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wintervvidow · 3 years

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apricity

part one.

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, blood mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,364

A/N: hi! welcome to part one of apricity! set in mid-captain america: the winter soldier. this idea has been in my head for a very long time and I am super excited to finally get it out. in this story I use the term “winter widow” , similar to the “winter soldier”, it has no correlation to bucky and natasha here. prolonged italics indicate a flashback. friendly feedback is appreciated! thank you! <3

ALSO: please know that future parts will take a WHILE. I just want to get the first part out to get the ball rolling.

MASTERLIST

The silence is what breaks her. She swears she would have been fine if it weren't for the silence, the screams of innocent bystanders no longer existed, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose and stinging her eyes. Aside from the erratic breaths coming from both their lips, you could hear a pin drop as their eyes stared at each other in a blinding intensity as Steve Rogers called out to him, “Bucky?”

The gun feels entirely too heavy in her hands as her lungs expand rapidly, eyes unmoving from the ghost of a man in front of her. Except he isn't a ghost anymore. He's here, alive. James Buchanan Barnes, her Bucky, alive.

He’s clad in all-black tactical gear, metal arm glinting blindingly in the sun. His eyes are a stormy shade of blue, same as the ones that haunt her in her nightmares, not the kind blue she wishes she could have back. The Winter Soldier is the shell of the man she was in love with, the man in front of her was the man she learned to love all the same. He protected her even when he didn’t remember her, even the brainwashing couldn’t fully get rid of the love they both had for one another. Although HYDRA fought like hell to make them both forget. It never worked though, fragments of memory always littered their conscience.

His brows furrow, overgrown hair in his eyes, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Deep down in her bones, she knew he was alive. The last time she saw him he was being wiped by HYDRA, his screams masking her disappearance into the winter weather. HYDRA searched high and low for her, yet they forgot that they were the ones to train her. HYDRA perfected her, taught her how to disappear into thin air, and that's just what she did. They went as far as to send the Winter Soldier to find her, but even he couldn’t track her. Florence was a ghost.

Florence Morozov was many things before she was an assassin; she was an immigrant daughter, a friend, a nurse, and her greatest title of all, the love of Bucky Barnes' life, his fiancée. The couple, along with the third wheel Steve, were inseparable in their younger days before the second war. Where there was one, the other two were usually not far behind.

The trio had gone to the Stark Expo the night before Bucky got shipped off to the war. That night Bucky had proposed with a small emerald ring, promising her that when he got back they'd get married, move into a little white picket fence house, and settle down. They dreamed of growing old together surrounded by their kids and grandchildren. Only that dream had been crushed under the heel of HYDRA, not long after Florence enlisted as a nurse and Steve became Captain America, notably leading the Howling Commandos. Florence worked closely along with them, acting as a medic when needed.

When Steve woke up from his 70-year slumber on ice, Florence had a lot of explaining to do. How she was alive, what she had been doing, where she had been. She told Steve what he needed to know, leaving Bucky out of the answers. She had to protect him, even if it meant lying to their shared best friend. She would do anything to protect Bucky.

Florence explained to Steve that when she fell off the train with Bucky, she had been captured by HYDRA and experimented on. She was sent to the Red Room to be trained and then sent back to HYDRA in the ‘50s. She was their puppet for 46 years, coined the name the Winter Widow before she disappeared in late December of 1991. Florence was on the run for 17 years before she was taken in by Clint Barton, joining S.H.I.E.L.D along with Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha and Florence grew to be very close over the years, the trauma they both shared bonded them. Natasha was the only one to know the full story of Bucky, every nitty-gritty detail that haunted Florence in her dreams. When Nick Fury had been killed, both Florence and Natasha immediately recognized the ballistics information, a silent agreement between the two redheads to only tell Steve what he needed to know, no more than that. Florence only told Steve that she knew the Winter Soldier, nothing more. Natasha understood her secrets, she had them herself, her response of, "That's not my story to tell, we all have secrets for a reason."

Florence quickly tracked everything up to this moment. Fury being attacked, Steve's description of the shooter, the Winter Soldier attacking them on the highway only minutes ago. And then there was the chase between the soldier and Florence, trying to divert him. And it worked, Florence had managed to distract him until he got too close, the pair of lovers engaging in hand-to-hand combat until Steve intervened.

And now here she was standing in the middle of the street with a bullet in her shoulder from none other than the Winter Soldier. Flashes of the mission in Odessa running through her mind, he had shot her in the thigh then, Natasha in the abdomen. Steve stood in shock as the ghost disappeared, leaving Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Florence to be surrounded by HYDRA agents and arrested.

Blood trickled down Florence’s shoulder as she was seated between Sam and Natasha in the back of the truck. Her shoulder felt white-hot as she grits her teeth, Sam nervously glancing at her every second. Steve sat across from them, visibly upset, lifting his head to glare at Florence, eyes cold, "You said you knew the Winter Soldier, that you two had a history, not that it was Bucky!" Steve felt betrayed, his oldest friend lying to his face for years about his best friend.

Sam angrily glared at Steve as Florence rasped her response with a shaky breath, "Steve, I'm kind of bleeding out right now. This is going to have to wait, just know I had my reasons. I did it to protect him. And you."

Florence knew this day would come. Bucky wouldn’t be a ghost forever. She fought herself internally every night, dreaming of him. It was always him; the good and bad, the Red Room, what happened after the Red Room, their mission in Romania, and every second in between. She was permanently trapped in her own personal hell.

Steve continued on, “It was him. He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me.”

Florence knew the feeling. Every time Bucky was reprogrammed, she had to convince him to loosen his grip around her throat, begging him to recognize her before he killed her. And every time he did, his eyes flashing in recognition and guilt. And then he would hold her shivering body against his in the confines of their shared cell, murmuring in her ear that he was sorry. And she knew he meant it. Even if his mind barely recognized her, his heart always did.

Sam questioned Steve loudly, causing Florence to flinch as she fell back down to reality, “How is that even possible, that was 70 years ago.” Florence felt bad for Sam, he just jumped headfirst into a dark world with more questions than answers.

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. Florence, how are you even alive? Zola didn’t get to you before the fall?” Steve just asked the golden question.

Florence took a deep breath in, “I don’t know. There are gaps in time, I don’t remember much from it. They all said that the fall should have killed me but it didn’t. Then I became a lab rat. The end.”

Steve looked her directly in the eye for the first time the entire day, “They must have found him and…”

Natasha interrupted him, she knew where this conversation could lead, “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

Florence shifted slightly, sharing a look with Natasha, silently thanking her for diverting the conversation.

Sam shifted beside her as another wave of blood oozed out from her shoulder, he turned to the guards, "We need to get a doctor here. If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck." Florence appreciated Sam’s protective and caring nature as Steve continued glaring daggers her way. Florence knew Steve wouldn’t understand her reasoning, too set in his ways of complete honesty all of the time. He didn’t understand what it meant to lie to keep those you loved safe.

The nearest guard flinched forward, flashing the taser at Sam before turning the taser on the second guard and kicking him unconscious. The guard pulled the helmet off of themselves, revealing Maria Hill, “God, that thing was squeezing my brain.” She motioned at Sam, “Who is this guy?” Everyone shared a collective sigh of relief at the sight of Maria.

After ditching the car, the team arrived at an undisclosed location. The doors of the truck opened, allowing sunlight to flood in. Steve helped Florence down from the truck, supporting her weight with ease. Blood continued to trickle from her shoulder as she leaned against him for support as Steve spoke while he half carried her forward into the building, “I’m not mad. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

Florence laughed slightly, her body weak, “Are you just saying that because I got shot and I’m currently bleeding out all over you?”

Steve scoffed, his body vibrating with the action, arm tightening around her, “No, Flo.”

Behind her and Steve, Sam called out for a doctor. People ran towards them from the opposite end of the hall, Maria Hill speaking over the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, "Natasha, there's something you're going to wanna see. Steve, get Florence patched up."

The group broke apart for a short period of time, Natasha reappearing with a hopeful expression on her face as Florence grimaced in pain next to the doctor stitching her up, "Fury is alive."

All eyes remained on Natasha as she explained how Fury was alive, a medication Bruce Banner had come up with did the trick to fake his death. Florence looked to Sam as he digested this information, he didn’t know what he got himself into. She could feel Steve's eyes boring into her head, but she didn't dare look. Her mind was a constant loop of Bucky.

Flashback:

His calloused hand led her through the crowd of people, Steve trailing far behind. The trio had just gotten finished dancing and now they were wandering aimlessly through the busy streets of Queens. The air was brisk as it blew through Florence’s auburn hair, her dress fluttering around her calves. Bucky stopped in front of a movie theater, the lights casting a warm glow over his face as he turned to face the girl. Her cheeks were blushed pink from the chill of the air and a smile had been permanently etched on her face all night.

The news that Bucky was being shipped off in the morning loomed over them like a rain cloud but Bucky was determined to keep her smiling; at least until the morning. His hand abandoned hers, reaching down to fish in his pocket. He found what he was looking for quickly, the velvet box small in his hand. Florence gasped at soon as the box came into the light, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew what this was, she accidentally stumbled upon it when she was putting away clothes last week. A small emerald ring.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, flipping the box open, “Flo, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’re my best girl, always there keeping me in line. I love you more than words can say. I know I leave tomorrow and I should have done this years ago, but will you make me that luckiest man on earth and marry me?”

Florence flew into Bucky’s arms in a flurry of kisses and agreements, Bucky lifting her up and twirling her. He gently set her back on the ground, slipping the ring on her finger as she giggled. Bucky met her eyes, tears glimmering in them, “I promise you, when I get back you and I will get married, we’ll buy a house and we’ll make it a happy home; kids, dogs, a garden, all of it. I promise you.” By the end of Bucky’s promise, both he and Florence were crying in each other’s arms, each one clutching the other tightly, both hyper-aware that the future wasn’t promised.

Steve stumbled his way through the large crowd, catching sight of his two best friends hugging each other. He didn’t have the heart to break them up at the moment, so he watched on with a smile. It would all be okay.

Bucky sat in the test chair underneath the bank piecing the remnants of his memories together. He knew them. The man knew his name, or at least what he thought was his name. And he knew the girl he shot, memories of her smiling flickered through his mind. Yet they were complete strangers, their faces foreign yet home all at the same time.

Alexander Pierce was terrified of this day, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He knew of the attachment Bucky had to the Winter Widow, ever since she disappeared in ‘91, the soldier was harder to control, more agitated and violent. He screamed her name in his sleep and when they wiped him he was always mumbling about her when he became coherent. They tried to program it out of him, and when that didn’t work, they tried to beat it out of him, hoping she would vanish from his memories the way his blood washed down the drain. Nothing ever worked. The Winter Soldier was irrevocably in love with Florence Morozov and Alexander was going to use that against him.

The Winter Soldier’s mission was to kill Steve Rogers and Florence Morozov.

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ewritesfanfics · 3 years

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A/N: Ok so, I don’t post anything, ever. I’m very much a lurker. But ROTT just ... I couldn’t just sit and do nothing. So I made this blog, and here’s my attempt at a fanfic, with some changes to cannon. The ones important to this piece are that Archie did not stay with Charlemagne, and Krel and Douxie built the new amulet together so they’re a lot closer. This takes place just after the fight between Skrael and Nari, and also contains an idea of mine around a lore change and for a possible either rewrite of ROTT or a continuation, and whichever form it takes would be a much longer fic, which is why this short piece doesn’t have a title. So if people find it interesting and want to see more, please let me know. I’ve never really written fanfic before so I apologize if any of it sounds weird or stilted. If people like this and I do write the larger piece, I’ll probably be posting it on Ao3.

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Douxie can only watch in horror as the Ice Titan stabs into the torso of Nari’s, ice creeping over and between rock and roots and vines, seeping into the crevices and joints, growing and pulling, straining to rip her titan apart. Her shout of pain and rage echoes across the valley, and she retaliates, one massive leg driving into the Ice Titan’s torso, her vines growing into it, taking purchase where they can, drilling into the glacial limbs and twisting into its heart, determined to take him down with her. The titans rage and the earth shakes as they push and pull, trying to tear each other apart while trying to keep themselves together long enough to kill the other. With a last surge of strength, each is ripped apart with groaning rumbles from the titans and screams from Skrael and Nari. Both titans crumble.

As they fall, Douxie immediately takes off towards the devastation, moving so quickly, Archie is thrown from his shoulder. Though his friends call out for him, his blood is pounding too loudly in his ears for him to hear. Or perhaps, he simply doesn’t care. As he runs, his friends can see the wisps of blue emanating off him, rotating around him, and finally encasing him, his magic aiding him in his desperation to get to his friend, his sister in all but blood.

Breaking into a clearing beneath sky-piercing shards of rock and vaulting broken glaciers, he spots a small green body spotted with melting ice and blackened patches akin to frostbite, limp and still amongst the ruins, the grass beneath her wilting. Every plant in this clearing seems paler, droopier, as if in mourning.

No, not Nari! Not her too!

Douxie immediately runs to her side, his magic dissipating as he skids to his knees, caring not for the blood that now stains the legs of his dirty and ripped jeans. He reaches out, trembling, almost afraid to touch her, to find out that he failed Merlin, failed his friends, failed her.

But he swallows that fear down into a thick knot in his throat, that’s as far as it will go, and carefully he grips her shoulder and turns her to face him. For a second he cannot breathe, her eyes closed and body unresponsive, half of her face blackened and dotted with small spots of frost. He draws her close, cradling her in his lap, unable to comprehend that she might be gone. Gently, he pushes a strand of hair from her serene face with a shaking hand, and it’s then that her eyes crack open, the golden of her good eye dull, the other now completely black.

“Nari?” he breathes, hoping blooming in his chest while despair cramps painfully, not wanting to allow the hope to grow in case he is wrong.

But the small smile that weakly graces her face blows that despair away, and the relief he feels lifts the weight in his chest, overflowing as tears begin to stream down his face. He draws her in for a tight embrace, sobbing hysterically into her shoulder.

“Nari!”

“Douxie,” is all she says, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

He draws back again to look her in the eyes. Her very much alive eyes.

“You’re going to be ok, I’m going to get you back to Camelot, and I’m going to fix you, and you’re going to be ok!”

At that, a sadness creeps into her lidded gaze.

“No, Douxie. My story ends here.” As quickly as his heart soared, it drops, sinking like a rock down into his stomach.

“No! No, you’ll be ok, I can fix this!”

Nari reaches a weak hand up, gently placing it on Douxie’s wet cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear.

“It will all be ok. You will leave here, fight Bellroc. You and trollhunter and friends will save the world.”

“And you’ll be coming with us,” he says, unable to hold back new sobs, deep, soul-wrenching sobs. “Please, Nari.”

“No. I will not. Thank you for protecting me. I have had fun. I am happy I was with you. Now-” her hand slides from cupping his cheek to splaying her fingers on the center of his chest- “You must listen. Bellroc and Skrael and me, we are the holders of the Primordial Arcana. Our magics made this world. They cannot be without masters, not now that the seals are gone. With no masters, they will run wild.”

“W-what?”

“Hisirdoux Casperan, I give to you the Life Arcanum.”

A green light pulses beneath her hand, and Douxie gasps, feeling it pulse beneath his skin. He can feel the energy thrumming through his entire being, from the prickling at the surface of his skin down to the humming at the center of his heart, and intertwining with the magic in his body. It is an ancient, primal feeling, a sense of the sheer age and immensity of this world and for a second it threatens to overwhelm him. There’s a sharp pain and a feeling as if he is being pulled out of his body and in every direction while simultaneously being crushed under the enormity, and then his magic and his soul are pulled into alignment with the heartbeat of life itself. The world lights up around him, every soul alight and burning bright, from the trees around the clearing, to the bugs and the grass they hide in, to his friends coming into the clearing, to the steadily dimming light of Nari. Just as quickly as it started, it stops. Douxie can feel something within him has been forever changed.

“You must find Skrael now. His arcanum will not linger long, you must get it before it escapes. It will help find who is right. Go, my wonderful Douxie, save the world. No more running.”

With that, her eyes fall closed and her body stills, and before Douxie can properly process, her body wafts away in wisps of green, gold, and purple magic, returning to the earth she loved so much. Douxie’s hold drops, collapsing, his arms suddenly empty as yet another of his loved ones is carried away on the wind.

And with that, he throws his head back and screams.

He screams and once again the world vibrates around him, only this time resonating with his soul-wrenching, all-consuming grief, his magic lashing out wildly around him, lighting up the clearing in vibrant blue, the plants twisting and writhing, cracks shooting up the remains of the titans, causing them to ominously creak and groan. Douxie knows he cannot give in to the black hole inside him, that he has to find Skrael’s arcanum and they have to get to Bellroc, he has to do it for Nari, he can’t fail her again, but in this moment he is certain that he will be destroyed, that he will surely drown and be lost.

Despite the magical maelstrom surrounding him, a fluffy head has managed to push through the storm and has found its way into his side and a pair of arms follow shortly, wrapping securely around him.

Blinking bleary eyes open, he can make out through the tears Archie, who he immediately scoops up, and he can see that the pair of arms around him are blue and glowing. Krel.

He folds into himself as his screaming turns to hitched wailing, and so too does his magic, fading, leaving the clearing dim and still once more. He collapses into Krel’s secure embrace, still holding tightly to Archie. Krel wraps his other pair of arms around him, tucking his own head next to Douxie’s, and Douxie curls further into him. He doesn’t say anything, knowing there is nothing he could say to take away Douxie’s pain, so he just silently holds him, running his fingers through Douxie’s hair in an attempt to help ground him. Meanwhile, Archie does his best to maintain a steady purr, keeping himself pressed into Douxie’s chest as he knows Douxie needs when he is distressed, having taken up this position many times over the past 900 years. His wizard now needs it more than ever.

More arms soon appear around them. Jim. Claire. Toby. Blinky. Aaarrrgghh. Together they do their best to hold the broken pieces of their friend together.

After a couple moments, Douxie manages to gather enough strength to choke out, “Need to find Skrael. Get his magic.” He starts to move, wanting to fulfil what Nari asked from him, but Archie presses his weight further into Douxie, and Krel’s arms hold firm.

“No, I need to –”

“Hush, Douxie. Let us handle it,” Archie says. There’s some murmuring between everyone before Claire pulls away, citing that Douxie taught her a containment spell that she can use to hold Skrael’s magic. She quickly departs, taking Aja and Varvatos with her as backup, just in case (at Jim’s insistence).

And so, with that out of the way, Douxie fully gives in and grieves, wading through the ocean within him, anchored by Archie and Krel and the others, keeping him from being swept away.

#tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #hisirdoux casperan #krel tarron #krexie #at least it will be krexie if i do the full piece #fanfic #my fanfic #tales of arcadia rise of the titans #toa #rott #douxie #nari #archie

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todorokibois · 3 years

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{1} - Spring Day

Reincarnation AU - Part of the Spring Day Series

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Possible Smut (In later chapters)

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji X Reader X Ryomen Sukuna

Words: 5,059

A/n: I just recently got into Jujutsu Kaisen but I love it so much already! Ever since I watched episode four and five this little idea has been running around in my mind, and I've seen a few others do an au like this so I decided I'd give it a shot. I’m still learning all the rules and stuff of the world, so please bear with me. Some of the characters may be ooc for the time being, as well as for plot purposes. I hope you enjoy what I have planned, and please do let me know what you think of this. Feedback is always greatly appreciated!

Summary: Being Yuuji’s best friend? Piece of cake. However, you never expected to be the reincarnation of Sukuna’s former lover. - You promised each other forever, but forever came.

Note: The characters are all aged up for this fic, so now they will be in university.

You can still remember the first day you met Itadori Yuuji like it was yesterday. Nothing really eventful happened on that day, but you know that it’s one you’ll never forget, for he’s your best friend and you are his. In fact, having just entered middle school at the time, he was one of the first friends you ever made at your new school.

He seemed impressed by how unafraid you were of the supernatural, the two of you spouting ghost stories to one another during lunch every day. Each day was a competition to see who could freak the other one out the most with an even gorier horror story every lunch period. So far, your record is thirty to twenty-nine in your favour, with more ties than you can count.

Soon enough, middle school came and went, and then the two of you found out that you were to go to the same high school. Both of you were excited that you would know at least one person, not to mention that that person is your best friend. At least you wouldn’t have to give up your daily routine with him. Needless to say, it came as quite a shock to Yuuji when you stopped coming to school about halfway through your first year.

Even though the two of you continued to text every day since your transfer, things never felt the same to either of you. Every time Yuuji asked what school you transferred to, you’d brush off the question, or give him a fake school name. He knows they’re fake since the one time he wanted to surprise you after school one day by visiting you, but when he went inside and checked the registry, your name wasn’t even close to being listed there.

That was a small rough patch in your relationship. Yuuji was hurt that you would lie to him like that, and it took about a week before you could cheer him up again. He just had to see you in person, that was the only way he would stop moping about. That, and he jokingly said it would be the only way he’d forgive you.

Again, as the two of you were walking around the shopping district, he asked you which high school you transferred to. Well, you couldn’t exactly tell him you transferred to a school that teaches you how to become a jujutsu sorcerer, now could you? So, you gave a vague description of the place, stating that you honestly always forget the name, but it’s hidden somewhere in the mountains surrounding Tokyo. Regardless, he made you promise that he could come visit at some point.

Every day, you miss him, just as he misses you, and every day you wish you could see more of him. Despite the amount of trips you plan together, nothing can replace no longer seeing each other every day. Oh well, at least you still keep in touch.

Yuuji never told you, but it was pure agony for him when you left without a clue as to where you’d gone. The fact that you couldn’t answer him for a few days made him go crazy. When he finally got an answer, it felt as if the world had finally started moving again, because to him, you are his entire world.

He doesn’t exactly know when his platonic feelings towards you turned more romantic, but he knows that they’ve never gone away, no matter how many years have passed. Perhaps it was that time in your second year of middle school when you tricked him into playing shogi with you, a game you had convinced him he could beat you at, only to be severely disappointed. How was he to know you were the best in the year when you had never mentioned it before that day? Or perhaps it was that one day during the summer break before the start of high school when the two of you were running through the park, laughing at each other as the sunlight reflected off of your hair, lighting up your eyes in a way he’d never seen before. Either way, he knows he’s been in love with you for a long time now, and he’d never do anything to jeopardize your friendship. He just hopes that someday, his feelings are returned.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t get to spend as much time with Yuuji over the break as you wanted to, what with your duties and all. However, you’re hoping you’ll be able to soon. You wanted to see him one last time before he started university, but unfortunately you couldn’t. Weeks passed, and you finally made plans to visit him a few months into the semester, but you had to cancel due to a last minute mission you got thrown on. Little did you know what would happen that night.

Earlier that evening, you had gotten a voicemail from Yuuji, informing you that his grandfather had died. You managed to take a detour long enough to call him back, making sure that he’s okay and letting him know that you’re sorry for his loss. His grandfather was the closest family he had left, so you know that as soon as you’re done with this mission, you’re going to see him. He told you he was fine, but you want to make sure. After all, you know how he can get.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you focus in on the task at hand. Clearing this abandoned building will be easy for you, nothing you haven’t done before. All there are are two level two curses to take care of, piece of cake. You only wish it was located closer to where Yuuji is, that way you could get to him sooner.

