#still some blood that someone donated got thrown away

[smoothpeanut]

got a blood transfusion today because anemia. anyway when the blood bag's done they always run some saline to get the last bits still in the IV tubing. today i thought the nurse was switching the input but then she removed my IV. and i almost blurted out "hey i wanted to finish the rest of that..."

some perfectly good blood still in there. what a waste

[tlou-reid]

Wine-Tainted Water ❤︎ Spencer Reid

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a night out with their team, spencer and his lover take a bath together. based on one line of dress by taylor swift.

♡ WARNINGS: alcohol, reader and spencer are drunk, grossly cute fluff, not edited and in all lowercase

♡ NOTE: this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“i’m spilling wine in the bathtub. you kiss my face and we’re both drunk. everyone thinks that they know us. but they know nothing…”

you were too drunk to understand how the rest of the team didn’t see you and spencer sneak into the same uber. you were sure spencer would also question how you two got away with it, if it were something he was bothered to consider. but, right here with you, the rest of the team was the last thing on his mind.

despite his knees being pressed almost all the way to his chest and his arms being haphazardly thrown over the side of the tub, there was no other position he’d want to be in right now.

you were laughing at something he said—that much he knew. your face was scrunched up and your smile was probably the biggest he’d ever seen it. the alcohol cursing through your blood was definitely aiding in your laughter. you were always a giggly drunk, spencer realized.

not that he was any better. he wasn’t sure if he was more love drunk or alcohol drunk. the bar the team had visited was running a special on vodka cranberries, and he had definitely had a few too many. he wasn’t sloppy drunk or not in control of himself drunk, but he was the kind of drunk that made the tips of your fingers go numb.

he was trying to gauge where you are on that spectrum. you had stuck to wine, so you aren’t feeling as dizzy as he currently is, but you had a few more than him.

spencer quickly gave up on trying to pinpoint your location on this imaginary drunk scale he’d made up. he was too entranced by the words you were attempting to form. “spence!” you cheered, holding out the wine class he’d teased you for grabbing.

“what are you doing?” spencer said with a teasing smile as you made your way to his kitchen cabinet. “you still have that bottle of sangria?” you asked, with a much more stable tone than you had now. “yes?” spencer was clearly confused, “i thought you wanted to take a bath?” you laughed in reply, “there’s no law against having wine in the bathtub.” he couldn’t argue with that.

that was probably over an hour now. the water had run cold and the vanilla scented bubble bath you’d dumped in was starting to fade.

“another glass?” he questioned, taking your glass and reaching for the bottle you’d propped up against the side of the bathtub. “mhm!” you nodded, stretching out your legs a little bit. neither of you were comfortable per say, but the alcohol and love in the air was easily masking the joint pain you were starting to experience. squeezing into a tub with a man as tall as spencer was not an easy feat, but you were desperate to make it work.

“do you think anyone noticed?” spencer asked, referring to your hasty exit from the bar. “i dunno,” you mumbled as he handed the glass back to you, “i don’t really care either.” for some reason, your simple reply made spencer smile. he also didn’t care, he decided as soon as the words left your mouth.

“plus,” you started after taking a sip of your wine. spencer could tell you were about to ramble. it was a thing in your relationship. if one of you wasn’t rambling, the other definitely was. and you both listened to each other carefully, never invalidating or rushing them. it was nice to be with someone who talked like he did, spencer thought.

“even if they did, they don’t really know.” you emphasized. “like, they only really know work us, y’know?” spencer didn’t know. the team was his family and definitely knew more about him than simply who he was at work. with one quirk of an eyebrow, however, he was able to get you to explain your train of thought.

“see!” you gestured to his facial expression. as your body excitedly moved to show that your point had been proven, even if spencer was still confused, your almost full wine glass shook, sending red sangria into the bath water. spencer held back his laugh as you gently splashed it towards him. you took another sip, before continuing your explanation.

“i was very easily able to tell you didnt understand what i was saying. because we know each other. really know each other. so who cares if they think we’re dating? i mean i’ve seen parts of you no one else has, like i’ve seen your butthole, spencer. has anyone else on the team seen your butthole? exactly.”

spencer couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled over from his throat. you were speaking so passionately and so clearly about this, it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. he couldn’t tell if the warmth radiating through his chest was from the alcohol or from the way you existed in this space. he never wanted to leave this bathtub.

spencer couldn't help himself as he launched forward. the wine-tainted water that went flying over the side of the tub would be a problem for tomorrow. right now, all he was worried about was pressing a million and one kisses to the part of cheek that bubbled up when you smiled. he gently caressed your face as he moved closer to you. not even the pain in his back from his sudden jolt forward could slow him down.

you grip tighten on your wine glass, making sure it was secure in your hand as spencer moved. the bathroom acoustics made your fit of laughter sound as perfect as beethoven's third sympony to spencer. your giggles bounced off the wall, right into his heart as he kisses moved from your cheeks to being peppered around your entire face. his hands moved down to your sides, pulling you closer to him.

"spencer!" you squealed as his fingers wiggled against your sides. you could feel your grip on your glass loosening as he tickled you. "spencer! stop!" you laughed, using your feet to push against his thighs, effectively pushing him away. the bathroom was silent as you both came down from the giggle high you'd been on.

after another sip of wine, you spoke, "what was that for?" there was no malice behind your words. no accusatory tone or anger from his actions. you were smiling, basking in spencer's rare show of affection. he simply shrugged, "i just love you," he declared. you, once again, giggled at his words, "i love you too."

spencer sighed, holding up his hand to show you his pruning fingers. he was starting to sober up, so the cold of the bath water was beginning to effect him. "it might be time to get out, love." your bottom lip jutted out, expressing a disappointment that was far too dramatic for his simple sentiment. "don't wanna," you mumbled, pulling your glass to chug the rest of the wine before spencer made you get up.

spencer let out a laugh as you chugged, encouraging you to keep going. you finished the glass incredibly quickly. "i'm getting cold," he cooed, grabbing the empty glass and placing it on the floor, out of the way of where either of you would step out of the tub. "m'kay," you mumbled, not wanting spencer to suffer at your expense. spencer slow stood, not wanting to get any more water on the floor. he reached for the towel on the rack, dropping in on the floor, protecting your feet from where he overflowed the water earlier.

"stay here," he instructed before stepping out. he went to grab another towel. he quickly threw one around his waist, before reaching for the fluffiest one he could find. he returned to the side of the tub, leaving the towel to rest on the sink.

"ready?" he questioned, holding out his hand for you to take. in your drunken state, you were extremely grateful for his help to get you on your feet. he held onto you as you stepped over the wall of the bathtub, and didn't let go until you were standing stable. then, he reached for the towel, wrapping you up in it's warmth.

he rubbed his hands along the sides of your body, drying it to the best of his ability. the smudged makeup and goofy smile that painted your face had his heart racing.

"you ready?" he gestured to the door as he spoke. you nodded in response, pulling the towel tighter around your body. "i don't want to go to work on monday," you informed him as you walked the hallway to your room. "me neither," he agreed, reaching in his drawer for two oversized shirts. he slipped on a pair of boxers before moving to grab your comfiest pair of underwear.

you had made yourself comfortable on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wet where you or spencer would lay down. "legs up," he mumbled as he bent down. he slid the underwear up your legs, and helped you lift your butt up when he got to the top. once you were comfortable in them, he slipped on his shirt.

"arms up," you nodded at his words, instantly shooting them straight up in the air. as he slid the shirt over your arms, you spoke. "can we watch love is blind?" your voice sounded tired, despite the facade you were keeping of being wide awake. "yeah," he promised as he helped you lay down. once you were dressed and covered, he moved to the other side of the bed. he climbed in next to you, and you tried to ignore the way your head spun as he shifted to get comfortable.

"do you wanna watch the new one?" he asked. "mhm," you hummed. he pressed play on it, knowing you'd be asleep by the time the intro scene ended.

[ioletia]

Some people are wondering why other people are pissed about Episode 6. So, here I go. I guess spoilers if you aren't caught up.

Out of a nine episode series, one full episode was dedicated to Teen's backstory. That would be fine if everyone got an episode to detail their backstory or relevant trauma. But, that's not going to be the case.

