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#but also this was cracking me up so as per the ol' rule of laugh i had to draw it
gammija · 3 years
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Fix-it fics where Jon is still the Archivist be like
(Image ID under the cut)
[Image ID: A short comic consisting of three black-and-white digital drawings. First image: Jon, a slim Indian man with long, dark hair, a short beard and moustache, wearing glasses, is calling someone on a smartphone. He’s covered in small worm scars and wearing a sweater. A speech bubble reads: “Alright, so that’s a margherita, a vegetarian, and... Georgie?” A speech bubble from off screen says: “Just a pepperoni!” Jon continues: “And a pizza pepperoni.” Second image: We still see Jon, but now from behind, revealing a table with three other people sitting around it: Martin, Melanie and Georgie. Martin is a fat white man with short hair, wearing a hoodie. Melanie is a thin woman who has shoulder-length hair, a nose piercing, and is wearing a jacket. She has her eyes closed. Only Georgie’s face is visible behind Jon’s shoulder. She’s a Black woman with short curly black hair. Some kind of board game seems to be set up on the table. There is a chair free for Jon. He asks them: “Am I forgetting anything?” Martin replies: “You don’t want anything yourself?” “Ah, right,” Jon says. Third and final image: Almost a complete copy of the first, but now Jon has his eyes closed and is looking satisfied. He’s gesturing while he speaks. “Please send your most traumatized delivery person.” End ID.]
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abduct-me-helen · 4 years
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Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 1.
The world ended on a Tuesday. Quite suddenly, halfway through class. After the sky split open and green light bathed the earth, things changed. Some lived.
Some didn’t.
Class 108 stayed together, for the most part. They took up a base in the school, and boarded up the windows and doors.
Sydney was the one who first learned they didn’t need to eat. Other revelations of that sort followed. Sleep was not needed, nor was water. Air seemed to be, though, as they learned after Cal passed out from holding their breath.
The first one to die was Cú.
They don’t talk about Cú.
-
Of course, some things are unavoidable in the end. Logically, Sydney knew it was only a matter of time before something managed to slip under the cracks and they’d all get killed; god knows they’d narrowly scraped by enough times to be considered cosmically lucky. Tabitha had been spreading rumors, as was her nature, about the school itself being sentient, trapping them inside with false promises of safety.
On the worse days, Sydney believed it.
Sydney stepped into the classroom slowly, craning her head to where Tabitha and Rosie were explaining their theories. She didn’t know which theories, but she’d heard most of them by now.
“G’morning.” She said.
It was night.
No, she thought, the sky is dark, but that doesn’t mean it’s night.
Rosie gestures towards a desk, and she avoids the chair toppled over at her feet as she sits down on top of it. She takes not of who else had decided to attend this “session” of theirs today. There are 12 students left out of the thirty who had originally made up the class. Ten of them had disappeared after running away from the school in shock after the eye in the sky had first opened. They hadn’t been in homeroom during the “blink,” which is what they’d taken to call the eye opening, and hadn’t seen any teachers since that day.
She remembered it vividly.
Ms. Bruis had tensed, eyes wide in shock, before telling them to calm down and stay indoors. She immediately went outside the room to check on everyone else.
That was the last time they’d seen Ms. Bruis, but not the last time they’d seen her face.
Besides the initial chaos, there wasn’t anything attacking the school. It was just shouting and screaming and running. Sydney had stayed in the classroom, clumsily trying to close the blinds on the window.
People just, left. And they didn’t come back.
The first venture was when they lost Cú. She doesn’t like to talk about him, never mind think about him. Nonetheless, her mind often drifts towards his death.
It was about four hours after the chaos. People had been nearly sucked out of the building, teachers included. The only ones that remained were the thirty students of 108.
Sydney didn’t know why they were the only ones to remain. She still doesn’t now.
The students decided to have a short party go out and scout. Sydney, Katie, Cú, Tabitha and Rosie. Four survived, one did not.
Rosie was always the thinker of the group, and as such she took the front. Katie was chosen for her seemingly nonchalant disposition to going, and Tabitha for her mind, which was always going too fast and often arriving at far-out conclusions. Despite this, she was a quick-witted person and had been selected for her dexterity and speed. Cú was selected for his physicality. He was a teddy bear, but a strong teddy bear.
It didn’t save him in the end.
And Sydney, well, she was cautious. She wonders if she could’ve saved Cú if she’d been just a little bit wearier.