It took a few years, but you managed to quickly work your way up to a grade one sorcerer. You’re a very quick learner, and the fact that you already had strong reflexes thanks to always competing with Yuuji helped a great deal. You’re only surprised your mother kept her family secret for so long. However, you’re grateful for how long she kept it secret, because if she had revealed it sooner, you might not have met Yuuji, and you don’t know where you’d be today without him in your life.

With a sigh, you enter the building. Shifting your gaze around, you begin to hunt the curses currently within the vicinity. It doesn’t take you long to find the first one, quickly disposing of it before it even has the chance to retaliate. Locating the second takes a little bit longer than anticipated, but eventually you find it, preparing yourself to take this one down just as you did the first.

“Man, you really are one ugly thing, aren’t you?” You tut, shaking your head.

The curse in question did not seem to like your words, letting out a screech and lunging for you in the next moment. Quickly dodging, you parry the curse’s attack, managing to sever one of its many limbs before jumping back and keeping a bit of distance between the two of you. You’re just about to jump in for another attack when you falter, a sudden wave of specialized curse energy pulsing throughout your entire body.

Taking advantage of your momentary loss of composure, the curse lunges at you. You just manage to block the blunt of the attack, still getting a small scrape on your cheek in the process. You curse.

Another two minutes pass by and you’re finally able to dispose of the second level two. Immediately, the air in the building seems lighter, and you know you’ve cleared all the required curses and purified the space. Breathing a sigh of relief you head towards the exit, ready to be clear of this building once and for all.

As soon as you step outside, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, signalling that you’re getting a call. Thinking it to be Yuuji, you don’t even bother checking the caller id before answering right away.

“Hello?” You say, just as you hear the door fall shut behind you.

“(Y/n)! So glad you answered on the first ring,” the voice of your personal teacher and trainer, Gojo Satoru answers in a chipper voice. “Listen, I have some news for you.”

“Listen, teach, if you’re just gonna tell me about the mochi you bought today-“

“Ryomen Sukuna has been released,” he cuts you off, and you can only freeze in your tracks as your breath hitches in your throat. “We currently have control of his vessel.”

“What happened?” You ask, steadying yourself with your back against the side of the building you’ve just exited.

“Ah, nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about,” Gojo assures you. “We had it under control.”

“We?” Your brow quirks slightly even though he can’t see it.

“Yeah, Fushiguro and I,” he replies. “Well, it was mainly me, but who’s keeping score?” You can faintly hear grumbling in the background and then a chuckle from Gojo. “Anyways, best return to campus as soon as possible.”

“I can’t,” comes your immediate response.

There’s silence for a moment until, “and why’s that?”

“I have to go visit Yuuji,” you bring a hand up to rub at your temples. This conversation is giving you a headache.

“You mentioned he lives near Sendai, correct?” Gojo inquires.

“That’s correct,” you confirm, “why?”

“The incident was near there, so you can’t come, it’s not safe for you,” he explains.

You scoff, “since when have you ever been concerned for my safety?”

“I’m offended,” he feigns hurt. “As your teacher, I’m always concerned for your safety.”

“Bullshit,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Anyways, that’s all the more reason I should go and see him. Now I have two reasons to make sure he’s okay.”

You hear a deep sigh on the other end before Gojo is speaking once more, “listen, (Y/n), you know I’m not usually one to be a stickler for rules and such, and I hate enforcing things, but I’m going to need you to get back to campus and wait in your dorm until I come get you.”

“But-“

“That’s an order,” his voice is firm, and you know that there’s no arguing with him once he’s made up his mind.

“Fine,” you sigh, pushing yourself off of the wall in order to head to the train station. “Will you at least tell me the name of Sukuna’s vessel?”

“All in due time,” he says, sounding too cheerful for the current events which have just taken place this evening. “See you back at the academy!”

Without another word, the line goes dead and you know he’s ended the call to avoid answering any more of your questions.

Letting out another sigh, you tuck your phone away in your pocket. You sent a quick text to Yuuji beforehand, just explaining that something came up and you’re still thinking of him during this time. You hope you can see him soon.

The ride back to campus is spent thinking about the effects of Sukuna now being released. You know the elders will probably fight to execute whoever the poor idiot is that ingested his finger. Knowing Gojo, he’d fight against whatever the elders decide to do. You’re just hoping that whoever the idiot is that turned out to be Sukuna’s vessel is strong enough to both contain and control him.

Making it back to campus, you immediately head to your room, just as Gojo had instructed you to do. Figuring you have enough time before he comes calling, you take a quick shower, washing off the dirt and grime from the events of this evening. Once done, you change into some comfortable clothes and lay down on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you wait for Gojo to appear.

It’s not until noon the next day when Gojo finally shows up at your door.

“Took you long enough, I’m starving,” you grumble, noticing he’s carrying what looks like two prepackaged lunches in his hands.

“You could have gone out for food, you know,” he chuckles, already moving to sit down in your desk chair.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was told to ‘wait in my room and await further instructions,’” you cross your arms, allowing your door to fall shut as you return to sitting on your bed.

“Details, details,” he waves you off as you grab one of the lunches he hands you. “Anyways, I came to update my favourite student about what’s going on.”

You simply quirk a brow at him as you open your lunch, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, for starters I’ve delayed the inevitable,” he begins, to which you only give him a look. He goes on to explain that the vessel will most likely be joining the other first years in training to become a sorcerer until the proper time comes. “I’ve basically convinced the elders to allow the vessel to consume all of Sukuna’s fingers before being executed.”

“Okay, and?” You stare at him expectantly.

“Please, do hold your applause,” he grins, expression only faltering slightly when you continue to remain silent after a few moments. “Geez, tough crowd. Anyways, I thought you’d be more happy about this.”

“I only feel bad for the poor idiot who got involved in all of this,” you sigh, continuing to place food in your mouth while chewing thoughtfully.

“Oh, he’s an idiot alright,” Gojo chuckles.

“And who exactly is he?” You tilt your head slightly, looking at him expectantly.

Gojo lets out a deliberate yawn while standing up, stretching his arms above his head, “would you look at that? I’m late for a meeting with the principle. Toodles!”

Without another word, he vanishes from your room, only leaving you just as frustrated with him as you were before, with many more unanswered questions building in your mind. It’s just like him to do this to you, too. Always keeping information this important from you until you’re thrust upon a situation where you’re forced to confront the facts of the matter. You just hope that this is another one of his stupid training exercises and not him purposely avoiding telling you straight up who the vessel is. You also hope whoever the vessel is, is someone you don’t know since it’ll probably make it easier when the time comes. Still, knowing Gojo, he probably will come up with a plan to save the poor soul set for execution even after everything is said and done. If the poor boy even lives that long.

Finishing up your lunch, you decide to head towards the principle’s office. You are technically considered a first year in the university courses, so maybe you’ll have a chance to sneak a look at the vessel if you’re lucky. Besides, Gojo did mention something about Fushiguro and you meeting up with the other new first year tomorrow, so you want intel on what’s happening in regards to that.

Just as you raise your hand to knock on the principle’s door Gojo opens it as if he was expecting you. You attempt to sneak a glance past him but to no avail, only causing him to chuckle as he steps into the hallway and shuts the door behind him.

“How can I help you, my dear student?” He smiles, leaning against the now closed door.

“When are we meeting the new girl, and is the vessel accompanying us?” Your questions are direct and straight to the point.

“Ah, yes, Nobara,” Gojo nods. “Unfortunately, you won’t be accompanying us guys to meet up with her tomorrow, you have another mission to attend to.”

“Since when?” You scoff.

“Since now,” he singsongs. “Level one curse spotted at an old primary school. I would take care of it myself, but as you know, I care deeply about every single one of my students so I must be there to meet Nobara on her first day! Besides, you’re the only one I trust to do this assignment right now.”

Any protests you had soon die in your throat at his last statement. Though still ticked off you won’t get to go with them, you understand why he’s chosen you. Besides, this is your job, and you know it will help with your training.

“Fine,” you grumble, “but I still want to meet the new kids.”

“All in due time,” he waves you off with the same words he told you last night. “Now you better get planning before that curse gets too out of hand! I’ll text you the details!”

“Yeah, yeah,” this time it’s your turn to wave him off as you turn around and start walking back to your dorm to grab your stuff, muttering under your breath, “you old croon.”

The offended gasp you hear behind you is enough to drown out the sound of the principle’s door opening once more, two people stepping out to join Gojo in the hallway.

“Who’s that?” Itadori asks Gojo as they watch your retreating form disappear behind a corner.

“One of my best students,” Gojo hums proudly in response.

“Funny, she looks just like my best friend-“

“C’mon, I’ll show you to your dorm!” Gojo cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, leading him down the hallway in the opposite direction to which you disappeared in, Itadori not being able to do much else but follow close behind.

Sure enough, about twenty minutes later Gojo sends you a text with all the details you’ll need to exercise the curse tomorrow at the primary school. You plan to leave early in the morning since it’ll take you at least an hour or two to get to the location, and then another hour or two to get back. You also want to see if you can catch the guys before they leave, see if you can introduce yourself to one of the two newbies at least.

Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t seem like the luck of coincidence is on your side in the morning as you prepare to leave campus. Letting out a small sigh, you make your way to the train station, ready to begin your mission for the day and get it over with as soon as you can. Perhaps you can time things just right so that you get back to campus around the same time that they do. After all, this task should be a walk in the park.

Oh, how wrong you are.

Not only did it take you three hours to arrive to the primary school, but the curse, which was supposed to be one level one turned out to be two level one curses sharing the vicinity. They cornered you and you ended up getting thrown harshly against the wall, causing your whole body to ache all over once you finally managed to exercise the curses. You’re pretty sure you pulled a few muscles in the process, too, and the amount of scrapes and bruises you acquired since the other day has tripled. Damn Gojo.

Limping back to the train station, you check your phone. Speaking of your personal trainer, he’s been keeping you up to date with the newbies all throughout the day, though he keeps referring to the boy as ‘the vessel’. Furrowing your brow, you find it strange how he hasn’t told you the boy’s name yet, only making you believe that it probably is someone you know. There’s still a tiny sliver of you that’s hoping Gojo is just testing your deduction skills, but at this point, that’s probably not the case.

Sitting down in the first free seat you find, you text him back. Almost immediately you get a response, letting you know that the two newbies have just passed their first test and that you should be proud of your fellow students. You play along with his enthusiasm for the time being, being obviously sarcastic in your responses, but Gojo doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seems as if he’s amused by your reactions, only serving to irritate you further.

By the time you get back to campus, you’re drained. All you want to do is take a nice, warm shower, curl up in a ball on your bed and sleep. You don’t even care if you miss meeting the new students. That’s how your day is going so far. Besides, it’s getting late and they don’t seem to be back yet. There’s always tomorrow.

Except, you don’t get to meet them the next day, nor the day after that. It takes a full week before you even cross paths with Nobara, and even still, the meeting seems rushed. Luckily, you manage to properly introduce yourself to her the day after that one, but for some reason, Sukuna’s vessel just keeps eluding you. That, or someone is purposely keeping the two of you apart. It’s not until two weeks after that fateful day has passed that you finally get your answer.

The three first years have been tasked with handling a few curses at a juvenile detention centre while you accompany Gojo on one of his missions at the same time. You’re getting real tired of his antics, every time you ask him about the boy who’s Sukuna’s vessel he answers you either cryptically, or changes the subject. The worst is when he ignores your inquiries all together. You’re hoping to get some information out of him this evening though, otherwise you might just sneak over to ‘see’ Megumi one day and actually go to see his neighbour who just so happens to be the vessel.

Another reason why you’re in a bit of a grumpy mood recently is that Yuuji seems to be distancing himself from you. Your conversations are very dry as of late, and he doesn’t seem to want to tell you what’s going on in his life. There’s even been a few day where you’ve tried to sneak away to go visit him, but each time, Gojo has stopped you in some way or other. You’re convinced he’s hiding something, but you don’t want to accept the reality he’s been presenting to you as of late.

“(Y/n), I need you to focus,” Gojo snaps his fingers in front of your face, successfully startling you back to reality.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” you blink a few times to clear your head, needing to focus since this is a serious task for the both of you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, the two of you now continuing to move through the labyrinth laid out before you, having yet to stumble upon any one of the four special grade curses you’re supposed to be exercising.

“Just fine,” you sigh before muttering out, “it’s not like I’m going to get answers anyways.”

“Now, now, you don’t know that for sure,” he grins, hands in his pockets as he walks beside you nonchalantly.

“Considering every time I bring up the new guy you avoid the topic, I’d say, yeah,” you peek around the corner before confirming the hallway is clear, turning back to face Gojo who already seems to be looking at you amusedly, “I do know.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet,” he hums.

“There’s not much to go on,” you reply.

“Oh, I believe there’s plenty,”

“Yeah, well, that’s cause you already know everything there is to know about this subject,” you huff.

“Oh, you flatter me so,” he chuckles, only causing you to roll your eyes at him in exasperation.

“Well, I suppose there is one question I have for you, teach,” you start to say, until you finally come across one of the special grade curses.

The two of you quickly press your backs against the wall, preparing to attack. Gojo gives you the go ahead to attack first, and you do, using his quick distraction of walking out and gaining the curse’s attention to sneak up on it and destroy it. No more than two minutes pass and you’ve succeeded.

“What’s the question?” Gojo calls your attention back to him as you both continue on through the hallway.

“On the day he was released, I felt a sudden wave of specialized curse energy ripple through me, almost as if there had been a part of it dormant that had suddenly been awoken,” you say, turning to look at his face in order to gage his reaction. “Is that normal, considering how far I was from the main site?”

“Hmm,” he brings a hand up to cup his chin in his fingers, contemplating the new information you’ve provided him. He only wishes you would have told him sooner. “Considering the distance and Sukuna’s total power, it’s not that surprising.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. “However, since at the time it was only one-twentieth of his power over that great of a distance, that is very odd. Considering that you know our reputation with strangeness in this trade, this makes it even stranger. Has it happened at any other point in time after that?”

Your brow furrows as you contemplate his question. “Actually, yeah, now that I think about it. I think it was a day or two after the initial release.”

“Huh, interesting,” he hums once more, a slight frown pulling at his lips as he considers what this means. Looks like his original hunch was correct as both these surges you’ve felt correspond with Itadori ingesting one of Sukuna’s fingers.

“What, exactly, is interesting?” You stare at him expectantly.

“Nothing you need to worry yourself with for the time being,” he assures you, just as another one of the special grade curses jumps out at the two of you. In an instant, Gojo has eliminated the threat, neither of you faltering in your steps down the hall.

“You know, sometimes I swear you take the phrase ‘having blind faith’ too seriously,” you let out a long breath.

He laughs at this, “what makes you say that?”

You just raise a brow at him in response, the look on your face enough to convey your thoughts. He laughs once more.

“Nothing wrong with having a little faith in me, you know,” he jokes as you two near the centre of the building where you can feel major curse energy pouring out.

You say nothing, opting to shake your head at him in response as you ready yourselves to enter the main room. Slowly opening the doors, you walk in, the two of you scanning the room for either of the final two curses that have still yet to show themselves.

All is silent for a few moments until you feel a pang reverberate through you, the familiar feeling of specialized curse energy flowing throughout your whole being. Your eyes widen as this one far exceeded the power of the first two.

“Hey, uh, teach?” Gojo pauses mid-step as he observes you, hearing the uncertainty in your voice. “It just happened again.”

As soon as those words leave your lips, the final two curses you’ve been hunting for pop out of nowhere and attack the both of you. The one closest to you manages to knock you into Gojo, him steadying you as the two curses near the both of you to attack.

“(Y/n), I’m sending you to where the first years are, I have a bad feeling something terrible has happened,” he says lowly in your ear.

“What? Right now?” You don’t even have time to look at him incredulously as you both jump in opposite directions to avoid the attacks of the curses.

“Right now,” he confirms. “Don’t worry about me, I can handle these two clowns.”

The curses growl at him as he says those words, with him managing to split one of them in half in the next moment.

“I wasn’t,” you reply, unamused.

“Well, best hurry, wouldn’t want Sukuna wrecking havoc,” he grins at you and something clicks in your mind.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you growl. “At least tell me the name of his vessel!”

“You already know it,” is the last thing you hear before your vision shifts, you now standing on a path outside in an unfamiliar area.

You mentally curse him as you collect your bearings, noticing Megumi standing across from you, facing towards you as another man stands between the two of you with his back turned to you. You’d recognize that back anywhere, not to mention the hair. Now you’re really mentally cursing your teacher.

You remain still, noticing how Megumi darts his gaze over to you as if to tell you not to move. Assessing the situation, you begin to plot your best course of action as you see drops of blood dripping onto the ground near Sukuna’s feet. A quick scope of the area has your eyes widening slightly, telling yourself to remain calm as you see a heart laying in the grass as if it was tossed carelessly off to the side.

Of course, Sukuna felt your presence before even bothering to turn to look at you. At the moment, he’s more focused on talking to Megumi, then he can deal with this newer secondary presence, no matter how familiar it seems. He can feel the eyes trailing over his back before he even sees them, but your voice has him halting his actions momentarily.

“Damn, Yuuji, I leave you alone for two weeks and you decide to get tattoos?” Your voice is light, playful even, despite the grim situation you know that you’ve been thrust into.

Megumi shoots you a cautious look as you both notice Sukuna tense slightly between the two of you, before standing up straighter and rolling his shoulders once. A chuckle escapes him, causing you and Megumi to share another concerned look between you both before his movements catch your eyes.

Sukuna would recognize that voice anywhere. Oh, how cruel fate can be.

Turning deliberately slow, he faces towards you, eyes roaming over your figure and nearly sending a shiver down your spine until they come to lock with yours. With a smirk on his features, he licks his lips, “(Y/n).”

238 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

To Begin Again

Idol!Yoongi x Makeup Artist!Reader

Request: Hey. Can I please request a story where the reader is their new makeup artist and she falls in love with Yoongi after he rescues her from her boyfriend one night. And Jin is her best friend. Thank you so much!

WordCount: 6.6k

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol!AU,

Warnings: Reader Experiences Both Domestic and Physical Abuse, Excessive Cursing,

A/N: Please don’t read if you feel uncomfortable with domestic abuse

The prettiest thing about makeup, in your opinion, is how it can give someone confidence. Although, with your new job you didn't need to give your clients confidence. They had that and some.

"I got you a green tea!" Your best friend announces as he steps into the green room. You turn to him, eyes alight with happiness as he hands you the warm cup.

"Thank you!" Your hands cupping the warm drink as his younger brothers file into the room.

"Thank you, the most handsome man in the entire world." Jin looks at you as he sits down on the leather couch. His eyes staring expectantly as you sip your green tea.

"Uh huh." You say making Namjoon snort as he sits down next to Seokjin.

"Wah. Such a brat, like I didn't help raise you." Jin mumbles as Jeongguk sits in the chair. It was pretty much true, Seokjin didn't help raise you but he's been your best friend for most of his life. He was your next door neighbor for the longest time, until you moved to America. You had gotten back in touch a few years ago when you reinstalled Kakaotalk upon your arrival to Korea. You had told him about your interests in the beauty world and Jin being the best friend he is, got you into his company. At first you were an assistant but after their makeup artist left to go work for Dior, you snagged up the spot due to Seokjin's incessant nagging.

"Good morning, noona!" Jeongguk chirps taking out his Airpods.

"Morning, doll." You mumble grabbing his kit. Your eyes are looking in the mirror, looking over each handsome face before finding the one that makes you feel at peace. His aura was so calming. Something about him just radiating this 'I don't give a fuck' energy that makes you interested. Yoongi's eyes meet yours in the mirror before smirking and closing his eyes. You grab Jeongguk's foundation before stepping in front of him.

"You didn't shave." You chide him before caressing your finger over his stubbled chin. Taehyung pats at his chin out of the corner of your eye before frowning and kicking his legs.

"Sorry, noona. I was really tired." Guk whispers before opening his eyes and looking up at you. Your eyes meet his brown orbs before smiling as you collect foundation on to the disposable makeup sponge.

"What game were you playing?" You inquire, making him smile. Jin knew you would be good with everyone, you had a comfortable aura around you. You could get along with a feral tiger if you needed to. You lift Jeongguk's chin with your finger as he giggles.

"Battlegrounds." He whispers before closing his eyes again. You take the sponge delicately to his skin.

"And did you win?" He nods happily as you cover up the birthmark on his nose.

"Make sure you shave tomorrow." He chuckles before giving you a thumbs up. "I promise."

"Ten minutes to set!" Yoongi hops in the chair. His small eyes flickering over to you before clearing his throat and folding his arms. You never said anything to one another. It was always just silence, whether it was comfortable or uncomfortable was the question for everyone. Your fingers diligently rub primer on his oily skin before grabbing his foundation. His eyes darting to your backside before licking his lips and closing his eyes as he straightens up in the seat. There's a mirror, Yoongi. You can see him. You used to talk, admittedly not so much but you used to. When you first started working for Big Hit he would make small conversation. Jin thinks he saw you with your boyfriend one day and that's why he stopped. You don't have an opinion on the matter, or rather you couldn't. His eyebrows furrow as you begin to put on his foundation. He was, to you, the epitome of everything beautiful and it's a shame he doesn't talk to you.

Your phone rings once more as Yoongi steps into the green room. His eyes on the white table as your phone vibrates. He looks around the empty room before waltzing over pretending to be grabbing a tissue as he peers down at your phone. The incoming call screen stops before noticing the 64 missed calls from Jungkwon. 32 new texts and Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth. His thumb pulls at the touch screen. Sliding down the text notification as he looks back at the door.

'You better fucking answer your phone, you little slut.' He furrows his eyebrows before pulling down the notification bar.

'How dare you fucking ignore me.'

'I brought you into this country I'll fucking ship you back to your miserable little America.' Yoongi's hand bawls into a fist before clearing his throat and stepping back.

"Hyung. We're late!" Namjoon yells as he rushes past the doorway. Yoongi hums before tilting his head. Who might this fucker think he is?! He scoffs before grabbing his iced Americano and leaving the green room.

It was cold today, your big black cable knit sweater clinging to your body as the boys enter the set. Run BTS was known for little to no makeup so it's the easiest day out of the whole week. Yoongi eyes you delicately as he enters the room behind Jin. Jin's arms hugging you tightly and Yoongi watches as you flinch away from him before smiling. He sits down on the couch, jaw taught as he rubs his hands together as you giggle at something Seokjin says. Yoongi's eyes were small but they weren't blind. A streak of makeup on your neck alerts him, what have you tried to cover up? He clears his throat before tilting his head as your phone goes off. Your body stiffening before grabbing the device and shutting it off.

"How's Jungkwon?" Seokjin asks as he sits down in the chair. You give a big smile, the apples of your cheeks tinting pink.

"He's great!" You're lying. Yoongi can tell, your body is twisted strangely and he scoffs gently before grabbing his phone and trying to distract himself. Something is wrong and he hates it.

Yoongi plops down in the chair as you give him a small smile. His eyes falling to your neck as you grab his primer.

"Noona. You dropped something." Jeongguk tells you, your sweater lifting up as you bend over to grab a makeup sponge. Yoongi takes a deep inhale as your back is revealed. Deep red and purple patches litter your lower back. He grabs at the bottom of your sweater before pulling it down, his eyes on the mirror making sure no one saw. Everyone was invested in their own world and you gasp as you pull away from him.

"Thanks." You whisper before clearing your throat awkwardly. His wrist grabs yours before looking into your eyes. His eyes look pained, simply searching your eyes for you to express that you need help. You pull your wrist away before putting the primer on a sponge and continuing on with your job. He says nothing, his eyes staring at you in the mirror before fixing his beanie. You would never ask for help. You got yourself into this and maybe, just maybe you deserve it.