We have three episodes left. Are you telling me that they are going to...

Explain Jen's trauma? Explain the man that tried to drown her in her hallucination? Explain how a non-magical doctor man was able to bind her power? Explain why a random non-magical man wanted to bind a witch that was doing good work?

Explain Lilia's trauma? Explain why she put a sigil on Teen? Explain what she saw? Explain her backstory and how her powers went a bit haywire? Explain her hallucination and what that meant?

Explain Agatha. Just explain all of that. There is so much here that it's just not possible to even touch on everything about her. Her backstory alone would be a multi-series event (that we'll probably never get). But, at minimum, they need to cram in the conclusion of her story here- her trying to get her power back.

Explain Rio. And that's a whole other bag of worms alone. Who the hell is she. We all know that she's Death, but what does that mean in the context of the world.

And then explain this whole sordid sapphic romance between Agatha and Rio. Why does Rio want to hurt Agatha. How did they meet. What's going on.

There are just too many questions to wrap up nicely in the last three episodes. Someone isn't going to get their story told. Which sucks.

But we do know who's story had to be told- Billy Maximoff's. Because it's now the beginning of Phase 6 for the MCU and they need some new super hero blood given that the Avengers have disbanded.

So, we get this series where the cast is really there to set up Billy and Wiccan. The witches, besides Agatha, become bit players to be thrown away and forgotten. Look what they did to Alice. If she is dead, that is probably the most unfulfilling character arc I've ever had to experience. And there's still Lilia and Jen- if they're not dead.

A lot of people are hating on episode 6 because it pushes out the character(s) they wanted to see for a character that the MCU demands exist. And this comes by pushing out queer older women, a group that is often ignored or completely disregarded in any media space. All while a gay teen basically got his coming out story- a story that has been told so many times before.

Fans of the queer women are frustrated that their characters have been put to the sidelines. Fans of the MCU are elated that they get to see another new super hero enter the fold. Episode 6 really created this divide in the audience.

We all know that Billy/Wiccan is definitely going to be in a movie or another series or something. The same cannot be said of Lilia, Jen, Alice, Rio, or maybe even Agatha (nothing's really been confirmed outside of a What If... episode in Season 3).

The show baited a bunch of people into it under the premise of queer witches- and we got an origin story for Wiccan. People were so invested in the show by Episode 6 that it really felt like a slap in the face to a lot of people who came here for the queer witches.

Maybe this explains the frustration with Billy and why the hate against him is sort of deserved. People were baited with one thing and given something different entirely- and now we get to find out whose story was cut to make room for him.

And, yeah, sure, Gay representation is great, but it really does feel like the G in LGBTQIA+ gets a whole lot of enthusiasm while everyone else is sort of forgotten. Remember, the L is first because the lesbians really saved our asses during the AIDs crisis by donating blood and just generally being saints. And yet... You don't see a lot of lesbians in media, especially older wiser lesbians.

This show could have been something truly groundbreaking. A whole story inside a major (current) cultural touch stone that celebrates queer older women. But, instead we got an origin story of another super hero man. Hence the frustration.

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[animeyanderelover]

Can we get Yandere Mafia Levi going after the naive Starbucks barista?

Mafia Levi? Alright, modern AU then.

Tw: Yandere themes, stalking, possessiveness, obsessiveness, threatening, manipulating, killing, kidnapping

Mafia Levi going after the naive Starbucks barista s/o

⚔️Do you ever notice the handsome man who keeps visiting your shop? You might, who doesn’t notice a handsome man with sharp features. But besides that, do you ever notice the other things? Do you notice how he always only seems to come when it’s your shift? Do you ever question yourself why he only gives you a huge tip? That he always stares at you? And this scary and intense look he gives everyone who touches you or flirts with you? And do you ever notice that all of them only shortly after either get in huge financial problems or die due to an “accident”. Do you notice how he keeps squeezing himself in your life?

⚔️First of all, who is this man even? It’s Levi Ackerman, the man who is feared in the whole country and worldwide known. A face and name who only very few people saw and heard and even less who came out alive after seeing him. He has a huge number of pawns working under him even though most of them don’t even know his real face. Only the most loyal people, people he trusts know under him, also known as his personal squad. He’s known to be merciless to his enemies, brutal and vicious to everyone who stands in his way. But is that true?

⚔️Whilst many call him a “devil”, there are also some who label him as a modern “Robin Hood”. Because what many don’t know is that Levi donates on a daily base a huge amount of money to poor cities and people who were left behind by society. He himself was abandoned by the rich, often had to beg in order to get at least a bit of money. But in the end he couldn’t save his mother, dying from starvation and terrible hygiene, drinking dirty water and often eating thrown away food. He knows how these people feel, living in such a modern world and still having to suffer like this. And he wants to help such people because he knows that no one else will. Despite being a mafia there are also many things he doesn’t want to interact with, leading to many criminals calling him a honorable man. He witnessed the impact of drugs back in his childhood, how it ruined people and decided to never do business involving this slow killer. Whilst very cruel with police men and every task force going after him, he also always tries to not get too many innocent involved because he also knows that not all people are bad, back in the day remembering that some people bought for him and his mother food, some more than just once.

⚔️He also, despite being very harsh, also made sure that people who worked under him, most likely people who had gone to similar shit in their pasts like him, were taken care of as well as their families, making him desired, many people wanting to work for him. But there were special conditions that someone had to fulfill. No drugs, body hygiene and undying loyalty. Because if you betrayed him, he would finish you off mercilessly and stop caring for your family. That was the dark side of him.

⚔️So how managed Levi, a man who had the blood of tons of people on his hands, to fall for you, a rather naive Starbucks barista? Call him crazy because you most likely don’t remember, but you two actually met before back in childhood. You were one of those people who often bought him stuff, be that pastries, sweets or other take away food, letting him choose what he wanted and paying with your own money. Levi never forgot such a kind act, especially not since at that time it was so rare for him to experience friendliness. He never forgot your name, having asked personally for it. And whilst he admitted that he didn’t recognize you at first when one day walking just in the shop, the lightbulb went on in his head when hearing one of the co-workers calling your name, the nagging suspicion that he had seen you somewhere before suddenly making sense. So you were that child from back then!

⚔️Levi wanted to thank you, but couldn’t. There was no guarantee that you even remembered him and there was also the danger that if people would find out that you knew him they would be after you, meaning troubles for him and that would made you a threat he would have to remove, something he didn’t want to do. So instead of thanking you, he just set for transferring a not small amount of money to your account as a kind of payback for your kindness.

⚔️But there was also this certain curiosity in him. Had you changed during all this time? Or were you still the same? You were the first person he had ever met who he still remembered so clearly. It was supposed to be just another small visit to observe you a bit, that was all it should have been.

⚔️So the next time he visited, he sat down, planning to stay for a bit longer and to observe you a bit closer. And in a way he felt relieved that you still were such a unaffected and innocent person, of course a bit too naive, but still the same. In a way Levi was impressed that you really hadn’t changed a bit, still this same childlike grin and more bouncy personality.

⚔️Everything went well, it was just supposed to be a small visit. And that’s all it had been to Levi. That was until he planned to go, but just about as he was to go, you suddenly called after him to wait and give you a moment of his time. At first he was a bit confused to why you wanted to talk to him, but turned around nevertheless, asking you confused what you wanted. And that’s when you said something that shocked him. You asked if you knew him from somewhere, after rubbing your head embarrassed admitting that you reminded him of a kid back then, he might look healthier and have more weight than the child you were referring to, but there were still a lot of similarities. You had never forgotten about that child and just wanted to know if he was by now alright or not, knowing that he had lived under poor conditions.

⚔️For a short second Levi was too shocked to reply, not believing that you still remembered him before mentally slapping himself and declining your offer, telling you that you must confuse him with someone, making you laugh embarrassed and apologize for the sudden interruption, storming back to the store. And Levi watched you for a while longer before continuing his own way, but his mind was in that moment by you. You remembered him! Remembered an insignificant kid for whom many person hadn’t given a care. But after so many years you still remembered and you still cared, making a warm and fuzzy feeling erupt in Levi’s chest. Maybe another visit wouldn’t be too bad?

