him.

Still, Dick takes barely a second to recover from his surprise and throws her a small smile as he grabs the correct USB hub. “Hello. I know I look like I know what I’m doing, but I can promise you that I don’t work here.”

“No, I know,” the woman says. She tucks a lock of brunette hair behind her ear. “It’s just, you’re Richard Grayson, right?”

Dick is too good a performer to let his smile slip even an inch, but he instantly puts up his guard. He says, “Guilty as charged.”

The woman smiles, almost looking relieved. She reaches over to touch his shoulder, and Dick tries his best not to stiffen. He’s not sure he succeeds on that front.

Luckily for him–

“Get your hands off my brother, you vile wench!”

Well, Dick isn’t going to try to stop a train that’s already been derailed. Best to leave it and go over the social niceties with Damian later.

The woman’s eyebrows scrunch up in disdain as she turns her head to the beginning of the aisle. “Excuse me?!”

Dick coughs lightly, stepping back and away from the woman just as Tim and Damian both approach. Damian slides in between Dick and the woman, and Tim stays at Dick’s side. Damian looks furious, but Tim just looks sort of concerned.

“I said unhand him,” Damian sneers. “Or are you too incompetent to–”

“Damian,” Dick says, cutting off his little brother’s rant before he can really get going. He can still mitigate some of the damage, even if the train itself is a lost cause. “She’s not even touching me anymore. It’s fine.”

Damian’s green gaze whirls to meet Dick’s bright blue head on. There’s a fury there that Dick doesn’t quite understand. Luckily, after only a few seconds of silent cues, Damian backs off with a scoff.

Tim, on the other hand, completely ignores the woman. “Hey, Dick. We found the tablet that Damian needs. We came to get you so we can grab the monitors and go.”

Dick blinks. “Okay?”

“I…have to go,” the woman says, eyes darting between the three brothers. And before Dick can say anything else, the woman is gone.

Befuddled, Dick looks at his two brothers. “What the heck was that?”

“She’s been watching you from the moment we walked into the store,” Damian huffs, looking slightly more settled now that it’s just the three of them again. “And when Timothy informed me that you’d gone off by yourself, I staged a rescue before she could ensnare you in whatever nefarious plans she had for you.”

“I think she was just trying to hit on me, Dami,” Dick confesses.

“Probably,” Tim says mildly. “Still weird and better safe than sorry, right?”

Damian nods. “Timothy is correct.”

Dick sighs in exasperation. “Right. Sure, okay. If deflecting any sort of romance with strangers is what gets you two to agree, then by all means, continue to sabotage my dating life.”

“You didn’t even want to go out with her,” Tim snorts. “It was written all over your face.”

“Not the point.”

Tim rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the back of the store. “Whatever. Let’s just go get the monitors for the gremlin.”

“I am not a gremlin, Drake!”

Dick grins and shakes his head. Teenagers.

#dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #dc #prompt #camryn writes #dick grayson celebration extravaganza #thanks for the ask!#fandomanddenial

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classyfruit · 8 months

Note

Hi ma'am, what environment works best for you to work in? Like time of day or specific place?

Hi and hello dear Anon, thanks for getting in touch with your question - I hope you're well! 🤗 Since your question might be interesting for everyone, I've taken some time to answer in depth. I hope it's useful for y'all!

🔽How I work best as a full-time artist🔽

Time/Schedule

I personally work best early in the day when my concentration and energy is at its highest.

Since I am prone to either ALWAYS work/draw or be exhausted from rushing myself, a good schedule is vital! Currently, I am in the process of figuring out a new, much more flexible schedule for myself, where certain days of the week are reserved for tasks with some flex days to switch things around if needed.

I like to start with admin tasks, which I find difficult, and work my way down until I can "just draw", which I find easiest.

Workplace/Set-Up

I work with a PC and drawing tablet set-up, so I am bound to my desk workplace-wise, but I would love to upgrade with a portable tablet so I can draw out in nature or in society.

I've surrounded my desk with things that inspire me: Plants, postcards, trinkets, you name it. This keeps my brain fresh and oftentimes gives me a boost to keep drawing.

My monitors are positioned high enough that I can see them well while sitting upright. Good posture is vital if you spend a lot of time working!

I now have my big Huion Kamvas tablet that has a display, so I need to remind myself to not be crouched over it all the time. I also pull up the artwork on my further-away monitor to check the overall composition and/or values, instead of drowning in details!

Health While Working

While drawing, music, documentaries or Let's Plays are vital to keep the overthinking at bay and to keep me in the flow!

WATER!! I can't stress enough how important it is to drink. Enough. Water. If I don't, that results in brain fog and art is no.

Sometimes I need to rest my eyes on something else than my WIP art - I usually keep my desktop wallpaper something calming and almost neutral (like a mist-covered lake or a mountain ridge) and just stare at it for a few moments.

I am mindful of my breaks, especially when drawing! I use a pomodoro timer to know when it's time for stretching my hands and for water breaks.

Snack breaks are also a good thing - I definitely recommend fruit (because of course!), nuts and dark chocolate. They help me stay energized without making me drowsy.

Process

I keep a very detailed To Do list to keep myself motivated and also to know where exactly in the art/project process I am. My brain can either be in admin mode or creative mode, not both.

If I feel blocked either artistically or energy wise, I try to do some personal sketches for at least ten minutes.

If I absolutely can't motivate myself to draw (due to energy levels or whatever reason), I honor that and see if I want to do something else, like learning Blender, learning more about the business side of the artist life - or maybe just take a breather and let myself be a human bean.

Some days, I like the challenge of sketching a new idea, some days I prefer the cozy and less creative task of doing outlines and shading of existing sketches. I now try to let myself do what I gravitate towards more and it pays off with me not feeling overwhelmed as easily. It's about just doing what you can most of the time.

When I'm done with a piece of artwork, I try my darndest to be very supportive and proud of myself. I take a longer break and return to look at the finished artwork, trying to name my favorite thing about it as well as something I can see needs more work.

Something I don't do YET but will do: Keeping a document with all the positive comments I receive. I think validation and acknowledgement are things that humans almost always enjoy and keeping a record of praise around is sure to motivate me at least a little.

And that's that! If any of you read to this point: Thank you very much, I hope you found my list useful! If you have any tips or tricks regarding drawing, staying motivated and in general doing a hecking survive as an arting individual, why not drop it in the comments for all to benefit from? Stay healthy and stay happy! Much love! 😊

#classyfruit art #classyfruit #digital artist #lgbtq artist #female artists #classyfruitbasket #just chatting #asks open #anon ask #ask me anything #art chat

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okayeojin · 2 years

Text

loona reaction to accidentally revealing your relationship

☁️ :: mainly angst

♡ :: heejin 희진

as heejin was excitedly talking to her fans on vlive, giggling amused at the way the comments would go crazy as soon as she did something as innocent as simply brushing her hand through her hair or biting her bottom lip as her eyes skimmed through the comments. a little "oh!" left her lips as a viewer pointed out a few new additions to her drawings neatly taped on the wall behind her. "yes! i added some recent pictures i drew lately" she exclaimed as she rolled with her chair closer to the wall and carefully removed said drawings from it, with the intention of showing them to her fans. "i've been drawing traditionally a lot, actually" she explained, resting the drawings on her desk. "but i have some... fairly recent digital pieces as well" she continued as she pulled out and unlocked her tablet. smiling at the screen she finally chose what to show her viewers, pulling out this pretty landscape view she had worked on for the last few days. flattered by the positive response, she felt like showing more, sliding her fingers on the screen in the wrong direction, accidentally revealing what many people immediately recognized was a portrait of you. you were wearing the same outfit as the most recent music show you and your group attended to... and overall some kpop fans would have recognized you regardless. her eyes shot wide open and her expression didn't really leave any doubts to the viewers. something was definitely up between the two of you. "that's...! they're just... i just admire them a lot and..." she would ramble before changing the subject and attempting to keep her live going, but the comments were not letting her off the hook so easily... so much that she eventually had to end it, and with a shaky sigh and teary eyes proceeded to text you.

♡ :: hyunjin 현진

hyunjin acted without thinking. and the shocked expressions on her members' faces or the stern look from her manager, and complete silence that fell over the whole room should have made her understand that she had messed up big time. it was a live interview, show, kind of thing, and the hosts were this group of over middle aged men, thinking that making fun of young girls is somewhat entertaining, and crossing many many lines while doing so. during a specific moment in the show, the girls were all called together to take a picture with the mcs, who didn't even think before grabbing some of them by their shoulders and pulling them closer. hyunjin was one of them. and she quickly pulled away, faking a smile. "oh what happened?" the host tried to joke "you have a boyfriend or something? is he jealous?" he continued while laughing in her face, at which she replied "yes, my s/o wouldn't be happy seeing you touching me like that", storming out of the set. unprofessional, she knew that. but she couldn't bear it any longer. you, who were watching the live from your phone, had your mouth wide open, not a single idea in mind about what you were supposed to do at that moment, until you got hyunjin's call. "i have to figure things out with the company about what just happened. i’m really sorry, love".

♡ :: haseul 하슬

she was peacefully on vlive, probably in her own dorm room with no supervision from any of the staff or even her manager -who was however watching her live just to keep the situation under control. she was answering questions from the fans, giggling and scolding her own members for leaving comments lovingly making fun of her, she even sang some songs that were requested by the viewers. she was having so much fun that she almost forgot she had invited you over at a certain hour, when she was almost sure she would have finished by then, but it wasn’t the case. she soon heard your voice on the other side of the door; you were surely being entertained by some of her members while she was still finishing up her live. she got so excited at the thought of going out with you, that she made a rookie mistake: she said her goodbyes, she thanked her fans for keeping her company, and she swore she had ended the live, but she stood up so quickly that her hand slipped and never properly clicked. she ran to greet you and loudly exclaimed “i missed you so much!! oh my god come here” and kissed you just loud enough that it was clearly heard by the viewers. then her phone would start going off with calls from her manager and she would get so confused but soon understand the situation and you could see her face going pale in an instant.