You turn your phone back on as the boys leave the green room. You were alone finally, your fingers shook as you set down the phone. Hands forming into a prayer as you press then to your lips. You were nervous, Jungkwon had probably called you a bunch of times. Probably texted you a bunch, too. You would be punished when you got home. It wasn't always like this, you met Jungkwon in America. He was on vacation with his friends. He was really handsome, and super sweet. He said all the right things, flattering you and buying you small presents to tell you how much he liked you. You surprised him with your high level of Korean and your charming aura. He stayed with you even after his friends left the vacation. He seemed to adore you and you fell in love with him.

Then, he asked you to come back to Korea to live with him because he couldn't stand to be away from you. You loved him and agreed to come back. You got back in touch with Jin and everything went pretty smoothly. That was until Jungkwon started drinking heavily and you got your job at Big Hit. He wanted you to be home before him, to cook for him. Lay in bed and wait to be fucked. He wanted your subservience and you couldn't give that to him. So, sooner or later you had become a punching doll. A creature for Jungkwon to take his anger out on. You had grown scared, as anyone would but you couldn't leave him. He had threatened you several times and you couldn't tell Jin or anyone for that matter because Jungkwon had warped your mind to making you think it was all your fault. There's something incredibly powerful about the human brain isn't there? The way it reacts and changes to fear. When you weren't home, it was as if you were free and your mind wouldn't dare dwell on what would happen when you stepped foot into your cheap apartment. Your phone goes off, vibrating on the table loudly as he calls you. Your throat chokes up, nails digging into the palms of your hands before clearing your throat and answering.

"Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you? You little slut!" You close your eyes, your body beginning to shake from your nerves.

"I'm at work, I'm sorry." You whisper, rubbing the hem of your sweater between your fingertips as you look down at your lap. Hot tears prick at your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

"You better beg for my kindness when you get home. Fucking little cunt. I want you on your knees as soon as you step through that door. Do you understand me? Or I'll beat you blue. Do you fucking hear me?!" You whimper before tilting your head and exhaling gently.

"Yes. I hear you."

"What'd I say then?" You suppress a whimper as you put your hand to your forehead.

"Be on my knees when I come home or I'll be beaten blue."

"Fucking cunt." The phone call is over and you put your hands over your face as your phone falls into your lap. You look through your fingers into the mirror. Yoongi stands in the doorway, his hands in fists as he stares at you through the mirror. He cracks his neck before shoving off of the door post and leaving.

"Y/N. It's 70 degrees out, why're you wearing a sweater?" Jimin teases you as he jumps into the chair. You give him a small smile as you grab his eyeliner.

"For real, you're going to get heat stroke." Hoseok says looking up from his phone.

"I'll be okay." You say to him before smiling.

"I can give you my t-shirt if you want, noona!" Jeongguk suggest standing up. You shake your head kindly before putting your finger under Jimin's chin.

"You shouldn't wear such heavy stuff in the summer-"

"Leave her alone." Yoongi says sitting up and taking off his bucket hat. His head turning to his younger members making Jin tilt his head awkwardly.

"Who are you to be concerned with Y/N? You don't even talk to her." You tap your foot nervously on the ground as you swipe the soft charcoal liner against Jimin's water line.

"Just...leave her alone." Yoongi mumbles before folding his arms and closing his eyes. He knows your biggest secret and even though you both don't talk, you trust him.

You flinch as you sit down before lifting up your shirt and giving a shaky exhale. Your ribs were screaming with pain today. Yoongi enters the green room with water and a few pills in hand and you raise an eyebrow. He sets down the water in front of you and the pills before shutting the door and locking it.

"Show me." His voice is a mere whisper in the large room.

"No." You mumble before thanking him for the pain killers.

"Y/N. Look, I know...I haven't been the nicest guy...Just show me." He whispers before leaning against the white table.

"I can't." Your heart was beating faster, a sweat beginning to gather on your hairline as his brown eyes bore into yours.

"Tell Jin, tell me. Tell someone. Please." He whispers before putting his hand on your shoulder. You groan backing away from him as you stand up. Yoongi's expression softens before running his fingers through his silver hair.

"I can't tell anyone. I'll get in trouble." You whisper before looking at the ground. The fury that ignites in Yoongi's belly could rival Hades.

"I can help you. Please, show me." You open your mouth before whimpering. Your bottom lip tucking into your teeth as you sway with uncertainty.

"I don't need your help." You mumble to him making his eyes squeeze shut. He sighs gently before stepping back and taking a deep breath.

"Okay. But, I'm here. Okay? I'm here for you to talk to." He leaves without another word and you sob putting your face in your hands. How could you tell him when it's your fault?

Getting ready for an award show is really difficult work. There are a bunch of meetings to attend, finding the right makeup looks to go with the outfits for the boys. Trial runs to make sure you can recreate the look on time. It gives you almost no time to do anything for yourself, let alone answer your phone. Big mistake. Your feet hit the pavement on the sidewalk as you step out of the building drowsy. You were dying to sleep, dying to be tucked under that heavy pink comforter Jin bought you for your birthday.

"HEY!" The voice makes your blood run cold as your head snaps up in the direction. He was here?! At your job?!

"Jungkwon!" You say as he advances towards you.

"I fucking called you. You didn't pick up! What were you doing? Hmm? Spreading your little legs up there?" His voice reaches a high in the quiet street as he grips at your shoulder.

"No! No! I was working!" You say quickly, trying to make yourself as small as possible as he pulls you into the alleyway next to the building.

"Fucking little cunt, you always lie to me." You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you close your eyes as he slams your body into the wall. Your body shuddering in pain as you whimper.

"What was so important that you couldn't answer me?! Hmm?! Taking a cock up your slutty little cunt?" You shake your head fiercely as he grips at your face, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your cheeks as you whimper. His knee connects harshly to your solar plex, a loud gasp emitting from you as your face screws up in pain.

"You're going to fucking get it." His hand wraps around the column of your throat, squeezing harshly as you whine.

Yoongi steps out of the building, his hood going over his head as he yawns. Being in the studio is taking everything out of him lately. He steps onto the sidewalk before walking towards his car with sleepy eyes.

"You're a fucking little brat. You understand me? I'm going to fucking kill you." Yoongi stops, his head turning into the alley as the sky begins to deepen to it's nightly black color. He hears your whimper and his keys slip from his fingers.

"Fucking bastard." The keys tingle as they hit the pavement, Yoongi's hand rests on the windshield as he stares at the two shadows in front of him. It starts at Yoongi's toes. The heat, the fucking vile anger creeps up his veins. His blood curdling hot and tepid as his vision goes red. He doesn't even register how fast his feet move, everything feeling as if it's in slow motion.

"Y/N!" Yoongi calls to you as he jogs into the alleyway. You look over at him, bottom lip split open as blood dribbles down your chin.

"Who the fuck are you?! Huh?" Jungkwon yells nodding with wide eyes at Yoongi. Yoongi pushes his hood off of his head, silver hair glowing in the dim orange light of the street lamps not too far away.

"Get off of her." Jungkwon chuckles before gripping your hair making you whimper.

"She's my girlfriend. This who you were spreading your legs for? HUH?! Slutty little cunt getting fucked by this guy?!" Jungkwon spits on your neck as you flinch. His fingers tugging at your scalp as you screw your eyes shut.

Yoongi advances, his hand forming a fist as he collides his knuckles into your boyfriend's face. Jungkwon staggers back, letting you go as he brings his hand up to his cheek.

"You're going to regret that." He mutters to Yoongi, foam spewing at the sides of his lips as he seethes through his teeth.

"Y/N. Go to my car." Yoongi whispers before looking sideways at your beaten face.

"I-I don't-" "Black Mercedes. Keys are on the floor. Get in and lock the doors. Now." You look at Jungkwon nervously as you begin to move.

"You fucking get in that car, I'll fucking kill you bitch!" Yoongi grits his teeth, his fists jabbing at Jungkwon's face. His knuckles splitting open as he tightens his jaw.

"Go." Yoongi whispers as Jungkwon falls to the floor. You whimper before sprinting to his car by the Bit Hit entrance. Your shaky hands picking up his keys before going through each one. Yoongi kneels on your boyfriend's fallen body. His kneecaps digging into his gut as he peers down at him.

"You ever even think of talking to her or touching her again. I'll fucking ruin you. I'll make you wish you had never been born. You're over." Yoongi spits on Jungkwon's face before standing up.

"Fuck you!" Yoongi smirks before turning back to Jungkwon as he walks to his car. "Fuck you, too. Prick."

Yoongi taps his knuckles on the glass window. His blood smearing the glass as he peers in.

"Just me." He says through the door. You lean over the middle console and unlock the door before putting your face into your knees. Yoongi hops in before locking the doors and turning to you.

"Hey." He whispers gently, his hand caressing your knee making you jump. He pulls back before nodding.

"I'm going to take you to Jin's." He whispers softly, you look up with wide eyes.

"No! No! You can't!" Your voice becoming hysterical as you grab at his hoodie.

"Okay. Okay. I'll take you to my place." He whispers as you begin to whimper. He turns on the car, the headlights flashing at Jungkwon's body as he sits up.

"Put your seatbelt on." He says before leaning over your body and grabbing the seatbelt. You stiffen as he gives you a small smile before securing you into the passenger seat.

"Fucking prick bastard." He mumbles as he revs his engine, he accelerates the gas before driving forward towards Jungkwon’s fallen body. Jungkwon backs up as Yoongi slams hard on the breaks centimeters away from him. He gives a quiet shaky laugh as Jungkwon grabs onto the brick wall of the alley before squeezing his eyes shut.

"He's never going to bother you again." Yoongi mumbles before lowering his window and spitting in Jungkwon's direction.

You step inside Yoongi's apartment, arms folded over one another as you look down at your bare feet.

"Come." He whispers walking through the large apartment. He was very clean, multiple pieces of art on stands as you walk through the hallway. He had some awards in a glass case by the television. As well as pictures of albums on the hallway walls.

"I'm going to give you some clothes to change into. You can take a shower and then we'll talk. Okay?" He asks gently as he opens his walk in closet.

"Okay." You whisper before putting your hair up in a ponytail. Yoongi grabs some clothes. A long black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants come to your hands as you clear your throat. "I'll show you where the shower is."

You seemed to be in a state of shock, Yoongi has gathered. He clinks the ice cube around in his glass of whisky before staring at the large window of his apartment. His head leaning back on the couch as he presses the lip of his glass to his mouth. You were frightened, incredibly so. Yoongi didn't know every single thing you went through but it must have been torture. He closes his eyes as he hears the shower turn off. You were beautiful and you or anyone should never be treated in such a way. He would protect you, keep you safe. No one was getting to harm you ever again.

"Yoongi?" Your voice was soft as it echoed throughout his large apartment.

"Living room!" He says setting down his whisky and sitting up. He could hear how softly your feet were pattering on the floor. As if you had to sneak around to just get by and Yoongi swears his heart could break at any second. He turns his head as your shadow gets bigger on his white walls.

You stand there at the entrance of the hallway, your arms folded and your body hunched over as if you were trying to make yourself small. You had showered off all of the makeup that kept your bruises hidden and Yoongi takes a deep inhale through his nose before turning his head out of respect to try not to stare.

"Come sit." He whispers, closing his eyes. The back of his eyelids were black but they could still see your figure plain as day. Your body tainted with shades of purples and yellows. Bruises that were trying to heal themselves beat back to blue and reds. Yoongi swallows thickly as your feet pad around his glass coffee table. You sit on the farthest end of his L shaped couch before tucking your legs underneath you.

"Can I make you a drink?" Yoongi asks before pointing at his grandiose liquor cabinet.

"Yes, please." He pats his knees before standing up. There was silence, just glass clinking and liquid pouring. You watch with half lidded eyes as Yoongi's back relaxes. His form was tall in stature and you wonder if you would ever be able to stand tall like he is. He turns around and you avert your gaze to the black legs of the glass table. He gives a small smile before walking over and handing you the glass.

"Thank you." He hums before sitting down, closer than before but still giving you some distance so you don't feel cornered. He folds his arms before leaning back into the couch. His eyes flickering to your bruised cheek and split lip.

"Y/N." His voice was soft yet again. His tone drawing your eyes to him as you take a sip of the strong whisky before cringing.

"Thanks for what you did back there. I don't know if it helped but...thanks." He tilts his head before turning to you, his arm angling over the top of the couch.

"Why would it not help? You never have to see him again. He will never hurt you again, I won't fucking stand for it." Yoongi's voice grows louder as you lay your head onto the couch.

"I still live there. All of my stuff is there." Yoongi sighs gently before placing his hand on your knee, you cringe before retracting and he nods.

"Live here. I'll buy you new stuff. I'm good for it. Don't give in to it. Stay here with me." His small eyes shift from looking at your eyes to the other. Pleading with you to stay.

"Why would you be kind to me?" You ask quietly, putting the glass between your knees.

"Because I care that you're in pain. I care about you." And, you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"Nobody deserves to be treated this way." He has known pain in his past, he's known cruelty. He's known what being a disappointment is like. But, he doesn't know what abuse is. He doesn't know the domestic agony. And, you shouldn't either. "Stay with me. I'll help you." You look at him before closing your eyes. "Okay." Your voice is like a wisp in the forest. Yoongi catches the glass of whisky as your eyes grow heavy. "I'll protect you." He mumbles putting the glass down on the table.

You had been staying at Yoongi's for a month so far. He was really kind and gave you the space that you needed. You hadn't really talked about Jungkwon or that night since then. Yoongi hands you a glass of whisky before clearing his throat and sitting down beside you on the couch. He takes in your short sleeve black t-shirt before smiling. It was nice to see you in clothes that showed your skin. Your bruises had been healing nicely.

"That shirt is really pretty on you." He whispers before angling his body towards you.

"Thanks." You whisper before taking a sip of the alcohol. The air hangs thin around you both as Yoongi takes off his face mask. His teeth picking at his perfect lips before leaning back against the arm of the couch.

"Wanna talk?" His voice echoing through the quiet apartment as you look at his face.

"About?"

"That time." You take a deep breath before tilting your head. He was for all intents and purposes, the closest person to you besides Seokjin. He was comfort in its most raw form. He had made your heart swell with his caring yet nonchalant actions. Everything about his exuded calmness and you weren't afraid to talk to him. You were afraid to show him how much of a coward you were...are.

"What about it?" Your question lingers in the air as Yoongi tilts his head.

"Everything about it. You can talk to me Y/N. You can tell me everything. I want you to tell me everything." Whether or not you knew, Yoongi's heart has grown fond of you. He relished in hearing you hum through the walls of his apartment. Hearing you giggle in your room at t.v. shows and sing along to music.

"You don't want to know everything." Yoongi sighs before sipping his whisky. His index finger circling the rim of his cup as he stares at you.

"I want to know what you're willing to share." You sit up, your back straightening making him relax. This was one of the first times you had sat up straight, not hunching over or making yourself small.

"It started out small." You take a shaky breath before gulping the whiskey. The burn in your stomach guiding you forward. Yoongi says nothing, his lips pressing into a straight line.

"Started out as small mean comments. 'You're a bitch.' Or, 'You need to learn how to be a woman.' Then it escalated when I got to Big Hit." Yoongi closes his eyes, his hand gripping at the whisky glass.

"He started hitting me to show me that I was weaker than him. I should have stayed home, cooking for him. Doing his laundry. Stuff like that. He drank a lot. And, I would pretend not to be nervous the whole day waiting to get hit when I got home." Yoongi sighs gently, his eyes opening as you close yours.

"I would tip toe around. Hoping to not disturb him or make him upset with me. Even though it didn't matter. Everything I did upset him. Then, it got worse. He would make me..." You feel a lump forming in your throat and you swallow before looking down at your glass. Watching as the whiskey sloshes from side to side in the cup.

"He would make me do...sexual stuff to him when I didn't want to. Tie me and leave me there for him to come back later and do stuff." Yoongi feels sick, he feels his stomach rolling. You were talking but you felt like a shell. Your voice felt distant and non-existent in this space with him.

"He would accuse me of sleeping with everyone at the office. And, I got brainwashed into thinking I did something wrong. It was all my fault that he was doing this because I wasn't good enough." You clear your throat before finishing the whisky and putting the glass on the coffee table. You nod your head before smirking.

"I felt like I was the reason why this was happening to me. I fucked up, I deserved it." You look over at Yoongi, his expression makes your heart break. His eyebrows were knit together, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

"But, you helped. You let me stay, you're letting me become stronger." You whisper as his expression softens.

"You make me feel better. Make me understand that it isn't my fault and I didn't do anything wrong." Yoongi shakes his head.

"You didn't. You're a good person, Y/N." You feel tears prick at your eyes as you smile at him.

"I'm going to hug you, okay?" You nod as he sits up. He envelops you in a hug, that can only be described as warm and loving. Your chin hooking over his shoulder as both of you close your eyes. Yoongi bites at his bottom lip before looking at the ceiling. Something was building between you both. Culminating into something wonderful. Something like love.

You were afraid to tell Jin, his heart might not be able to take it. He might be hurt knowing you suffered and never told him. Yoongi sits in the green room watching you delicately as you still make your form smaller. He clicks his teeth before standing up and sitting in the chair. His eyes looking up at you as you smile at him.

"Are you okay?" He mumbles trying not to draw attention.

"I'm okay." You whisper, his thumb grazing over your knuckles as he angles his face to look at you as you try to avoid the eye contact. Jin notices this, his body leaning over Hoseok's to look through the mirror at the strange contact you both are having. He goes wide eyed before frowning and folding his arms.

"What's up with that?" He mutters, drawing Namjoon's attention. Yoongi sits back in the chair, concerned small eyes examining your face before closing them.

"Something's going on." Namjoon whispers into Seokjin's ear who nods in return.

It was a Tuesday, a day off for once. You were sitting in the kitchen with Yoongi drinking coffee and talking. You could talk about anything and everything, and you loved that.

"This track...I just...I have the beat but it's missing something. I can't put my finger in it." You hum leaning over his body to look at his laptop screen. He places his hand delicately on your upper back and for the first time, you didn't flinch away from him. It didn't bother you, Yoongi has done it on several occasions trying to acclimate you back to reality and he closes his eyes happily as you accept his touch.

"Can I play it?" You ask tilting your head to look at him.

"Please." You press the spacebar before sitting up, the beat of the music flowing through the air loudly. You close your eyes cupping your coffee with both hands and Yoongi takes this opportunity to look at you. You were so gorgeous, you so easily shook up his heart. He finds himself tilting his head as he leans in closer to you.

"You're beautiful." He whispers leaning closer. Your eyes open and you don't back away. You smile before tilting your head like him. He wrinkles his nose at you before taking a deep breath.

"You aren't frightened, right?" You shake your head.

"No." How he loved the sound of your voice. He takes a sharp breath between his teeth as he holds his hand out for you to see. He caresses your cheekbone with his thumb and you lean into his touch.

"Thank you for trusting me."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" The voice is sharp and you pull away quickly before looking at the front door. Seokjin stands in the doorway, eyes wide as Yoongi closes the laptop.

"Hyung! I didn't hear the door." Yoongi says as you stand up.

"That's what the fuck you're worried about?! The door?!" You make yourself small in front of your best friend and Yoongi furrows his eyebrows.

"Please don't yell in front of Y/N. We can talk, just...just calm down. You're scaring her." Seokjin scoffs folding his arms, his grey peacoat sagging as he raises an eyebrow.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?!" You look up at Jin through your lashes.

"We should talk." You say before walking into the living room and down the hallway to your room.

Jin stares at you before looking at Yoongi in the doorway. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

You pull down your shirt over your now healing back before leaning forward and hugging Jin. He holds you tightly to him as his eyes begin to water.

"You should have told me! I'll fucking kill him!" He sobs loudly putting his hands over his face.

"Yoongi has been really nice, letting me stay here and helping me try to become a normal person again."

"You are normal." Yoongi mumbles as Jin pulls away from you.

"I can't believe you held onto that secret for so long. I'm sorry I didn't notice...I..." Jin wipes at his face with his sleeves before clearing his throat.

"I made sure no one noticed." You tell him putting your hand on his knee.

"I love you. I'm so sorry." Seokjin whispers before hugging you again.

"Love you, too. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He shakes his head before burying his face into your neck.

"Thank you for taking care of her." Jin looks at Yoongi, who in turn is wiping his own tears. His black shirt is over his mouth as he nods. "Always."

The nightmares came and went. Though tonight, every time you closed your eyes you would find yourself awake shortly after gasping for air with tears threatening to spill over. Your body had a sheen layer of sweat as you sit up in your bed. Your hand flying over your heart as you gasp for breath. You don't know how you found your footing but you did. Your feet traipsing out of your room and down to Yoongis. Your hand knocks on his door before opening it. He grumbles gently, his silver hair in his eyes before lifting his head.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" You whimper shaking your head and he sits up at the noise.

"Come." He was quick to throw back his comforter inviting you into his space.

"Can I sleep with you?" Your voice was timid and small.

"Come here." You lay down in his bed, your body finding itself in the fetal position.

"You had a nightmare?" You nod into the pillow as Yoongi sighs gently.

"Nothing can hurt you, I'm here to protect you." You exhale through your nose before feeling his arm wrap around your waist. His chest pressing flush to your back.

"I'm here." In this room, in his space feeling so comfortable you felt the need to speak.

"Sometimes I feel it, when I wake up my body hurts like it's happening to me again. Like, I can't get away from it." Yoongi opens his eyes, your outline gracing his sight in his dark bedroom.

"You are away. You're here, with me. I'll never let anything hurt you again." You turn your body, pressing your face into his chest. He stiffens for a second before putting his chin on top of your head and closing his eyes.

"I kind of love you, Yoongs." He smirks before nodding. "I kinda love you too."

It's been a year. A great year, in fact. A mother fucking year, in the words of Kim Namjoon.

"Yo, shut the fuck up!" You scream with laughter as you throw yourself onto the couch. Seokjin laughs loudly before handing Yoongi a glass of whisky. All the boys had found out about your troubles shortly after you had told Jin. They found out that you live in Yoongi's house although no one knows that you spend every night in Yoongi's bed since that one nightmare. Yoongi had taught you how to be yourself. Taught you to love yourself and love life. To not be afraid. He's given you more than most. And, above all he taught you how to love him.

"I'm serious! She almost threw me out a window!" Taehyung yells as you lay your head on Yoongi's lap. He chuckles quietly before putting the throw blanket over your legs.

"You're so dramatic." You say with a laugh tucking the blanket between your knees. Yoongi's fingers find your hair, running them through delicately as he sips his whiskey.

"We have a schedule tomorrow. We should head out." Jin says as you frown.

"You only just got here." Your whine is loud making Yoongi laugh as he leans forward to put his glass down on the coffee table.

"We've been here for like five hours." He mutters as you pout.

"Never enough time with Worldwide Handsome." Jin makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat.

"That's why she's my best friend. Look at that." You giggle as you sit up, cocooned within the tie dye cashmere blanket as Jin kisses your forehead.

"See you both tomorrow. Hmm?" Taehyung gets up with a groan before waving both hands at you and grabbing the unopened soju bottle.

"Birthday present!" He says scurrying over to the door.

"It's September!" You call with a laugh as Yoongi stands up.