⚔️One more visit became two, two became three, three became four and very soon he was referred to you as your “loyal guest” since he always came when you were working, Levi having gotten access to your work plans in no time. You two often chatted a bit with each other, Levi often coming when you were about to close to walk a bit with you and get to know you better before having to go his separate way. And you never failed to make his heart flutter, Levi found himself often stunned by how childish you really had remained, often throwing childish tantrums and pouting and sulking when something didn’t go your way. It led Levi to often scolding you slightly that you should start acting like a grownup when in reality he actually liked this behavior of yours. It gave him a feeling of ease, to know that you hadn’t changed at all.

⚔️Levi knew that he wasn’t supposed to enjoy this as much as he did, knew that if the wrong people would find out that you had a connection to him, you would get in huge danger. And he had tried one time before to stop, he really had. But two things had changed his mind. First of all his mind had killed him, his emotions screaming at him to go back. And when he had come back you had nudged him playfully and afterwards poured, saying in a hurt tone that you had missed him. You really were feeding his dark desires, weren’t you? Did you even know who he really was? That he could turn your whole life upside down?

⚔️The more Levi was pulled into this sinister rabbit hole called obsession, the more possessive and stricter he got with you. He started showing his dislike when he saw other people talking to you, walked you now home and even started telling you that you should stay away from certain persons since he got a bad feeling about them. Secretly he felt bad for manipulating you like this, but he couldn’t help. You were his! He wouldn’t let anyone else have you!

⚔️Of course there were moments where he couldn’t be with you due to personal business, but in such moments one it two of his most talented and trusted members were always watching you, knowing too well about their boss’s obsession with you since it was always their job to collect information about you plus they had seen the happiness and love in Levi’s eyes whenever he had spent time with you.

⚔️Levi knows that you two are like lion and mouse, he’s dangerous for you and found endanger your whole life. So at first he would try to start a normal relationship with you, removing every potential rival and gaining all informations on your likings and how to properly court you, even going as far as setting scenarios up where he’ll save you from dangerous situations and make himself look like a hero and if you fall naturally for him, at least at first nothing might look wrong.

⚔️But there are a couple of possibilities to why he could kidnap you. If someone on who’s bad dude he got finds out about you, if you yourself figure it out, reject him or when his possessiveness and paranoia that something might happen to you even after you were willing to start a relationship with him. There will come a time where Levi will take you away from your safe and secure home. He knows that isn’t right, he knows that he shouldn’t do this. But if he would leave you behind and something might happen to you, he would make the world burn.

⚔️If you already know that he’s a mafia, Levi would also tell you that he actually lied to you and is the kid from back then, shattering most likely all your trust in him and causing you to not believe that the small and helpless boy turned into such a powerful and cruel man, even you having heard from this famous and mysterious mafia.

⚔️Levi would never leave your side and if he does, he always has some members of his squad with you which would be the only ones who are allowed to know about your existence. He has a couple of trackers on you, so small that the human eye can’t see them, but deadly affective. He will find you, no matter how far away you are.

⚔️Prepare yourself to often move around, the life of the mafia including to change destination quite often, Levi always making sure to keep a tight security around you. He’s more understanding if you should distance yourself from him after finding out the truth, accepting it to give you more space and let you calm down. But do remember that he hasn’t the best string of patience and at one point will become more aggressive with his behavior. You brat want to act like a child? Fine then, he’ll treat you like one!

⚔️Despite all of this you would be his biggest weakness, his soft spot which can and will break him if you would die. Because Levi would be totally devastated, bottling his emotions up before exploding at one point. It’s better if no one even dares to hurt his darling because Levi will not only strangle this person barehanded, but also wipe out every single person they loved. Only so they know how he would feel if someone would take you away from him.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

School House Blues

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Warnings: N/A

Request from Anon:  Hey so I saw your post that said requests for certain characters were open and I was wondering if I could ask for a din djarin x plus size reader with this prompt please? : (19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. I was thinking the kid could be one of her students! Thank you so much in advance ♥️♥️

Summary: When the bounty hunter strolls into your little mining town you don’t think much of it, but with a little boy in his wake and your school house in disrepair, he becomes more than just a passing visit, but a welcome constant.

Notes: You know me too well, Western AU/historic AU Din is so good as a concept and ughhhhhh this was so wonderful to have requested and I hope desperately that it’s good!

Reader isn’t really specified as plus size just because it didn’t really come up in the story? Although she is described as being quite soft and sweet in appearance. 

Archiveofourown

He comes into town with one hand clenched around his horse’s reins, guiding the bay and white creature with a bounty hogtied swearing and cursing over its rump, and the other hand holding a little boy of no older than six at his hip. It’s quite the sight, one that momentarily distracts you from your grief at the fact you’re teaching your children out of a saloon now since your schoolhouse was burnt to the ground. 

He’s imposing or he would be if the little boy wasn’t smiling up at him with big brown eyes. It’s hard to be imposing when you’re clearly the world of a small child and it makes you smile from the porch of the saloon. You’d been organising the boxes of donations the townsfolk had put together, since all your books, slates, chalk, paper, pencils, and the like had burnt in the fire, when he strolls past. He glances over at you and tips his head, hat dipping over his chestnut eyes and it flusters you for a second when you finally see his face. 

He’s handsome, incredibly so, too handsome to be in your small mining town you think. Deep brown eyes, a prominent nose and plump lips set in a perpetual pout. His jaw is sharp and his beard and moustache are trimmed neatly, despite the bruising on his face and the layer of dirt from the road he’s truly beautiful, a thought that flusters you further. The small boy sat comfortably at his hip and playing with the fabric of his suspenders is adorable, soft round cheeks and large brown eyes, but he doesn’t look much like the man and you’re curious what the story is there. 

The boy is old enough to be in school with you, to sit and learn his letters and to read while the older kids move on to learning about science, history, mathematics and poetry. There are a couple of children his age in your class, Timmy and Mary-Beth, both just getting the hang of gripping a pencil correctly. You wonder if he won’t be joining your class soon or if he and his guardian will be out of town before you can even consider preparing for a new student. 

You watch the man hitch the horse outside the Sheriff’s office, the one that’s not got a sheriff at the moment. You hope he’s not looking for quick pay, the lawman that resided in the Sheriff’s office at the moment was just there until they could find a new sheriff. He’d have to telegram out to get the bounty money. Your last sheriff had up and left after being shot at by a couple of drunk miners, he’d decided that was enough and quite the same day. The town had been a little more unruly since and it was beginning to make you and some of the other townsfolk uneasy without someone to keep the peace. The temporary lawman had been lazy and uninvolved thus far. It was after the sheriff quit that your schoolhouse burnt down and you weren’t sure it was coincidence. 

You watch the man place the boy on his feet and say something quietly to him before brushing his hair fondly. He grabs the bounty off of the horse, and slings the man over his shoulder. It’s impressive that he doesn’t struggle up the steps to the office even with a fully grown man thrown over his shoulder, the little boy follows after him as he goes inside. 

You return to your organisation. There aren’t that many books, not like you used to have. But, while you wait for some of your teaching associates across the country to send you items, they will do. There’s enough paper and some slates for all your students to practice their writing and get their work written down which is a relief and even a globe that the general store owner, Mr Hewitt, had found in a back cupboard for you to have. 

You’re trying to lift one of the boxes of books when he comes back out again, the little boy still trailing behind him, but this time something shiny is pinned to the man’s blue shirt. You don’t think too much about it as you struggle to lift the box, your heavy skirts not helping you move much, hindering your progress and causing you to trip each step forward you take. 

You hear his boots on the wooden stairs before you see him, he towers over you, as he takes his hat off, more polite than most men in town. You get a better look at the shiny thing pinned to his shirt and realise it’s a sheriff’s badge. The same one the old sheriff used to wear, you look from it to him and then down when you hear a little giggle. The little boy is still following after him, a sweet smile turned on you this time as he leans around the man’s legs to watch you.

“Miss, I can take that.” He gestures to the box in your hand, it’s not a question, and it’s straight and to the point. But, you’re grateful for the offer and hand it off to him without complaint. He’s stronger than you, that’s clear to see, his arms thick from years of hard work.