♡ : yeojin 여진

you had spent the whole afternoon together, drinking milkshakes while sitting in front of the ocean on the beach. you had cuddled the whole time and taken so many pictures as well, especially yeojin. it was a time so dear to her because for the very first time in months her schedule was free, no promotions, no fan meetings, no interview, no radio, no variety shows... she almost couldn't believe it was real, spending time with her s/o like this, without anyone's from her company supervision, without having to leave at a certain hour. "you look so good like that!" she exclaimed, snapping a picture of you, "oh my god the sunset! pose like this for me!" she continued, moving around to get your best angles. you chuckled, covering your face from some of the sand she was accidentally kicking around while moving, "let's get a picture together instead, you have enough of my face in that phone, i think" you suggested, extending your arm to invite her next to you. snapping a quick picture together, you admired how cute you both looked sharing the smallest peck on your lips, making yeojin shriek in embarrassment. "don't you think it looks good?" you asked, "i might post this!" you joked, to which yeojin surprisingly replied "you can". you raised both eyebrows at her "huh? this could be very risky for you, i don't want to ruin your career...", getting interrupted by your girlfriend "you have your profile on private anyways, right? here, i'll do it" grabbing her phone which was connected to your instagram account too, posting it and closing the app. "ther-" not even one second later, she got a call. from her manager, which instantly made her heart drop. you watched her expression with a puzzled look on your face, wondering what was happening. "i i accidentally uploaded the picture on the loona account and it got immediately taken down by the company, but 300 people had liked it already and there's probably screenshots around" she cried into your arms as you did your best to comfort her.

♡ : vivi 비비

for the first time after a while she had decided to do a live all by herself in her own vocal room, showing her fans new paintings she had worked on or planned on doing, and she would cutely get closer to the screen to see the comments, before pulling back and giggling, and then answering. "when was the last time i went out with the members?" she read the comment out loud before puffing her cheeks and glancing upwards towards the ceiling for a second, clearly trying to recall the event, then letting out a "oh!" of realization and pulling out her phone, fiddling with it a bit before showing it to the camera she was streaming on. "this is a picture i took last week when i went out to drink with loona 1/3... subunit hangout" she giggled while zooming on the faces of each member present in the picture. she stopped chuckling all of the sudden, her heart stopped and her face visibly turned pale as a notification popped up on the screen, big enough for every viewer to see. from: the love of my life; <are you still up for that one date you promised me~? 💕>. the chat was going so crazy that she thought the whole app would freeze and stop working, or something... she was furiously giggling and looking around for any help, trying her best to cover it up, "that's my,, my friend yeah they.. they are joking, i mean-" but the sheer despair on her face was way too much to hide, and the tears welled up in the corners of her eyes weren't helping her case at all. then suddenly the door to her room opened just enough for only one hand to be seen, inviting her to step outside and she closed her live in a hurry, apologizing profusely in a shaky voice.

♡ : kim lip 킴립

it was a dumb mistake. very dumb. and she could never forgive herself for potentially ruining your life, other than completely destroying your privacy. she was doing a live for her birthday, and it was now well past midnight, reason why she couldn't stop yawning to save her life, apologizing every time she had to cover her mouth to release another one. but she had promised to stay up at least until two in the morning, and considering she had no schedules whatsoever the next day, she wanted to keep her promise with her fans. and despite some of them complaining that she should rest and go to bed, she wasn't letting go of her little personal challenge to stay up a bit more. "don't worry guys, we can uhm... listen to some music, i will stay up" as if she hadn't been playing songs for the last three hours already. then a comment caught her eyes, "what time is it?". it was written in english, meaning it was from an international fan with a different timezone, most likely. after reading it out loud, she pulled out her phone and pointed it directly at the camera, turning it on and showing the bright screen to her viewers. maybe it was her lack of sleep, or the fact that her hand was covering part of the screen, but her reflexes weren't fast enough and her brain didn't process fast enough that her lockscreen was her cupping your face and kissing you right on the lips, your cheeks puffed and all. it was a cute picture indeed. but not in that particular moment, when she suddenly realized and pulled her phone away from the camera and clutched it with both hands, resting it against her chest. her lack of explanation was loud enough for anyone to put two and two together (although the picture of her kissing someone on the lips was a very clear indicator that she had a romantic relation with someone), and at that point she cleared her throat and said awkwardly "it's 2am, time to go bye!", and turned the live off to plop down on her chair and cover her face with her hands, defeated.

♡ : jinsoul 진슬

jinsoul loves you. she loves you so much she is literally unable to take her eyes off you. and despite how romantic it sounds -and it is- it can indeed end up causing you two some troubles, especially considering the type of industry you both worked in, how demanding and scary it can be. that being said, it happened from time to time that your groups had a comeback at the same time, often meeting on the stage of music shows. you'd look so hot with your makeup done, you hair all pretty and your stage outfit so sparkly, you'd steal all the spotlight. at least to her. that one episode in particular was no different. while the winner groups' member were doing their speech, her eyes were constantly pointing in your direction, and she wasn't even being subtle about it, since her members would occasionally pinch her side to get her attention back. once the encore began, and everyone began moving around and greeting one another, she took it as a chance to swiftly make her way to you, ignoring gowon's hand trying to keep her in place. you ever so slightly bowed to each other as to not raise any suspicion by being to friendly or whatever, and she gently grazed her hand against yours, causing your blushing to increase. it's not until you both got off the stage that she decided to be bold about it and steal a little peck from your lips, which caused you to gasp loudly and look around frantically, as other idols who were able to see what went on looked at you weirdly. jinsoul simply chuckled, unknowing of the fact that you were indeed caught on camera, at the very corner of it, but it surely didn't go unnoticed by some viewers...

♡ : choerry 최리

as affectionate as she is, she would still try her best to behave around you, especially in public. she would literally teleport to another dimension away from you if she saw someone holding a phone, afraid of the possibility of being caught even just staring at each other. and it would be extremely painful to her, especially considering how one of her favorite activities of all time was clinging to your arm for as long as possible until you physically have to remove her. this time she really couldn't refrain herself, and the consequences of such a tender moment would probably haunt her for the rest of her career. you would usually spend your time with her and the rest of loona by passing off as part of the staff, so it wasn't weird for you to be "caught" with the girls during some of their schedules. this one time, however, choerry was incredibly worn out after a particular mv filming day that took so many takes to finish, that as soon as she saw you she wrapped her arms so tightly around your neck and her lips immediately found their way on yours. unconsciously behind caught on accident by one of the makeup artists filming an instagram story that got posted without much of second look, or review of it. as soon as the video began circulating, she would become insufferable, blaming herself to no end, even advising you to break up with her because she "ruined your life". tell her it's not her fault ):

♡ : yves 이브

she's so romantic. she has heart eyes whenever she looks at you and she can't even control it. bless her. however, because of this exact reason, the two of you could rarely ever hang out in public, since it'd be hard to believe you were just a friend of hers or a staff member. even when she sang love songs on stage, her voice was so filled with such emotions that not even her fans would believe that "she was thinking of orbits while singing". she is so full of love. it was after one of their stages that she was complimented about her voice, and the host commented how "it seems like you really resonate with the lyircs, huh? are they perhaps dedicated to a special someone or...?", he would inquire. yves would get so defensive it would be obvious she was trying to hide something. "oh no! haha, i mean... you know, friends and family, huh- my members yeah, and overall everyone who has supported us along the way" and she would start rambling to the point where one of her members had to stop her by physically placing a hand behind her back to prompt her to slow down. there would be a lot of speculations about who could be this "special someone" of hers, and it would get so stressful to the point where she felt like she couldn't do a vlive in fear of slipping up on her own words. until it happened. she got a call during a live while she carelessly had her phone on the desk with the screen facing up, and the word "love♥️" shined brightly on the screen. as she grabbed the device so fast it almost slipped out of her hands, her face turned as pale as a ghost and she began clumsly trying to explain herself, "that's haha it was my huuuh cousin-" but none of the viewers were buying it, so she had to quickly turn the live off and called you in between tears, apologizing before you could even ask what was wrong.

♡ : chuu 츄

she would constantly keep you on edge, jumping up on you from behind, hugging you unexpectedly, holding your hand while the possibility of being caught was still there, and if she happened to be needy enough she would even be so bold to kiss you somewhat publicly. your stress levels would be through the roof, to be honest. there wouldn’t be many rumors going around at first, nearly everyone was aware of her bubbly personality so her linking arms with someone other that her members wouldn’t be too big of a shocker. at least not so much that her agency had to make a statement or what not. she even went as far as to introduce you to her fans on live, giggling and telling her viewers about the way you’ve been friends since high school and still keep in touch. which wasn’t exactly wrong, except for the fact that you’ve been more than friends for a few years... it was during one of those lives that it all went downhill. you had been sitting behind the camera, looking at her and silently giggling from time to time at her antics, careful of not being caught by the viewers. but i guess you were looking a bit too adorable to her, reason why she just couldn’t wait and told her fans she had to go to the bathroom real quick, and therefore she had to momentarily mute her mic. except that she didn’t. and the sound of smooching was loud and clear to everyone. of course it didn’t take her too long to figure out what had happened as soon as she sat back down on her chair. immediate response was to shut down the live, get up suddenly to go talk to her manager, while ignoring your yells asking her what was wrong.

♡ : gowon 고원

she was at a radio interview when it all took place, her and the rest of the girls were each asked to describe their ideal date, and haseul suggested that gowon replied first. giggling at the request, she excitedly adjusted herself on her seat before leaning slightly closer towards the mic and began replying, explaining how bad she wanted to have a picnic in a field of pretty flowers, but the weather hadn't been on its best behavior to do so. the whole time her mind was wandering to you, thinking about how much you had begged her to go on a picnic, as you liked being outdoors so much. almost forgetting where she was, until the radio host asked her "ah so you like flowers?" to which she mindlessly replied with "ah my partner really loves th-" and as her breath suddenly cut short and her heart began pounding so hard, she started frantically looking at her members for help and comfort. they were trying to give her reassuring glances, sharing looks with the radio host too, who immediately caught on to what was happening and broadcasted the next song. gowon soon enough took off her headphones and stood up to call you, not even caring that the rest of loona was shouting her name. she profusely apologized to you on the phone, loudly crying into the speaker.