"Y/N. Everyday is my birthday." Taehyung cheers before following Jin out the door. You shake your head with a laugh before standing up and throwing the blanket on the couch. Yoongi looks you over before smirking. You had the confidence to wear a dress and he loves that.

"Let's clean up and go to bed. I'm tired." Yoongi mutters as he grabs the take out containers from the table. You nod to him before yawning and grabbing the used glasses before walking into the kitchen. Yoongi's eyes follow you as you walk tall before wrinkling his nose.

Yoongi's arm falls under his head as you lay next to each other in his bed.

"Do you feel that?" You ask quietly, he turns his head raising an eyebrow.

"Feel what?" "The love between us?" He snorts before laughing loudly.

"Who allowed you to be so corny?" You giggle before turning to look at him. His eyes were already on your face, his lips quirked up in a smile. Yoongi turns his body as you stare at each other.

"I feel it, though." He whispers before caressing your cheek.

"Me too." He hums in agreement before leaning closer.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" You close your eyes, the exciting sensation starting from your toes and spreading to your heart. His warm lips pressed to yours, the kiss was soft and heartfelt. Your hand finds the back of his head, fingers intertwining with his locks of hair as you pull him closer.

"I love you. You know that right? And, I'm here when you're ready to begin again."

"I love you, too." Yoongi presses his forehead to yours before closing his eyes.

"I'm ready." You whisper into the quiet room. His gummy smile appears on his face as he pulls you close to him.

"I'll always be here to protect you. To make sure you're safe." You bury your face into his neck as he squeezes you tightly.

"I love you, Yoongs."

"I love you, too."

#yoongi x reader #trigger warnings #min yoongi #bts imagine #bts story #bts series #taehyung #jin #namjoon #hoseok #jimin #jeongguk

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larsthefishoil · 3 years

Text

Running in Circles

In hindsight he should have seen this coming. The icy wind tore at his eyes and falling snow prickled his skin as he fell. It was too much like last time. But that was what they said insanity was right? Being doomed to run in circles and repeat mistakes over and over again. He hoped it wouldn’t be a full rehash of the last story. He was certainly thrashing around less this time. Wishing he wouldn’t wake to see blood staining the clean snow as he was dragged on. But no, he was just falling for now.

```````

“Sir, with all do respect this is dumb. I think this mission is dumb and your choice in my partner is dumber. I-”

“What makes you think I give a shit Wilson?” Maria demanded “It’s not my fault you two work so well, and besides it’s just a simple shipment run, get in, get out, I don’t know why you're complaining.” Hill leaned forward over the table with spread palms and a no bullshit pull in her eyebrow. “Just take back what Hydra stole from us and we won’t assign you two together for a whole week alright?”

At that Bucky turned his head up to meet Sam’s eyes, they both knew Hill was bullshiting them again. They always made a fuss about being forced partners, but if Bucky was being honest with himself, they made a not awful team.

Maria briefed them with the rest of the plan, Sam would fly in from the vantage point, and drop Bucky off on top of the train before it passed under the mountain. From there, the two would sneak inside and take control of the train from the inside, and bring it to a stop. Later S.H.I.E.L.D would pick them up with the stolen tech.

```````

“I don’t like this one...”

“You never like missions in the cold Buckster, HA! See how well I know you? And you say I don’t listen.” Sam mumbled to himself the last part but the nickname didn’t fly over Bucky’s head by a long shot.

Bucky grit his teeth to think of a comeback and to bite away the cold. The cliff was both full of snow banks and ice depending on where you stepped. Which resulted in Sam hovering above the ground on the way up and using Bucky as a tester of when and where to step. “I don’t know Sammy,” Bucky bit back “I just don’t prefer to spend my free time in stupid ass climates.” He smiled wide and toothy at Sam squishing his eyes closed in fake excitement before pulling a deadpan look.

“Really, Sammy?”

“What? Do you want me to go with bird-y?”

“I will-”

“I see it.” Bucky started shoving his hand over Sam’s mouth going all business. He pulled the binoculares to his eyes to see the train rounding a dip in the mountain. “All right I gotta get ready to hall your lard-ass over there.” Sam started and he jumped up and started kicking his legs out to warm them up. Bucky glared up at him before going back to the train. “Are we ready yet?” Sam asked as he hopped up and down and started up his wing’s jets. Bucky shook his head “Just a few more seconds,” he said and held out his hand for good measure. “Welp, I am-” Sam started before he dove at Bucky who could only manage a helpless yelp before he was pounced on and was dragged off into the bitter cold air.

Riding with Sam holding him was the most awkward thing. Wrapping his thighs over Sam’s was way too much, and a piggyback ride may not be that bad, but the falcon wings made it impossible. And bridle style was just too ridiculous no matter how much Sam tried to convince Bucky he wouldn’t look like a moron in the air. So they came up with the solution that both kept their dignity and was efficient. Sam would always hook his arms around Bucky’s arm pits and hall him around that way. It was still awkward though.

They flew over and landed pretty safely on the train. Bucky pulled out his guns and watched from all sides as Sam picked the lock to get inside before they were hit by the mountain-tunnel.

Suddenly everything started happening at once. A trapdoor behind Bucky flapped open, and H.Y.D.R.A agents started pouring out, only for the same thing to happen on their front.

“It’s fine, this is fine!” Bucky could hear Sam yell over the wind. Sam pulled their trapdoor open only for H.Y.D.R.A agents from inside to start shooting at them. “It’s still fine! I can fix this!” Sam started again shutting the door.

This isn’t right Bucky thought. There shouldn’t be this much resistance from the intal they got. He could feel the vibration of boots stomping about behind him trying to catch their balance. Bucky let out a breath figuring Sam’s tactic of saying something was fine until it was, was just going to have to do. He turned to his six, taking a few steps, and jammes his heel in an agent's stomach. The agent fell forward before losing his balance and tumbling off. He could feel the dread creeping in on himself hating the fate that awaited the falling soul, but continued to move on. Distantly Bucky knew Sam was firing shots, taking the agents down as fast as he was. But the old memories kept creeping through, making everything feel distant even if it was just in front of him. He then heard a “NO!” be halard before Bucky could register why. He was falling. Again.

Bucky remembered flailing so much the first go around. That maybe if he wished it enough, Steve would be able to suddenly fly and catch him before he smacked against the ground. He blacked out before he hit the ground. Distantly Bucky wondered what would unfold this time. The train was gone, now it was just white. Bucky closed his eyes and let himself fall.

`````

“So… what are you doing after this?” Sam asked slowly. Bucky looked up to see Sam avoiding eye contact as he finished tying his boots, and gave the man a quizzing look. Sam was absent mindedly scuffing his boot at the dirty cemented locker room floor.

“I have no idea, what I always do I guess…why? ” Sam then had a weird look on his face with something wholly unlike him- loneliness, and uncertainty. It didn’t fit him all that well but Bucky was set on not caring about the prick.

“Nothing, I was just wondering if you wanted to help me grocery shop.”

“Wison, if you are in such dire need of friends you need to come to me, I- Should I be worried? Really who grocery shops on a Tuesday night?” he exclaimed as he placed his hands on his knees and stood up from the wooden bench. Bucky was about to go on before Sam cut him off

“I gotta buy a slice a cake for my partner.” He sped out, arms stiff and his sides and spine a steel rod. oh. yeah. the dead one. Bucky remembered Steve talking about that guy. How he reminded Steve of the two of them. Fine. He’ll indulge, but only for Steve.

“Uh sure, I don’t have anything going on, yeah okay.” There was a beat of silence between the two men before they walked for the S.H.I.E.L.D HQ in silence. No quips or bickering, just staying quiet leaving space for the sad and mourning.

The nearest grocery store was a quiet mile long walk out in the quiet of upper New York. The air was dry but heavy, with fireflies floating around them. The sidewalk was old and cracked, and Bucky tried to not step on the cracks like he used to do as a kid to pass the time. All the while Sam was uncharacteristically quiet. Bucky knew he got like this, a certain Marvin Gaye song would come on and he would stop singing along for once, he would sit down and stare into space until the song ended. Or when the two would get along for once, laughing at a joke until their stomachs hurt. Afterwards Sam would get that same lost and lonely look. Bucky often couldn’t care enough to ask, though lately it was getting harder to.

As they walked into the store, the few people who were there continued their wandering, either not caring that two Avengers just walked in or not knowing who they were entirely. Sam asked one of the workers where the bakery was and made a beeline for it. Bucky followed further behind not wanting to get in the way. Sam quickly picked up a slice of cake enclosed in a plastic container about to leave for checkout, when he stopped at another slice sitting on display. Bucky leaned over to see what Sam was looking at and found a cute slice decorated with icing flowers.

Bucky cleared his throat carefully “What’s with the flower one? Do ya want it?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly not used to being the one with the higher word count out of the two of them.

“Na it’s just… Uh Riley hated flowers. Before we got shipped out, he went on a date with his girl and bought her these really expensive flowers. She broke up with him that night and he blamed it all on the flowers vowing to never spend that much on a girl that wasn’t his wife yet.”

“Then get him that one, it’s more meaningful than basic vanilla.” Sam sucked in a breath, threw his nose and looked up at the ceiling, no doubt willing tears away. “Or not...”

“No I’m-I’ll get that one.” Sam put the first one back and picked up the flower cake. They went to checkout right as the store was announcing it’s soon to be closing time. The two found a nice patch of sidewalk just outside of the grocery store by a tree and sat down, and with the two forks Sam snatched from the bakery area, they ate the cake. The longer they sat there the more Sam was inclined to talk. “Riley hated the smell of ginger, the taste too I guess. But who does like the taste of ginger really.” Soon half the cake was gone. “ Riley was in love with all the Kardasians, he only ever told me that he watched the show whenever he could.” Even later, only the icing flower remained. “Riley loved the color cyan, but no one ever knew what that was so he just always said green.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“How… How did you lose him?”

“He fell.” Bucky looked over at Sam at that. All this time he hadn’t really realized how crazy similar the four of them were. Sam, the new Captain America had lost his best friend the same way the first one had. Running in circles. Bucky thought.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault.” At that Sam stuck his fork next to the icing flower and looked up at the sky again letting the tears fall this time. “All those missions and he just fell, I couldn’t catch him in time… nearly died myself. And after was… Well I got sent back home, and I had to keep helping so I started doing group therapies. Then I met Steve years later and…”

“You two shared a similar story?” Sam huffed a laugh

“Yeah we did.” The two looked at each other and smiled in comfort.

````````

Cold. White. Snow. The mission. Bucky opened his eyes and he was falling. A dark spot appeared in his vision. It was yelling on the top of it’s longs. Sam.

Suddenly Bucky’s hand was grabbed and yanked up with a concerning pop against the force of falling. Sam was still yelling, but to push against gravity this time, and Bucky was pretty sure he had a dislocated shoulder now. He lifted them up to the middle of the gap between the two mountains and pulled Bucky close to him fully wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist. Bucky let his dislocated arm dangle and wrapped his right arm around Sam, his hand gripping his saviour’s neck, and knocked their heads together. They stayed there laughing deliriously and relieved, the train long gone along with the mission.

Sam was still breathing in heavily when he said,”I caught you.” Bucky could feel his breath puff hot against his cheeks.

“Yeah, you did man.” Bucky knocked his nose against Sam’s with his eyes still closed and slid his arm up to attach himself more to Sam.One foot was perched on top of Sam’s and the other wrapped around his leg.”Wanna get us away from the icy trench?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” With that Sam parted from Bucky to look down to the snowy depths, the weirdly clingy moment snapped in two with the comment. He then flew them to their earlier steak-out spot and plopped down exhausted in the snow. They laid there for what felt like hours, their comms down and sky going dark. Their hands were still laced together when Maria and Sharen showed up in a S.H.I.E.L.D helicopter.

A/N Alright I’m done! I feel like I did alright and that they seemed in character. Crotiques are fully invited and apperciated:)

As people might realize, they didn’t kiss and shit, and I went with that cause most of the time with slow burns, aspeshaly with friends to lovers, it’s like a spring that gets squished until the characters are just Boom! Going out and are all cuddly and fully adjusted to making out and being romantic. Which is fine, and my lonely single heart soaks that shit up like a sponge, but I want to explore a side of romance that isn’t so rushed to put the “going out” label on it. And I feel like this applies to Sam and Bucky really well, but when people are writing fanfics they rush to the romance cause that’s what it's there for. So! Just another side to see, and if I end up posting this and people want more, I will try to add more stuff if I can think of it.

I also put some characterization for Riley cause i realized that he kinda just acts as a bad frigid girlfriend for Sam, so he now has three fun facts lmao.

#sambucky fic #sambucky #marvel #slow burn #begrudgingly friends to lovers #no beta we fall like bucky the first time #tfatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson

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shawtygonemad · 3 years

Text

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better.

A/N: This story is dedicated to my uncle and cousins who are hard of hearing. Even with my botched ASL you all still love me.

Daryl Dixon x Connie

One-Shot

- Please note that anything signed will be in bold and anything written will be in italics.

Connie woke that morning bright and chipper. The sun wasn’t even up yet and she was already getting her day started. Her sister on the other hand was not much of a morning person. Connie was kind enough to let her sleep until the sun rose. She always enjoyed finding different little ways to wake her little sister up. Some days it’s tickling her nose with a leaf while other days she practically flops down on her.

Today Kelly happened to be in a deep sleep in which nothing barely woke her. Connie breathed out a sigh of annoyance at that. All of her tricks didn’t work. Instead she took it upon herself to draw on her sister’s bare arm. She smirked as she slowly got to work. The older woman was no artist, but she still had fun. She wrote ‘World’s Best Sister’, but crossed out best and wrote ‘Okayest’ above it. Then she drew some other pictures and wrapped it up by putting Kelly and her crushes initials together in a heart.

Once she became bored she decided to go downstairs for some breakfast. Today would be an uneventful day since neither of them had been assigned to do anything. Connie was never a fan of days off. She always needed to be doing something and loved to help out. They should always be doing something to earn their keep. The people of Alexandria were kind enough to let them have their own house. A house that just so happened to be next door to the tall and ruggedly handsome Daryl Dixon. The newly unofficial leader of Alexandria since Michonne left. He lived there with his niece, nephew, Lydia, and dog. Their family dynamic was so cute to watch. For a man who never really had a family until the end of the world he was trying his best and doing a damn good job of it.

Even though Connie may not be able to hear she could still feel vibrations from noise. That’s how she knew her sister finally woke up and discovered her new tattoo sleeve. She could feel the stomping through the ceiling. When she could feel the rushed, heavy, footsteps coming down the stairs. She grinned and chuckled to herself as she bolted it for the front door. If she didn’t run now then her sister would for sure catch her which would end up in a wrestling match on the floor.

The warm morning air and sunshine hit her face as she booked it down the front stairs. She looked around for a hiding spot when she noticed Daryl standing on his porch smoking a cigarette. He watched her with curious eyes. Knowing she had less than a minute before her sister caught up to her Connie bolted it for Daryl. He was caught by surprise when she hid behind him. They were back to back with their bodies aleigned from their ankles all the way to where her curly locks reached the middle of his shoulder blades.

As if timed perfectly, Kelly busted out the front door and looked around for her sister. Thankfully Daryl decided to roll with the odd situation and acted casul. Kelly noticed him and decided to approach since he was close friends with Connie. Or rather, more than close friends she always teased her older sister.

“Have you seen Connie,” Kelly asked.

Daryl stood still as to not expose his friend for whatever reason she was hiding.

He cleared his throat before speaking, “Not this mornin’. Why?”

“‘Cause she’s sneaky and devious and knows that I’m a deep sleeper,” the teen huffed before retreating from the porch.

Once the coast was clear Daryl nudged his ankle against hers to signal it was safe. When she rounded to his front she had a huge devious smirk on her face. The hunter shook his head in amusement. This woman was always up to something. It’s what he admired about her the most. Even in the darkest of days she was still able to smile and see the bright side.

“What you do,” he shakily signed.

Connie smiled as she reached for the notepad and pen in her back pocket. Her heart always felt a warm squeeze every time he signed to her. She almost cried when she discovered he had an ASL study book. He was trying. Not only that, but he was trying for her. Not a lot of people did that or even wanted to waste that kind of time. They usually spoke louder, elongated their words, or just wrote down in her notepad. Most times Kelly had to translate. Unfortunately this wasn’t anything new. People weren’t considerate in the old world and they sure as hell weren’t in this new world.

“You’re getting better,” she wrote before giving him some tips on how to properly say ‘what did you do’. Without those extra words he just sounded hilariously like a caveman. “I was bored, so I drew on her while she was asleep.”

“Why,” he signed that one with ease.

“Why not,” Connie grinned.

She knew Daryl understood her because he seemed to be chuckling while shaking his head.

“Do you have any plans for today,” she wrote on the paper.

She noticed him shake his head and his mouth move to a ‘na’ sound which usually meant no for him. It was his heavy southern accent she had to get used to. He even signed with a southern accent much to his bewilderment.

This man was so incredible. He was kind, enjoyed learning and never got offended when corrected, and sometimes it was hard to read his lips. Not because of his accent, but because she started to wonder how they feel on her own. Even though his lips seemed slightly chapped compared to hers she just knew the kiss would feel amazing.

“Might go hunting or something,” he wrote.

“I’ll go with,” she excitedly replied.

“‘S not a good idea,” he spoke as he turned his head to make sure he still had an eye on Dog.

Connie frowned before gripping his chin and bringing it back to face her. She gestured with her fingers that he should look at her when he speaks so she can read his lips. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I hunt better alone.”

“Being alone is dangerous,” she signed.

Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand what she said. The only thing he caught was dangerous. She must have been telling him the dangers of going out alone. He pointed his thumb in the direction of his pet across the street.

“I got Dog.”

Connie stared at him blankly before writing in her pad again. She held it up for him to see, her face still neutral.

“Because he’s so ferocious.”

He could practically hear the sarcasm in her handwriting. He turned back around the check on his animal. Dog was currently sitting across the street on a patch of grass with his niece Judith. She was currently painting his nails with a sparkly blue polish that Connie found for her. Dog sat there patiently while allowing her to do so. He tail was wagging ever so slightly so you knew he was enjoying it. Daryl rolled his eyes before turning back to his neighbor.

“Fine. We leave in an hour,” he told her before stepping off the porch to retrieve his dog.

Soon the pair were off trekking through the woods with a begrudging Dog. He must have really wanted to stay at his spa day with Judith. The thought made Connie chuckle. Daryl glanced over at her, but didn’t say a word. Her chuckle was sweet but he thought nothing could compare to her laugh. It was so bright and boisterous. It was able to bring light to even the darkest days.

Daryl noticed Dog froze in his steps. This caused Daryl to stop and hold his arm out for Connie to follow suit as well. He placed a finger on his lips - a universal sign to be quiet. She rose an eyebrow at him. As if she didn’t know to be quiet already. Does this man really think she’s never been hunting before? What does he think kept her and Kelly alive this entire time.

She swiftly took out her slingshot before bending down to grab a sharp and rigid rock. It was placed in the holder and fired off before Daryl could even lift his crossbow. With the speed, force, and rigidness from the rock it was easily able to go straight through the woodchuck’s head. Daryl looked at her impressed. She gave him a knowing smirk before signaling Dog to go retrieve it. When he returned she tossed Daryl the animal to put on the kill string. She placed her hands on her hips as she stared Daryl down. She then tried to speak.

“Anything you can do, I can do better,” she sassed.

Even though it was a little hard to understand, Daryl could hear her clear as day. He quickly snatched the notepad from Connie’s back pocket, much to her surprise. Once he was finished scratching down his sentence he lifted the pad up for her to see.

“Is that a challenge?” It said.

She grinned in excitement at the idea of this game. She was always competitive, and she had a feeling Daryl was too. The notebook was grabbed back and she began to write on it while snickering. Soon she lifted it up to show the redneck. There were two columns. One said Connie and the other said Daryl. Connie had 1 tally mark in her column while Daryl had a frowny face. Daryl laughed.

“We’ll see who’s frowning afterwards.”

“Bet?” she signed.

“What’s the wager,” Daryl asked, slightly afraid of her punishment.

She wrote down on the pad again before lifting it up.

“Winner’s choice?”

That made Daryl feel a little more at ease. It also meant that he'd have to work his ass off to beat her. He really wanted to win and had a great prize in mind. Connie may be good, but he’s been hunting for 35+ years. He nodded in agreement with her. They even shook hands to make it official.

This game took place for hours. Both of them enjoying the hunt, a few laughs, but especially each other’s company. They were so entranced with hunting that they completely forgot to even keep score. Hunting with the two could have continued all day, but it was already late afternoon. Dog was the one to call it a day. He was laying down panting hard, too tired to go and retrieve the final catch. The humans decided to agree with him. Besides, they had plenty of meat to feed their entire community. All three of them walked back in comfortable silence. It wasn’t until they were inside the gates of Alexandria and before their houses that they remembered the game.

Connie practically flung the notepad open just for her to frown. They stopped placing tally’s after 3 catches each. Technically they both won by the Talley's.

“A tie,” she signed.

Her heartbeat sped up. During the entire hunt she was thinking of what his punishment should be. The only thing that kept circling back was for him to kiss her. She finally told herself that she would do it, and psyched herself up the entire time in the woods. Now it was a tie, and her stomach tightened in disappointment. She lost her chance.

“What does that mean,” he asked, seeming slightly disappointed as well.

“We both win?” she wrote.

“What did you want,” he sketched beside her reply.

Her heart sped up again. Maybe she could still get her chance. It was either now or never. She decided to throw all insecurities to the wind and go for it.

“This…” she slowly signed before placing her two hands on each side of his face.

She brought him down to her level and kissed his lips. They were warm and slightly wet from him licking them moments ago. To both of their surprise he kissed her back with ease. Only Daryl was still awkward and unsure of where to put his hands. This made Connie smile into his lips and she grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist. This seemed to be the confirmation Daryl needed to fully get into it. He placed one hand on the back of her neck and deepened the kiss. Shortly after they were out of breath and had to pull away. They just stared into one another’s eyes trying to be sure that what just occurred really happened. A devious smile soon formed on Daryl’s face when he noticed how out of breath and flustered Connie was.

“Anythin’ you can do, I can do better,” he said.

#romance #adventure #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x connie #daryl x connie #twd fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd #twd connie

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the-mighty-jellybean · 4 years

Text

Black & Blue

Bruise: an injury appearing as an area of discoloured skin on the body, caused by a blow or impact rupturing underlying blood vessels...

Series Summary:

‘They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.’

Pairing: Doctor!Steve x Reader, Brock x Reader

Series Warning: This story is going to be quite dark and heavy, and will contain heavy themes of domestic abuse. There will be: Violence and possible Noncon, if you are uncomfortable with any of these themes, please don't read, this book won't be for you.

Part One: Broken Little Bird

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language, Description of Injury and Treatment (such as stitches), Allusion to Malnutrition

Trigger Warning: Domestic Abuse (Theme through out, especially towards end of chapter, where there is an allusion to Sexual Abuse, once again; Reader Discretion Advised) (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Please do not read this book, if these themes make you uncomfortable, or may be triggering for you, I know lots of you enjoy my writing, but that doesn't mean I’d ever lie about what are in my books, so that I can get more likes and re-blogs, I care about my followers’ feelings and emotions more. Love you all, and if you do decide to give it a read, enjoy!!