They wandered a few blocks before hearing the sound of skin and bone splitting. Tabitha immediately ran toward the sound, as was her nature. The rest, Rosie at the lead, followed, hiding behind a corner.
Katie didn’t make a face, but even she was visibly pale.
When the sound came again, louder, and a creature made of wet flesh and twisted muscle stepped out of the alleyway, she became practically white.
Sydney retched. She’s not ashamed to admit it, you would’ve too. Anyone would’ve retched if they saw that sight.
It got worse.
“Hello?! Someone! Help me, please!”
It was Ms. Bruis-no, it looked like Ms. Bruis.
Cú ran. He dodged the creature, running to Ms. Bruis and starting to try to pick her up off the ground, before he noticed she was rooted to the cement. His eyes widened as blood ran down her face
She smirked.
Sydney will always remember the flash of teeth before she plunged her hand-no, her claw-into his stomach. He made a choked sound before the creature bounded back over and ripped his jaw clean off.
They ran. They ran. They ran.
And then they came back to the classroom, and they wept.
There were more expeditions after that. They lost seven more after that, but in those ventures, they collected knowledge. This knowledge went on Rosie’s list, though it also doubled as a rulebook.
-
THE LIST
1. Some creatures can make copies of people you know in order to trick you. They don’t bleed, so your best shot at not meeting eyeball daddy up close is to yeet the fuck outta there//bold of you to assume I don’t want to meet eyeball daddy uwu//
2. Don’t trust meat. Ever. Meat comes alive. WE ARE VEGANS IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2018(?)
3. Don’t answer the door, even if you’re armed. No, Eric, we do not count your big muscles™ as a weapon.
4. If you MUST answer the door, don’t. You have been stopped.
5. A short section on the happenings of the places(?) known to us as “nightmares.”
Nightmares trap humans in these crazy places. We’ve only seen two, but they are extremely dangerous, and both encounters ended in casualties. They trap your mind and make you experience terrible things, and like the rest of the world (to our knowledge at least) don’t follow normal time or space rules. Basically, if you want to avoid a ,’ , |,’_’, you should not screw with that shit.
6. Always check with someone else before eating or drinking. Sometimes, your mind will play tricks on you and you won’t notice that you’re eating something…not good. Honor cal for their sacrifice regarding this matter (sorry cal)
7. Always shut the blinds. Eyeball daddy is watching you//YOU DID NOT NEED TO SAY THAT TABITHA
8. Don’t leave the building without consulting all of class 108.
9. Don’t read books that others haven’t read first, especially if it says it’s from the library of Jurgen LeitnerSTUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITENER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIO//yes, Riko, we get it, but good point. Be Jared, 19.
10. Don’t invite anyone in.
-
“What are we on today?” Sydney asked.
“Tabitha’s on about the categories again.” Cal said.
“I really think it could work!” she said loudly. “Look, there’s consistencies in every single encounter we’ve had. Think about it. Remember what happened at the theater?”
Katie grimaced silently. “How could we forget?”
Tabitha ignored her. “The webs. Spiders and the rest of those insects are different categories. The wriggly silver worms are more like, bugs and wriggly things and judging from the infestation we had they all work together.”
“Like a hive?” Cal asked.
Tabitha nodded. “Exactly like that. Spiders are different though; you saw how many were crawling about during the amphitheater incident. And that whole thing was about control. All those people who were laughing…they, they were there. They didn’t want to do it! They didn’t want to laugh, you saw their eyes. They were being controlled. And when,” she paused, gritting her teeth, “and when Marcy died she was being controlled too. Puppeted.”
That’s two. Then we come to the next one, guns and murder and war and shit like that. Simple enough. But I think it has to be humans killing humans, because the thing that killed, killed Cú wasn’t like that. It was, it was different. I don’t know. I’ll get back to that.
“Then we have the cover up, or the anonymous things. Things like those little creatures that hide in your plates that you can’t notice are there until someone tells you. That’s why I’m confused, because I think the weird fleshy creature we faced was aligned with that but also with those meat things that broke Rosie’s leg. I don’t know how to explain it, but, ah. Sorry. I think they’re the same category.”
“I’ll humor you; can a thing be two categories?” Katie questioned her dully.
“I think so. Maybe it’s like colors? Really angry colors. They’re all separate, but the same because they’re all made of the same stuff. And they all blur together sometimes?”
“Yeah,” Katie snorted, “we’re being killed by really angry colors.”