♡ : olivia hye 올리비아혜

she could not, for the life of her, explain how it all happened. she was careful, she has always been careful. protecting you was what had always mattered to her the most, as long as your identity and your own career was preserved, it wasn’t important what happened to her. not a single glance in your direction during music shows or music awards, not even a single reaction to your performance. it was fine, she would shower you with compliments and feedback about your stage once the night was over, maybe backstage, maybe on your way back, through messages, or phone calls. sure it was hard, you craved affection and she also felt guilty for having to ignore you more often that not, but what could she do... her job required this sort of behavior. it all went downhill during a vlive with the rest of the yyxy members, during which one of the fans asked if they had any other kpop idol they looked up to and why. she wasn't sure if she should've said it, but regarless, she said your name. and lowkey went on a tangent about how good you were at your job and how she liked the way you danced and performed. her own members started playfully teasing her, "ooh it looks like hyeju has a crush" and gently elbowing her. hyeju just chuckled in embarassment and before she coule deny it a flood of comments appeared before her eyes. <what? she's dating y/n?>, <omg haha this is crazy>, <i dont think they'd make a good couple actually>, <no way y/n managed to pull hyeju hahaha>. rather than being anxious about her relationship being exposed, she was getting more and more pissed by the second at the comments saying she was too good for you, and the ones badmouthing you. she stood up slamming her hands on the table, startling her members. "the one that's too good is y/n, you have no right to speak about them, so get their name out of your mouth. it's none of your business if we're dating or not!" and stormed out of the room, not wasting a second to call you, more angry than upset.

masterlist˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

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imaginedreamwrite · 2 years

Text

Heaven For You: Part 2

“There’s no avoiding it this time,” the charge nurse grabbed the tablet and the chart and pushed it toward you, her scowl and derision aimed not just at Steve Rogers, but the whole fleet of agents coming through, “you got him.”

“There are others-“ your attempt to rein in the check you would have to do with Captain Rogers was shut down.

All the other times you’d avoided being his nursemaid, every attempt you had made to escape his bedside by handing the cases over to the interns had been successful. Until a mission, the great Captain was on had gone sideways and he was hurt along with the agents he was with, landing him in the hospital for observation and given the state and the number of the agents being seen, it was your turn to bite the bullet.

“The others are handled. Captain Rogers wouldn’t let himself be seen before his men were.” The charge nurse seemed fascinated with the super-soldier, fawning over him like the rest of the nurses had, admiring the mass of muscles and those piercing blue-green eyes.

The captain was nothing if not an Adonis that many women and men fawned over. Your charge nurse was not excluded from the numbers, she had looked at him as if she wanted to crawl into bed with him before reason returned to her, and the usual scowl had taken its rightful place.

“Are you sure-“ you tried again to hand the case off, to do something else, and again you were denied.

“Go.” She directed you and without any other options, you kept your tablet tucked into your chest and began crossing the floor to the bed where the massive man was resting.

Your heart was beating erratically as the bed and the man were getting closer by your approach, the way he seemed to be in some pain had resonated with the part of you who wanted to help people but the conscious part of you that was cautionary about his insistence on seeing you was just tense.

“Captain Rogers,” you stepped through the small opening of the curtains and looked over the information before you, “my name is Y/N, I’ll be your nurse today.”

“I know your name, doll.” When Steve spoke, you raised your head and looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. You hadn’t gone through four-plus years of nursing school while the city seemed to be under constant threat, just to be referred to as a ‘doll’, and your annoyance was potent.

“Sorry, a habit picked up in the ‘40s.” Steve was quick to apologize and hold his hands up in defence, though there was a spark of appreciation and veneration for the look you had cast him, the grit of your teeth that had been paired with the glaring irritation in your eyes. “My apologies, Y/N.”

“What seems to be the problem, Captain?” You approached the bed, keeping your tone down to a respectable measure for the sake of not facing your charge nurses’ wrath and set the tablet on the bedside table, reaching for a set of rubber gloves.

“You don’t need to call me captain,” Steve sat further up on the bed, his uniform torn and small cuts visible through the material. “You can call me Steve. I have enough people calling me captain in a day.”

“Captain Rogers-“ you hesitated as he shifted, blood beneath his suit drawing your attention. He was cut but not bad enough to need stitches, just a good cleaning.

“Steve, Y/N.” He insisted again, his hand resting on your wrist. “Call me Steve.”

“You…need to remove your tactical suit.” You pulled your wrist out of his hand and busied yourself with grabbing antiseptic wipes, gauze and some medical tape.

“Now?” It appeared as if Steve was blushing yet his fingers were already working at the pieces of his suit, a struggle you noted, between holding himself back in bashfulness and ripping the entire thing in two.

“There’s a gown to your left but if the cuts are just superficial…” you pulled the gloves further up your hands and then walked around the other side of the bed. “…you might not need it.”

“You’re good at your job.” The compliment came with a blush dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and the great super soldier and captain had appeared bashful. And yet, there was something almost wolfish about the way he was looking at you.

“I try to be.” You were keeping it professional or attempting to until Steve had ripped his arms from the sleeves of his tactical suit and his bare chest was inches away from you.

The evidence of his size and strength were unhindered by the reinforced material of his suit that had been wrapped tactically around his broad shoulders and chest.

Despite every ounce of unease, you couldn’t deny that he was beautiful. You couldn’t deny that you were looking at him like all of the other nurses had, your eyes were trained on his bare upper body while justifying your actions as trying to analyze what needed to be done and taken care of.

“Y/N,” when he spoke, when he had mentioned your name almost as if it was a faint pleasured sound, you had jumped in surprise, and nearly knocked the bedside table over, “are you okay, doll?”

“I’m fine.” You reprimanded yourself and tore open a package of antiseptic wipes, unfolding the small and thing paper. “This might sting.”

“This might sting.” You tried pulling your hand away, you tried getting out of his grasp but as you had learned earlier, trying to get out of Captain America’s grasp was not an easy task. It was his innate sense of protectiveness and the need to keep those he ‘loved’ safe, even if that meant stealing the infinity stones and creating an entire universe.

“It was an accident.” You tried again, to rip your hand from his grasp, and again you had faced his gentle ire when he growled your name under his breath.

“You have to stay still, baby.” He was cautious as he picked out the glass from your hand, the pieces of the wine glass that had been crushed in your hand were far more numb to you than you had realized.

You were so lost in thought, so far into your mind that it was hard to process what exactly had conspired the past few days. It was a slew of information through private conversations with Steve, with your guards and assistants that had made you feel like you were stuck between one plane and another, and this was just another added glimmer of something you couldn’t contend with.

“It doesn’t hurt.” You mumbled, trapped between Steve’s legs when he lifted you onto the counter so you wouldn’t move while he cleaned out your hand.

He had kept himself as close to you as possible, giving you little room to move as he helped you despite your efforts to tell him that you could do it yourself.

Steve was watchful and mindful of you, of your state of being stuck here while knowing full well that you wouldn’t be able to return to the state of the previous reality without him as your ‘husband’. You knew that even if you had managed to get the stones into your possession and out of his, there was no physical way you would be able to handle the power of the stones.

You weren’t even sure how he had managed to handle and use the stones without some kind of complications, and yet he was unscathed. There was nothing about the super-soldier that was marred, nothing like what had happened to Bruce Banner. You had heard of what he had done, you remembered seeing the reports of the damage in the few short hours you had remained in your reality before you were ripped away.

“The glass is gone.” Steve had lifted your hand and studied the cut in your flesh, his touch soft as he dusted his thumb against your knuckles while his fingers held your hand palm up. “I’m going to need to clean it.”

“Do I need stitches?” You were quiet, reserved at this moment while being trapped between Steve’s legs and at his mercy.

“No, sweetheart.” Steve was soft-spoken, with you at least. “Let me bandage your hand.”

You were keeping your distance, you had taken the opportunity while Steve had taken a phone call that interrupted the dinner he had planned for the two of you, to empty your food and dump your wine.

You were, at the moment, neither hungry nor cared for wine. You had emptied both and by the time Steve was done, his dinner was cold anyway. He had come into the kitchen to see you clutching the wine glass so tightly it shattered, and you had barely batted an eye.

“You could have chosen anyone. You could have had your pick of any of them.” You mumbled while he worked, grabbing the bandages and tenderly binding the white gauze around your hand. “They all wanted you, they would have all played the part you wanted them to.”

“I didn’t want them.” Steve was warm, his hands callused from the years of fighting and yet they still managed to be soft against your flesh. “I wanted you.”

“Why? Why me? Why did you take me?” You recoiled, creating as much distance as possible pressing your back against the cupboards. “It isn’t fair-“

“Fair?” Steve raised his head and then rest his hands against the cupboard, trapping you beneath him trapping you within him.

“It isn’t fair, you’re right. It isn’t fair that I sacrificed my entire life and never found rest. It isn’t fair that I never got out because I was so fixated on doing what was right. After all, the agencies who were supposed to be there for the people failed them.”

“You could have left-“

“Do you think they would have let me walk away? Do you think they would have let me have any moment of peace? I was a tool from the moment Dr. Erskine died and I let it happen because I thought I was doing what was right.” Steve had leaned in, he had enclosed the space you had.

“Steve…” You whimpered against him, nowhere to go.

“The government screwed people over, they fucked them all over. Ordinary people who were good, who wanted to do good for their families. What do you think they would have done to me if I wanted to drop the shield?” Steve had rested his forehead against yours and sighed, his hands shifting from the cupboard beside you to your hips, squeezing lightly.

“The people who were meant to do right by their people had failed them, they failed the people who needed them most. I wouldn’t get any peace, I wouldn’t get to walk away.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, a positive buzz passing back and forth between your lips and his. He had angled your head and deepened the kiss that captivated you and made you weak.

It was an error in judgment, it was a moment of weakness that had you crashing against him. And as you had pulled away from him, that familiar pique of momentary darkness had settled over him.

“I did what I had to do to protect the people who needed it. I became what the agencies feared most and then I took them all over, I obliterated them to create something better. I am the devil they know, and the world is better for it.”

Steve rests one hand against the small of your back and the other against the nape of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. “The Avengers are in charge of their corner of the world, and we’re doing better than they ever could.”

“And what do you need me for? Couldn’t you have an entire horde of women to fuck?” Your spite, your anger was dissipating with every soft stroke of his thumbs against your hips and it truly wasn’t fair. “Why did you choose me?”

“You’re my wife, sweetheart.” Steve kissed your forehead, his lips dusting against your skin as your body reacted pleasantly to him. “You’re my queen.”