The feeling of the hot and bitter liquid was a welcoming feeling for Steve, as he approached his ninth hour of his twelve hour shift. He wiped at his face, after he sipped his coffee, and continued to scribble down some notes, of a previous patient.

“How much longer?” a voice from the side of Steve, groaned, he turned being met with the site of his best friend, Bucky, who collapsed into the seat next to him.

“What time did you start?” Steve looked down at his watch.

“Lunch time.” Bucky yawned, leaning back in the office chair.

“You’ve got another four hours.” Steve told him, earning an eye roll from his friend.

“Shit.” Bucky huffed.

The two were doctors, who worked in one of the busiest ER Departments in Brooklyn, so far they had seen over 15 patients each, and more were coming, despite it being only 8 o’clock in the evening, on a Monday night.

“Why are there so many of them?” Bucky commented, as he flicked through his heavy file of patients yet to be treated.

“I don’t know, according to Sam, there’s been a huge crash on the Interstate, something like a twelve-car pileup.” Steve explained, not looking up from the form that he was currently filling out for a patient, so he could discharge them to x-ray.

“Jesus.” Bucky sighed.

“Dr Rogers.” Another voice called Steve’s name, and he turned back to the doorway of the office.

“How can I help nurse Maximoff?” Steve mustered up the best smile he could, in his slowly draining state.

“If you aren’t busy, I’ve got another patient for you?” the softly spoken, eastern European nurse asked.

Steve could have said no, but he could never turn a patient down, even if the pile was mounting up, “of course.”

He pushed his chair away from the desk, and picked up his stethoscope, following the woman out of the office.

“It should be quite quick,” Wanda passed him the clipboard, with the patients notes on, “just a standard, glue or stitch.”

“If it’s just a standard glue or stitch, why do you need me to do it?” Steve furrowed his brow at the perfectly capable nurse. Wanda was a great nurse, hence why she was the Head Nurse on the ward.

“I don’t know, there’s just something a little off about the girl, and you’ve got a keen eye for this sort of thing.” She shrugged, as the two made it to the bays.

“Do you mean I’m nosy?” Steve chuckled, and Wanda just gave him a cheeky grin.

“No, you’re just…yeah you’re nosy.” Wanda giggled, and Steve narrowed his eyes mischievously.

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed glancing down to the notes, “which bay is she in?”

“That one.” Steve followed Wanda’s pointed finger, towards one of the beds, that had the curtain pulled partially round. Steve could still see the slender figure of a young girl, she was slightly slumped, with her shoulders rounded.

Steve nodded to Wanda before walking towards the bed.

“Nice to meet you Miss…” Steve glanced down at the clipboard, looking for the name of the patient, “Y/L/N.” Steve’s smile faltered slightly, when he looked up from the clipboard, expecting the only person to be within the bay to be the young girl.

Instead he was also met with the tall and overbearing figure of a man, who was staring intensely at Steve. The girl didn’t look up to meet Steve’s gaze, but Steve also didn’t miss the flinch that the girl made when Steve made his entrance unexpectedly.

“Sorry, wasn’t aware there was someone else in here.” Steve explained lightly, with a smile. However, neither of the people responded, the girl continued to look down, and the man only flicked him a smile.

“Where’d that nurse get to, that was here before?” the man asked Steve aggressively.

Steve was taken aback, by the man’s overpowering tone, but managed to keep a straight face; “she got called away to another patient, so now you’re stuck with me.”

Steve cleared his throat, to break up the awkward silence that had fallen over the small group, “I’m Dr Rogers, but feel free to call me Steve.”

“Dr Rogers will be just fine.” The man chimed.

“Sorry, I don’t know your name?” Steve gave the man a tight smile and held his hand out.

“Rumlow, Brock Rumlow.” The man took Steve’s hand, and gripped it tightly, making sure Steve knew, who the strongest man in the room was.

“Nice to meet you Mr Rumlow.” Steve figured the guy would want to be called by his surname, by the way he shot down Steve’s gesture, “and what is your relation to Miss Y/L/N?”

“Boyfriend.” Rumlow responded bluntly, and Steve could only nod as a reply.

“So, what appears to be the problem?” Steve looked down at the woman, but instead the rough voice of a man responded.

“She slipped getting a glass from the cupboard, silly girl fell, and smashed it, cutting her hand.” Rumlow spoke with a light tone, but the way his words tumbled from his mouth, made Steve a little on edge.

“Right, well I’ll need to take a quick look at it.” Steve tried to catch the girl’s eyes, but the girl just held out her roughly bandaged hand. The poorly covered limb had blood dripping from the dressing, Steve watched the droplets splash onto the floor, and it had stained the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Whoever patched this up, won’t be getting a job here.” Steve tried to joke, but it fell on deaf ears, when neither of them laughed.

“You trying to say something, punk.” Rumlow puffed his chest out, and stepped slightly towards Steve, who back off.

“Baby.” The woman finally spoke, taking hold of Rumlow’s hand and rubbing her thumb over the top of it, “he was just kidding, you did you’re best.”

“I was only joking, Mr Rumlow. I would advise that you calm down.” Steve warned the man.

“I am calm,” The woman pulled on Brock’s hand, hoping to keep him quiet, Brock let out a heavy breath, his chest lowering, “look just do your job, so we can get out of here, I have work in the morning.”

Steve just nodded, snapping on a pair of gloves, still not overly happy with the guy’s attitude, and began to unbandaged the girl’s hand. He quietly apologised, when he saw the girl flinch when a particular part of the dressing stuck on some of the skin.

“I’m going to need you to take your cardigan off.” Steve said, as he turned to the used medical disposal.

For the first time since arriving in the ER, the girl sat up, with her eyes wide, clutching at the sleeves of her cardigan, “why?”

Steve almost didn’t hear the girls soft voice, as he very quickly got lost in her tired face. The way her eyes were slightly sunken into her head, from lack of sleep, the dark circles under them, made the color of her eyes more prominent. Her lips were chapped and a little split, from where they had cracked from being so dry. Despite all this, Steve couldn’t neglect the girl’s striking beauty. Steve had to shake his head a little and remember that she had just asked him a question.

“Oh err…it appears that the cut goes further up your wrist and I need to clean it.” Steve explained.

The girl didn’t loosen her grip on the fabric of her jumper, and Steve furrowed his brow slightly, and the girl simply flicked her eyes to the man, and then back to the cut on her hand.

Before Steve could say anything, everyone in the cubical was startled by the sound of a mobile phone. Brock reached into his pocket, pulling out the loud and vibrating device.

“It’s work, I’ve got to take this,” Brock whispered, Steve watched the girl pull back slightly, when the man lent down to kiss her forehead, “behave yourself, princess.”

Steve watched the girl let out a literal sigh of relief when the man finally walked out from the bay. Steve closed the curtain the rest of the way, after Brock left.

“Well, he’s a little intense.” Steve chuckled, but the girl only shrugged.

“He can be.” She whispered, picking at the skin on her arm. “He means well.”

“He got a bit scary then, does he do that a lot?” Steve asked softly, “hey, hey, hey don’t do that.” He speaks kindly, reaching for the girl’s hand, she flinched away, when Steve tried to stop her from making the area, she was plucking bleed.

“No, he’s just very protective.” she responded in a hush voice.

“Okay.” Steve said, apprehensively, “well it appears we don’t have a large amount of medical history for you?”

“We move around a lot.” she said, looking away from Steve.

“Have you been together a while?” Steve prodded.

“A year and a half, we’ve just moved from…” the woman trialled off, when she felt like she was about to give too much away.

“Moved from where?” Steve probed, looking at her with the best reassuring smile he could.

“Doesn’t matter.” She spoke flatly.

“Well okay…. but I’m gonna need you to take your cardigan off, so I can sort that hand out for you, Miss Y/L/N.” Steve reminded her, making her cringed at his words.

“My names Y/N,” she said quietly, “Is that really necessary?” The girl looked up at him, with a look of plead, but Steve could only nod.

“Sorry, doll. I’m afraid it is.” Steve began to unpackage the needed dressings, and antiseptic wipes, “I promise I’ll be nice and quick.”

Y/N let out a heavy sigh, and slowly peeled the sleeves of her cardigan down her arms, and Steve’s eyes couldn’t help but go wide, when he saw the painful decorations that were scattered across her skin. As the sleeves of the material fell from her shoulders, the black and blue bruises were revealed.

They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.

“By the looks of it, you fall quite a bit.” Steve commented, he tried to take hold of one of Y/N arms, but she quickly pulled them away.

Steve noticed that some of the bruises looked a little like fingerprints, especially the ones around her wrists and upper forearm, “these don’t look like you fell over.” As Steve’s eyes travelled up Y/N’s arms, that was when he noticed the boniness of her shoulders that bumped out from under the fabric of her t-shirt.

“Can you just sort my hand out, so I can leave please.” Y/N snapped, holding out the still dribbling bloodied hand, growing frustrated with Steve inquisitiveness.

Steve just nodded grabbing the antiseptic, and moved back to the hand, “this might sting a little, sorry.”

Steve began to wipe, as gently as he could, but he was shocked when Y/N didn’t even wince, when he started to directly disinfect the wound.

Steve had been a doctor for many years, and had seen grown men, crumble when he had to clean their cuts and scrapes, but Y/N didn’t even cringe. She just sat with her eyes glaring holes into the floor.

“You’re one tough cookie.” Steve complimented, but Y/N didn’t respond, “okay, now I’m going need to stitch it, so I’m going to need to give you a little shot, that’s going to numb the area.”

“Don’t bother.” Y/N mumbled, “I can take it.”

“It’s not quite the same, sweetheart. This is going to hurt a lot more than some cleaning wipes.” Despite Steve’s plea, Y/N just shrugged, unmoved by his words, and Steve felt his heart sink, as he gazed upon this damaged little girl.

“Please let me give you the shot?” Steve spoke tentatively, as he crouched down, so that he could try and catch Y/N’s eyeline, but she just squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

Steve swallowed thickly, but decided he would respect the young woman’s wishes; “would you like me to wait for your boyfriend to get back, so someone can hold your hand?’

“I said that I could handle it, so just hurry up.” Y/N shot back, Steve noticed that her chest was beginning to rise and fall, in a quickened pace, and it wouldn’t take a doctor, to work out that Y/N was afraid.

“Okay, if you’re sure, I’ll start.”

“Please.” It sounded like Y/N was begging, and Steve’s heart broke.

Grasping Y/N’s hand, he then realised how much smaller her hand was in his, and the way it sat delicately on his palm. Steve took out the needle that had been previously threaded, and he caught himself holding his own breath, as he brought the pointed item to Y/N’s slashed skin.

Calmly as he could, Steve let the breath he was holding wheeze out of his nose, in a controlled manner so not to alert Y/N to his apprehensiveness and pushing the head of the needle into Y/N’s flesh.

Y/N whined, and Steve immediately halted his actions; “do you want me to stop? Are you okay?” Steve fired out question after question, but Y/N just took steady breaths through her nose.

“No, no, no…just do it. Just do it quickly.” Y/N rushed out, looking away from her hand. Steve bit his lip, but realised dragging it out, was only going to make it worse.

Soon Steve had found a pace, and Y/N’s hand had become numb with pain, only the occasional cry of discomfort slipping from her cracked lips. The gentle hushes, as Steve tried his best to soothe her. Eventually, Steve pulled through the final stitch and Y/N let out a sigh of relief, and Steve began to wrap one last bandage round, just to keep the stitches secure.

Once he’d finished wrapping it up, Y/N snatched it away, and began to tug the sleeves of her cardigan back on. Just as the last sleeve went over her shoulder, shielding her skin from the view of Steve’s prying eyes, Brock stepped back through the curtains.

“You finished yet?” He grumbled, walking toward Y/N with such a pace, it made Y/N move backwards slightly.

“Yes Mr Rumlow, your girlfriend was very brave.” Steve mentioned, as he tore off the white gloves from his hands.

“She’s my girlfriend, not my daughter, I don’t give a fuck if she was brave. Stupid girl was the reason we’re here in the first place. But if you’re all done, then we’ll be off. Come on.” Brock seized Y/N hand, which caused Y/N to yelp, as his fingers wrapped around the newly bandaged hand.

“Mr Rumlow, you need to let go.” Steve took hold of Brock’s wrist and pulled his hand away from Y/N’s injury.

“Don’t touch me.” Brock’s voice boomed, as he ripped his wrist free from Steve’s grasp, “who the hell do you think you are?”

“Brock common let’s go; I just want to go home.” Y/N begged him, but Brock just gave her a look, that had her quickly closing her mouth.

“Mr Rumlow, I would advise that you calm down.” Steve held his hands up defensively, as Brock began to step towards him.

“You trying to tell me, how to handle my girl?” Brock shouted, “you trying to tell me, how I should be treating mygirlfriend?”

“No, Mr Rumlow, I was just trying to stop you from splitting your girlfriend’s stitches,” Steve explained, he was still backing away, “Mr Rumlow, you need to seriously calm down.”

All the commotion had caught the attention of Bucky, and Bruce, who had excused themselves from their own patients, and were approaching the quickly escalating scene.

“Please, Brock let’s just leave.” Y/N pleaded, her hand throbbed from where Brock had grasped it, and she was beginning to panic, as she quickly recognised the rage that was building up in her boyfriend.

“Be quiet.” Brock told her, and she once again closed her lips, but when she turned to look at the opening of the curtain, two other men, were approaching her bed.

“What appears to be the problem in here?” Bucky spoke, looking around the small compartment, his eyes flicked from the two men, who were both heavily breathing, to the frightened looking lady, who was sat clutching her hand close to her chest.

“Oh, called the cavalry, have we?” Brock sneered looking at the two new doctors, “everything’s fine in here man, just run along.” Brock waved his hands shooing the men away, but they stood still.

“Sir, I think we’re going to ask you to leave.” Bruce told him.

“You think, or you are, what is it specky?” Y/N looked horrified at her boyfriend.

“Brock, enough. We’re leaving.”