“Thank you…” You wait for him to tell you his name, trailing off as you lead him into the saloon that has been set out for the school day. There is a black board at the front, tables and chairs littered around the room, the liquor shelves have been emptied for books to replace them. 

The fact that Mr Karga had offered the saloon for the school was a miracle and while many in town grumbled about their favourite place of vice no longer admitting them during the day time, most were supportive of the decision to help the kids continue their school. Nevarro wasn’t a large town and mining was its main source of income, but the children deserved a chance to do more than just become miners and the school helped them do that. You helped them get into colleges on scholarships, to find jobs as clerks and apprentices in other parts of the country. 

“Din Djarin.” It’s a nice name, rolls of his tongue like honey. He doesn’t smile, not really, not properly, but there’s a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes that soften his face and make him seem warmer somehow. 

“And this little one?” You smile at the little boy as he begins to bravely step out from behind his guardian to greet you with a smile. He is a quiet boy, not the usual talkative sort you find with a six year old, but who knows what he’s been through even at this young age. 

“Grogu, he’s my…” He furrows his brow, clearly thinking hard on the right word. That alone tells you he is not his son by blood, a small fact that makes him even more interesting. Not many bounty hunters would take in a small child. “Son.” he finally says. Deciding it is the best term. Grogu isn’t his by blood, Din knows this, but the little boy he’d found all alone surrounded by death, was slowly becoming like a son to him. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood. 

“Will he be joining my class? I run the school, currently we’re based here...in the saloon. Not my ideal place to teach but needs must.” You gesture around you to the makeshift classroom. You don’t like that the place still stinks of liquor or that at night it goes back to being a saloon where people drink, gamble, and fight. But, you don’t have a better place right now and the children need somewhere to learn. You can teach in any building, even if you dislike this one. 

You fit the image of a school teacher he thinks. You look like a respectable young woman, dressed appropriately, all neat and proper. Your hair pulled up and pinned away like it’s supposed to be. Everything about you is proper. Part of him wants to see you become ruffled, stop being so demure. It’s a thought that makes him frown at himself, the thoughts inappropriate especially towards a lady like yourself.

“Yes. We’ll be staying for awhile. What happened to the school house, Miss…?” He took on the job as sheriff the moment the lawman offered it, the pay was good, gave him his own accommodation and it meant he could settle down for a bit, give the kid an actual childhood. Bounty hunting was something he was good at but it wasn’t exactly safe to do with a six year old in tow. At least this job used his skills catching lawbreakers and put them to use in a place the kid could grow up. It helps that the teacher of the town is pretty too, he thinks. 

You give him your name before answering his question, “Well, after the last sheriff quit, the schoolhouse burnt down and along with all the things we had in it. Luckily it was at night and none of us were in the building. Burnt right down to the ground, nothing left…” You say it with a heavy sigh, thinking of that sweet little schoolhouse. The white painted wood, the familiar rows of desks with names carved in them, your favourite collection of university level texts at the back for the older and more advanced kids to explore. You had been teaching in that schoolhouse for the last five years and in a way it had become a second home for you, if you weren’t at your own little home, then you were in the schoolhouse marking work or planning lessons for the coming days. 

“Anyone know what caused it?” 

“No. We didn’t exactly have the mind to investigate and if it wasn’t an accident it was probably just some drunk who didn’t know any better. But, we make do and Grogu,” You crouch down next to the small child, moving your skirts to do so comfortably, “will fit right in, I think, don’t you?” The little boy smiles at you and giggles, before hiding behind his father’s leg again. 

“Have any plans been made to rebuild the schoolhouse?” Sheriff Djarin it seems is very straight and to the point, his tone isn’t unkind or aggressive, but his words are clipped, short, brusque as if he’s not quite used to being more flowery or saying much. You supposed a bounty hunter didn’t typically need to say much, but you hope he’ll become more comfortable with talking, at least to you, as time goes on. 

“No...i’ve been trying to put some pressure on the mayor to get it done but...he just doesn’t seem to care all that much now there’s a temporary solution.” You say as you begin unpacking the box that he brought inside, exercise books are brought out and sorted into piles, ready for the children to write their names on the covers and start afresh. 

He frowns, brow furrowing deep, lips turned down at the thought of the schoolhouse just never being rebuilt. It’s clear to him that saloon isn’t the place for a school and it’s even clearer that you are distressed with your new working arrangement, that you miss having a building that is entirely your own and entirely dedicated to teaching young minds. 

“I’ll sort something out. Is class starting soon?”

“Yes, not...not long now.” You double check the clock realising the kids will begin arriving in less than an hour and you feel wholly unprepared for the first day of school since the schoolhouse burnt down. 

You watch him crouch in front of Grogu, hand ruffling his hair fondly, “You’re going to stay here today, get some learnin’ in ya. I’ve got things to do, but I'll be back later, promise.” You’re surprised and warmed when he puts out his pinky finger for the kid to grab, a little promise that seems to you like something more. You wonder if the boy was scared of being left again, if this was Din’s way of reassuring his new son that he wasn’t going to leave him. The little boy wraps his whole hand around Din’s pinkie not quite understanding how the promises work yet.

“Have a good day of teaching, Miss Y/N.” He nods his head at you, grabbing his hat as he walks out the saloon with a purpose. The hat is placed on his head the moment he’s out of the doors and it’s that little element of politeness that surprises you. He carries himself like a gentleman but looks like any other rough and tumble man wandering the west. But it’s his treatment of Grogu that confirms the sort of man that he is. 

I’ll sort something out. You smiled to yourself realising that perhaps the new sheriff would be the best thing to happen to this town in a while. Someone who actually got things done for once. 

“Do you want to find your seat? Maybe do some drawing before class starts, Grogu?” You ask the little boy smiling at him as he nervously shifts from foot to foot, looking back out the doors as if hoping his father would walk back in. It’s clear he hasn’t had to do this before, be separated from him and left with a stranger, but you put on your softest smile and gentlest voice and wait patiently for him to nod his head before offering him your hand. 

He takes your hand and you help him get settled into his seat, you decide to put him near the front so you can help him easily and get him settled near you. He only knows you after all, and you think being around all the kids and far away from familiarity might be too much. You give him some paper, scrap bits that you don’t need anymore and a pencil leaving him to draw while you get ready for class.

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

The school day goes...well, it’s hectic and your hair is frizzy and falling out of the updo you styled it in that morning by the end. The children are unsettled in this new environment, the older kids, those nearing adulthood frustrated by the younger kids who can’t seem to focus or be quiet. Your brain feels too large for your skull and you sigh out a goodbye to your students as they leave out the saloon doors, one or two shoving through the swinging shutters much faster than needed. 

Grogu is the quietest of your students, sweet and attentive, he doesn’t speak a word, but follows your instructions well. He is behind on his writing letters and reading, that much you know from working with him, but he’s a quick learner and applies himself with a determination you rarely see. He doesn’t always play well with others. At lunch time you’d noticed him stealing food from the other children. It continued despite giving him your own lunch knowing his father hadn’t had time to prepare him something after coming straight into town and getting to work. He doesn’t share well either, but seemed to understand when you sat him down and talked to him about it. You suppose that being away from other children and only travelling with your father figure who would share his food with you without a thought, it must be confusing. The manners that he now has to observe, the rules of society that he’s never had to worry about until now. He looks suitably admonished despite the gentle way you chose to talk about it with him, that alone makes you think he’ll likely stop stealing the children’s cookies and be more willing to share. 

“David, careful!” You call out when one of your older students nearly gets trampled underneath the sheriff’s horses’ hooves as he runs across the thoroughfare without looking. 

“Sorry, miss!” David calls back over his shoulder, still storming ahead your warning lost on him. 

You sigh heavily and rub at your temples, stress enveloping you. A tug, swift and sharp on your skirt has you looking down. Grogu has a hand fisted in the fabric, pulling to get your attention. Once he has it, his arms open, hands up towards you, opening and closing, a universal gesture to be lifted. 

It surprises you, he is...quiet and reserved. You expected time to be needed before he was comfortable with you in any respect, especially after having to tell the boy off. Instead, he lets you lift him to your hip, hands reaching for strands of your hair and twisting them, surprisingly gently between his chubby little fingers. 