“You sound like a tyrant.” You mumbled, weakening to his touch.

“I’m not a tyrant, honey,” Steve mumbled. “I’m doing right by the people agencies forgot about. We’re making the world a better place and it is stable.”

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excessive-vampires · 5 days

Text

Dealing with Demons Chapter 8: Operation Friendship Part 1: Riley

Masterlist with CW

Taglist: @demyxdancer @softvampirewhump @d-cs

"Stay in the car." Sil closed the door Avi had just opened. Riley heard the demon make a muffled noise of offended protest.

"Sil, what's the point in bringing them here if we don't let them help." Riley walked around to the other side of the car and opened Avi's door. Sil closed it again.

"They have a point, Sil."

"Shut up, Mike. Look," She turned back to Riley. "I don't know about you, but I'm not happy that we have to babysit an incredibly dangerous and unpredictable creature during our investigation. The less involved they are the better."

"You think I want them here? Of course not! But Coleman thinks they can help, and if this is as serious as Avi and Coleman think it is then we need all the help we can get."

Sil sighed. "Alright." She opened Avi's door.

"Thank you, Agent Silverman. And thank you, Riley, for your kind words and vote of confidence."

"Jokes are my thing!" Mike called out as he walked towards the prison doors. Sil rolled her eyes and followed him. The others followed her.

The prison was basically a normal prison, but with a staff that was in the know about magic. Not all of the prisoners were in there for magic-related crimes, but you wouldn't find a mage in any other prison in the area. There had to at least be someone there to make sure no one was drawing runes on the walls with their food or something. There were separate facilities for sorcerers and other inherently magical beings, and those places were definitely not like normal prisons.

Avi shuddered as they walked through the doors.

"What's wrong?" Riley asked.

"I am a creature of avarice and this is a place where they take away everything you have. It's practically my antithesis."

"Huh."

Going through security took a while. Luckily, they let Riley keep their amulet, but Mike was carrying a lot of magical devices that had to be examined and cleared for use within the prison. Riley was worried that Avi would somehow have even more stuff, and be much less willing to part with it, but the demon dutifully emptied their pockets when they had to. All they were carrying was a wallet, a set of keys, and two cell phones.

"Why two phones?" Riley asked.

"Only one of them is mine. I'm holding on to the other one for a while for a friend." Avi offered no further explanation and Riley didn't press the issue. There were more important things to worry about.

The cell they arrived at looked like any other prison cell, except for the lack of prisoners. The bunks pressed up against the bare walls were empty.

"The others were moved for the duration of the investigation," the guard who led them there said.

"We'll want to interview them later," Sil said. "Can you tell us what exactly happened?"

"I can do you one better, we have it on tape." The guard pulled out a tablet and the group gathered around to watch.

The footage showed four prisoners sleeping in the cell. Then one on a bottom bunk just vanished. No flash of light, no noise, nothing. There one second and gone the next.

"Freaky, right?" said the guard.

Avi made a noise of assent.

"Thank you for showing us this. Now, could you give us some space to investigate for a moment?" Sil asked.

"Sure." The guard walked a little ways away.

Sil got out a blue washable marker from her pocket and drew a rune on her hand. Then she shoved her palm out towards the cell. Nothing happened.

"Never seen that happen with a detector spell before. What does it mean?" Mike asked.

Sil opened her mouth to answer when Avi cut her off.

"That the magic that took him originated somewhere other than here, and that it called him to somewhere specific without needing to know where he was before. A demon didn't do this, couldn't have, at least not without a human mage's help."

"I guess that narrows our suspect pool. Slightly," Mike snarked.

Sil got out some hand sanitizer and a tissue and cleaned her palm. "Riley, write that down."

"On it." Riley retrieved a pen and notepad from their pocket and summarized what Avi said. They could have typed it on their phone, but it always felt safer to Riley to have a physical copy of important information.

"Hey, I thought demons were more powerful than humans," Mike commented.

"We are, but we're also limited by more than just the four impossibilities that other mages are. Imagine a sorcerer who can't learn runes to augment their natural talent. We can put a lot more energy into what we do than a human, but humans have more options."

"Huh," Mike said as he got out a magnifying glass with runes etched into the handle and moved to search the cell. The others watched and waited for a few minutes as he inspected every inch of the small space.

"It's clean. No artifacts. It looks like everything about this originated on the other end of things."

"That means Bell probably wasn't involved, he's just a victim in this one. Or maybe he was recruited as an accomplice, I don't know." Sil sounded frustrated. "Okay, I think we're done here. Time to go interview the cellmates." She didn't wait for a response before walking back towards the guard acting as the group's escort.

The interviews yielded little pertinent information. None of the prisoners had woken up when Bell had disappeared, which suggested that there were no sudden changes in the environment. Not even a drop in temperature. All that did was confirm the spell used to take Bell used energy extremely efficiently, and hint at an extremely powerful caster.

Soon they were back in the car headed to Clara Bolton's house. The drive was silent and tense. Riley thought hard about what they had learned about the case.

"Does Bolton's fiancée know what you are? And about the deal?" Sil asked as they pulled into the driveway.

"Yes, Clara had to explain my presence to Jessica when I brought her back home after the kerfuffle at Bell's apartment."

"And she went with the truth?" Mike asked.

"It's best not to start an engagement with a lie."

"Then I think this time it might be for the best if you did wait in the car," Sil said. "We don't want her to panic."

"I don't believe she will panic at seeing me. In fact, since she knows me and not any of you, maybe I should take the lead here."

"Absolutely not. I order you to wait in the car."

Avi pouted and sighed. "Alright, I guess. I'll stay."

The rest of the team got out and walked up to the door. Sil rang the bell.

The woman who opened the door was in pajamas, her curly hair was a mess, her eyes were red and puffy. Not how you would normally expect to find someone on a Wednesday afternoon.

"Yes?" Her voice was rough.

"Hello, Ms. Williams," Sil said. "We're from the Bright Bureau. We handled the altercation between your fiancèe and Andrew Bell, and we sent someone earlier to check on you and Ms. Bolton. We're here to investigate her disappearance."

"Yes, of course. Come in."

Riley got out their pen and notebook.

"Do you mind telling me what happened this morning?" Sil asked.

"I woke up and she... she just wasn't there. I looked through the whole house but there was no sign of her." Williams started wringing her hands.

"And where is your bedroom?"

She pointed off to the left and Mike and Sil walked off in that direction, leaving Riley to continue the interview.

"Thank you. And then what happened?"

"I thought maybe she had just gone to work early but her phone was still on the nightstand and her car was still in the driveway. I was just about to call someone when your agents showed up and told me what had happened with Bell."

Riley finished writing and looked up. "I am so sorry Ms. Williams."

"Thank you."

Mike and Sil returned. Mike walked over to Riley and pulled them aside.

"It's the same as it was at the prison."

Riley wrote that down.

"Excuse me, agents." They turned to look at her. "I just—is there anything to suggest—do you have any idea if Clara is still alive?" There were tears rolling down her cheeks.

Riley looked at Sil, who nodded. Then they turned back to Williams.

"We know for a fact that Ms. Bolton is still alive."

Williams looked up at Riley, cautiously hopeful. "How?"

"We, um, we have been in contact with the demon Avi. They were able to confirm Ms. Bolton's status for us because of her... deal."

"Could you bring Avi here? I want to hear it from them."

Riley looked at Sil who was visibly clenching her jaw, but she still nodded.

"Okay, I'll go get them." When Riley opened the front door it revealed Avi already standing in the doorway.

"No need, I heard everything." They walked into the house. "Hello, Jessica."

"Is it true? Is Clara—"

"She's alive."

Williams rushed forward and grabbed Avi by the shirt. "Please! Please find her and bring her back to me! Save her again, I'm begging you! I'll do anything, I'll sell you my soul!"

Riley panicked, but knew they could do nothing to interfere if they wanted Avi's continued help with this case.

"Jessica, there's no need." Avi put their hands on her shoulders. "I'm already looking for Clara as part of a deal with the Bright Bureau, and I promise I'm doing everything I can to find her."

"Okay, okay. I... Thank you... I think I need to go lay down. Are," she turned to the rest of the team. "Are you done here? Is there anything else I need to do?"

"No," Sil said. "We have everything we need. Thank you for your time Ms. Williams, we'll keep you updated."

The team returned to the car.

"I'm surprised," Riley said to Avi. "That you didn't let her make a deal."

"Doubling up like that isn't technically against the rules, but it breaks the spirit of them."

"Wait." Mike turned around to look at Avi. "There are rules for being a demon?"

"Oh yes. Actually less like rules and more like... hmm... Laws isn't the right word, people break laws all the time... Instincts? Yes, instincts. The vast majority of creatures never act against their basic instincts, and if they do it means something is very, very wrong."

"So what are your instincts?"

"Don't break your word, is the big one. If a demon promises you something, they're not lying. Then there's doing everything in your power to fulfill your side of a deal. And there are some things that are just impossible, like making a deal without the client's knowledge and consent, and making a deal under false pretenses. The more one of us bends those rules the more wrong it feels but outright breaking them is just something no demon can do. And the same goes for angels. Generally, the rules keep deals fair for everyone involved."

"Huh, it's like a cosmically enforced code of ethics," Mike said.

"Exactly."

Riley scoffed. "I wouldn't call it ethics if there's nothing in it against eating human souls."

Mike's face paled and he turned back around. Avi turned to look out the window with a frustrated expression Riley could see in their reflection.

Then Riley's phone dinged, alerting them to a new email.

"Hey, Avi, Coleman sent a list of addresses from the missing persons cases."

"Excellent. Send it to me and I'll check them out."

Riley started to forward the email, then stopped. "No."

"No?"

"I'm going with you to investigate." If Avi was going to help with this case then they needed to be supervised at least.

"Okay."

"And we need to stop back at base first to tell Coleman what we found. Then maybe she can use that information to narrow down the list."

"Alright. I can be patient."

#dwd #riley pov

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bi-kingdom · 10 days

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Secret Liasons - Maria Hill x OC

A/N: Seriously, PSA to clean your drafts out. I cannot recall what my OC's name is right now but we're going with Alex Stevens or reader - you decide.