And before anymore words could be said, Y/N had grabbed hold of Brock’s arm, and was dragging him out the automatic doors, of the ER.

~~~~~

The ride home had been extremely tense, neither Y/N nor Brock had said a word to one another. Although, Y/N did notice the way that Brock was gripping the stirring wheel, and it made her eyes burn, as her mind, began to plan all the scenarios that would occur once the two had got home.

Once Brock parked the car, Y/N rushed out, fumbling with her key, as she tried to push it in the slot. Breathing a quick breath of relief, she pushed the door open, only to have the air knocked from her, when Brock pushed her roughly up against the wall.

Brock grabbed her hands, and held them against her chest, crushing them in his steel grip, making Y/N’s eyes water, as he tightens the hold on the hand with stitches.

“Baby…please.” She choked, trying to pull her hands free, only making him squeeze them harder.

“Don’t baby me, you fucking bitch.” Brock spat in her face, “you embarrassed me.”

“Brock I’m so-ah!” Y/N cried out, when Brock began to crush Y/N’s bandaged hand in his grip.

“You’re what…you’re sorry, you’re fucking sorry?” Brock bellowed, “you’re always fucking sorry.”

Brock release Y/N’s hands, but shoved her into the wall, her head knocking into the plaster, making her go dizzy, and slump onto the floor.

“Get up!” Brock commanded, “I said…” Brock seized Y/N by the hands once more, making her yelp, “…get up!” he pulled Y/N to her feet.

“Don’t ever,” he slapped Y/N across the face as he spoke, “…ever.” He does it again, “…ever.” He does it once more, this one harder than the others, adding to the dizziness that Y/N was already feeling, “humiliate me like that again.”

“Brock, please…I’mm so-sorry.” Y/N sobbed, she shuffled onto her knees, and tried to hold onto Brock’s hips.

“You’re sorry…hmm baby…you’re sorry?” Brock tormented her.

“Yes…yyes I a-m.” Y/N stuttered.

“Why don’t you show me how sorry you are, princess.” Brock placed Y/N hands on his crouch, and Y/N could feel the outline of his hardening member through the rough denim of his pants.

“Bbb-rock…I..c-can’t.” Y/N held up her bandaged hand, and she could see that the stitches must have burst, as small patches of blood started to spot on the white material.

“There ain’t nothing wrong with that ungrateful mouth of yours.” Brock sneered and began to unbuckle his belt.

All Y/N could do, as she allowed Brock to clasp the sides of her face, was whimper and pray silently in her head for all of this to end.

A/N: If you’re reading this, it means you have decided to read my book, and I’m very grateful to you, please like and re-blog. And the taglist for this new book is...OPEN!

Part Two//

Just drop me a note, or comment, if you wish to be added!!

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve fic #steve angst #reader insert #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow #domestic abuse #adult themes #marvel fanfiction #marvel movies #doctor!steve #doctor!steve x reader #dark fic #dark steve fic

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btswishes · 3 years

Text

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 3)

Previous / Next (4)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Ok Chapter 3 here we go, things are moving 10 000+ words later XD. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count: 3,997

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name

Y/L/N- Your Last Name

Tag list: @vicmc624

----------------------------

Two men dressed in dark fancy suits helped Captain America sit on the bench next to Dr. Banner, while one more presumably, also an agent rolled in 2 stretchers. From the voices you could distinguish Natasha Romanoff and Sergeant James Barnes. Not too far, with a confidant step followed Tony Stark keeping the splint around his left hand, covered slightly by the expensive material of his jacket - throw casually over his shoulders. Poor Pepper having her husband come home almost dead all the time- must be just awful.

“What happened?” Bruce barked out intensely checking Natasha in a hastily manner, making sure there wasn’t anything too major

“HYDRA fed us the wrong information, long story short caught the link in time and no one died.” Tony explained, pulling a squished protein bar from the inside of his pant pocket

“I almost saw the light for a second time Tony.” Captain hissed when you began disinfecting his wounds, reacting to the cold cooling yet irritating feeling of the clear liquid on the cotton ball.

“I am sure that was the explosion.” Natasha snickered at the blond man. ”Next time don’t look at it, ok?” One after the other injured agents flooded the lab making motion difficult. Most of the equipment was on the other end of the packed room. Talking and a mix of incoherent sounds filled your head, causing you to go into overdrive. You had no idea how people could work in such an environment. Hospital work was part of your curriculum, as weird as it sounded, since you were dabbling in human body functions. Even there you never had so many people on your head, there was order- obviously lacking here.

Some were very badly injured, near-death was a correct way to say it, but for sure not 90%. Looking around you couldn’t find a shorter way towards the bandages and irrigation solution. Tables and people were placed like chess pieces in a game you were losing because of panic. Tony kept his eyes on you, biting down on the crumpling snack, waiting to see what you would do. It could have been all a test for what you knew, yet it flew over your head.

“Dr. Banner.” You yelled out patching up the Cap and moving onto one of the stretchers “Can you pass me the small bag behind you please?” he nodded and did it all without even taking a look away from Natasha’s wounds. Professional or just slightly overconfident?

Rising your right hand you caught the bag making its way towards you. The flap flung open and you pulled out the 4 bottles of vibranium dust onto the table, right next to you. A hair tie emerged from the same place shortly after. Bucky looked up at the changing expression on your face, interested in silence maybe also in a bit of pain. Your fingers raked up your scalp, gathering as much hair as possible to imprison with the elastic. Tony ever so silent but focused, a good judge of character.

The lids of the bottles rolled onto the desk, discarded without a thought. Your hands cupped all of them and spilling piles of metallic dust on the floor. Stark rose an eyebrow and stopped chewing for a second. Taking a deep breath the oxygen gathered all your thoughts into an anxiety suppressing pill, shooting in waves through your bloodstream. You didn’t waste any time, your eyelids swung up letting your lashes almost hit your brows. Both your elbows bent in, positioning themselves next to your waist line snugly. You could feel your back muscles clench and tighten before extending. They shot your arms to the sides, dust cloud forming two plates pushing agents to the side.

“SILANCE!” the room granted your wish, even the atoms could be heard moving with the shock engulfing the field “This is a lab NOT a playground! If you are able to cause such ruckus you aren’t hurt enough to be here. If any of you insist on doing this, I will give you a reason to scream. If you are patched up leave! Got a paper cut or bruise- leave! Unless you crawl to me, I don’t want to see you.” hunched over your body didn’t move from its metal bending pose, arms spread like a bird in flight, eyes looking forward “Now, out.” the words vibrated fearless in your throat

It wasn’t surprising that almost all people in black suits left in a rush, accept some that were actually getting treated from the mission. Sergeant Barnes was still laying on the stretcher waiting for his turn, taken back from the scene that unraveled above him. Almost in a Dr. Strange hand motion you pulled the vibranium back.

The silence continued making your confidence evaporate and let the anxiety condensate back into you. Eyes roaming around the room till a loud and audible clap pulled the strings of your head towards it. Tony was doing his best not to mess his arm up more, but to him this deserved praise.

“Well done Miss inter, I am pleasantly surprised with your actions…” his footsteps creeped up, letting his body lean onto Bucky’s current bed, ignoring the man’s grunt of discomfort “…and that.” his finger made circles pointing at your arms covered with the metallic dust shaped slightly like a gauntlet

“It’s amazing isn’t it?” Banner, back still facing the rest of the room, scoffed proud like a father witnessing his child’s grades

“You know about it?” Tony crushed up the plastic of the protein bar, tossing it in the trash in the corner of the room

“Yeah.” The doctor was finishing up with Natasha “We were actually talking about that with her before you rushed in. I was lucky enough to get a special demonstration as well.”

“So what is it Miss intern ?” his head tilted, showing a new angle of his goatee

It didn’t take you long to notice that the sergeant couldn’t get up because he was shot pretty badly. Your desk had turned into a makeshift surgical table with all kinds of things on it - soon to be used. One of the gauntlets flew off your soft skin and pulled up the soldier like he was made of feathers. The wound seemed to be closing up fast, the super serum did give him abnormal healing. This was proof that not everything is a good thing. The bullet was still lodged inside his body, which wasn’t the optimal place for foreign matter.

“It’s vibranium dust. I am sure Mr. Stark knows about it. It was in my application papers.” You began disinfecting the area, applying a small dose of lidocaine onto the open cut, just to numb it as much as possible. Somehow you didn’t want this man to feel any more pain that he already had endured, past or present moment.

“You did, about it being inside the body not throwing it like the pissed off Sand man.” The ever so playful with words Tony ladies and gentlemen

“I might have skipped one or two parts, but they were something I was experimenting with on the side and not on the subject I was offering.” The vibranium took the elegant shape of a sharp scalpel. With a light hand, the pressure made the blade disappear into Bucky’s skin, making a big enough incision. Tweezers fit inside snugly, pulling out the bullet that looked almost destroyed in his body. “ This batch is under my willful control.”

“Transmitter?” Tony’s eyes went over your whole body trying to find something, still consciously making a mental mark, on the little knife you manifested from basically a pile of metal “Doesn’t look like they are voice triggered .”

“The only transmitter is my brain waves.” Placing your fingers over a cup of rubbing alcohol, you dropped in the tweezers and the scalpel, now turned into the same shiny mass as it was originally in its own jar “ Quantum engineered with quarks made from my own tissues.”

“Ssss.” The hissing sound that came out from in-between Tony’s teeth as he took a sharp breath in, send chills down his own back “Masochist aren’t you. Hey, we don’t kink shame here sweetie, don’t worry.” A playful wink flew towards you “Y/N right?” your head nodded, hands putting things in their original place, trying to give the room back its original look “Nice nice. Welcome to the team, glad to have you. Seems like you chose Banner to start off your training. I am deeply offended .” a big hand grabbed onto the fabric over his heart, in the most theatrical way possible “Most people go for the playboy billionaire. I guess not everyone has good taste, don’t worry I will fix it.”

“Excuse me?” training? Well that definitely was NOT in the list of activities for you internship “Ugh…”

“Sweet cheeks, you didn’t thought I would give access to Avengers information just like that to an intern?” he scoffed at exactly what you were thinking. The rest of the members were observing the situation from the sidelines. It wasn’t yet their time to jump in.

“Look.” His thigh went over the desk, sitting half way onto it, head crooked at you. Tony was focused on the ever so slightly changing lines of your face. He wasn’t the only one holding a breath in in expectation “I went over you application, I was taken back by your idea. It was so outside the box I am kinda jelly I didn’t come up with it. Some more digging here and there... turns out joining my university was done on a whim - second shot to the heart sweetie.” his fingers back onto his chest next to the reactor core “ Lack of history before that, no future ambitions whatsoever. Heck -” Tony’s body slid off the hard flat surface, fixing the jacket slipping off his shoulder. His back was facing you as he began walking towards the exit “ Even your professors were worried about you- gave them a lil call. I just saw a bright cookie I wanted, so I got you.” With a sideways, look he smirked almost like a cat playing with a mouse

“And I plan to keep you here one way or the other, so I offer you this.” Arms spread sideways, garment now resting on the floor, gathering the dust and dirt from all the shoes in here previously “Training, knowledge and access to tech you would never have even in university or the government. Your choice. Become someone who you used to look up to, or go back after the end of your internship.”

Your eyes moved from the floor, slowly towards his jacket, over it and straight up his body. The breath lodged inside your throat began moving in and out unnoticeable. The two super soldiers could practically hear you inhaling a storm around yourself and Natasha read your body language. To all of them you were as simple as an open brochure. Tony knew, he was just waiting for the moment you crack under. You were but a pile of clay with astonishing properties, ready to be turned into anything.

“I did apply to Stark university as a last choice. BUT! I applied to this internship for the sole reason of doing nothing but the best to build up a reputation and secure a position in the future.” Your voice snuck out from between your soft lips as a rising in octaves whisper. As confidence began to accumulate so did the need for you to prove your qualities “Even if you didn’t tell me this Mr. Stark, I would have still whipped my success onto your face. There is something I just gotta know.”

The loud laugh echoing from inside his voice box made your whole body flinch, a blink opening your eyes wide simultaneously. “That is my girl! Exactly what I wanted to hear from you. I knew I chose you very very well. And call me Tony, I am not that old yet for Mr.” his heels swung his body like a ballerina to face you for a bit “ First round you have with green angry guy over there. Banner seems to like you already, but I want to see how true those PE grades of yours are. I expect you to take the gym in the building as serious as the rest do, little smarty pants. I would say don’t disappoint, but that look in your eyes shows me you don’t need cheesy lines. ”

It felt like time froze the moment the owner of the building stepped out of the lab. The heartbeat in your ears was the only thing counting down the seconds passing by you, before a big and firm arm rested onto your right shoulder. Neck cracked a bit looking up at the huge yet gentle owner. He flashed you a smile almost as bright as his blonde hair.

“He tends to mess with newcomers, don’t worry your head about it too much. Was like that with me too.” Captain America looked down at Bucky and then back at you “I leave my oldie here with you, make sure you take good care of him. “

“Thank you sir.” You blurred out, out of respect towards your childhood hero and probably one of the few people who you felt you could talk casually with out side of ‘work’

“Please, call me Steve. Even if you are a baby to the group, you are still an Avenger in training so, no need for formalities with us.” With a gentle patting motion he pushed himself off you and in the direction of his own room. ”Don’t stay too long and forget to eat, I know how you science people get.”

Natasha jumped off the stretcher and groaned out, trying to reposition the shoulder that once more was part of her body and not just hanging by muscles and tissues.

“See you later.” She flashed you a smile, red locks of hair dancing like fire around her “Neighbor.” The word sung out playfully, in a teasing big sister manner

“You staying behind for the usual check up?” Bruce’s voice cracked, waves directed towards the super soldier sitting on the stretcher next to you.

“Yeah.” The word bass low almost pushed his head to the side, but he stopped half way- direction opposite from you

“Y/N would you be a dear and do it for me? I have to go and get Clint his meds.” His thin figure skillfully snaked around tables, chairs and desks out of the room - door sliding closed behind him. You could hear the pressured air whistled inside from the movement.

Pushing the screen over to the Sergeant’s body made you paused. The scanner caught easily the interference caused by his weapons, plastered over his body in bondage style belts and bags.

“Um, you will have to take those off. Sorry.” Your voice but a whisper that only his super senses could catch. With a nod he reach up to the clasp. The straps were pushing into his strong and muscular body so much, the moment he pressed the button they popped off with a jump, landing onto this pectorals seconds later. As much as you tried to stay professional, your eyes kept drifting over his body. Bucky looked huge compared to the TV version of him. Everyone knew he was experimented on by HYDRA and made into an enhanced human, but this man was a walking tank. His biceps and thighs waiting to just bust out of the fabric. Going wide, your eyes connected with your brain, realizing you were practically having weird thoughts over an injured person. Shaking out of it, you pulled back.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. ?” calling out, the interface answered practically before you could finish saying the name

Yes Miss.

“Do a standard scan and a nerve check please.”

Shall I send the results to your tablet?

“Yes, thank you.” The sound of the machine turning on led you to pull the flat screen and look at the image developing as pixels. Bucky’s body didn’t move, a bolder just sitting there and waiting. Yet his eyes caught a glimpse of your body slowly leaning onto the desk, focused on your work, unintentionally exposing your neck to him - the shapes your curves made. Somehow he couldn’t avert his gaze even if his head was empty from thoughts.

Done

“Ok...” the letters were prolonged. Biting your nail you noticed the inflamed nerve on his shoulder, pinched between his metal arm and the flesh of his body. “ Any shoulder pain?” you wanted him to say it, not you showing it

“None that I know of.” He responded, voice like thick caramel- sweet. Breathy as it was, the sigh left your mouth open, pulling your eyelids down over your irises. Your hips pushed you away from the desk and over to his left side. The cold vibranium under your touch felt refreshing. Soon as you found the spot, just the slightest pressure made him grunt.

“Hm.”an amused smirk followed the huff of air through your nose “Well I am sure this is something you know of.” Bucky kept his serious face, looking forward and not acknowledging the pain you pulled out of his extremity “Sergeant Barnes, come on.” He didn’t budge nor would he any time soon and you knew that without a verbal answer or marker

Inhaling some air, you prepared yourself for a conversation that might just jab at more than his inflamed nerve. It could or couldn’t end up with you dead, but you weren’t getting anywhere with this. Pulling the chair on one leg, you swung it over standing directly in front of the tense man. It was time for a confrontation that no one wanted. With a push of your coat you sat down, crossing your legs and leaning onto the knee, elbow to palm.

“Look, I may not be the best person to have this conversation with or anywhere close to that, but you really need to start opening up at least to the people that care about you. Steve ‘cough cough’.”

Bucky was still jumping from object to object but staying away from you “Keep your secrets to yourself soldier. Fighting inner demons and past trauma that you don’t even remember is hell, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer on the outside too. No one would think of you any less if you said ‘hey my shoulder hurt’.” Leaning onto the chair’s back you let your head fall towards the wood behind . Diverting your physical eye contact let him eye you comfortably.

“What would you know about that?” ok he spoke, defensive and aggressive but progress- we are making it

“I don’t, I never said I did. If I could experience what you have, I would do it to understand you.” Side to side your head rubbed over the backrest, little splints tugging on your hair “Trust me, I would make this whole situation a lot better.”

“Is this part of your internship or something?” his words pulled your teeth to your bottom lip, squeezing away gently the remark you wished to make. Maybe a bit of Tony was rubbing off onto you.

“Babysitting problematic kids?” head shot up, as your fingers found your chin, placing your whole demeanor into a thinking position “No, I don’t think so.I don’t tend to brats, not my forte.”

“You seem to let your lips lose in bad situations.” Oh now, now he was mad. “Might end up biting you in the ass later.” You didn’t need superpowers or the bp of his heart to deduce it. Since we jumped over the acceptable line by a mile, no need to turn back now. There is one way to deal with an ass and that was bite back harder.

“Sorry for not walking on eggshells around you. Sergeant Barnes.” You saluted him in a mocking way, leaning back in the chair, basically feeling the waves of anger directed towards you. If this was the Winter Soldier he would have bitten off my throat, disgraceful. - the contractions of your lungs stopped at that thought, so rude...so you? Almost like you knew him personally. Ok, ok time to cool down before something happens.

“How do you expect me to help you if you don’t throw me a bone?” you sighed, feeling still how angry Bucky was about the whole conversation and situation in general. You were in the same headspace, if not in a weird yet familiar one” If the arm hurts, let people help, heck ask Dr. Banner or Tony.” It still felt weird using their first names - energizing no doubt

“They don’t understand, never will, nor will you.” This grown man was acting like a child, like the world didn’t have people who had similar levels of stress in their life. It was slowly crawling up your nerves and igniting a fire that could, if unleashed, burn him down so fast, only the metal arm would be left. But you tried to stay cool and calm, be the adult.

“Fine, do what you want.” Your body shot up as you threw your hands even higher. The lab coat fixed itself back onto you, fingers rubbing the back of your neck. The man sat there hunched over, arm stinging with the most dumbfounded look he could plaster over his stoic façade. “You can go, but if you don’t fix it you will be a burden on the next mission.” And you threw the hook, now all good ol’Bucky had to do is bite and this would be all over in the nick of time. There was a room with your name on it, calling.

You waited and waited till you noticed the stars pocking inside from the window. Head moving towards your clock made you realize that it was already 9pm. With a jump in your step you pulled all the vibranium back in its original comfy home and inside the space in your new desk. Whipping dust off tech and trying to organize your papers, completely ignoring the tantrum little boy pretty close by.

“Fine.” Bucky’s voice was louder and deeper than before

“What?” your neck tugged on the muscles, letting you look at him with an unbothered look swimming around in your eyes.

“I said fine.Do what you gotta do.” And the verbal consent was given on a whim. Joy filled you up knowing you wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. All happened in a blink of an eye - arms wrapping around his, a sudden loud and painful swing leading to the crack of his whole metallic prosthetic. This was probably the first time you saw such an expression on his face. His brain now activated to deference mode, reached to grab your neck. Any normal person would piss their pants, but you tried to stay calm. Tapping his wrist you played a small echoing sound, when his eyes landed on the full extension and rotation of his arm.

The accumulating pressure left his muscles as it showed on his face. Bucky’s eyes were wide, roaming over his arm with the speed of light, pulling a light cough out of your throat.

“Sorry. “ he pulled back instantly.

“I just repositioned your arm you big brute. Next time swing gentle, no need to go through walls.” Palming your neck you pointed at the door

“Now leave me to my work.” A light jump and he was on his legs again doing as you requested, not being able to say anything. Leaning onto the door frame he mumbled something and left.

Sergeant Barnes was thankful Miss.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed you, pulling a smirk from deep inside. “Yeah yeah, I know. Tough nut that James Barnes. Such a kid.” One more giggle and it was off to finishing up for you.

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jovialyouthmusic · 3 years

Text

Two’s Company - Changes

As promised, the polyamorous threesome are back. To sum up, Lucy Valois-Rys has two husbands - King Liam Rys and Duke Drake Walker. Following a car accident, King Brad has no memory of meeting or marrying Lucy. Fragments are starting to return and both Lucy and Drake are working to help the King to remember. Masterlist in my bio.

Word Count 3633

A/N Warning - really not suitable for under 18s, and if polyamory or MlM isn’t to your taste, read no further. Otherwise - enjoy xx If you follow the timeline from the previous chapter, you’ll notice Lucy is pretty ‘active’, but hey, its my AU so luckily she’s not sore 😂

PS Can we call them ‘Braluke’?

6 Date Night

After getting reacquainted, Lucy and Brad checked dinner arrangements and went down to the drawing room where a table was set for three. Drake waited in his usual denim shirt and grinned ruefully at Brad’s dinner jacket and Lucy’s cocktail dress.

‘Well don’t I just feel like a wallflower’ he said ‘You might have let me know we were being formal.’ Brad slapped him on the back

‘I’d feel odd if you wore anything else my friend’ he admitted ‘but we have a few minutes before the first course – you can go and change if you like’ Drake grinned.

‘Well I feel out of place and I’d like to match you, your Majesty’ he made a mock bow and left the room, to reappear a few minutes later in dinner jacket and bow tie with dress trousers. ‘I hope his Majesty remembers proper cutlery etiquette’ he joked as the first course of mozzarella with cherry tomatoes and basil was served.

‘Well I wouldn’t want to spoil the jacket’ said Brad, selecting the outermost set of fork and knife. He speared a slice of mozzarella and fed it to Lucy.

‘I take it you two have consummated your marriage again’ said Drake, again with mock formality, and Brad snorted.

‘I know we’re dressed formally, but let’s talk plainly’ he said ‘Yes Drake, we took advantage of you leaving us to ourselves, and we made love.’

‘Has it triggered any memories?’ Drake asked

‘Only some very intimate ones’ Brad admitted ‘That seems to pose no problem at all, it’s things like where we met or any dates or other occasions that escape me’

‘Things got very complicated’ Drake said ‘It may get very confusing for you – remember where we are right now. Don’t be afraid to ask either of us if you’ve got any questions’ Brad nodded and they continued eating. The theme was Italian cuisine and next came spaghetti putanesca. Brad frowned as he looked at the plate in front of him, and Lucy regarded him expectantly.

‘I remember eating this with you before, Lucy – is that significant?’ She smiled broadly and reached across to put her hand on his and squeeze it.

‘Yes, once at Beaumont Manor you arranged for Max to serve us up a simple pasta meal as if it was all a real first date’ Brad broke into a smile.

‘We asked each other questions’ he said ‘You prefer cats to dogs, and…’ he paused his smile grew warmer ‘You want a family’ Tears started to Lucy’s eyes again and she had to stop and mop at them with her napkin. They carried on eating, none of them drinking – Lucy because of the baby, Drake because he was still off alcohol, and Brad out of consideration for the other two. Dessert was tiramisu, a favourite of Lucy’s. Only one bowl was served with three spoons, and they took it in turns feeding each other, making their best efforts not to spill anything on their good clothes.

Lucy decided they should do something ordinary, something relaxing, so she proposed they have a movie night. They each chose a film and wrote the name on a piece of paper, then Lucy picked one. Before they started, the each went to their rooms to change into pyjamas, then Lucy picked. She came up with Drake’s choice of Blade Runner, and they settled down in the lounge, streaming it on their smart TV. Drake settled into the couch and Lucy nestled into him. Brad sat close to her and she stretched her legs out onto his lap. He smiled and massaged her feet, lifting them and kissing her toes. She giggled and drew them back, complaining that it tickled, then put them back in his lap when he promised to behave, smiling shyly.

Half an hour later, Drake’s arm was going to sleep but he daren’t move as Lucy was fast asleep. Brad carefully moved closer, gazing at her adoringly. He looked at Drake.

‘Are you sure you’re not telling me a story?’ he said ‘I can’t quite believe all this – that I’m married to such a gorgeous creature – that she’s generous enough to share herself with my best friend – that I’m going to be a father?’ he shook his head ‘It seems too good to be true’

‘I can call Bastien in to confirm’ he said ‘Though he’s probably looking after Sophia right now, she’s not got long to go before she has the babies’

‘Babies?’ he said, puzzled

‘Yeah, Bas has managed to sire twins, one of each’ he grinned ‘Don’t expect him back to work for a while after the birth – or births’

‘That is incredible’ he said ‘I wonder…’ his gaze wondered over to their sleeping wife. Drake shrugged, managing to free his arm a little.

‘Who knows. We’ll find out soon enough.’

‘I’m sorry you have to wait, Drake’ he said ‘she’s so generous’ his eyes watered a little and Drake reached out over Lucy to put his hand on Brad’s arm.

‘She’s amazing. I’m almost envious that you’re getting to find out all over again.’ Brad smiled, his hand covering Drake’s.

‘With the added bonus of – whatever we have together’ he said softly, and Drake felt himself drawn toward him. Brad moved closer too, and their lips met over Lucy’s sleeping body. This kiss was sweet and tender, not urgent and brutal like the last one, as if Lucy’s presence softened their passion. Lucy stirred and muttered

‘I knew you boys would get to like it’ Drake drew away from Brad, grinning

‘Shh, go back to sleep Lucy, we’re busy’ He freed his arm and pressed his lips to Brad’s again, but his other hand lingered on Lucy’s shoulder, drawing her close, head on his shoulder. ‘Well okay, you can join in’ he said softly ‘As you’re awake’