You watch your students run in different directions through town, their books and lunch pails in tow. Some stop on the open green, playing games together before their parents demand them back home for dinner. The warm little body in your arms is a soothing presence and the boy almost looks like he wants to say something, but just makes a soft cooing sound instead.

“Not much of a talker are you, little one?” He almost shrugs his little shoulders before looking up at the sound of heavy footsteps and clinking spurs. The sheriff leads his horse up to you, eyes following David with a shake of his head. Clearly, just as bemused as you at his lack of common sense.

Grogu smiles and giggles happily at the sight of his father, arms reaching out for him. You pass him over to Din, trying to ignore how close you get to the man to do it. He radiates warmth and smells woodsy mixed with some sort of soap he must use. This close you can see little birthmarks dotted across his neck. 

You step back once the boy is settled in his arms and smile, soft but tired. “Sheriff, how was your first day on the job?” 

He gives you a humoured smirk, one you’re not expecting, it takes you aback slightly. He looks...charming, approachable. Little dimples at his cheeks that soften his features in a way that makes you want to step closer. With a huff, not quite a laugh, he says, “Eventful.”

“That makes two of us, sheriff.” He notices the tired creases beneath your eyes, the once unrumpled appearance now dishevelled, hair coming out of its updo and blouse and skirt wrinkled and creased. You look like you’d had a rough day and he hopes Grogu wasn’t part of the cause. He still hadn’t figured out how to discipline the kid, he always turned those big brown eyes on him and he just couldn’t tell him no. 

“Din. Call me Din.” 

“Then you should call me Y/N.” There’s a moment of silence. You stare at him, at the way his hat casts shadows over his face, at the gentle hold he has on Grogu, the open top buttons of his work shirt and the dig of suspenders into his shoulders. He stares back at you. The gentle softness of your cheek, the marks that make your skin your skin and not someone else's. 

“We’re going to start building the schoolhouse as soon as the wood shipment gets here, I sent a telegram off today to get some good lumber in.” It surprises you in the most delightful way. When you said the mayor had been dragging his heels you meant it, but you hadn’t expected this new face to come in and make a start on what the mayor had been reluctant to do. 

“We’re?”

“I’ve convinced some of the men around town to pitch in and I know a thing or two about building.” In truth he’d intimidated more than persuaded. Most of the men were lazy, and had more concern for their own vices than for helping out. But, a mixture of convincing them they’d get their saloon back and reminding them that he was now the town’s sheriff seemed to get a few of the stronger and more skilled townsfolk to agree to help. 

“You’re the sheriff. You shouldn’t be building the schoolhouse, Din. You’ve got more important things to do.” You feel bad that he’s doing this, being quite so involved, when he’s starting a new job, one that takes up most of his time. Being a sheriff is a full time job, almost 24 hours a day 7 days a week. He has people to keep in line, criminals to catch, laws to enforce, and building a schoolhouse wasn’t on his list of priorities. It’s sweet and makes your heart ache oddly, but you feel guilty for adding another thing to his plate. 

“This is important, Miss...Y/N. The kid can’t learn in a saloon forever and you can’t work here forever neither.” He can see how desperately you want your schoolhouse back and something in him wants to provide that for you, to care for you. He tells himself it’s also for the kid, that his son deserves a proper schoolhouse to learn in. That all foundlings, all little children deserved a place to learn, like he had growing up in the covert.

“At least...at least let me and the children bring food and water down once you get started. I...you’ve not even been here a whole day and you’re already doing more than anyone else ever has...Thank you, Din.”

“It’s my pleasure, meg ba'jurir” You do not understand what he calls you, but you recognise that cadence, the rhythm of the language. Can almost see the symbolic nature of the alphabet. It surprises you that he knows what you’re sure is Mando’a, having only heard one other person in your life ever speak it. Mandalorian family groups were uncommon, but where they were they seemed to keep people in order, to value community. It made sense that he would take on the job of sheriff, adopt a child not of his own blood, if that were the case. 

You bite your tongue and don’t ask, you don’t know him and it is too personal to ask about his upbringing, culture or heritage. Perhaps, after you know him better you can ask, but you can almost hear your headmistress at school reminding you about manners and decorum even in a little mining town. 

“He didn’t...he didn’t cause any trouble today did he? He’s not used to being around others or...we’ve been on the road for a long time now.” He looks down at the little boy sitting at his hip, who’s playing with the metal star on his shirt. He knew that Grogu could be difficult, sweet, adorable, hard to say no to, but undisciplined and not used to the rules that people usually abided by. 

“I...I did have to have a word with him today…” You can already tell Din’s disappointed. He clearly loves the boy, but part of loving a child is wanting better for them and getting in trouble isn’t part of that. 

Din sighs heavily before catching the boy’s eye, “Ad’ika…”The boy clearly knows what’s going on and hides his face in his father’s shirt, suitably embarrassed about his behaviour. You think that’s enough to probably deter him from stealing from other kids in the future. You also think you might bake him some treats and use them as an incentive to work hard. You suspect bribery would work well with Grogu. 

“He paid attention beautifully and he’s already doing so well with learning his letters, but he’s...he’s quite…” You try to think of the best way to say that the boy just can’t resist taking other children’s food. 

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Y/N. You can tell me.” You look Din in the eyes, deep brown meeting your own and sigh out before speaking.

“He likes to steal the other children’s food. I gave him my lunch and he still tried to steal Charlie’s cookies and Mary Beth’s macarons. I know he’s probably used to food being a thing he can just have since you’ve been travelling as a family unit…”

“Osik... I forgot to give him lunch. I am a terrible father…” Din looks at his feet, free hand rubbing over the scruff on his jaw. You feel the instant need to reassure him. 

“You’re not a terrible father. You just came into town this morning, immediately took on a job, and instantly went to work. You’re not a terrible father.” You hesitate, but reach forward anyway, a hand on his arm giving a quick reassuring squeeze. 

“Vor entye, Y/N. Thank you. Have you eaten?” 

“Oh…” You hadn’t really thought about it, that you’d given your food to Grogu to stop him going hungry and that you’d spent all day teaching with little more than the porridge you’d made yourself that morning to keep you going.

“Don’t even think about lying to the sheriff.” You did in fact consider lying to him, but the look he gave you reminded you of an overbearing mother hen who wouldn’t let you get away with it. Combined with the fact he was indeed the new sheriff, you felt it best to stick to the truth for now. 

“No...I haven’t.” You admit, feeling suitably admonished by him and a little guilty for even considering lying about. 

Din adjusts Grogu on his hip and nods his head behind him towards the street, “Come, I’ll buy you dinner at the café.”

“You don’t have to, Din. I can make dinner at home.” You think back to the soup you were going to make that night, and even though you haven’t the energy in truth to make dinner, you can’t ask him to buy you it. It is too much and unnecessary. Any good teacher would have made sure their students were fed. 

“You kept my ad fed in place of yourself. I’m buying you dinner.” His voice left no room for argument and so you found yourself following after him across the street towards Reeva’s Café. 

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

Din’s presence in town becomes apparent very quickly. He does not allow the men to wander drunk through the streets, start fights, or harass women. He does not suffer law breakers or those who cause the peace to break. He is swift, effective, and there isn’t a member of town who doesn’t respect his authority even if some don’t particularly like having to listen to him. 

For you it is a refreshing change. You don’t worry about the children wandering around town in the evenings or about walking out of your home at night. You don’t worry about your meager belongings being stolen or a fight breaking out in the saloon on an evening and ruining the few bits you have for the school. 

He is quiet and polite, not much of a talker, but everything he does shows a man of honour and good morals. He is sweet with the children as well. 

It had become common place for him, while waiting for the lumber to begin the schoolhouse, to come into the saloon while you were teaching. He said it was because the day time left little for him to do as sheriff, but you think he just enjoys helping with the children. They make him smile. A real smile. 

Sometimes he just sits with his son on his lap and helps him with his letters, other times he wanders between tables helping those who need it or using his presence to quiet the children after an exciting lunch break. Reminding them to respect you, their teacher, and listen.

Your favourite, and the childrens’ favourite times were when he’d sit down and tell them stories of his travels. For a man who didn’t speak much, Din Djarin was a natural born storyteller. 