Tabitha flushed. “Hey! It was just an analogy.”
Rosie seemed to be considering what Tabitha had said, before she looked up. “I believe you.”
“Y-you do?” Tabitha blinked, taken back.
Rosie nodded. “It makes sense. Really angry colors.”
“Really angry colors.”
-
A few hours-well, time was weird, but Sydney supposed it was hours-later, the class was doing yoga. Well, not “yoga” per se. They were beating each other on the head with torn up yoga mats.
“Hey!” Riko shouted as Tabitha tripped over her mat while chasing Cal. “Watch it! This is where I sleep!”
Tabitha stuck her tongue out and Katie snorted, not looking up from her book. Sydney wondered how she did that; Katie always seemed to have an astounding amount of situational awareness at all times.
“Real mature.” Katie groused.
Tabitha grinned, and Rosie smiled softly.
“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU MEET EYEBALL DADDY!” she shouted to Cal, who’s eyes widened in mock fear.
“Oh no! The horror! OwO!” They said dramatically.
“Did they just say “OwO”?” Sydney asked in a deadpan. Rosie nodded solemnly.
“You ever wonder…” Sydney trailed off, the muffled shouting of their peers drowned out into the background.
“Wonder what?” Rosie tilted her head in question.
“What happened to Mr. Sims.”
“He’s probably…not with us anymore.”
“Yeah. Still, could you imagine? He was a bloody cryptid. He’d probably take all this with no sweat.”
“Maybe he’d give us concerts too.”
“Good ole Jonny D’Ville.”
Rosie snickered.
“You know how he always drew eyes everywhere? During tests?”
“Oh god, don’t mention that to Tabitha, I don’t need her going on about another conspiracy.”
Sydney grinned to herself and Rosie groaned.
“Well, I was thinking, maybe it was an omen.”
“An omen?”
“Yeah. I’ve never been spiritual really, but the worlds gone to shit so who knows what’s real. Maybe the Mayans were just a few days off.”
“Ah, the apocalypse calendar.”
“Indeed.”
-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
A noise rang out from the entrance to the school, loud and imposing. Sydney’s heart started to thump wildly in terror.
They all shot up, and Katie got her switchblade out from her pocket. She was lucky enough to have it on her at the blink, and it was their best weapon.
Cypress shot inside the classroom silently, eyes wide, red curls bouncing. He clicked the door shut quietly, pale. “The others sent me. They’re hiding in place. I think we should just stay put.”
Rosie nodded, gesturing him to come over. She placed a finger over her lips in order to get them to stay silent, then nodded to Katie. Katie had always been gifted with really good hearing, and it had saved their assess more than enough times for Rosie to know that letting her try to hear who was at the door was the best safe bet for situation and the time being.
Katie closed her eyes, but after a quarter of a minute shook her head.
That’s when they heard it.
“Hello!”
Sydney brought a hand to her mouth to clamp down a scream.
It was Cypress.
Eyes wide, she glanced over to Cypress, her Cypress, who’s expression was now glazed over. Was his skin always that waxy? Why was his hair so smooth? It looked like that of a dolls, curls made of softly bent plastic.
Katie saw the flicker of light before she saw the blade, and she lunged.
Her switchblade pierced his skin-no, his stuffing, with a sound akin to ripping a toy. It didn’t seem to stop this not-Cypress.
Oh god, Sydney thought, today is the day I die.
There was a sound like static now in the air, and the faint smell of burning. Sydney began to feel sick, almost lightheaded.
The door swung open, and Sydney whipped her head around to see Cypress, who was trailed by…Mr. Sims?
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ill-skillsgard · 4 years
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On the Market - Henry Deaver X Mistress
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Warning: 18+ mentions of sex/cheating/mature themes. *This part contains consensual sleep sex* Please read at your own discretion.
Note: Just a smutty little nudge in the next direction. I’m sorry about the delay. I know there is a pretty equal divide in the direction that readers want this series to go in, but this part has no butt stuff >< I’m planning to come out with a longer, more angst-driven part next, but I’ll need time! I appreciate all the requests I still get for this pairing! Kisses!
Read more Henry x Mistress imagines here > Masterpost
The letters shouted in black and white. “Local business mogul caught in a steamy affair with woman half his age!” Why did they have to mention your age? You were a fully grown adult capable of making your own decisions. How could something like this go to print? It wasn’t fair. Your heart plummeted into a deep, jagged pit that opened up in your chest. Everlasting panic kicked the breath from your lungs, and then a yawn of warmth swallowed you whole, filling up your mouth, nose, ears and eyes. 