Again he drew away from Brad and lazily kissed Lucy full on the lips. Brad waited patiently for them to part and took Drake’s place, tasting him on her lips. They quickly became a languid mess of tangled limbs and searching mouths and sighs. The film continued unwatched, the flickering light from the screen illuminating the three lovers. Lucy’s fingers deftly started to unfasten buttons, and the other two followed suit. Limbs rose and fell as clothes were discarded until they were all naked on the couch, exploring with hands and mouths. No inch of flesh, whether soft and pillowy or firm and flat, no patch of hair, whether soft and downy or thick and coarse, was off limits – now that Drake had admitted his desire for Brad, he freely let his fingers wander wherever they fell or slid or stroked.

Brad allowed himself to be drawn into the embrace of his two lovers and found himself sitting with Lucy astride him, arms draped lazily around his neck She reached down to gently encircle his member with her soft fingers while Drake manoeuvred himself behind her, sliding his own member between her thighs, and without entering her, slid himself back and forth through her slick folds. Brad watched as her lust blown eyes rolled up and she arched her neck, exposing her throat to him. He leaned forward and nipped and sucked at her soft flesh, his hands wandering to cup her full breasts. Drake placed his hands on her hips, palms flat and fingers spread, grasping her as he continued to tease her. She groaned in ecstasy at the onslaught of the two men. Drake whispered in her ear so Brad could hear too.

‘Lucy, I can’t get enough of you’ he murmured ‘I want to feel you come. I want to remember how you feel. I want Brad to watch you and remember how you look when you come. When I’m with Brad we think of you. You’re always in my thoughts. I love you, Lucy.’ Lucy was writhing and moaning as he spoke.

‘Please Drake’ she gasped ‘I want you inside me. Brad, touch me, watch me’ Drake slowly pushed into her and Brad slid his fingers between her lips to find the hard little button of her clitoris, softly circling and pressing, feeling her shudder and shake. Her hand fell away from his shaft and her nipples grew hard. She closed her eyes in bliss as Drake started to stroke into her, slowly at first, and the two men focussed on her pleasure until she was vibrating and trembling on the edge of completion. She panted wordlessly, her lips forming first Drake’s name, then Brad’s until she started to chant

‘Drake, Brad – yes, yes, Drake – Drake – Brad – oh god, yes’ and at last she crested the wave of her orgasm, Drake grunting as he delivered his last few strokes, hard and fast as she came. She gave out a wordless scream at the last until they all slowed to a standstill. Drake withdrew shakily, falling to his knees, and Lucy slid from Brad’s lap to lie beside him on the couch. Brad turned to her to stroke her cheek and kiss her softly. She reached out to touch him, a sleepy smile on her face.

‘Thankyou’ she whispered ‘I can’t believe how lucky I am to have both of you’ He smiled back

‘I hope I can remember more soon’ he said ‘Though maybe doing this more often will help get my memory back’ She laughed

‘You boys – I can hardly keep up with you. I’m glad you’re together as well’ Drake pulled himself off the floor and cuddled up to Lucy on the other side. He nuzzled into her neck.

‘I have an idea’ he growled throatily ‘How about Brad and I do something together, and you watch?’ Lucy’s eyes widened, and he took a lock of her hair, twisting it around his finger ‘Or you could help me’ She bit her lip

‘What do you have in mind?’ she asked in awe

‘Well’ he said, propping himself on his elbow and looking across at Brad ‘I think I’d like to fuck Brad properly, and you can either help him along his way with a hand job – or you can do more if you want’ Brad sucked his breath in

‘Hey, how about asking me?’ he said mockingly, and Drake reached across to punch his shoulder.

‘You know you want me to’ he teased ‘You know you want me balls deep’ Brad threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling as Lucy reached across to take his length in her hand again, stroking him back to hardness.

‘I’d love to watch’ she said, and scooted closer to murmur in his ear ‘I want to see my husbands make love. I want to watch my lover fuck my King’ Brad cleared his throat.

‘Well okay’ he said in mock reluctance, though in reality he was a little nervous as well as aroused. ‘But I think we should probably go to your bedroom. I know no-one’s going to walk in on us here, but this couch is probably not the best place.’

‘You do realise that means we’ll have to get dressed?’ Drake pointed out. Lucy giggled

‘We could streak’ she suggested, but Brad shook his head

‘Not with this’ he pointed to his groin ‘The staff might not appreciate it the way you do, Lucy’ The three of them gathered their clothes together and went for minimalism – Brad put his boxer shorts and shirt on and held the rest of his clothes strategically and Drake opted just for underwear. Lucy only had to slip her dress on to look respectable, and took the lead. She opened the door and peeped out into the hall, waving the two men on as she saw nobody was about.

They sprinted up the stairs to Lucy’s bedroom without incident and stripped yet again. Lucy sprang onto the bed and propped herself up with pillows, waving regally at the two men. She bit her lip and sighed in admiration at the sight of them, Brad broad and stocky and Drake just a little slimmer around the hips. Both were toned and their hair colours contrasted – Drake’s dark hair almost hid the contours of his muscular body while Brad’s golden hair almost made him shimmer.

‘Your Queen desires you to perform’ she announced, and Drake bowed deeply

‘Of course Ma’am’ he replied gravely. Drake stood facing Brad and reached out for him, hand to the back of his neck to kiss him. Their mouths met and Brad reached out to steady himself, hand on Drake’s hip. His length rapidly hardened as their lips and tongues danced and explored, and he felt Drake’s arousal on his belly. Lucy turned to the bedside table to get out a bottle of lube, holding it between her thighs to warm it a little. She squirmed at the feel of its hardness and took her gaze back to the two men. They were engrossed, soft sounds and moans punctuating their kiss as Drake steered them closer to the bed. He backed Brad up to the edge and they sat side by side, continuing the kiss.

After a while Drake gently pushed Brad onto his back, and he wriggled his way further up the bed so he was closer to Lucy, who gave him a pillow to rest his head on. Drake followed him up, hovering over him, gently nipping at his neck, reaching between his thighs so that he let them drop open. He stroked his length, wrapping his fingers around it, thumb pressed to the tip as a dribble of precum escaped it. Lucy pressed the tube of lube into his hand and he squeezed some out to coat Brad’s genitals, fingers moving down, over his testicles and toward his puckered hole. Brad moaned as he lubricated and slipped his finger inside him, circling and starting to slowly move in and out. He reached down to stroke himself and Lucy’s breath caught as she watched the two men. Drake’s cock hung heavy and he coated it with lube as he inserted another finger inside Brad, gently stretching him. He manoeuvred himself between his friend’s thighs, kissing his way along his jaw back to his lips.

Lucy watched their open mouthed kiss, tongues writhing, listening to the wet noises and breathy sighs.

‘Are you ready?’ asked Drake, and Brad’s eyes opened briefly.

‘Fuck me, Drake’ he murmured ‘I want you inside me.’ He turned to Lucy ‘I love you, Lucy’. She smiled as Drake reached under the pillow for a condom and rolled it onto his length, liberally coating it with lube.

‘I love you too, Brad’ she whispered ‘I love that you think of me when you’re with Drake’ Drake started to press his tip to Brad’s hole. Brad took hold of Lucy’s hand and squeezed it – squeezing harder as Drake pushed in until the head had slipped in. He withdrew and pressed in again, slowly working in, Brad squeezing and relaxing his hand until he felt Drake’s whole length inside him, his pubic bone pressing against him. He sighed and let go of her, and she reached across to take his length in her hand, thumb on the tip as Drake had done. She squeezed softly as Drake drew out slowly, and just as slowly pressed in again to fill Brad’s passage. Brad groaned in ecstasy and rolled his hips against his two lovers, eyelids fluttering. Drake took it slow and steady, and Lucy leaned forward to kiss him on the lips, still gently squeezing Brad’s manhood. Drake responded hungrily, moaning into the kiss, one hand on Brad’s hip and the other going to the back of her neck.

Lucy couldn’t resist letting her free hand wander to her clitoris, fuelled by the other two men’s moans and grunts. All three of them were totally transported as they moved together, bodies sheened in sweat, the noises of passion growing as Drake quickened his thrusts. Brad’s hand went to guide Lucy’s, pumping his shaft as Drake drove deep. Lucy could no longer concentrate on kissing Drake as her fingers stroked and circled her nub, waiting for the trembling and shuddering that would signal their respective climaxes. Open mouthed, Drake panted and gripped Brad’s hips, and Lucy keened with the effort of teetering on the edge of orgasm.

‘Here it comes – are you ready?’ Drake’s voice was hoarse as he shuddered and plunged deep into Brad’s passage. The reply came in short pants and gasps.

‘Yes – oh fuck, yes’ and finally all three of them shuddered and shook as they reached their climaxes together. Drake’s rhythm grew erratic, slowed and ceased, and Lucy felt her walls tighten and pulse. Brad’s back arched as his seed shot out over his belly and up to his chest, and he loosened his grip, letting go of Lucy’s hand, which she gently uncurled before letting herself fall to the mattress beside him. Drake groaned as he came to a stop, carefully withdrawing and taking a few shaky breaths before devoting himself to fetching cloths to clean everyone up, disposing of the condom in the process. Brad lay with his lovers either side of him, Lucy facing him with her arm thrown across his chest, Drake lying on his back with his arm behind his head, hip pressed to Brads at an attempt of intimacy.

Drake rolled over after a while to look over Brad at Lucy, whose eyes were closed, breath steady, indicating that she had fallen asleep. Brad looked at her fondly. It was late, and the evening had been very interesting.

‘I still can’t believe all this is true’ he whispered. Carefully he took her arm from his chest and folded it so her hand was next to her flushed cheek. He waited to see if she would stir, but beyond curling tighter into the foetal position with a contented sigh, she didn’t wake. Carefully he sat up and got out of bed, to put on his dressing gown and pace the room, running his fingers through his hair. Drake sat up to watch him.

‘Are you okay, Brad?’ he asked quietly. He didn’t really want to hear the answer. He didn’t want to delve into the depths of his friend’s emotions, as he was having some problems of his own. He’d never considered himself anything but heterosexual, but he couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed what they had just done together. Brad stopped pacing and turned to face him.

‘We need to talk about this somewhere else’ he said in a low tone. Drake nodded curtly, and rose carefully, retrieving his pyjama bottoms and dressing gown, and the two of them left the room quietly.

‘Where to?’ he asked. ‘It’s late and the staff will have retired’

‘Are you hungry? Can we raid the kitchen?’ Brad asked. Drake shrugged

‘There’s no one to stop us’ he grinned ‘Not like at the palace.’ Brad chuckled as they descended the grand staircase.

‘Ha – do you remember when cook caught us taking savouries meant for one of the diplomatic banquets, once and told father? We were put on short rations for a week.’ Drake snorted.

‘You might have been, but cook forgot to tell Bas. How he didn’t find out I don’t know’

‘Not fair!’ Brad protested, but as they reached the kitchens, a frown creased his forehead. ‘See, there must be some stuff like that with Lucy that I’ve forgotten.’ He said with a heavy sigh ‘It’s those little things that bind you together’ Drake put his hand on his arm.

‘I told you, you’ll make new ones’ He went to the fridge and took out slabs of cheese and cold meat, put them on the kitchen table and went to get some bread. He obviously knew his way around the cupboards, and Brad opened one after another as Drake started putting sandwiches together. He found a jar of tomato chutney and some pickles and put them on the table. He watched as Drake expertly layered his favourite fillings – gruyere cheese, cold ham and cheddar.

‘See, you know what I like’ he said ‘Apart from when we’re in bed, I couldn’t tell you what Lucy likes. I couldn’t rustle up a quick meal for her’

‘All you have to do is ask her, and you always were a quick study.’ he said ‘Besides, you’re a creature of habit. Lucy changes her mind all the time, and she’s bound to have some weird cravings pretty soon’ He handed Brad a plate piled high. ‘You can put your own pickles on it, that stuff turns my stomach’ The two men sat at the worktop on high stools. Drake crammed his creation into his mouth and ate greedily while Brad spread some chutney on the top layer of cheese before replacing the bread, taking a knife and cutting it up. Drake shook his head.

‘Man, who cuts their sandwiches up?’ he said through a mouthful of cheese and ham. ‘Only you, Brad. Where the heck did you learn that?’ Brad looked at the piece he’d just cut.

‘Not everyone eats like a barbarian’ he scoffed ‘You’d think becoming a Duke would teach you some table manners’ He popped the morsel into his mouth and chewed slowly, and the men were silent for a while, steadily munching away. Drake finished first and started clearing up.

‘Look, just give yourself some time’ he said ‘It’s not been long since you came back from hospital. The doc said it could be weeks, even months. It’s an unknown quantity’ Brad sighed.

‘You’re right of course’ he said ‘I’ll just have to carry on as best I can.’ Drake slapped him on the back.

‘Good man. Now let’s get to bed and get some rest. Maybe Lucy will be ready for some more fun tomorrow.’

@sirbeepsalot @fluffyfirewhiskey @katedrakeohd @dcbbw @camillemontespan @kingliam2019 @notoriouscs @texaskitten30

#Two's Company #lucy and brad #brad and drake #drake x lucy x brad #drake x OC #king liam #polyamory

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whattodowithace · 3 years

Text

Title: Forbidden

Paring: Donghun (ACE) x Reader

Genre: Spice/poetic writing

Word Count: 1.5K Words

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

A/N: This is a little twist I did on the Greek Mythology story of Hades and Persephone. Enjoy! 🤗 ~Ju

*For love, I will handle your sins. And for justice? For justice, I will show you mine.*

The goddess awakes in the night, the curtains fluttering softly in the night breeze. A thin sheet covering her body to shield her from the coolness the night brought.

Her eyes flutter open, not to a noise, but just a feeling, a feeling of someone watching her. He had come for her.

She sits up slowly and looks around her room, her eyes immediately landing on a figure on her balcony, hiding in the shadows. His dark eyes looming over her.

“Hello, Hades.” She whispers, knowing exactly who this man was. He had been observing her for quite some time. His eyes always on her even if a thousand people crowded the rooms.

“Please, Persephone.” Hades says, stepping toward her as he reached a gloved hand out to her. “Call me Donghun.”

~ ~ ~

*You showed me how a love like ours can turn even the darkest, coldest realm into the happiest of homes*

He saw her at a glance one day, and immediately fell in love with her. She was young and innocent, and so beautiful. Her mother was strict and determined to keep her daughter chaste and pure. A smirk formed on Donghun’s face, her mother’s efforts were valiant but not enough to stop him.

And when you love someone so deeply, wouldn’t you do anything to possess them for eternity?

And so Donghun’s plan began. His plan to have her to himself. To make her his queen, his whole life. Because darkness is always drawn to the daylight. How it lets its bright rays chase away the darkness slowly, making the world feel different and new.

Oh, but don’t be fooled. She was always drawn to him. He was a misunderstood, lonely, forgotten creature in her eyes. The way his eyes dragon shaped eyes would light up when he saw her and the way he showed her great kindness made her doubt he was really an evil person.

And when he took her away from her home? She expected it in a small way. But she never fully understood what he really wanted from her, how deep his love for her ran until she was with him in his dark world.

~ ~ ~

*Mother, you don’t understand. I made Hades run to me.*

“Do you miss home?” Donghun asked her quietly one morning as they stood on the balcony of his palace, overlooking his realm. She had been with him for some months now and hadn’t asked to go home once during that time.

She looked over at him, the morning sun highlighting his dark skin and dark eyes. She smiled, her smile sweet and soft with a hint of sadness.

“I do.” She said simply.

“Do you want to return home?” He asked, stepping a little closer to her as if there was a gravitational pull that made him do it. He just couldn’t stop himself.

She sighed and turned to face him. “Do you ever get tired of being a powerful ruler?” She asked, throwing him off guard.

“Sometimes.” He answered truthfully. “My job is taxing and lonely. But you will rule beside me someday.”

She smiled faintly at his words, letting her hand rest on top of his. Her soft skin making him let out a soft whine. He realized then no one had dared to touch him in years.

“You aren’t lonely anymore.” She whispers, making Donghun’s eyes grow wide. “You answered your own question. It gets lonely up there for me. Horribly lonely. So yes, I miss home. But only sometimes.”

Donghun stepped a little closer to her, his build much larger than hers and gaze piercing. She met his gaze evenly, her eyes gentle and sweet as she smiled up innocently at him.

“I would do anything you asked me.” He whispered, his voice low and deep. Emotions bubbling up inside him. “And only you.”

She stepped away from him fully, still smiling as she said, “I know you would.”

~ ~ ~

*Aren’t you afraid of the darkness, my dear? No, you haven’t even seen mine yet.*

“Tell me something;” She whispered to Donghun one night. The fire in the hearth the only company they had.

She moved from her chair and cupped his face in her hands gently, her scent filling Donghun’s nose and overpowering him. Her scent reminded him of a mixture of honeysuckle and rose peddles mixed to make a sweet, earthy smell.

“Am I the only one that sees past your facade?” She asked. Her thumb running down his cheek gently.

“Yes.” He answered simply. His voice barely loud enough for her to hear and more of a breath against her wrist.

“Why?” She pressed, her eyes pleading with him as tears filled them.

“Because I’m not exactly someone everyone loves.” Donghun admits. The finality of his situation having sunk in many many years ago.

“But you’re so much different than how everyone describes you.” She tells him, her hands sliding to his hair. “You’re gentle, kind, patient. You’re everything people say you aren’t. Why do you hide that?”

Donghun took her hands in his gently, resting them against his chest where his heart raged against his ribs.

“Because I want only you to see it.” He answered, his eyes searching hers for reciprocation.

He loved her desperately, and he wanted her to fall for him the same way. A demon and an angel falling into a forbidden love.

~ ~ ~

*I wanted darkness, I wanted him.*

Donghun rests his lips against the smooth skin on her neck. The sensation sending chills down his spine. His desire for her pouring into every kiss he strategically placed.

“Are you afraid of me?” He whispers against the expanse of her throat, his hands pulling her body closer to him.

“No.” She breathes out. His lips hot against her skin, any gentleness she was used to was gone. His teeth leaving marks down her neck in rough, black patches.

Donghun pulls away from her neck to look her in the eyes, a hand going to the back of her neck to keep her face closer to his as he looked down at her.

“You should be, darling.” He growled, his voice deep as his eyes roamed over her face and body.

She let out a laugh, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Hardly.”

Donghun let out a chuckle at her strong will. His chest vibrating against her making heat rise throughout her body like an ocean of fire.

“Darling, I would burn worlds for you.” He moaned.

He kissed her fiercely, violently, leaving her lips raw. When he pulled away she was breathless and his fingers were pressed so hard against her skin as if she were his lifeline.

~ ~ ~

*There is a fire in his eyes and ice in his veins. But you love him anyway.*

She pressed against his warm frame and sighed deeply. Darkness shrouding them. Which was so fitting. When you aren’t supposed to be in love with someone so dangerous, you hide it any way you can. But hiding being in love with a devil of sorts wasn’t on her mind as she ran her fingers down his arm gently.

“You mentioned I would rule with you once.” She brought out, a secret looming under the surface of her mind. Screaming to be let out.

Donghun sighed against her touch. He wanted her touch all the time. For her fingers to always be wondering his skin.

“Of course.” He said, “You will be my queen. But I’ve always been considered a demon and you an angel. It’s a big gap.”

She smiles against his shoulder, her mouth hidden from his sight before whispering, “Angels take on many different roles. And I never said I was a good one.”

~ ~ ~

*Come my love, be one with the sea. Rule with me for eternity.*

She was queen. And she did rule beside Donghun. Oh, but how you’re mistaken with this love story. It’s not Hades and Persephone. It’s Hades and his Siren. The woman that played the innocent, loving, beautiful goddess, all a beautiful mask to hide the truth. That goddess is long since dead. Replaced by a beautiful creature as ancient as the sea.

Two deadly forces joined as one. She had lured the cold, relentless king into her hands. He had given her everything she wanted, his every step making him go deeper and deeper into her deadly ocean while she sang. He fell madly in love with her every breath and word whispered to him. Keeping him where a siren best lures men. At the bottom of the ocean.

She smiled at him, her innocent facade gone dark and twisted. “Tell me, my love. Is there anything you wouldn’t give me?”

Donghun smirked at her, “Nothing, my goddess. And you?”

She kissed his lips briefly before whispering, “I would give up the sea for you.”

#a.c.e #ace #a.c.e x reader #lee donghun #a.c.e donghun #ace donghun x reader #donghun x reader #ace donghun #kpop fanfiction #kpop x reader #spice #kpop #fanfiction #a.c.e imagine #ace fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpopmadness writings

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johaerys-writes · 4 years

Text

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 26: To Have and To Hold

A moment of respite in the midst of war and chaos. The comfort of knowing that one’s loved one is just within reach. Having someone to hold, and just holding.

In other words: It’s wine and poetry night in Skyhold, and the boys are making the best of it :)

Read here or on AO3!

(art by @le-mooon)

************************

“Lavender and lemon blossoms. Interesting.”

Tristan lifted his head from the edge of the tub where it had been resting and eyed Dorian questioningly. “What?”

“The soap you use,” he replied. His back was pressed against Tristan’s chest, his voice vibrating through him when he spoke. Low and smooth, making the water itself ripple. “I could always detect the lavender, and I knew there must be some sort of citrus in there, but I could never quite place it.” He reached out for the soap bar, bringing up to his nose to smell it again. “Simple. Unsophisticated. A touch mundane, perhaps. It suits you quite well. I approve.”

Tristan laughed softly at his teasing tone. “I’m glad you find my unoriginality appealing.”

“Amusing, amatus. I think the word you’re looking for is amusing. I guess there is some beauty in simplicity, but let’s not overdo it, yes? Next thing you know, you’ll be washing with the ash soap they use in the kitchens.”

“That might not be such a bad idea. I’ve heard it takes the grime right off. What? It’s true!” He laughed at Dorian’s horrified expression, leaning forward to nuzzle his ear. “You don’t have to worry about that. I wouldn’t let you walk about with a man that smells like a well scrubbed kitchen pot.”

“Good,” Dorian chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I almost feared you were being serious. One can never know with you Southerners.”

Fingers skimming over the surface of the warm, soapy water, a smile still lingering at the edges of his lips, Tristan let the weariness and tension of the last few days bleed out of his limbs. The fire in the hearth crackled softly and doused the room in a warm glow, the only other light coming from the bright orange glyph Dorian had cast on the bottom of the copper tug to keep the water warm.

“Fascinating,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

Dorian’s eyes were closed, his head resting on Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan buried his nose in his hair, breathing deeply. “I find you fascinating.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Tristan smiled at the soft hum that sounded at the back of Dorian’s throat. “How do you maintain the glyph? Are you channeling now?”

“Just a little. This is a relatively small one, so it only requires a trickle of magic to sustain it.”

“And you can do it just like that? With your eyes closed?”

Dorian’s smile widened. “You’d be surprised how many things I can do with my eyes closed.”

He was relaxed, almost melting in Tristan’s arms, his features soft, his breaths even and smooth despite the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. Tristan let his eyes roam over the curves and planes of his body, sprawled as it was before him, submerged in the warm, cloudy water. He was… exquisite. Sublime. God-like. Real. He was real, tangible, there. Beautiful and daring, sharp-witted and eloquent, a shining example of all the qualities the ideal man should possess, those that philosophers and thinkers had debated on for centuries. Tristan wondered for a moment exactly what Dorian had seen in him. He had been average in most of his endeavours on the best of days, let alone now, that every new day was an opportunity for all his shortcomings to be exhibited for all the world to see. Most people, he was sure, saw him just a step away from failure.

Yet, with Dorian he never felt like a failure. He never felt less, or not quite good enough, or broken. He felt whole. It felt odd.

He idly traced a line with his index finger from the perfect half moons of Dorian’s manicured nails where they rested on his knee, all the way up to his forearm, past the angle of his elbow, up his bicep. His skin glowed copper in the golden light, and Dorian hummed softly when Tristan leaned forward and pressed a feather-light kiss upon the curve of his shapely shoulder.

That was when he saw it; a small, barely noticeable scar on his arm, a darker patch on the otherwise unblemished expanse of skin. His own skin was riddled with scars, large and small, smooth and ragged, and it had become a habit for Dorian to trace his long fingers over them, asking for the stories behind them. A habit Tristan had come to look forward to, he had noticed.

“How did you get this?” he asked him, examining the small mark.

Dorian reluctantly opened his eyes to glance at it, then closed them again. “A proper gentleman never reveals his secrets.”

“Who said anything about propriety?” Tristan asked teasingly, to which Dorian scoffed.

“You’ve got me there.” He let out a soft sigh. “I’m afraid it’s not as grizzly and thrilling a story as yours tend to be. I got it when I was thirteen, while I was still in the Circle of Trevis.”

“You’ve never told me about your time in the Circle.”

“Circles. I did change a few. Besides, what is there to say? I was incredible. Everyone loved me. My professors revered me and waxed poetic about my abilities. If they could, they would have carved my likeness in marble and set it atop the entrance of the University of Minrathous, I’m sure.”

“Right. Of course. I should have guessed.” Tristan huffed a quiet laugh at Dorian’s sarcastic tone. “Is that the way things work in Tevinter? Do they move you about in different Circles?”

“No. But it was the way things worked for me.” He let his head fall back against the crook of Tristan’s neck, peering at the snowy mountaintops beyond the wide windows. “I was admitted to the Circle of Carastes first, when I was nine. I got into a fight with another magister’s son, and I was expelled soon after. Then I moved to the Circle of Marothius, then Trevis, then Caimen Brea… I could go on. The very last one I went to, Marnas Pell, was by far the worst. No other Circle wanted a mage with such a terrible track record, as you can imagine. I didn’t even last a month.”

Tristan’s heart clenched with the resignation in his voice. Pain, deep, visceral, seared him to his core. Was that what Dorian’s childhood had been like? Kicked about from Circle to Circle, never lingering, never growing roots, never having friends? He let out a slow exhale through his nose, trying to keep his voice level. “Did you get into fights a lot?”

“I was admitted in the Circle very young, and progressed very quickly. I was usually the most competent in my year and beyond. There were many that didn’t appreciate this.”

“Who were they?”

“Older students. Some apprentices. They didn’t like that I moved ahead so quickly, my powers and knowledge surpassing theirs by a wide margin. Some were vocal about it. The one that gave me this scar was particularly loud about his displeasure.”

Tristan frowned. “Did he bully you?”

“Me? Bullied? On the contrary. He challenged me to a duel. I beat him quite easily, but not before he managed a gush on my shoulder.” He brushed his fingertips over the small scar. “It was the first time I had attempted healing magic on myself, and it would prove to be the last. I only got this small scar; the burn scar on my opponent’s face is still visible to this day.”

“How old was that boy?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen? Blight,” Tristan breathed. “And they expelled you instead of him?

“Yes, well,” Dorian said with a bored wave, “I was the one with the terrible reputation, you see. He was the son of a magister, a powerful one at that. I had become something of a pariah at this point. He didn’t hesitate to call me that to my face, either.”