Prompt idea: In which Tony Stark hits on Alex as she does a check on the Bridge of the Helicarrier. (Takes place on the helicarrier after the tesseract levels the ground facility in the opening of The Avengers)

Warnings: Tony being cringe

Its just a quick inspection, nothing out of the ordinary but there was a quick notification blurb that popped up on my scans. The only thing making me nervous is the thought of having to walk through Hill's meeting with Fury's new 'Avengers'.

I steel myself. This is my job after all.

I brush past Tony Stark to inspect the source of my alert.

"Oh hi, didn't know they employed anyone besides Jarheads here." Stark smiles, leaning against the metal railing. I quirk my eyebrow at him as I maneuver through Fury's screen. "God I love a woman who can handle a man's equipment." I turn to the room, seeing them all watching our exchange, skating over Hill quickly so I don't erupt in a blush. I grimace and find the culprit - a device, disguised as a bolt, attached where it shouldn't be. I slide it off and turn to Stark as he feigns surprise.

"This equipment's too small to be our's...must be your's." I say, dropping the device into his jacket pocket. The effect is instantaneous, mumbles and groans of 'Stark' erupt as I slide past Hill.

"Stevens." Hill orders, her arm outstretched for my tablet. I hand it over and watch as she reviews the initial security alert for the bridge.

"Stark." Hill scorns, handing me the device back as she joins the thorough chew-out that's coming his way.

I leave their meeting area and make a round through the bridge, stopping after a moment to watch some on screen analyses. There's a bit of an uproar at the Avengers meeting, Stark getting scolded for his attempted hack by Fury himself now. Although I have no doubt he'll try something else.

I linger longer than necessary on Hill, her arms crossed over her chest as she keeps her expression neutral. I admire the way she's pulled her hair back, her bangs sweeping across her forehead. The cut on her face accentuates the height of her cheek bones making her jawline seem even more defined. She keeps drawing me in with her stern gaze and the sheer confidence that radiates from her. But suddenly, she rolls her eyes and she catches sight of me watching her.

I turn away, avoiding those blue eyes that cut down even the most resilient of subordinates. My cheeks are burning as I finish checking in on the techs on the bridge, keeping my back to Hill as I exit from the opposite entrance.

I cringe the entire way back to my lab, shaking my head while I work, reviewing my schedule for the day. Hill shows up on my calendar, an impromptu request but not unexpected since Stark attempted to breach our systems. I huff, annoyed with myself for slipping up and letting my emotions get the best of me especially at work.

She's scheduled in a few minutes so I set about cleaning up my space as best I can, rolling up hardcopies of blueprints out of the way. I'd taken some good natured teasing for using physical blueprints still but with Stark's attempted hack earlier - I'm glad with my choice to do so.

"Stevens, how far did Stark get?" I jump as Hill jumps right into the briefing. I shake my head, avoiding her gaze as I fumble to show her the files that were hacked on the screens. I make it brief, waving my hands to swipe through the files. As soon as she gives me a noise of affirmation I stop the review and return to my work, fully expecting her to leave.

The sound of my lab doors opening and closing don't occur and I finally turn to face her as she unfurls a concept blueprint of mine across my desk.

"Oh, that's just an idea-nothing major-really just an idea-" I mutter, trying to make up an excuse to hide it again. I reach out my hands to put it away but she waves me off.

"You haven't shown me this one yet." She says absentmindedly. I briefly meet her eye as my stomach clenches at the eye contact.

"It still has to go in the computer." I try, watching her take a pencil to make a few notes in the margins.

"It's good."

"That's high praise coming from you." I blush, biting the inside of my lip. I steal a few glances as Hill continues her scribbling her notes "Thank you." I add.

The barest hints of a smile quirks in the corner of Hill's lips. I barely catch it before her usual neutral facade is back in place.

#agent maria hill #maria hill x fem reader #Secret Liasons #maria hill #deputy director maria hill #Avengers #maria hill x female reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Don't Speak 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Oh, Andrew.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You pull on a sweatshirt, your favourite lilac one with the frayed cuffs. You listen to the hallway before you come out of the guestroom. You sneak over across to rinse your face with cold water, trying to prepare yourself to face your cowardice. You have an apology ready, but it changes each time you recite it in your head.

You're still foggy. Your limbs are full of sand and your stomach is scraped dry. As you approach the top of the stairs, a wave of vertigo spins you. You latch onto the railing and steady the room. Your descent is cautious and sluggish. With each step, you want just as much to go back and hide in bed.

You won't. You can't. You want to change so change.

You follow the scent of coffee to the kitchen, the soft noise of porcelain assuring you of his presence. Andy's back is to you, his shoulder blades straining his shirt, as he pours himself a cup from the metal carafe. You don't know if he hears you as he leans a hand on the counter and takes a long sip.

"Andy," you squeak and a jolt of surprise tense his body.

He turns to you, wiping a droplet from his beard, the cup in his other hand. You give a sheepish frown and wring your hands. You teeth your lower lip as you measure your words, only to find the scale at zero. They're all gone.

"I'm sorry," you let your rehearsed speech float away, "can I make breakfast?"

It always made Amber happy when you tried. A meal, or a tiny chore, it always brightened her right up. So maybe it would work with him. To show him you're not entirely worthless.

His throat bobs and he shrugs, “of course you can, but I can help if you–”

“No, please, I can do it. You said… pancakes?”

His face softens and he dips his chin just slightly, “sure. Pancakes are good.”

“Right, uh, oh, I don’t have my tablet. I was going to look up a recipe…”

“It’s fine, I have some old cook books,” he sets his coffee on the island and goes to a deep draw set below a thinner one. He pulls out a hardcover book, “mom left em behind when she… passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he puts it on the counter, “I can pull everything out if–”

“Please, I think… I think I can find everything. You can go sit down.”

“Hmm, well, what if I’d rather stay and hang out?”

The lightness in his tone reassures you. He doesn’t sound mad anymore. Maybe he just needed his coffee.

“That’s okay, I guess,” you say.

You near the counter and pull the book close. You open it and check the table of contents. Pancakes, pg. 17. You flip through and read the first ingredient. Flour.

Andy leans over and peeks as you search the kitchen with your eyes. He smiles and backs up, popping open a cupboard. There you see the flower among several other containers.

You come around and as you get close, he reaches to take the bag of flour down from the second shelf. It’s only that act which makes you realises you wouldn’t be able to get it yourself. He hands it over and you thank him. You hug the bag, the powder dusting out the top.

“Andy,” you teeter on your heels.

He tilts his head, let a brow furrow, “what?”

“Are you still mad?”

His mouth slants and he chuckles softly, “I wasn’t mad. I worry. That’s it.”

You look down. He sounded and looked mad, but maybe you misinterpreted. You sniff as you notice the flour on your shirt and you quickly spin away. You put the bag on the counter and look down at your sweatshirt, trying to dust it off. It’s not a big deal, you’re going to be cooking anyway.

You give up and go back to the book. You turn back as Andy knowingly pulls down the baking soda. You take it from him but as you do, he catches your sleeve. He pinches the frayed cuff. You tug, freeing yourself and hiding the loose threads behind your other arm.

“Cute sweater,” he comments, “too bad.”

“It’s fine,” you set down the cylinder and fold in the sleeves, hiding the tatters, “see?”

“Mmm, yeah,” he doesn’t sound convinced, “it’s a nice colour. A bit big on you.”

“I don’t mind,” you insist as you go to the fridge and slide out the tray of eggs, “really. I make due.”

“Ah, well… ever think of not making due? Maybe spending some of that money you’ve earned?”

“One day, maybe,” you say evasively as you take out the carton of milk before you return to the island, “did you want blueberries?”

He’s quiet for a moment. He crosses the tile and you cower as he reaches past you. He grabs his cup and sips from the brim. He pulls it away from his mouth and hums, “I love blueberries.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, “thanks, honey.”

He leans in, just a little, and for a moment, your chest seizes. What is he doing? You swear he’s going to– He detaches and strides past you, “hope you don’t mind if I catch up on the news,” he chirps over his shoulder, “I know you’ll do a great job. I can’t wait to enjoy those pancakes.”

“Mhmm,” you issue a fragile hum, jittering from the close call. Was it really that or are you just overthinking again?

🕊️

You try to tidy up as the pancakes cook. You roll up the top of the flour bag and place it neatly under the cupboard for Andy to put back. You wipe away the powder left on the counter and a few stray specks of batter. As you rinse out the cloth, you smell burning.

You go back to the pan and flip the pancakes, only to find them black on the bottom. Oh no. You huff and toss them out. Start again. You have more than enough batter.

You use the spatula to balance the pancakes and dump them in the bin, letting the lid down. As you turn back, you hit the handle of the pan and it flips, knocking into the glass bowl of batter. You try to catch the pan as the bowl shatters and you cry out as the heat tortures your hand.

The cacophony of glass and metal and you shriek reverberates around you. You stare at the batter expanding in a large pool across the floor and whimper. Oh no, you’ve spoiled it all.

You stand with your hands out, burnt and thrumming. Andy appears in the archway as you can only sputter mindlessly. He carefully steps around the mess and takes you by the arm, turning you towards the sink. He doesn’t say a word as he flips on the hot water and forces your hands under the cool stream.

You murmur as you let him. It feels nice. You’re shaking, eyes welling, as you see the torment in your flesh, and feel it even deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head as he keeps your hands under the flow, “accidents happen.”

“I– I burnt them and when I turned–”

He hushes you, cradling your hands in his large ones. He’s gentle as he keeps you in place, until you’re suitably numbed. He shifts you away as he shuts off the faucet and grabs a handle down. He lightly lays it over your hands.

“I’ll clean up the mess–”

“You won’t,” he insists,” you’ll sit down and let me clean up your hands, get some salve on them, and wrap them up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you, don’t be,” he repeats, “sit, okay?”

You nod as he pulls out one of the tall chairs. He helps you up with a hand on your elbow and he backs away, unbothered by the cluster of glass and batter at his feet. He leaves you and you sob. You can’t do anything right, can you?

He returns and drags a chair over. You watch silently, castigated, as he sets to work. He applies a cooling cream to the burns across your palms and fingers, carefully wrapping them up. As you wince, he apologises. You wiggle your nose, barely holding back tears.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I'll clean up and then we can order something–”

“I’m sorry,” you hang your head, “I tried…” you pull your hands back, resting them daintily in your lap, “can I lay down?”