The crevice left by the terrible news suddenly closed, and you coughed up the black residue left behind from the flash fire in your chest. Although there was a nagging sensation on your legs, you could breathe and that’s all that mattered. 
After a moment, the nagging on your legs moved across your body like a warm ghost pressing your abdomen. The pressure increased, diminishing into a concentrated beam that bristled all over one spot. It slipped down between your legs like a hot stream from the bathtub faucet just like the time you discovered how friendly a private bath with the door locked could be.
This sensation chased away all the dark and erased the glaring, accusatory headlines. You were in love, and nothing was wrong with that. If you could stamp your foot and shake your fist, you would declare it. But something rooted you in the bed, weighing down your limbs as morning faded into view.
The dawn glared through slits in the drapes, and you recoiled from a real burst of heat between your legs. When you looked down, there was no surge of hot water, but a tongue, and a mouth, and then a pair of eyes that did not match. His pixie nose squished against your mound. Henry fought off a smile but could not stifle an excitable laugh.
“Mm, good morning.”
“What is this? And from my sweet little Christian boy?” You had to tease him one more time.
He nipped back with lips sheathed over his teeth. “Would a sweet boy wake you up this way?”
It was your turn to stifle a titter. “Um, yes. This is exactly what a sweet boy would do.”
“I remembered what you said about how...” His words strayed as his attention pulled away from your face and went back to your clit. Henry smeared the entirety of his tongue between your pussy lips, opening you wide for another, similar licking.
“Oh-oh, my god,” you squeaked before clapping a hand over your mouth in disbelief.
Maybe it was your senses lagging in waking up with you, but the feeling of Henry’s mouth on your pussy sent stronger jolts of stimulation through your body than you could handle. He spent an obscene moment parting the lush skin, spitting and sucking it all back up into his mouth. When he deposited that same bubble of saliva in the same spot, you groaned out without shame.
It may have been the most arousing thing you had ever witnessed, and a voice screamed out for you to capture it. Your phone was plugged in beside the bed, only an arm’s length away, so you reached and dragged it across the blankets, clicking on the camera before Henry had the chance to notice. He was busy, after all.
Henry hummed, his lips encircling your clit before speaking. “Woke up so hungry for your pussy, baby. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I just remembered how good we fucked last night, and I needed you again.”
A short gasp left him when he looked up and saw your phone pointed at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I just need this, okay?”
“Why? I’m right here, right now.”
“I want to remember how good you look eating my pussy.”
Those words became the new headline of your day, and when Henry finished you, he had to clamp your legs to his shoulders to keep you from shaking. The man didn’t want a thing in return besides the taste of your orgasm on his tongue, refusing a quick blowjob to insist you get ready for work. 
He liked it when you got into the office before him. It gave people the impression that you were more diligent in your job than he was, which wasn’t a far cry in his business. People with positions like Henry’s were rarely scrutinized for their tardiness. If you showed up on time while he sauntered in of his own volition, it might deter people from asking too many questions about you. 
You were uncertain of how much rumour had gone around about the blow-up in Henry’s office. As you walked through and quietly greeted the familiar people of your floor, there was no detectable air of tension. Still, it was hard not to be on edge, and when you took your first bathroom break of the morning, it confirmed your suspicions.
Henry texted you to say there was a hold-up at his brunch meeting before he could make it in, so your workday would comprise following up on important dates and intercepting phone calls from his lawyers. It also meant you could slack off, but not in plain sight. 
With one earbud in, you tried not to laugh at silly videos on the internet. You weren’t using the washroom, per se, merely adopting it as an excuse to kick back for a self-dictated amount of time. Henry had been right about a lot, one of his points being the office was laid back, and prolonged absences here and there set off no alarms.
The washroom door gusted open, and two sets of kitten heels clicked over the floor.  Neither of them made a path to the stall beside you. Instead, they went to the mirrors above the sinks. You paused the video you were watching out of habit and held your breath.
“I mean, he is good-looking. In that weird psycho-killer looking way, but I never imagined him single. He and Mary just seemed like one of those untouchable couples. The ones that meet in high school and die side-by-side sort of thing.”
“You think he’s good-looking?”
“Hell yes, girl. His eyes might be a little spooky, but I’m into it. He’s got a nice smile.”