That’s how you found yourself taking a step back, sitting on one of the saloon bar stools off to the side as Din took your place at the front of the class. He had an ability with the little ones that amazed you, none were ever scared of him despite his height, posturing or the guns holstered at his side and slung over his back. He always managed to make them smile and laugh, always got their curiosity going and inspired them equally. He made it a point whenever he talked to your class to share stories of both men and women he’d met who’d done amazing things, you could tell he was trying to get the girls in your class to see they could be more than housewives or washerwomen and you appreciated it. 

“So there I am standing toe to toe with the biggest grizzly you’ve ever seen…” He gestures with his hands, standing at the front, arms out front to show just how large this grizzly bear was. His voice took on a different, more dramatic quality then normal. Grogu clapped his hands from his seat on your lap, the little boy having grown increasingly comfortable around you.

“Now this grizzly has to be 8ft standin’, and he’s the angriest bear you’ve ever seen and i’m sure that’s the end of me. I’m about to become a grizzly bear’s dinner, Sheriff Djarin stew!” You laugh along with the kids at the prospect of Din becoming stew for a grizzly bear, you’re never sure how much is fiction or truth in his stories, although part of you wouldn’t be surprised if they were all completely true. He was...he always seemed larger than life despite being so quiet. Like some sort of figure out of a western story.

“When out of nowhere, charging between me and this mean grizzly, comes the largest bull moose I've ever seen…” 

“What’d you do?” Mary Beth pipes up, big blue eyes open wide. 

“Well, I got the he-” He stops himself looking at you, you raise an eyebrow reminding him that cussing around the children would not do well for him, “-out of there as quickly as I could! One thing you should never do is stay around to fight a grizzly, never ends well to go toe to toe with one. That moose was being kind and giving me a chance to get away.” It amuses you that he always manages to twist a moral into the story. This time about kindness and helping those weaker than yourself, along with a healthy dose of not getting into situations with angry grizzly bears of course. 

“Well, I think it’s time I let Miss Y/N, get on with her mathematics lesson.” Groans and grumbling rises up from your students as you place Grogu in his seat and begin making your way to the front. You watch Din frown at them, hands on his belt, leaning into one hip more than the other. He is the perfect picture of a disappointed father. Lips twisting downwards, pulling on his moustache. 

“Hey, now! Miss Y/N always makes your lessons fun so don’t you start giving her trouble or else i’ll have to stop coming in for story time.” It’s a threat that promptly has them settling quietly in their chairs and getting their books and pencils out.

You rest a gentle hand on his arm when you reach him, quietly telling him thank you. It’s heavy with meaning. Thank you for being there for the children. Thank you for providing them with stories. Thank you for always settling them and reminding them to respect me. Thank you for thinking about the schoolhouse. Thank you for settling the town and keeping the peace. 

He just nods at you with the smallest hint of a smile, enough to make you feel the tiniest bit flustered as you watch him walk to the chair where he’d left his hat, holsters, and lasso. 

“Say goodbye to the sheriff, children.” You tell them as all of you watch him make his way to the doors. He stops before them and tips his hat at you all with a smile, but the moment he’s out the doors it drops and in his place is the hard sheriff who won’t stand for trouble. 

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

Once the lumber comes in and the plans have been drawn up and approved by yourself, at Din’s insistence, the work begins. The schoolhouse design had been run past you because Din didn’t want to miss anything that was needed or that would help you teach. He had told you not to worry about size, scale or cost, that the community was pitching in and that the mayor had found a fund tucked away somewhere for the school. The fund miraculously appeared after Din had a long meaningful chat with him.

He wouldn’t tell you that he’d made threats against the mayor about digging up some of his dirty laundry, but he had. The mayor had a lot of skeletons in his closet and also a nice stack of credits he was sitting on in his own personal mayoral vault. The fact that the mayor had been so reluctant to rebuild the schoolhouse when he easily could have almost made Din see red, but he didn’t think it would look good if he beat the man to the curb as sheriff. He was supposed to be upstanding and law abiding, if he wasn’t why would any of the townsfolk be? 

A few days into the project you decided it was time you made good on your promise to come to the site during lunch time with the children to bring water and some food. You and the children collect pails of water and the baked goods you’d made the night before, trudging through the streets. You held Grogu on one hip, the small child the slowest of his classmates, and carried a heavy pail of water in the other, so heavy your shoulder slumped down on that side to accommodate the weight. 

The children were happy to help, after all, many of their fathers and older brothers were working on the school site and it was a chance in the school day to see people they cared about. You were also sure they wanted to ask the sheriff a multitude of questions and beg for a story, but you’d reminded them that they weren’t there to get in the way or interrupt the work, just to offer food and water.

You’d reluctantly admitted to Reeva that you found the sheriff attractive, after the older woman badgered you day in and day out about the time you spent with him. You could admit he was handsome. His eyes were deep brown and spoke more words then he often did. He had both a look that could intimidate and also soften into something warm and safe. The beard and moustache he sported made him look ruggedly handsome and his shoulders were broad and wide. He looked like he’d stepped out of a story book or from an illustrated newspaper short story. Rugged but clean, dangerous but kind. 

You had to admit though that this was your favourite look on him. As you came upon the building site he was busy sawing a plank of pine in two. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow exposing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His suspenders had been flung off his shoulders, resting at sides no longer covering the strong back that was tensed as he worked. The top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, almost indecently so to show a pronounced collar bone, strong neck, and dark chest hair and the brown hair on his head had begun to curl from the sweat he was working up. It shouldn’t have been attractive. He should have looked like any other man working up a sweat, you shouldn’t have wanted to wipe his brow and brush your fingers through the curls of his hair. But you did. 

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself you look down at the little boy at your hip, “Should we go say hello to your father?” 

“Papa!” He clapped his hands at you in confirmation. You’d slowly learnt that papa was one of the only words he said, you weren’t sure if he chose not to speak or simply couldn’t. But, given his increasing aptitude with writing his letters, you thought it likely that he simply chose not to speak. 

The call instantly has Din’s head popping up from his work like a startled deer and you watch as his eyes roam across the children until he catches sight of his son at your hip. The smile that lights his face is so bright that it’s almost blinding, there is a longing you feel whenever you see his happiness to see Grogu. Some deep part of you that desires that sort of family bond. He loves his son so deeply, it doesn’t matter to him that their blood isn’t the same and part of you wants desperately to be part of that love and happiness. 

“Children, hand out the food and water, will you? But be careful!” You remind them as they run towards familiar faces, it is still a building site after all, and the last thing you need is a child getting hurt in any way. 

Din finishes sawing the plank before striding over to you, hand pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. You look...radiant. The summer sun shining over you, causing your skin to glow, your hair to shine. Your smile is as soft as your eyes and you're gentle in the way you hold his son to your hip, like he belonged there. Like the two of you belonged together. Din can admit that he enjoys your company more than he probably should, he can even admit that a part of him deeply desires you, wants you to join his family unit, become part of his aliit. You’re tender and kind to all the children you teach, your children as you often call them, and you’re incredibly kind to Grogu who you treat with more understanding than most school teachers ever would. You keep order in your classroom through kindness and mutual respect, not through fear or punishment. The maternal shine to you draws him to you in a way that, had he not been Mandalorian, he might be ashamed of. But, family is everything to him, Grogu is everything to him and if he is to put down roots here, he can’t help but consider putting down roots with you.

It’s a silly thought though, you’ve not known each other long and he isn’t well to do or gentlemanly. You’re far better educated than him, kinder than him, and it is a pipe dream that he doubts will ever come to fruition. It doesn’t help that he struggles at times to even talk to you, let alone make his feelings known. 

“Miss me, Ad’ika?” He calls to the little boy, carefully pulling him from your arms when you offer him. If you allow yourself to, you can almost imagine he’s taking your own child from you, that the two of you have formed some sort of family. But, you are just his son’s teacher and he is just the sheriff of your small town. 

The boy babbles at him, not real words, nonsense, or attempts at words that don’t translate, but you can see that improving. Can almost imagine what settling down here can do for the boy, give him a chance to learn, grow, make friends, and find some stability and safety. 