Tristan’s fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. Anger was bubbling inside him, thick and hot enough to choke him. He wrapped his arms around Dorian, pulling him close, as if that would be enough to shield him from the world. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he whispered. “Never again.”

Dorian let out a dismissive harrumph. “This isn’t always up to you, amatus.”

“I’ll make sure that it is.” He reached out, threading his fingers through his where they lay on his knee. “I would let the whole of Thedas burn if anyone so much as thought of touching you.”

“Now, this is either incredibly romantic of you, or incredibly insane.”

“What if it’s both?”

Dorian paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “Yes. That sounds about right.”

Tristan huffed in amusement, and Dorian lips widened in a fond smile as he rested his forehead against the side of Tristan’s face. A long moment of silence passed before Dorian spoke again. “Did you ever get into fights when you were younger?”

Tristan paused for a moment in thought. “No. Not when I was that young. Except for Tilly, there weren’t that many children my age when I was growing up. I did have a few friends… but I didn’t see them quite as often. Other than during those awful banquets my mother used to drag me to.”

“How did you spend your time, then?”

“When I wasn’t fencing or riding, I would go to the beach with Tilly, or read books, or… I guess I tried to study, too, occasionally.”

“You must have been a stellar student.”

“Why is that?”

“You are very bright, amatus. Not to mention surprisingly well read. For a Southerner at least.”

An odd sense of pride swelled in Tristan's chest with the earnestness in Dorian’s voice. Why did it make him feel giddy that Dorian thought him bright? He shook his head, scoffing. “My tutors would disagree with you. They were never particularly pleased with my abilities. I didn’t have an affinity for history, or maths, or science. I found them incredibly boring, and my tutors found me very dull indeed, compared to my sister. She was the stellar student, not I. They all loved her. Me, not so much. A maths tutor once called me “terribly obstreperous and frightfully obtuse” because I’d refused to solve an equation.”

“He called you that?” Dorian turned his head slightly to look at him, incredulity in his gaze. “What did you do?”

“I pretended not to care, but Tilly was very mad. Oh, she was fuming. She told Nelly, our housekeeper, and Nelly told our mother. The tutor was dismissed the next day.”

“Good. I would have boxed his ears if I had him right here.” Dorian’s furrowed brow relaxed, his thumb brushing over Tristan’s palm. “Were there no subjects that you did enjoy?”

“I was fond of my Orlesian tutor. Madame Clemence. A lovely woman. When she’d first arrived, she had tried to teach me Orlesian the same way she did with my sister; grammar, syntax, rules…" He shook his head. " I didn’t take to that very well. The letters would dance before my eyes and my tongue got tied in knots. In the end, she gave up trying to teach me the rules. She’d noticed I was fond of poetry, and started bringing me books with Orlesian poems. We would go out in the garden when the days were good, and she would read them to me. Then, she would talk to me about them until I was able to reply back.”

“She sounds like a fascinating woman.”

“She was. I would probably have hated Orlesian too if it weren’t for her.”

Dorian huffed, but Tristan could see the smile painted just at the edges of his lips. “That would be such a pity. Your Orlesian is quite irresistible. I could listen to you talk for days.”

“You could?” Tristan smiled softly. He brushed his cheek over Dorian’s ear, tracing its contours with his lips. “J’ai regardé devant moi, dans la foule je t’ai vue, parmi les blés je t’ai vue, sous un arbre je t’ai vue, au bout de tous mes voyages, au fond de tous mes tourments, au tournant de tous les rires, sortant de l’eau et du feu, l’été l’hiver je t’ai vue, dans ma maison je t’ai vue, entre mes bras je t’ai vue, dans mes rêves je t’ai vue…” He tightened his arms around him, sliding his mouth to his. “Je ne te quitterai plus.”

Dorian hummed against his lips. “I think I caught a few words of that.”

“I hope you did.” Tristan ran his thumb over his cheek. “I meant them.”

Time stretched on languidly while they lay in the water, warm like a wet embrace, their lips gliding in soft, velvet kisses. The moon hung close to the eastern edge of the night sky, thin like a nail, silver against a velvet blue canopy. They kissed and kissed… until a soft rumbling sound echoed through the silence.

Dorian edged back to gaze at him. “Was that your stomach?”

Tristan felt heat travelling up to the tips of his ears. “I, uh… yes?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I think… this morning?”

Dorian’s eyes widened in their sockets, and he pushed himself up and away from him. He was dripping wet, water running in rivulets down his body and pooling around his feet when he stepped out of the tub. He held out a hand to Tristan, who simply gaped at him.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“W-where are we going?”

“You need to eat. The way you’re going, you’re going to be falling flat on your face any day now. Come,” he said, his fingers curling, beckoning, “I’m taking you to dinner.”

Tristan huffed a laugh as he rose to his feet, letting Dorian help him out and pat him dry with a soft cotton towel. There was something in that gesture, the familiarity, the sheer tenderness and care of it, gentle touches with no ulterior motive or desire. The simple act of caring for a loved one, and taking joy in the shared moment.

Tristan caught Dorian’s hand after they had both put their clothes on, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “So,” he said softly, “what are we having tonight?”

Dorian smirked playfully. “Whatever is left in the kitchens, of course. Beggars can’t well be choosers at this hour. Let’s pray it’s something edible and not that meat pie they keep serving at the tavern. Or, Maker forbid, that stew.”

Tristan shuddered at the thought of the thick, floury crust, or those tasteless stews that felt like boiled mush on his tongue. “I’d happily go another day without food if it meant not eating that foul stuff.”

“No. No, you would not. Not while I’m here. Now,” Dorian said, showing him towards the door, “I want to see that lovely derriere marching down those stairs and to the wonderful midnight feast we’ll no doubt be having very soon.”

Tristan rolled his eyes, yet couldn’t help the wide smile that blossomed on his face. He did as he was told, walking out of the quarters, Dorian in tow. Maighdin mumbled a quiet “Your Worship” when he informed her he would be going to the kitchens with Dorian. Alone.

“She’s quite nice, that girl,” Dorian said to him after they were well out of earshot. “Kinder than she looks. She actually came by the library a couple times while you were gone to ask me if I needed anything. I joked about wanting caramel apple slices to nibble on with the tea I was drinking at the time, and she brought me some the next day.”

“Did she?” Tristan tried to combine the image of stern-faced Maighdin and caramel apples. No, it didn’t quite fit. “Why would she do that? That’s hardly her job.”

“She knows we're seeing each other. Perhaps she feels the need to check up on me simply because I'm associated with you. She does seem very diligent. Cullen has chosen your guards well.”

Tristan’s brows furrowed as he walked on. “Yes, he has. I wish they weren’t needed, yet I’m happy with the people he has chosen anyway.”

Dorian shrugged, his steps falling almost at the same time as his. “You can’t change the way things are. Besides, they make you look intimidating. That’s what the leader of Inquisition should look like, isn’t it?”

“I think that was the idea from the start,” Tristan grumbled. “I’m glad that’s working, at the very least.”

“Not as intimidating as you look now, though,” Dorian said teasingly. “That scowl you wear could drive anyone in their right minds away.”

“How come it hasn’t driven you away?”

“I happen to be quite fond of it.” He turned to glance at him, head cocked to the side. “There’s this small line you get in the middle of your brows when you do it. It’s rather lovely.”

Tristan laughed quietly under his breath as they walked to the lower keep, a flush warming his cheeks despite the night chill. The narrow staircase before Josephine’s office was long and dark, seemingly unending as they descended to the bowels of the old keep. The damp there was far thicker than upstairs, permeating the stone walls and clinging to the dampness than still lingered in Tristan’s strands. They walked along the corridors, illuminated only by the dancing light of torches, their footsteps echoing in the silence. The underground level was thoroughly empty at that hour, and Tristan found that he could breathe more easily now that it was just him and Dorian there. He had almost forgotten there were other people in the keep other than them, when they heard the shuffling of boots, hushed whispers, the sound of fabric brushing against fabric.

Dorian and he exchanged a quick glance before cautiously approaching. They hadn’t even taken a step before a slender female figure dashed past them. Tristan had just enough time to glimpse the black hair gathered in a long braid that flowed down her back, her grey washerwoman’s cotton dress rustling around her feet as she ducked around the corner.

A man followed soon after, but he didn’t flee down the corridor like the woman had. He stood before them, blinking, his dark eyes wide as realisation dawned on him.

“Y-your Worship,” Nhudem mumbled. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then bowed before him, as if remembering himself. He was wearing his Inquisition armour, the golden eye on the breastplate catching the light of the torches as he moved.

“What are you doing here, Nhudem?”

The man paled visibly, fists clenched at his sides. “N-nothing. Your Worship. I-I was… was on my way t-to your quarters and I… I-” He stopped, bottom lip trembling. He looked ready to pass out.

Tristan’s frowned at him. “Who was that-”

His question was cut short when he felt Dorian’s elbow nudging his sides. He glanced at him, and saw the minute shake of his head, and the smirk that curled his lips before he reined it in. With a soft exhale through his nose, Tristan turned to Nhudem. “Maighdin should be expecting you upstairs to relieve her of her duty. You are late as it is.”

Nhudem bowed eagerly again, throat bobbing as he gulped. “Yes, Your Worship. Of course, Your Worship. By your leave, Your-” Tristan waved him off, and the man bowed once more before walking- or rather running away.

“It seems your guard has found a lady friend,” Dorian said after Nhudem had disappeared down the corridor.

“Right.” Tristan sneaked a glance behind him, making sure there was no sign of the woman or Nhudem before resuming his march towards the kitchens. “Did you get a look at that woman?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“No. She was very fast. Why?”

Tristan worried his lip as he walked on. “I should tell Leliana.”

“For whatever reason would you do that?”

“They’re my guards, Dorian. I need to know who they associate with.” So far as he knew, Nhudem had been a widower for years. Leliana’s very thorough vetting had mentioned no other relationships, which meant that whatever had been going on between him and that washerwoman must have been fairly recent. Unless he was really good at hiding. Which was troublesome in and of itself. If Tristan had learned anything from having grown up around servants and guards is that they talked. A lot. His own guards would soon come to know more about him than his own advisors, if they didn’t already. He couldn’t afford to have them spilling that information during secret trysts in storerooms and dark corners.

It was odd, how much things had changed for him ever since the title of Inquisitor had been bestowed upon him. A few months before, Tristan himself would have clapped Nhudem on the back and never thought twice about the whole thing, but Inquisitor Trevelyan had entirely different considerations.

Dorian’s steps fell alongside his, his palm brushing against the small of his back. “You don’t have to be in control of everything all the time, amatus. Let your people have their fun. You know they deserve it.”

Tristan rubbed the back of his head, trying to shake off his unease. He took a deep breath, nodding. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“When am I not?” Dorian asked with a wink, placing a kiss on his temples. Tristan leaned into his touch, threading his fingers through his. It would do him some good after all to let go of the Inquisitorial mantle, he realised, if only for a little while.

Their steps echoed along the dark corridors, and the damp lessened more and more as they made their way towards the kitchens. The warmth from the fires that roared most of the day had seeped into the stone, hot to the touch even in the middle of the night. Tristan let his fingers trail along the ridges in the centuries-old bricks, relishing the silence, when he noticed a soft, eerie light coming from behind one of the many doors.

Without really thinking, he pushed it open. The smell of dust and old parchment reached his nostrils as soon as he took a step in.

“A library?” Dorian gasped, walking ahead of him. “An actual hidden library?” He immediately went over to the shelves, glancing at the book titles. His eyes grew wide, like a child in a sweet shop. “This is fascinating. Maker only knows what else is tucked away in this place.”

Tristan smiled at his lover’s enthusiasm, letting his gaze sweep over the many books on the shelves. Most of them were far too old for the letters on their backs to be legible. It surprised him how many things he still didn’t know about Skyhold- he had lived there for months, yet he kept finding new places every time he happened to wander aimlessly about. Not that he had been doing much of that lately. There was usually no moment to spare from his Inquisitorial duties, his days scheduled by Josephine to account for nigh on every single minute. They were filled with meetings, training, judgements -the list went on, seemingly endlessly- and by the time he finally got to meet Dorian at night all he had mind for was… well. When it came to Dorian, there were a few things he had mind for no matter his exhaustion or the time of day, but even they weren’t enough to sate him. Nothing could ever be enough.

“How’s your research going?” Tristan asked, his fingers brushing over the books’ hard leathery backs.

“Ah! I’d almost forgotten about that,” Dorian said, turning to him. “I think I’m on to something. Remember when I told you that I could tell that the Venatori glyphs looked familiar? As it turns out, they are.”

Tristan’s eyebrows shot up with interest. “Are they? You remembered where you’ve seen them?”

Dorian nodded enthusiastically. “I believe I’ve seen them before, in Minrathous. It was a very obscure piece of research, but I might be able to retrieve it. I’ve already written to Tilani. If she manages to locate the scroll again and send a copy of it to me, I may be able to find what the Venatori are trying to do. That should give us an advantage when we next encounter them…”

Tristan’s fingers strayed to the scar on his neck while Dorian spoke, where the Venatori blade had cut him so long before. Talk of them always made him uneasy. Thinking about how close he had been to dying at their hands was... unnerving. Had Solas not been there during that time in the Hinterlands to heal him… His lips tightened in a line as his guts twisted and turned. Knowing that he had only himself to blame was even worse. He had been so reckless back then, always dashing about, getting into fights he couldn’t possibly win. In many ways, it was as if he had been challenging his fate, pushing at its edges to see where it would snap. Wasn’t he still doing that, in a way? Wasn’t he testing his limits, day after day? How long before he actually met them? Even in his last encounter with those blighted Venatori, he had only been a hair away from getting burned to a crisp, and Dorian with him. He had almost died, and still he hadn’t been able to rescue but a single person. There was so much at stake, people’s lives hanging in the balance, while he teetered. While he stood, as a symbol of hope, even though he had very little. And how much blood had been shed, so that he may stand there? How much more before his task was done? Before-

“Amatus.”

Tristan blinked. He hadn’t even realised he had stopped listening, lost in his own thoughts. Dorian was holding him by his shoulders, concern evident in his features. Tristan rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Forgive me. I got distracted. You were saying?”

Dorian shook his head. “It’s alright. We can talk about it tomorrow. Now is not the time.”

“No, I really want to-” Tristan cupped his cheeks. “I want to hear everything about it. This is important. You’re important.”

“So are you. My research can wait. This night is for us. You deserve some time away from it all.” Dorian smiled warmly at him. “Tonight, the only subjects we’re allowed to talk about are food, wine, and all the things we’ll be doing once we get back to your quarters.”

“Sleeping, that is?”

Dorian clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “You’re dreadfully dull and I hate you.”

“Mm-hmm. Why do I find that hard to believe?”

Dorian returned Tristan’s cheeky smile with one of his own, pulling away to return to the dusty shelves. Tristan let his eyes linger on Dorian’s back for a long moment, following his movements. He wouldn’t mind simply standing there and watch him for a day or three; watch as long fingers brushed over the books’ hard leather spines, careful, light as feathers; as he pulled the books out, caressing their covers before tilting them open; as his brow furrowed in concentration, as his eyes glided over the letters, as he brushed his knuckle over his chin in thought. As he sniffed in contempt, snapping the book shut and placing it back on the shelf.

“Senseless drivel. The amount of Chantry propaganda in this place is shocking. How they found themselves here, I’ll never know. One would have thought that a place this ancient would have some decent books, but apparently this is not the case.”

“A mystery for the ages,”Tristan murmured in agreement, glancing at an entire shelf of biographies of various Divines.

Dorian let yet another book snap shut and placed it on the shelf. “I challenge you to find one book in this place that isn’t about some Divine’s or saint’s life or some other similar nonsense.”

“A challenge?” Tristan asked, perking up. “I like the sound of that. What do I get if I win?”

Dorian smiled wickedly at him. “That will depend on what you find.”

Tristan thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I’ll bite.” He glanced at the tomes on the shelf closest to him, squinting as he tried to read their titles, faded with time and obscured by generous coatings of dust. He drew one out, brushing the grime away. “This one doesn’t look so bad.”He handed it to Dorian, who peered at the book cover and huffed in amusement.

“Assorted Poems and Elegies of the Storm Age. Why am I not surprised?”

“It isn’t a Chantry book," Tristan said with a grin."What’s my prize?”

“Not so fast.” Dorian flipped the book open on a random page, peering at the writing. “Wilt thou love the Maker, as He thee? Then digest, My Soul, this wholesome meditation, How the Holy Maker In His Ascension, doth make his Temple in thy breast.” He glanced at Tristan, quirking a brow.

“Oh," Tristan breathed. "Right. I'd forgotten how much of the poetry from that Age is religious. Let me see.” He took the book from Dorian, flipping through the pages, scanning their contents until he found what he was looking for. A small poem, tucked away at the bottom of a sprawling epic about a Templar blessed by the spirit of Andraste. He handed the tome back to him, tapping the page lightly with his finger. “This one.”

Dorian shot him a lingering, apprehensive look as he accepted the book, lips parting slightly on a soft intake of breath. “He is equal with the Gods, that man, who sits across from me. Face to face, close enough to sip his voice’s sweetness, hear him laughing love’s low laughter. Fire in...” He squinted at the page. “I can’t make out the rest. The letters are faded.”

Tristan moved closer, placing his palm on the small of his back, reciting from memory. “Fire, delicate fire in the flesh, with flowing rein, gliding swiftly through every vein. Though ’tis death to me, I cannot choose but look on him; But, at the sight, my senses fly, I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die; I lose my colour, I lose my breath, I drink the cup of a costly death, Brimmed with delirious draughts of warmest life. Ears resound with noise of distant thunder, eyes gaze on stars that fall forever into deep midnight.” He gazed expectantly at Dorian, watching the soft light of the room play across his features as he tilted his head to the side.

“‘Eyes that fall forever into deep midnight’,” Dorian said after a moment, drawing out the syllables. “Is that some very elaborate way to say that someone kicked the bucket?”

Tristan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless.” He plucked the book from his hands, placing it back on the shelf. “I still win, though.”

“Not a chance. A single poem does not a decent library make. I need more.”

Tristan rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as he continued searching through the shelves. He was never one to back down from a challenge. He was combing through a shelf filled with books of chants and psalms, when he saw a small, thin book, almost hidden behind the large tomes.

“Tristan de Lydes,” he whispered as he pulled it from the shelf and held it in his hands, heart thumping in his chest.

“Hmm?”

“Tristan de Lydes. It’s an old Orlesian epic. I used to have a book just like this. I took it with me when I left home, but it was lost after the explosion at the Conclave.” Tristan turned to look at Dorian, who had drifted from his corner of the room to glance at what he was holding. “It was my father’s favourite. He was so fond of it, he named me after it. He used to read it to Tilly and me all the time when we were kids.”

Dorian’s touch was light and tentative, his hand brushing the base of his spine. “You never talk about your father.”

Hazy memories, half hidden and half forgotten drifted through his mind unbidden, like smoke gliding over a fogged mirror. Smell of old parchment and burning smoking leaf. Light blonde hair streaked with white, gathered at the nape of his neck. Ink stains on crisp white sleeve cuffs, long fingers constantly fidgeting with the stem of his ivory briars. Carvings of flowers and birds around the pipe bowl.

Grey morning light streaming in through the wide window panes of his study, dancing dust motes catching the sun, settling on the books and scrolls that covered every surface. The sound of his mother's laughter as his father recited a silly poem, their tea forgotten in their cups. One of the few memories he had of his mother laughing like this, bright and carefree.

Light blue eyes, almost translucent, that grew more and more weary as time went by, absent, red rimmed, unfocused. The silence that spread over the Trevelyan manor after they had closed for good.

He clenched his jaw, his hold on the book tightening. “He died when I was very young,” he whispered. “I don’t remember him well.” He swallowed past the knot in his throat as he lovingly brushed his fingers over the letters etched on its leather cover. “After he passed away, Tilly and I used to read it to each other before we went to sleep. She loved the sappy, romantic stuff, while I wanted to hear all about the sword fights. We would argue about which part to read for ages.” His lips curled in a soft, reminiscent smile. “She always got her way in the end.”

Dorian’s arms slithered around his waist, drawing him closer. He rested his chin upon his shoulder, the side of his face touching Tristan’s cheek. “You could read it to me, if you’d like.”

Tristan huffed quietly. “I thought you hated poetry.”

“Not when you read it.”

The tenderness in his voice made Tristan’s heart swell, pushing away the shadows, like a shining globe made of pure starlight. He leaned against him, the warmth of Dorian’s chest soothing and comforting as it seeped through his clothes. They stayed like that for a long while, simply touching, simply holding, speaking little, perhaps not at all. The companionable silence, the presence of someone that cared for him, and that he cared for in return.

He could get used to this, he thought.

****

Tristan swirled the wine in his cup, bringing it up to his nose to inhale the rich blend of grapes, berries and honeysuckle. He tipped it over his lips, letting the dry red roll over his tongue, savouring the taste. “This is exquisite. 9:32 was an excellent year for Antivan wines. This one may actually surpass that Rowan Rose we found in the Hinterlands that one time.”

Dorian blinked at him, incredulous. “You must be joking. Rowan Rose is one of the most prized wines in Thedas. Only second best to Aggregio Pavalli. Antiva can never hope to challenge Tevinter in wine making.”

“Different years yield different wines. The one we found was from 9:26, and it had been a relatively poor year for strawberry grapes all over Tevinter, what with that pest outbreak. It was still good, but I dare say this one here is better.”

Dorian harrumphed, still unconvinced as he took another sip. “You Marchers wouldn’t know good wine if it hit you on the head with a frying pan.”

Tristan shot him a teasing smile, slithering closer to him. The embers in the kitchen hearths were still glowing, enveloping the wide room in a thick heat, and he was feeling slightly flushed under his coat. Dorian’s presence and the wine they had both been drinking was enough to make him sweat. “You seem to have a lot of opinions about Southerners. Specifically Marchers.”

“Indeed,” Dorian said, quirking his brow. “There’s one Marcher in particular I am chock full of opinions about.”

His scent tickled Tristan’s nostrils when he buried his nose in his neck. “Care to share them?” he whispered, placing soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. Dorian caught Tristan’s bottom lip between his teeth when it brushed over his, sighing softly. Sitting on the floor of Skyhold’s kitchens, tipsy from wine and heady kisses - could there be anything better than this?

“This isn’t going to work, you know,” Dorian murmured against his lips.

“What isn’t?”

“You think I haven’t noticed that you still haven’t finished your dinner?” he said as he gingerly picked up a small piece of pie from the plate beside them- the only leftovers they had been able to find. “Kisses don’t work in distracting me. Now, eat.”

Tristan scrunched his nose as Dorian held it before him with the tips of his fingers. “I don’t like it. It tastes like plaster. Plaster with a terrible filling. It makes me queasy.”

“I know. But this is all we have now. So, open up.”

Tristan smirked, brushing his palm down the inside of Dorian’s thigh. “Why does that sounds so enticing when you say it?”

“Oh, no. No, no.” Dorian swatted his hand away, dangling the pie before him again. “I told you I’m not so easily distracted. Don’t even try.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and huffed, accepting the vile thing. Before Dorian could withdraw his hand, Tristan caught his wrist, flicking his tongue over his fingers, drawing them in his mouth. Dorian’s lips parted on a silent gasp, his lids growing heavy as he watched him. Tristan smiled wickedly, placing his cup on the ground as he slid his mouth off Dorian’s fingers, then pushed him on the floor, climbing between his legs. Dorian let out a soft moan, threading his fingers through Tristan’s hair.

“Amatus,” he rasped, “we’re in the kitchens.”

“Are we?” Tristan said, looking around him with a perplexed frown. “And here I thought we were in Cullen’s office.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Positively hilarious.” He smoothed his palm down Tristan’s back, following the curve at the base of his spine. “What if someone comes in?”

“At this hour, it’s probably just us and a couple rats doing the rounds.” Tristan pushed himself up on his elbows, peering into Dorian’s eyes as he lay beneath him. Dorian watched him carefully, running his tongue over his pillowy bottom lip, over that indentation in its center that Tristan wanted to lick, and bite, and kiss. Maker help him, but he could spend an eternity just kissing his lips.

He took a deep breath to bring some focus back into his brain. “Would it bother you if someone saw us? Together? If it makes you uncomfortable, being seen with me…” He paused to swallow thickly. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that makes you unhappy. If you wish for what we have to remain a secret, so it shall be. I’ll do my best to hide it, and-”

“I want you, amatus,” Dorian whispered, cutting his sentence short. “I want to be seen with you. That’s what worries me.”

“Why?”

Dorian gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, then exhaled softly through his nose. “You and I both know how people will react. They will say that I ensnared you with my wit and charm. That I used evil blood magic from Tevinter to turn you into my plaything.”

Tristan shot him a perplexed frown. “Can blood magic even do that?”

“It can do worse than that.”

“Dorian,” he said, putting on a serious face. “I have something very important to say.”

“Yes?”

“I want to be your plaything.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, just stop it. I’m being serious.”

“So am I. I want to be your plaything. I want to be your plaything. I want to-”

Dorian stopped him with a kiss, chuckling against his lips. “I know you do, you terrible, terrible man.” He pushed a strand behind Tristan's ear, his silver gaze fixed on his. “Beis festis umo canavarum.”

“What does that mean?”

“'You will be the death of me'. Quite accurate in this case. Especially if your highly religious and anti-Imperium followers find out about everything you’ve just said.”

Tristan looked at him, his brows furrowing in determination. “They can try to pry you away from me, if they dare.”

“You’re full of lofty declarations tonight, aren’t you?

“You bring it out in me.”

“I’ve noticed I’ve been bringing a great deal out of you lately.”

Tristan laughed, cupping the back of Dorian’s neck as he brushed his lips over his. He deepened the kiss, savouring the sweetness of his tongue, drinking in the sound of his sighs, the pie and their wine entirely forgotten beside them. Tristan didn’t need any of that for sustenance, not when he had Dorian in his arms. He didn’t need food to eat, wine to drink, air to breathe.

He had him. He had him. He had him.

***

The first light of morning was slithering through the folds in the curtains of his quarters when they finally lay down to sleep. Enveloped in Dorian’s soothing warmth, Tristan felt there was nothing in the world that could disturb the calmness of that moment.

There, wrapped in the heat of Dorian’s body, surrounded by his sweet, earthy scent, with the gentle pull of sleep at the edges of his consciousness, was when the nightmares finally caught up to him.

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