“I guess. And tall.”
“You know what that means.”
Your palms dampened as you tried to spy the two women talking about your boyfriend through the cracks in the stall door. You thought about clearing your throat to alert them to your presence, but it was too late. There was much to hear.
“I heard he’s already got a new girlfriend.”
A gasp pealed through the washroom, echoing off the porcelain. “What? How do you know?”
“That’s what one of Mary’s friends from across said. That’s how she found out. Supposedly, somebody saw ol’ Mr. Deaver getting close with a lady.”
“Where?” The voices carried off on the backs of heels.
When they left, you noticed how tense your shoulders were. There was nothing you could do about what they said, but it didn’t stop you from grinding your teeth. 
After a short time, you went through your videos and clicked the thumbnail showing Henry’s brown hair between your thighs. A smirk cracked over your face as you popped in your other earbud and turned up the volume to better hear the sloppy, wet sounds of Henry’s tongue lapping at your pussy.
“Mm, yes, baby. Please come on my tongue. You can do it. Come all over my face. Do it for me.”
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kenzieam · 3 years
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Beauty and the Blackheart - Chapter Two
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@jewels2876​​​  @moonbeambucky​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​  @iammarylastar​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​  @badassbaker​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​  
I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.
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Rating: M
Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut
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Okay, so......
Lev, the serious one, is visiting her wild-child twin brother, Clint. There she meets Bucky, a tall, dark, brooding mystery who’s her total opposite in every way. Of course, she’s intrigued even as her mind screams to run for safety, but what could go wrong, right??
***********************************************************************
Lev glanced up from the elevated counter in front of her and grinned as a familiar face pushed open the door and entered.
“Hey Spider,” she called, genuinely happy to see the man.
“Hey, little lady. How are you?” The biker called back, chains rattling as he moved.
“Getting by.”
“I see that, looking fine this morning, honey.”
Lev smirked mildly at him. A shameless flirt, Spider was harmless, totally devoted to his ol’ lady, Sparkle, but guaranteed to throw out little tidbits like this on the regular just to make the recipient red.
“Your head’s looking mighty shiny this morning, handsome.” Lev lobbed back, enjoying the now familiar game between her and the shop’s frequent flyer. He belonged to a genuine motorcycle club, yet still found time to pop into Blackheart every few days for something. Lev figured he liked the conversation, he and Clint got on like a house afire.
He tipped a salute then glanced over the front of the shop. “Buck around?”
“Haven’t seen him yet.” Lev had sort of fallen into the role of temporary front-end manager and had spent the last two weeks managing appointments, payments and supply ordering for Blackheart Ink.
Only a few days after Lev's arrival, Nat’s father, according to Nat a batshit old man who had no goddamn common sense, had fallen off a ladder while attempting to install a birdhouse on a towering pole in his backyard for her mother and broken a decent amount of bones. Also, according to Nat, her daddy, while having no sense of self-preservation, fortunately healed rather quickly from his varied injuries and boo-boos over the years. Regardless, Nat had been torn, with Lev offering to fill in at the shop so Nat could go home and help until her father was back on his feet.
After a few trying days, Lev found she liked helping, greeting and laughing with regulars, fielding phone calls, bantering with the boys.
Steve was hilarious, and an unapologetic big brother, displaying a heart-warming amount of concern and affection for Lev right from the start, like she was just another little sister, even defending her from her own twin sometimes, letting her hide behind him as Clint spazzed randomly, suddenly convinced that Lev needed a Sonic the Hedgehog tattooed on her wrist, or that she would look great with that new sparkly pink tongue post they’d just brought in and he’d chased her around the shop waving a clamp.
It was fun to add the big guy in on their games and life at the shop was never boring, Lev even found herself relaxing her stringent boundaries, the rules she usually lived by. She still was a long way off from her fun and free-spirited brother however, and never did that seem more obvious than the rare times Bucky interacted with her.
He remained a lurking shadow most of the time, loosening up around his friends and regular customers, but he seemed to have taken Lev stepping in to help as a personal attack, alternating between glowering at her and outright ignoring her.
In truth, Lev preferred being ignored, for when he did turn those intense eyes on her, Lev felt out of control, little sparks racing under her skin, a set of butterflies suddenly alive in her belly.
And wasn’t that just a big old hot mess.