“He’s been itching to come over all day, they all have. I was struggling to get them to focus on their history lesson.” You had 15 children all desperate to get out of the saloon and visit their fathers for lunch. It had been a...very difficult lesson to say the least and you still felt a little frazzled. 

“History?” The boy tugs at his father’s hair and you watch him wince as he speaks, pulling little chubby hands from brown curls. 

“The fall of the empire and the rise of the republic. Not the most riveting subject for them I'm sure, they much prefer when I tell them about different societies rather than politics.” You want to say like Mandalore and the Mandalorians because you want to draw him in, desperate to have more of his time even when he’s already doing so much for you. You enjoy the odd hour here and there when he takes over your class and becomes the teacher, where you can just sit and listen, learn yourself. 

“Mandalorians believe that our history is our future. We learn it as soon as we can walk.”

“So it is Mando’a you’ve been speaking?” It warms you to see him open up to you like this. He is a private man, quiet, and insular. While he can yell with the best, and demand attention, can intimidate and even persuade, it’s all part of his job. The face he puts on as sheriff. He is quiet about himself, sharing little and not so often. You revel in the trust placed in you wherever he tells you a little something more about himself. 

“You noticed?” Most people don’t even know Mando’a exists, let alone recognise that the words he slips into his speech are such. He finds they slip out more around you, than with others. He’s comfortable with, he is happy to share himself, his culture with you and it...it is a startling discovery about himself. He has been insular and closed off for longer than he would like to admit. 

“I can’t speak it and I..I don’t know it well, but, I recognise the cadence. I grew up in Naboo and there was a Mandalorian there, she used to speak it when I would sit and practice my letters with her.” Atin’a Caivass was a kind woman to you even if she could be hard. She had been one of your teachers, always pushing you harder, to do better. Yet, it had never felt frustrating or like a chore, the Mandalorian had always made it a desire to impress her, but also to prove to yourself that you could. She had always been kind to you and the other children, gentle but firm, like you were one of her own. You saw similarities with how Din treated the children. He was kind and gentle, but never overlooked an opportunity to firmly correct their behaviour or mistakes. A perfect balance. Not too soft and not too harsh. 

“You never learnt?”

“She was very protective of it and I...I was always too afraid to ask.” You confess. You had always been fascinated with it, like any young child when faced with a new language, but you had always believed it something sacred, and had worried that you would offend her if you asked to learn. “Ad’ika? What does it mean?”

He can’t help but laugh at your pronunciation and sounds it out for you, “Ah-Dee-Kah, it means little one.” 

“Ah-dee-kuh?” You are even more beautiful, he thinks when you butcher his language, trying so hard to get it right that your eyebrows scrunch together and your eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Ah-Dee-Kah” The little one squirms in his arms and he places him on the ground, only to watch him plunk himself on his bottom and play with the dirt. He had always had a fascination with dirt and rocks, more so than any of the toys he had actually brought or made him. 

“Ah-Dee-Kah”

“Perfect.” You smile blindingly at his praise and he wonders if he can forgo his job as sheriff and simply teach you Mando’a every minute of every day. “You can always ask. If you want to learn. It’s nice to hear it from another person’s lips, not just mine.”

“I would like that very much...maybe when you’re less busy? You’re rather booked up at the moment, what with being sheriff, storytime for the children, and building a schoolhouse. You’re a busy man, Din Djarin.”

“I like to keep my hands busy.” You look down at your feet before looking back up at him, unsure how to respond to what you were sure was meant as a perfectly innocent comment. Din almost swears, osik, once he realises how that sounds, lifting hand to the back of his neck to rub it. 

The silence that you fall into isn’t uncomfortable necessarily, but feels almost solid, like a physical thing and not just the quiet that comes with two people not talking for a moment. There’s a tension there that is not wholly unpleasant but hard to describe or pin down. 

Seeming to remember the pail of water you’re carrying you place it in front of him, “Water, so you can clean off or if you’re thirsty. There’s some pastries somewhere as well, to keep you all fed...Can’t have you keeling over on us or else we’d never get our schoolhouse.” 

You take a step back and cast your gaze around, making note of where each of your 15 kids are. You’re caught watching Jerome splash water on Annie, about to go and tell him off when you hear splashing much closer to you. 

You thought he couldn’t excite you more than he already had. Thought that Din Djarin couldn’t possibly tempt you more, cause your well-mannered sensibilities to crumble further. You were utterly, terribly, ridiculously wrong. 

There’s something to be said about the man pouring half a pail of water over his head to rub away the sweat and dirt from a hard day working in the summer sun. He flicks his head back, long neck outstretched as water droplets fall like mirror glass over his tanned skin. His hair sticks to his skin, kissing it in a way you realise you desperately want to and his shirt clings to broad shoulders with the familiarity of a lover. 

You spin back around away from him flustered, determined not to look as you march towards Jerome. You decide in that moment that perhaps it’s best not to bring pails of water at lunch time. You might just not survive to see the school built. 

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

For the next two months your routine features lunch time trips with the children to bring water and sometimes food to the men building the schoolhouse, and the odd afternoon story time hour when Din feels confident enough to leave the others to continue working without his guidance. Each day the schoolhouse comes together more and more and each day you fall a little bit more in...in whatever these feelings for the sheriff were. 

You also have the startling realisation that Grogu has wormed his little way into your heart in a way that none of your other students have. You have a soft spot for the little boy, especially as he becomes more vocal, begins to say more little words, including the delightful name ‘Miss Y/N’. 

Din is a temptation in himself, each time he teaches you another word or phrase in Mando’a and his lips wrap around syllables or every time he works hard to build the schoolhouse muscles pulling taut underneath the weight of wood. He tempts you in a way that no one ever has and you can’t quite explain what it is about this man that makes you desire to be in his presence, to kiss him, to hold him, to be close to him both physically and emotionally. You want to know everything about him, to understand him better than you understand yourself. 

In some ways it is a relief when the schoolhouse is finished and in other ways it feels like a loss. Part of your routine, part of the day where you always see Din was no longer needed or necessary.

When you bring the children over at lunch time, it’s to show them the finished building, the one they’ll be in come Monday morning once you have the time to move all the books and other odds and ends into it. They’re all excited as are you, to see it...it strikes you in the heart so badly that you can’t move your feet, can only stare at the building with tears in your eyes. 

It’s beautiful. Not large, but larger than the old one. Freshly painted white, with a school bell hanging out front. It strikes you that this isn’t just a schoolhouse, but it’s your schoolhouse. Din had been adamant about building it for you. 

“Children, why don’t you go inside and take a look? You’ll be here on Monday!” You wave them all off as they run ahead and up the wooden steps, throwing the door open none too gently. “Careful! We only just got it!” You call out and receive a series of sorries back. 

“Shall we go find your buir?” You look down at Grogu, who’s hand is holding the heavy fabric of your skirt. He smiles up at you and nods his head with a quick little ‘papa’ that has your heart warming. 

You hear him before you see him, “Now don’t go breaking the tables when we’ve only just put them together, girls!” Already laying down the law to 3 of your children as you enter the schoolhouse. They had seemingly been swinging on tables in a most ill-mannered fashion that has you putting on your teacher-face and raising an eyebrow at them from behind Din. They promptly stop and return their feet to the floor with an abashed look.

“Sorry, Sheriff. Sorry Miss.” They call to you both before scurrying away in hopes of avoiding punishment, leaving you, Din and Grogu alone in the main room for the building. You let it go. It isn’t an issue, they need to learn to respect things, and not damage them, but that does not have to come at the cost of punishment when a quick look and a reminder does enough. 

Din spins at them calling out to you, faster than he seems to have expected, looking decidedly dizzy for a second before the mask of sheriff falls right back into place. 

“Y/N, how do you like it?” He opens his arms wide and gestures to the main room of the schoolhouse. A large blackboard already nailed to the wall at the back, rows of tables and chairs set up so every child could see you. A desk at the front for your things. It is sweet and fits your needs infinitely better than a saloon ever would. You even note the bookcases along the walls, enough space to place many of your books for the children to have easy access for when they wish to learn something more than you could teach them. 

“It’s...it’s wonderful, Din. It’s beautiful. I...I can’t thank you enough...I...I’m a little lost for words.” You can feel the happy tears starting to pool in your eyes again, the gratitude making you a little bit emotional. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for this.”