“Honey, you should stay up and eat. You promised me you’d eat, right?”

You nod, refusing to look at him.

“Alright, so you stay out here and I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” you agree in a tiny voice.

He sighs, “I’m not doing this to hurt you, you know? If you’re not going to take care of yourself, someone has to.” He stands and gathers up the remnants of the bandages and the tube of salve. “I can’t, if you don’t let me.”

“I’m sorry,” you echo once more.

He says nothing. You can tell by his posture he’s irritated. You look down at the chaos you’ve wrecked. You wouldn’t be surprised if he sent you back to Amber, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to take you back. Especially after yesterday.

🕊️

Andy orders in and you sit at the table glumly. He places a container before you and flips the tops. Inside, there is a stack of pancakes, a small container of butter, and another of syrup. You say thank you and stare. Your stomach is a volcano, waiting to erupt.

You grab the butter and struggle to pop off the lid. You take the plastic knife and struggle to scoop out the creamy butter. Andy puts his container close and takes the chair next to yours. He turns in his seat and takes the knife and cup from you.

“Here,” he butters up each pancake and pours the syrup over.

You can only watch. You feel like a child. He cuts up your pancakes and hands you back the fork.

“Got it?” He asks.

You nod. He turns to his own food as hold the fork awkwardly and jab at the fluffy squares. You sop up as much syrup as you can and nibble along the edge. He starts on his own pile, quiet as you languish in the lull.

“You okay?” He speaks at last.

“Yeah.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes those things happen. Let’s just move past it.”

“I know,” you mutter and chew.

“I’m just happy to have someone to spend my Saturday with. Usually… it’s just me, you know?”

You nod and finish the small square, letting your fork rest on the side of the container. He glances over and leans in, pressing his arm to yours.

“And you’re good company," he adds.

🕊️

You only eat half your breakfast. Andy accepts it with an air of disappointment but lets you go. You sit in the garage for almost an hour, staring at the canvas. You don’t know why it’s so hard. You have it all in your head but it just won’t come out. As it is, your hands make it impossible to do much.

After a while, you head back inside. Andy’s in the living room, the TV crackling with whatever sport he’s watching. He doesn’t look back as you pass the doorway. Good.

You retreat upstairs and tiptoe down to the guest room. You take out a pair of pajamas and take your towel with you across the hall. You close the door and flip the lock over. Maybe you should’ve asked but you figure it’s not too much trouble, not as much as bothering Andy. It’s his weekend, he deserves to enjoy it.

You turn on the faucet and watch the tub fill before you get undressed. You leave your fresh clothes on the closest corner of the counter and put the others on the opposite end. You take the cupcake soap with you and the fluffy pink loofah.

The water is hotter than you expect. You stand for a little before you can lower yourself. You look at the bluetooth speaker suctioned to the tile and step close, trying to find the buttons. You’ll have to bring your tablet in next time and see if you can pair it up.

You sit and sink into the heat. You always found baths to be relaxing. When your anxiety was bad, you could just forget. You should’ve brought a book but you let the regret slip away. You close your eyes and recline, the steam dampening your skin.

As you feel the water cool, you sit up and lather with the loofah and soap. You stand to get the rest of your body, the scent sugary but strong. You turn, trying to reach your back and hear a click as you do. You spin and face the door, facing Andy as he stands dumbfounded with his hand on the handle.

You drop down with a splash, hiding behind the wall of the tub. You cling to it, horrified. Why didn’t you close the curtain? You thought…

“...I locked the door…” you quaver.

“Uh, yeah, sometimes it doesn’t catch,” he says dully, his eyes transfixed on you.

He shakes himself and finally looks away. You hide behind your hand, wanting nothing more than to disappear. He stutters and backs away.

“Sorry, uh, I’m sorry, dove, I didn’t… know…” He pivots stunted, his hand still on the door, and he pulls it shut as he leaves.

You stay as you are, staring at the door, heart beating furiously. You can’t believe what’s just happened. You just want to go shrivel up in bed and never come out. Never again.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #don't speak #au #library au #defending jacob

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 6 months

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Father’s Day Surprise

Pairing: Sam Abrams x Nicole Blake

A/N: This takes place in season 4! Also I have baby fever

Warning: mentions of vomiting, mentions of a hospital setting, mention of needles and blood, mentions of pregnancy

“You’re overreacting. I’m fine,” Nic insisted.

The curtain to the ED room opened and Natalie walked in, tablet in hand. She paused, surprised at who she saw in the room.

“Sam? What are you doing here? Isn’t it your day off?” Natalie asked.

Sam sighed. “It is, but my stubborn wife is sick and won’t admit it.”

“I’m not— I’m fine, Dr. Manning. Really,” Nic brushed it off. “I probably just have a stomach bug or something. I shouldn’t be here.” She pushed off the bed to stand but found her legs buckling underneath her. Natalie rushed forward to catch her, and Nic braced herself on the bed with one hand.

“Nicole, stop being so hardheaded,” Sam told her worriedly.

“I’m just a little tired,” she excused. Natalie helped her back into the bed, noting the redness on her cheeks and neck.

“You’re dehydrated,” Sam told her.

“What’s going on?” Natalie asked them curiously.

“She's been sick the last few days; vomiting, nauseous, exhausted. And this morning I came home from the night shift to find her in the bathroom practically passed out. Brought her straight here, despite the protests,” he explained, giving his wife a pointed look and Nic gave him one back.

Natalie nodded along as she looked through Nic’s chart on the tablet. “I’m glad you brought her in. Nic, you are looking really pale and if you are dehydrated like we suspect then I want to get you on IV fluids.”

“I don’t need all this fuss for what’s probably just a stomach bug. I have a sensitive stomach.” Nic threw her hands up in defeat.

“Even so, we can do a blood test to narrow down what’s making you feel so bad.” Natalie was about to call for a nurse when Nic began to gag.

“Oh god, I’m gonna be sick,” she warned. Sam grabbed the basin sitting on a nearby table and quickly held it in front of her. Nic threw up into it, taking it from his hands. As he held her hair back, Natalie spoke up.

“We’ll get you something to stop the vomiting while we’re at it,” she told them before stepping out into the ED.

When she finally stopped getting sick, Sam handed her a tissue for her to wipe her mouth and he set the basin down. Nic laid back in the bed.

“I’m sorry this is how you have to spend your morning,” Nic apologized, rolling onto her side and facing Sam.

He reached up to brush some strands of hair out of her face. “In sickness and in health, remember? I do. Somehow you’re always sick more often than me.”

She grinned. “It’s a good thing I married a doctor then.”

Sam cracked a smile before reaching over to close the curtain. “Let’s get you into a gown.”

She whined, sitting up as he started to pull off her slippers and socks. “But I hate them!”

“It’s the rules.”

“I’m keeping my bra and underwear on. If Dr. Manning wants me out of them then she has to buy me dinner first. You did.” Sam chuckled as he watched her begin to undress, but she paused. “Sam! Look away!”

“What? You’re my wife. I’ve seen you in less than that.”

“Don’t stare!” Her face grew red. “Face that way! Go stand in the corner.”

Sam shook his head, chuckling, but faced away from her and allowed her to change. Once she was done Nic announced it and Sam opened the curtains.

A few minutes later a nurse stepped into the room, introducing herself as Monique before drawing Nic’s blood.

“Sorry it’s so hard,” Nic apologized. “It gets like that when I’m dehydrated.”

“I told you,” Sam said quietly.

Nic rolled her eyes but Monique smiled. “It’s okay. I’ve dealt with tougher veins.” After drawing the blood, she attached the saline IV to Nic’s hand and hung the bag.

“Which antiemetic is that?” Sam asked as the nurse began to inject the medicine into Nic’s IV.

“Sam,” Nic said tiredly, looking at him. She squeezed his hand. “Please don’t be a doctor right now. I need my husband.”

Taking a breath, he nodded, squeezing her hand back. “Do you need anything? I can get you something from the cafeteria.”

“Let’s wait until we know it won’t be coming back up,” Nic said.

“Get some rest. Dr. Manning will be back when we get the results,” Monique said before leaving the room. She slid the glass door closed, leaving Nic and her husband in the silent room.

“How long will it take to get the blood results?” Nic asked, leaning back in the bed.

“For a suspected stomach bug, probably bottom of the list.”

“Oh lovely.” Nic pulled the covers over herself. “Tell me when they arrive. I’m exhausted. You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll sleep when we know what’s going on and we’re home,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her head.

It felt like hours but really it was only one. Nic barely slept the whole hour but it was enough to give her some rest, and she was grateful the medicine was working. Sam seemed pleased when she woke up and didn’t feel nauseous. She was even able to tolerate crackers he got from the vending machine.

Natalie gently opened the door to the room and stepped inside, tablet in hand. She closed it behind her, and Nic sat up in the bed. Her and her husband looked at Natalie expectedly.

“Nic, how are you feeling? Your color is coming back,” Natalie said.

“I feel a lot better. I was even able to get a little sleep,” Nic told her.

“Well that’s good.” Natalie looked down at the tablet. “So, I got your blood results back and I know why you’ve been feeling so bad. You’re pregnant, and possibly suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum— an extreme form of morning sickness.”

Sam and Nic both looked at Natalie with surprise and confusion before Nic’s face morphed into concern.

“Hold on, wait, back up a bit.” Nic took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant? No, that can’t be right. Sam– he’s had a vasectomy. I’m on birth control. There’s no way.”

“Are you sure those are the right results?” Sam asked, reaching over to take Nic’s hand. She instinctively squeezed it tightly.

“I am. I didn’t get the wrong labs, Sam,” Natalie assured him. “I can tell this is a bit of a shock for you both. I’ll be outside and let you two process this. Let me know what you want to do and I’ll contact OB for you.” Natalie gave them both a small smile and left the room, closing the door to give them privacy. As soon as they were alone Nic broke down.

“We can get a paternity test. Sam, you have to believe me, I would never cheat. I don’t know how this happened!”

“Hey, breathe,” he said, sitting on the side of the hospital bed. He took her other hand in his and squeezed them. “We’re not getting a paternity test. I trust you, Nic. You’ve never given me a reason not to.” After a few deep breaths she wiped away the tears. “Now we just need to figure out what we want to do.”