They were polar opposites. Bucky seemed to live on coffee, while Lev limited herself severely. He smoked like a chimney, both tobacco and pot, while Lev had seen too many blackened lungs in Anatomy class to ever partake. The only green thing she’d seen near his mouth was the lettuce of the fast-food burgers he wolfed down, and he’d never even heard of edamame, staring at Lev’s lunch bento one day like it was toxic waste. In addition, he had a filthy mouth, peppering all conversations with liberal f-bombs, squinting in confusion at Lev when she grumbled something along the lines of ‘for Pete’s sake’ after spilling her water, not able to comprehend an exclamation that didn’t rhyme with ‘duck’.
He’d never outright said it to her, but the thought radiated from him like body heat, ‘what a fucking princess’.
And the girls! It seemed every night there was some new one strutting into the shop near closing, cooing his name, ready to head over to the bar down the street, then no doubt back to his house for wild sex.
They were all tall, hot and polished, wearing dresses wrapped tighter than ace bandages around their pert little asses and surgically enhanced breasts, eyeing Lev derisively as they passed her desk. Dismissing her with a sniff, already looking past her for the object of their attention.
Lev tried not to look, but Jesus, it seemed whenever Bucky would emerge from the back, having heard his newest siren’s call, that the woman would launch herself at him, start devouring his face and he just went with it. Catching them and slamming them against a wall, grabbing their faces to angle their mouths for a deeper kiss, making them moan and whimper his name.
Lev wondered idly if this was done for her benefit, if Bucky hated her so much that he was trying to make her uncomfortable enough to leave except for, beyond a derisive snort or slap on his shoulder, Steve and Clint seemed to be used to and tolerate his manwhore ways, or had at least learned to ignore them.
“You alright?” Steve had asked a few days ago, as Tiffany or Amber or who-the-fuck-ever swallowed Bucky’s tongue in full view of the desk, for the door to the supply room had swung back open after Bucky had slammed it shut while lurching inside with his newest spider monkey. His eyes trekked warily from the display back to Lev, forehead furrowed in concern as he studied her face. “I can tell him to fuck off, you know. He doesn’t need to be-”
“It’s fine.” Lev replied breezily, although she felt anything but. This wasn’t her permanent job, and Bucky was nothing and nobody to her. “It’s his shop.”
Steve studied her quietly, seemed about to say more. Sure, it was his shop and he’d been pulling this shit for years and Steve and Clint had learned to ignore it, but that didn’t make it right, especially with someone so… pure as Lev nearby.
“He’s-” Steve broke off, rubbing his chin. “Buck’s complicated-”
“He’s a whore.” Lev startled slightly, surprised at the venom behind her words. Again, WHY THE FUCK did it matter to her?
Steve shrugged, a hint of sadness curving his lips downward. He didn’t elaborate and Lev sensed there was a story there but it hardly mattered. Nat would be back soon, and Lev would go home and start practicing medicine for real and eventually she’d meet her own Prince Charming and Bucky could stay here, his cock rotting off from whatever STD he’d finally caught.
“Hey Spider.” A deep voice suddenly called, startling Lev out of her thoughts. Bucky lumbered into her peripheral, a genuine smile on his face as he greeted the other man. “Head on back, I’m all set up.” He gestured for Spider to pass then turned to face Lev. Any geniality in his voice died, all light left his eyes.
“You’re fucking up my appointments.”
Lev stared wordlessly, trying to think back on what she could have possibly messed up. Exasperated, Bucky strode to the elevated counter and reached over, his height making it easy and all but ripped the appointment book out from under her hands. He stabbed a thick finger at tomorrow’s first appointment.
“A memorial tat first thing in the goddamn morning?” He hissed.
Lev was thoroughly confused. ‘First thing’ at Blackheart was 11 am, how the hell was that the ass-crack of dawn?
“And a goddamn ‘memorial’ tattoo? What, some crying housewife wailing about her daddy dying? Wanting a set of angel wings and ‘always in my heart’ floating above it?”
Now Lev saw red. As a trauma resident, she dealt with death on the regular, grief was not something she took lightly.
“Fuck you.” She hissed, too angry to realize what she’d just said, for one of the first times in her buttoned-up life. “A memorial tattoo isn’t hardcore enough for you? You’re too fucking hungover from the night before to make it in that early, when the rest of the civilized world has been up and contributing to society for hours already? Or are you just too sore from fucking whatever whore you dragged home? These are important to people, Bucky. It’s family that they don’t have anymore and they’re trusting you to immortalize what they’ve lost! In my opinion there’s no greater honor to imbed something like that permanently into someone’s skin! You don’t want any bullshit angel wings any more then fucking tell me like a decent fucking person, you fucking dickhead!” She slammed her hand down on the book to illustrate, the sound sharp like a slap in the silent room.