“I want it,” she told him quietly. “We always talked about starting a family one day, we just got busy. But I never expected it would be this late.”

“Better late than never, huh?”

“I guess so.” She cracked a smile, and at that Sam smiled too. “Now the only thing is to figure out how this happened.”

“I’ll make an appointment with a urologist, I promise. Do you want to take Natalie’s offer and get OB down here?”

Nic nodded. “I do. I’d really like that.”

“I’ll go let her know.” Sam kissed her head and got up from the bed, stepping outside the nurse’s station where Natalie was, typing on the computer. “Can you call OB down?” He asked her. “Preferably for an ultrasound.”

Natalie nodded, smiling at him. “I’ll page Dr. Patchefsky and have her come down. Congratulations, by the way, Sam.”

“Thanks. Not exactly what I expected on my day off, but… yeah.”

It was another half hour before Dr. Patchefsky was able to come down, and by that time Nic had grown impatient. If it wasn’t for Sam keeping her company she most likely would’ve left already. But they wanted answers, and Patchefsky was able to give those to them.

“Can you tell how far along I am?” Nic asked as the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to her stomach.

Dr. Patchefsky looked at the screen. “Let me take some measurements and I’ll be able to tell you in a moment.” They waited in anticipation for a response, and Nic squeezed her husband’s hand anxiously. “Based on the measurements you’re about 8 weeks along.”

“That’s about the time I was getting over strep. But still, I’m on the pill, how could I have possibly gotten pregnant?” She asked, looking at Sam.

“Some antibiotics can neutralize the effects of birth control,” Dr. Patchefsky explained.

“Oh, that’s lovely to know… after the fact.” Nic mumbled.

“Everything looks good, I’m not seeing anything worrying,” Dr. Patchefsky said, removing the wand and wiping away the gel. “Dr. Manning told me you were experiencing some morning sickness.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Sam said and Nic smacked his arm.

“I’m going to prescribe you some anti nausea medicine until you can see your regular doctor. Then you can be on your way.”

“Thanks, Olga,” Sam thanked as she shut off the ultrasound.

“I’ll call your prescription down to the pharmacy and you can pick it up on your way out. Congratulations, Sam.” Dr. Patchefsky smiled at them before leaving the room.

Sitting up, Nic took a deep breath and smiled at her husband. “It’s real. Like really real. We’re having a baby.”

“We are.” Sam smiled back and squeezed her hand then pressed a kiss to her head.

“Can you hand me my phone? I want to order us breakfast so we can pick it up on our way home.” He pulled her phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. As Nic unlocked the phone she noticed the date and giggled. “Do you know what today is?”

He thought for a moment, unsure where she was going. “No… Should I?”

“It’s Father’s Day.” Nic laughed softly.

“Is it really?” He asked. “I guess I gotta call my dad then.”

She grinned at him and pulled him close. “Happy Father’s Day, hon.”

Tag List: @hyperionshipping @canongf @the-dark-fae-and-her-fos

#mywriting #otp: from lab partners to life partners #🧠#pregnancy mention #bad for crow #reblogs are appreciated

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Text

the way we were / the way we are - chapter 11 - how many times can I break till I shatter

summary: as if one surprise wasn’t enough...

warnings: mentions of bucky’s torture, canon-typical violence, I miss tony stark

a/n: writing bucky’s POV in this fic got me the hardest and going back to it makes me ACHE

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Shortly after Steve hangs up the phone, a text from him comes through with an address, as promised. You study the map for a few minutes, then head out, moving as quickly as you can through the city without drawing attention.

“Don’t go back to the apartment,” Steve had said just before you hung up. “It isn’t safe.”

You’re cursing under your breath as you hustle through the streets. Your tablet is still at the apartment, password protected, encrypted, and locked without facial recognition thanks to Tony, but you’d been working on the designs stored on it for weeks.

Tony picks up on the first ring, says he’ll be in Washington first thing in the morning to collect you. “You have somewhere to lay low in the meantime?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “A friend of Steve’s. I’ll be okay. Keep you posted if anything changes.”

“You better,” he says, and you both hang up.

The address Steve had sent finds you in a small suburb of D.C., rows of small houses that vaguely remind you of a time long passed. His name is Sam, Steve had said in the message with the address. He’s a good guy.

You knock on the front door once, and after a beat, the lock clicks.

A handsome man opens the door, giving you a toothy grin. He waves you in without a word, closing the door behind you and securing a series of locks.

“You must be Y/N,” he says, and you nod, a little wary. “Steve called, said you’d be dropping by.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it. “Sam Wilson.”

“Steve tell you anything else?” you ask.

Sam shakes his head. “Said there wasn’t anything else I needed to know for the moment. He said you needed help. And that’s me.”

You nod. “Stark will be here in the morning, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“As in Tony?” When you nod, his eyes go wide. “So you’re one of them? The Avengers.”

“Not exactly,” you say, scoffing. “I’m…more of a secret, than anything else.”

Sam quirks a brow, but then takes your jacket, shows you around his house. The place is small, but homey, comfortable. It’s decorated in a way similar to Steve’s, which you find somewhat amusing. He explains how his fancy coffee machine works in detail, and you don’t have the heart to tell him you’d figured it out with a glance.

He sets you up on the couch, gives you a pillow and a blanket and some old sweats to sleep in. You’re grateful, and you say your goodnights, but Sam lingers in the doorway. “You’re like Steve, aren’t you?” he asks, and you blink back at him. “Not exactly like him, but similar.”

“How’d you know?”

Sam smiles. “Something in the eyes, I think. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

As promised, Tony arrives the next morning, pulling in front of Sam’s house in the most ostentatious car you’ve ever seen. You bid Sam goodbye with another thank you, and slip into the passenger’s seat.

“I told you I needed to lay low,” you tell Tony as you buckle your seatbelt. “This thing is a beacon for attention.”

“The windows are tinted as dark as legally allowed,” he retorts, shifting into drive and peeling down the street. “The only network with access to the GPS is mine. And the glass is bulletproof. I told you, Y/N. I don’t take chances.”

You just shake your head. You’re expecting him to head towards the airport, but instead he gets on highway, heading in the direction of New York.

“We’re driving back to the Tower?” you ask.

Tony just nods. “Yep,” His lips pop on the p.

“You gonna tell me what you’re so bent about?”

He sighs. “Pepper is understandably upset with me. I stepped on her toes, said a few things I shouldn’t have. She’s still in Malibu, but I told her I’d be in New York for a few weeks at least. Give her some space.” His nose crinkles. “It’ll work out. Always does.”

“So my crisis came at an opportune moment,” you say, and he nods. “You gonna let me drive?”

“In your dreams, kid.”

It’s a seven hour drive from D.C. to New York, and surprisingly, it goes quick. You and Tony talk designs for the most part, plans he has for different parts of the Tower that he wants your input on. “Be nice to have you back in the lab,” he tells you. “Feels a little empty without you.”

You nap for an hour or so, purposely avoid the topic of Steve, and lament to Tony about your misplaced tablet, but he waves it off.

“I’ll get you a new one at the Tower. Jarvis will be able to upload all your settings through the network. No sweat.”

You smirk. “I should have known.”

“You really should have,” Tony agrees. “Speaking of, how goes the whole electronic genius gig?”

“Well, pretty useless at the moment,” you reply. “Used it on a coffee machine this morning.”

“Fancy.”

“The fanciest.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then says, “You know, I meant what I said before, when you were still at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. If Steve gives the green light, I’d happily add you to the team. Figure out some weapons and a uniform for you.”

You’re grinning, but the caveat snags. If Steve gives the green light. “Getting the old man to agree might be the hardest part. He worries too much. Besides, don’t you need the rest of the team to say yes before you bring someone new in?”

Tony presses a little harder on the gas. “Banner’s a guaranteed yes, we know that for sure. Thor is easy enough to convince, and Nat shouldn’t have any qualms. If she says yes, Barton says yes. It’s my idea so we already know my answer, so Steve is the only one left. He says yes, you’re good to go.”

“We’ll see,” is all you say in response, and sink a little deeper into your seat.

Your mind wanders for the rest of the drive. Tony does let you drive, but only a few miles before he’s telling Jarvis to pull the car over so you can switch back. He allows you to pick the music for the rest of the trip, and is more than shocked at your chosen combination of Fleetwood Mac, One Direction, and Frank Sinatra. He asks you to play Landslide three times in a row and you catch him singing along to the chorus ofWhat Makes You Beautiful. It’s a good laugh.

By the time you reach New York, after more than a few pit stops along the way for cheeseburgers and pee breaks, night has fallen. New York is cleaner than it was the last time you visited, and the ride in to where the Avengers Tower sits is bright and full of life.

The Tower, however, is nearly empty. Nat is back in D.C. still – she’d gone on a mission with Steve a few days before, and you can only hope she’s with him now and they’re watching each other’s backs – and Clint has been MIA for a few weeks now, according to Tony. Thor is, of course, on another planet, and Bruce is around, but sleeping when you head up to the residential floors. Tony heads for the lab, and you make your way to the kitchen, desperate for a snack that isn’t something from a fast food joint. You decide on apple slices and peanut butter, and take the plate back your room. You put on a movie, the first thing that pops up on the Tower’s Netflix account, and settle in with your snack.

You fall asleep clutching your phone to your chest, praying that Steve will call before the morning.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Sam swoops in from behind and his feet slam into the assassin’s – Bucky’s – shoulder, sending him flying. He recovers easily, rolling to his feet and taking aim again. But before he can pull the trigger, a grenade launches past his head, and Steve looks over his shoulder to see a very injured Natasha holding Bucky’s grenade launcher. Her face is pale, and there’s blood nearly spurting from her chest. When Steve looks back, through the smoke and flame the grenade had caused, Bucky is gone.

He hears sirens.

“Drop the shield, Cap!” Rumlow yells. “On your knees! Get on your knees! Now! Get down!”

His knees drop hard into the pavement, but he’s barely aware of it.

Bucky.

The face, the voice. It had to be him. There was no other way.

Late the following evening, your phone rings.

“Steve?”

He gives you a quick explanation, still maintaining that it’s much better if you don’t know what’s going on. “We’re safe, for the time being. Nat was injured, but she’ll be okay.” He’s silent for a second. “Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

You stifle a groan. “That’s the second time. More friends from the forties to mingle with?”