Lev broke off, breathing hard, her pulse racing. She’d never, never lost control like that before and she’d just sworn more in the last two minutes than she had her whole adult life.
Bucky eyed her appraisingly, he didn’t look mad per se, but she’d definitely surprised him, and he looked torn between snarling back and just ignoring her again.
His lip twitched and Lev expected him to open his mouth and start bellowing but he grinned. It was fast, gone in a flash as though it had escaped in a moment of weakness but, for a heartbeat, he’d done something other than glower at her.
“Duly noted, princess.” He drawled, then the curtain seemed to fall over his eyes and Lev became the invisible girl again, staring after him in shock as he turned and strode away, slamming the door of his room behind him.
****************************************************************************
The next morning Lev shifted her weight nervously, fingers curling as she studied the appointment book. The memorial client Bucky had chewed her out for yesterday was due any minute and Lev didn’t know what to do. Bucky hadn’t expressly told her he wouldn’t do the tat, so she couldn’t move the woman to another artist, but she was awfully tempted to head off the lady the moment she walked in with some excuse about Bucky needing to cancel last minute and saving her from dealing with him and his shitty attitude.
While she regretted her loss of temper and foul language, Lev didn’t regret tearing a strip off the man yesterday. Bucky had needed a wake-up call but the way he’d reacted still made her shiver and she wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. The door chimed as it opened and Lev inhaled sharply, trying to decide what to do. The woman was older middle-aged, soft and wholesome looking, greying hair in a low bun, the very last person you’d expect to get inked.
Great, not only was this woman here for a memorial tattoo, but it was most likely her first one. What an introduction, being shepherded into the world of body art by King Asshole himself.
This wasn’t her business, this wasn’t even her real job, she had no right or power to do anything about it but she couldn’t let this woman walk into her appointment thinking Bucky was going to give her his best when he’d already shown he wouldn’t.
“Hello, I know you’re here for-”
“Good Morning.” A honeyed voice overrode hers and Lev startled, snapping her head sideways. Bucky appeared in her peripheral vision, smiling charmingly.
“You must be my eleven o’clock.”
The woman actually giggled, already enchanted and Lev gaped, stunned by the turn of events. Where the hell was the growling, miserable bastard she’d dealt with yesterday? Who’d ignored her all day after their angry encounter?
Had he trimmed his beard?
Lev didn’t even realize he owned a pair of jeans that didn’t have holes in them, yet this pair looked…. Good. Shit, she hadn’t really paid attention before, put off by his general aura, but Bucky had an amazing pair of thighs, muscular and straining his jeans in the best way. And don’t even get her started on the way his plain black t-shirt stretched over his chest, back and shoulders.
Jesus.
Lev winced, shocked by her internal monologue as Bucky gestured the woman past him, flicking an indecipherable glance at Lev before following her to his room, the door closing quietly behind him. Within moments, one of Bucky’s more mild playlists began to play lowly, filling the air with the mellow first notes of ‘Crying Shame’ by The Teskey Brothers.
The phone rang then, jarring Lev from any more speculation and she nearly dropped the receiver before answering, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Blackheart Ink and Body Mod, this is Lev, how can I help you?”
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The surrealness continued, with none of Bucky’s usual hard rock/metal music, instead James Blunt’s ‘Bonfire Heart’ following ‘Crying Shame’ and Lev wondered what the hell was going on. Clint, who unlike his friend, had no trouble working early, had been in his room since 9:30, working on a special client currently on leave who wanted an intricate sleeve done before he was deployed again, merely grabbing a second can of Monster from the back fridge this morning to tide him over and Lev didn’t expect to see him for another few hours still. Steve wasn’t due in until 2 or 3 o’clock, having taken the morning off and there were no walk-ins yet to worry about.
She busied herself for a bit cleaning the display case for body jewelry and a tiny little voice in the back of her mind began to muse about what it would be like to maybe, just maybe, pop her cherry and get a piercing. Lev literally had none to speak of, not even her ears were pierced, and she had found herself wondering more and more in the last week what it would be like to sit for the needle, feel Bucky’s breath on her face as he leaned close to mark the place on her skin, the quiet concentration setting his jaw just so; for while Bucky was a bastard, he took body piercing seriously and never seemed to show attitude, even for basic ones, the giggling girls queuing up for naval studs, or nose rings.
Bucky’s new playlist continued, and Lev was pleasantly surprised by the contents. Was this a hidden side she hadn’t seen yet, or was he in some way taking the piss?
Her thoughts were so jumbled around this man and she hated feeling confused. But either way, regardless of what she thought and felt, it didn’t matter. She was leaving soon, going back to her real life and, even if she wasn’t, they were too different.
He was fire, she was ice.
What business did a doctor have with a tattoo artist, and she didn’t mean any kind of bullshit class structure. They were literally opposite ends of the spectrum, a deductive job of reasoning and knowledge versus one of artistic talent and freedom.
And, even if their careers were somehow compatible, their personalities definitely were not. Lev felt vaguely inferior around Bucky, as if by foregoing fun for structure made her less than him somehow. He looked down on her, dismissed her as a princess, and while she wasn’t free from guilt, believing him to be mannerless prick, she couldn’t shake the disappointment of somehow having failed with Bucky.
The door to Bucky’s room opened suddenly, and Lev startled, looking up to see that an hour had already passed, before realizing that the woman was in tears.
Oh shit.
Lev felt a bolt of panic, eyes wide, as her mind raced. What had he said to her?
The woman headed her way, with Bucky trailing slowly behind and Lev braced herself, words of apology jumbling in her mind. But, as she approached, Lev saw that the woman was smiling through her tears, it was a joyful crying, not a sorrowful one.
“Look,” the woman called. Reaching for Lev she turned to expose the back of her shoulder, pointing excitedly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Lev looked down, down to the woman’s pale, soft skin. Although covered by a clear bandage, Lev could see that, indeed, the tattoo was beautiful. A trio of African Violets, so realistic and lifelike, with the simple word, ‘Forever’ underneath. While not a huge tattoo, it looked like a goddamn picture, three-dimensional and perfect; easily the most beautiful ink Lev had ever seen.
“My husband loved violets; I grew them for him. Our house and garden were full.” The woman sniffled, pulling a tissue from her pocket. Bucky had stepped to within a few feet of the women and, if Lev had looked up, she would have noticed that he was locked on her, watching her every reaction to this woman and her story. “After he died…. I couldn’t grow them anymore. Not that I didn’t want to, but I literally couldn’t. They wouldn’t grow for me anymore, its like he took them with him when he left.” She sniffled, hard, and Lev felt like crying herself. “These are my violets now; I get to keep them with me forever.”
Lev swallowed her tears, knowing that if she started, she’d never be able to finish for, even though she was serious and disciplined, in her heart of hearts, she secretly wanted a love like what this woman had had too, a connection that transcended death. A tear escaped anyway, trailing down her cheek and she wiped at it before it started a tsunami.
“That’s wonderful.”
The woman smiled, looking suddenly lighter, a glow about her. “I have to go; I must show my daughter!” She whirled and, before anyone could react, grabbed Bucky in a tight hug. If he was surprised, he hid it well, hugging her back and whispering something to her, then pulling away almost brusquely. He held up two fingers to Lev, indicating his fee then whirled, disappearing back into his room.
“What a lovely man.” The woman gushed, following a stunned Lev as she returned to the counter. “So gentle and polite! He listened to me ramble and gave me exactly what I wanted. My daughter will be in next, just you watch, wanting the same thing!” She added on a huge tip, and all but floated out of the shop, leaving a gobsmacked Lev in her wake.
Lev stared at the money for a beat, then carefully divided it, adding to the till the shop’s cut before stacking the rest in the little pirate’s treasure chest marked ‘Barnes’ hidden under the edge of the counter. Taking a pencil, she crossed out the appointment in the book then just stood there for a moment, unsure what to do next.
But before she could figure out her next move, Lev felt heat at her back, a body move close. She froze, realizing Bucky stood directly behind her, his chest inches from her back and her heart started galloping. His spicy masculine musk surrounded her as he lowered his head over her shoulder, some of the hair that escaped his man bun brushing her cheek.
She held her breath, feeling a crazed mix of fear and exhilaration. Was he going to yell at her, kiss her?
He paused, as if savouring the moment, or maybe the scent of Lev’s fear and breathed out. His exhale was slightly unsteady, as if it pained him then he spoke, his voice so low that she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he weren’t mere inches away.
“You were right.”
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