You’re expecting him to laugh. You’d been mad about him keeping Peggy from you for a minute, but the anger had faded by the time you’d gone to bed that night. It’s a joke. He’s supposed to laugh.

But nothing, not even a chuckle.

“Steve, tell me.”

“It was him,” he says, and his voice is so quiet you can barely hear it. “He looked right at me. It was him.”

“Who?”

You have a hunch. There’s this awful, churning, begging feeling in your gut. Please be right. Please be right. Please be right.

“Steve, tell me.”

“Swear to me,” he says, his voice louder, cutting you off. “Swear to me that you won’t come back to Washington. Right now, Y/N, swear it.”

Your hand are shaking. “I can’t do that, Steve. I won’t.”

“God, you are so stubborn.”

“I learned from the best, Rogers,” you throw back. “Tell me.”

Steve sighs, and you can almost see him scrub a hand down his face. “He’s alive, Y/N,” he says finally, and it’s a miracle your heart doesn’t burst from your chest. “Bucky is alive.”

Someone is fixing his arm. They’re very careful not to touch his skin, only the arm. It’s a weird sensation, but one he is more than used to. His mind wanders while they try to fix it. It does that.

Even after all this time, he still remember everything. The fall from the train, the pain, the loss of his arm. The continued experiments, the torture, the screaming. It’s all the same, over and over, on a loop.

But there’s more.

It’s been coming back in pieces. It’s like a puzzle, in his head. When they put him in cryo, he dreams, but when he’s awake, when he’s not…him, he can sift through the dreams, pick out what is a real memory and what is just his mind playing tricks on him. Or HYDRA playing tricks on him. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

You were real, of that much he was certain.

The first memory of you had returned years ago, and he hadn’t known what to do with it. A gag in your mouth, wrists and ankles bound with rope, fear in your eyes. On the train, right before he’d…

As time passed, as he concentrated on you more and more, the pieces fell into place. You were special to him, you had meant something. He had loved you.

He still loves you, when he’s not…him. He doesn’t love anybody. He is just a monster. But he is also Bucky. They’re one and the same.

Each time they wiped him, all the memories vanished behind a steel wall in his mind, but when the treatment started to fade, your face was the first thing that returned. He always pictures you smiling.

He’s frozen in place as the person continues fixing his arm. Something in him twitches, a sleeping animal being rudely awoken, and another memory surfaces.

Zola.

They’d captured Bucky in ’45. The torture and experimentation only grew, but he resisted. He fought back. He spat in Zola’s face every chance he could.

My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038. I live in New York. I’m married to Y/N Barnes. We have been married since March 9th, 1945.

Then they showed him the files.

The wreckage of the Valkyrie. Steve’s sacrifice to save millions of lives. It broke his heart in half, to know that his friend had died, scared and alone.

And the other.

Without Steve to protect you, Zola had managed to get his hands on you again, somehow. He’d experimented on you much the same way he had on Bucky. But the experiments had failed, but Zola wanted to find some use for you, so he’d tortured you for information about the SSR. “She begged for death, in the end,” they told him. “She was a shell, and yet she still cried out for you.”

Knowing Steve was gone had broken his heart in two. But you? You were the only reason he was fighting back. He had to get back to you.

Now he had nothing to go home to. Nothing left in this world.

His heart shattered.

When he’d woken up again, the memories were gone. He was just…him.

He lets out a roar and the technician working on his arm goes flying across the room. There are guns pointed at him, but he doesn’t care, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. The animal is angry.

A man in a suit enters the room. Pierce. “Sir, he’s unstable. Erratic,” someone says.

“Mission report,” Pierce grits at him. Nothing. “Mission report, now.”

He still doesn’t respond. He’s distracted. He’s studying your face in his mind. Were you that beautiful in real life?

A hand strikes him across the face, snapping his head to the side. He barely feels it. “That man on the bridge,” he says. He’s testing them. He remembers. “Who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment,” Pierce offers, but he’s not convinced. It’s a lie. They’re lying to him.

“I knew him.” Another test. The animal is raging.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind,” Pierce is saying. “You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time.” I want you to kill one more. There’s almost a promise in it. One more, and then this will all be over. One more, and then you’re done. “Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning, we’re gonna give it a push. But, if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine, and HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

HYDRA and freedom don’t go hand in hand. He knows that better than anyone.

“But I knew him.”

Pierce’s eyes go dark. “Prep him.”

Good, Bucky thinks. Let me sleep some time longer. It doesn’t matter. It’ll all come back in the end.

“He’s been out of cryo-freeze too long,” someone protests.

Pierce is still staring at him. “Then wipe him, and start over.”

He knows what’s coming. He knows the pain better than he should, better than anyone should. He knows he’ll wake up, and he’ll have the reins. Bucky will be in the backseat of his mind, watching a trained assassin control his body like it belongs to him. It doesn’t. He won’t let it.

Hands push him back into the chair, the mouth guard is slid between his teeth. The clamps tighten around his arms, and he hears the machine buzz to life.

He holds onto the image of your face as long as he can.

They can’t take you from him. No one can.

I don’t think even death could take you from me.

He was right about that.

You’d hung up on Steve, barely packed a bag, and headed straight for the garage. Jarvis had tried to stop you when you’d slid into the driver’s seat of one of Tony’s cars, but it was half-hearted. Knowing you could reroute his systems into an infinite loop in the blink of an eye stopped the AI from getting in your way.

“I should really notify Mr. Stark about this, Ms. Barnes. He will worry for your safety.”

“You really shouldn’t, Jarvis, not if you like your processing unit where it is. And it’s Mrs, just for the record.”

Silence, and then. “Of course, Mrs. Barnes. Terribly sorry.”

You’d contemplated commandeering Tony’s plane, but that meant getting a pilot on your side. You couldn’t fly a plane. But you could drive a car.

You make it back to Washington just as the sun is rising again, and the most surprising part of it all is that you don’t get pulled over for speeding. Not that you would have stopped.

Bucky is alive.

The moment you’re inside the city, your phone starts to ring. You don’t recognize the number, and you’re hesitant to answer, but then a message slides across the screen. Answer the phone, Barnes.

You don’t expect the gruff voice of Nick Fury to be on the other end of the phone.

“Welcome back to the capital,” he says. “We heard you might be making an appearance.”

“Yeah, well,” you reply, “Steve calls, I answer.”

“Things have already gotten pretty heavy, Y/N. You might want to sit this one out.”

“Did Steve tell you who he is? The assassin?”

“He did.”

“Then respectfully, sir, you know that sitting this one out is not an option for me.”

Fury is quiet for a moment, and then he start talking. He fills you in on everything Steve and Nat had uncovered, Alexander Pierce’s secret takeover of S.H.I.E.L.D. and what Project Insight truly meant.

“Where?”

“The Triskelion. I know there’s no stopping you now, but Y/N, you need to prepare yourself. He’s not what you remember.”

You have to stop yourself from laughing. “The world is not what I remember. But I’ve spent the last year thinking he was dead. Seventy years, if you wanna add my time on ice. Something’s better than nothing.”

“If you say so.”

Despite Fury’s assistance, you’re too late. You’re speeding along the side of the Potomac as the last of the three helicarriers plunges into the river below. You’re relieved, knowing what their true purpose actually was. But then you pick out Steve’s body falling through the air, crashing into the water. Your enhanced vision shows the blood on his face, the wound on his stomach. You skid to a stop, killing the engine, leaping out of the car and sliding down the bank.

Your eyes go wide when you see the shield at the edge of the water, the surface scratched and dirty, water lapping across it. You grab it, slip your hand through the grip.

With a splash, Steve’s body hits the water and you’re about to wade out after him, but then your gaze catches on another figure still on the crashing helicarrier, holding on to the wreckage with a silver, metal arm.

Those eyes…

There’s another splash as the figure lets go of the wreck and plunges into the water. You watch from your spot on the bank, hidden behind a tree, shield in hand, as the figure appears again a moment later, dark hair plastered to his face. He pulls Steve to the surface, and you can’t move as he swims towards the shoreline, towing Steve’s limp figure behind him. The water grows shallow towards the shore, and he wades to the very edge, dropping Steve unceremoniously in the mud.

Steve sputters, water spraying from his lips, and the figure seems to sag with relief, turning on his heel and stalking away. He doesn’t get two feet before you burst from your hiding spot among the trees, shoes slipping in the mud and nearly sending you tumbling into the water.

“Bucky!”

The figure spins back, his eyes going wide, and for a fraction of a second, you see him.

Bucky.

James.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, of the Howling Commandos. Born 1917. Your husband.

For a fraction of a second, you see the recognition. He knows you. But as quickly as it comes, it’s gone, and you’re thrown back to memories from another time, of Bucky braced against the wall of the bunker in London, words tumbling from his lips. Trying to keep himself from slipping away.

Eyes like a thunderstorm stare back at you. Whoever that is, it isn’t Bucky.

He lifts his gun and pulls the trigger.

You’re quick to lift the shield, and the bullet ricochets. When you lower the shield, he’s still standing there, gun raised.

“You know me,” you say, finding your voice. “My name is Y/N Barnes. I lived in New York City. I married James Buchanan Barnes on March 9th, 1943. You know me.”

There’s the flicker of recognition once more. Your heart is breaking in your chest. What did they do to you?

The gun is still pointed at you. His finger wavers on the trigger.

After a moment, you let the shield drop from your grip. It slips to the ground in front of you with a muffled clang. The gun doesn’t move. If he pulled the trigger, the bullet would go straight to your heart. You know that for certain. Bucky doesn’t miss. Your husband, the sharpshooter.

“You know me. I know you do.”

Another flicker, this one stronger than the last. He stumbles back a step, water splashing around his feet, and the gun slips from his grip, landing in the mud.

His eye meet yours again, and this time they’re wet with tears…and blue. Blue fire edged in raw steel. Eyes that had held yours so many times, so many years ago. Eyes you felt like you could never look away from. Those eyes know you. Those eyes have seen you at your best, at your worst, at everything in between.

“You know me.”

You know me. You know me. You know me.

“No, I don’t,” he says finally, and before you can get another word out, he sprints through the trees and disappears.

—————

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