“You...you don’t need to repay me, Mesh’la. This...you and the children deserve a school, a place to teach and learn. You don’t have to thank me or repay me for doing what the damn mayor should have done in the first place.”

You nearly don’t do it. Nearly let that fear that wells up inside you and the proper manners, the belief that you were about to be far too forward than was ladylike, stop you. But, you think back to his kindness, his gentle nature, the calm and order he’s brought to town. The son of his that you have a large soft spot for. The handsomeness of his features, the sharpness of his profile. The gentle hand he always places on your back as he helps escort you somewhere. The respect he shows you at every turn and his willingness to share his culture and upbringing with you. You think of all the things that make up the Din Djarin you know and you think of what he has come to mean to you. 

With a silent prayer and an apology to your late headmistress for being more forward than is ladylike, you push yourself forward and into him. Lips soft and chaste lifting to meet his, only briefly. You do not push for more than a second of contact, but it is enough, you hope, to get the thought and intent across. That he is someone you would like to get to know more, that he is someone you could happily be courted by, even marry one day.  

He doesn’t even have time to blink, it happens so fast. One minute you are standing a few steps away from him thanking him, the next your lips are pressed to his in the shortest sweetest kiss he’s ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. It takes another second for him to realise what’s happened before he’s reaching a hand out to cup the nape of your neck and drag your lips back to his for a significantly more substantial kiss that leaves you a little breathless. 

When you pull away from each other you don’t go far. Din presses his forehead to yours, hawkish nose pressing into your cheek, a soft touch that grounds you with his presence. The hand at your neck, rubs a soothing thumb across your skin. Your own have chosen to grasp at the suspenders over his shoulders, to keep in close proximity. 

“I’d very much like to court you, Miss Y/N.”

“I think i’d like that, sheriff.” 

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

Mando’a Translations

 Meg Ba'jurir - roughest way I could get to someone who educates or a teacher with meg being who and ba’jurir being educate

Osik - Shit

Vor entye - Thank You

Ad - son

Ad’ika - Little one, term of endearment for small children

Buir - Father also Mother basically parent. 

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Aliit - Family (Clan)

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

Taglist for this fic: 

@lex-ham​

[jinxedpanda4life]

DamiRae Hospital AU?

  No I am not writing one, if I could write well I would though! So here are some HCs for a hospital AU.    If someone decides to write this then I’ll be your first reader. Also I am sort of basing things off of Grey’s Anatomy just a bit and my limited knowledge of the medical field.

- Starts of as 1st year residents, specialties may vary

- The “Titans” are residents and 1st years that show great promise, this doesn’t really play a role its just what people call them behind their backs

- Dr. Kori Anders is a OBGYN (women parts and birth) resident, a year or two away from finishing

- Dr. Richard “Dick” Grayson is is a surgery resident, trained by the hospital owner Bruce Wayne (who is a world renowned surgeon, has awards, etc), specifically general surgery

- Dr. Garfield Logan is pediatrician (kid doctor) res, bonds well with kids, but is considering going back to school to become a vet instead

- Dr. Jaime Reyes is an oncology (cancer doctor), having had cancer as a teen and is now forever trying to rid the world of it, works mostly with kids and teens

- Dr. Jonathan Kent is a physical therapist that works with pain management. Up beat guy and is always trying to brighten his patient’s lives.

- Dr. Damian Wayne is a surgical intern, blood thirsty little thing, hoping to become a neurosurgeon (brain, spine) (or cardiothoracic (heart, lungs) both are competitive)

- Dr. Raven Roth is an anesthesiologist (the drug person that knocks you out) and is starting her surgical internship (she wanted to do more than just help people get high essentially or whatever) has no current preference for any specific surgical field

- Add in characters:

-- Dr. Jason Todd, trauma surgeon (fits too well)

-- Dr. Timothy Drake diagnostician (medical detective basically) 

-- Dr. Donna Troy gynecologist

-- Terra Markov is a nurse (i don’t like Terra but nurses are the actual best)

- Story stuff:

- Damian and Raven meet as they are put under the guidance of the same resident

-Damian has an automatic dislike for Raven because she knows everyone already and is equally, if not much more, knowledgable about surgery, the OR, the ER, protocol, etc  He also thinks she is cold because she rarely shows emotion (pot kettle Damian)

- Raven can always be found in the medical archives researching old cases and studying new ones, Damian stumbles upon her when looking for an old cardiomegaly case (enlarged heart).

- Raven gets along with all of the past ‘Robins’ making her a go to intern

- Garfield can be seen whenever he is not needed trying to flirt with Nurse Markov and often goes to Raven to sulk 

- Damian and Raven are always early to pre-rounds and are typically the first ones there (usually early in the morning, getting there before 500)

- Jon bumps into Damian more often than not and they start becoming friends (Damian is reluctant at first and is still you know Damian about everything), Damian even recommends patients to him 

- Though Damian doesn’t want to really ‘hang out’ with anyone he reluctantly hangs out with the Titans, because of Jon and Dick

            - When in a large group when at a bar, club or whatever Damian tends to stay close to Raven because 1) they actually have things to talk about 2) she isn’t loud

- Raven & Damian are both assigned to a case that is frankly befuddling and have to start spending long nights and early mornings together to figure it out

- Over that period of time they learn things about each other:

-- Raven learns: 

Damian has a dog (Titus) and cat (Alfred) 

He is single (Kori told her) and lives in an apartment close to the hospital

He has lived in various countries

He is trained in multiple martial arts 

He prefers his tea with brown sugar and a slice of lemon 

His eyes are a true emerald color with a ring of gold and flecks scattered within 

He may hide it well but when Raven compliments him he becomes flustered

He speaks to himself in Arabic when he curses, trying to remember something, doesn’t want anyone to know what he is saying

He isn’t always an asshole

When he actually smiles a true and genuine smile, she has heart palpitations

-- Damian learns:

Raven has two tattoos (neither are a bird), a gang tat (she is saving up to get it removed), and a mantra in Azarathian; Azarath Metrion Zinthos

She immigrated from Azarath when she was around 8

Her notes are in Azarathian

She actually feels a lot of emotion and knows how to control them

If she is not reading about a current or past case she is reading any book or file she can get her hands on, he has caught her reading in multiple different languages; Azarathian, English, French, Russian, Arabic, Dutch, Mandarin, (could be more or less)

She lives alone and has a cat, Nevermore, and thanks to Dick he already knew she was single

She likes all tea, no matter how prepared, but prefers the sweetener to be honey

Her hair is black but shines purple, especially under the ER lights

Her eyes are a purple that at first glance look blue, like Elizabeth Taylor, he realizes though her eyes are galaxies on their own 

When she smiles the world actually stops moving, her eyes shine like stars and he never wants the world to start moving again

She always wears a necklace with a gold and ruby ring at all times (it was her mother’s wedding ring)

- When Damian starts having le feelings for Raven he considers actually seeking medical advice as this has never happened to him before

- Raven tries her best to contain her feelings when at work, going so far as one day a month staying home just to scream, cry and feel her feelings

- It does not help that new feelings towards Damian start popping up, especially since he starts bringing her tea and hanging out with her at work

- During the middle of their 2nd year of residency someone holds Raven hostage in the hospital to fix someone that person loves (this person had connections to Trigon and knew who Raven was)

- That was not a fun time for either Damian or Raven; Damian was outside the hospital pacing trying to figure something out with the other Titans trying to calm themselves and him down

- Shots are fired and when all is said and done, Raven gets shot in the abdomen and the hand (she was in ICU for a hot sec)

- Damian seemed to be there every time Raven woke up, he was always checking on her during rounds even though he wasn’t on her case

- Raven did have to have surgery on her hand and in her abdomen (idk where i’m not getting that specific), she hated being, in her words, coddled 

- Even though Raven was right handed (the one that got shot) she learned how to do everything, writing, eating, going to the bathroom, etc. (many of the other residents are impressed since she keeps working on it after her other hand heals)

- Raven’s room also becomes a space for other residents to destress and just vent about their day. She listens and gives advice, all without looking up from whatever she was doing. 

- During this time Raven becomes hooked on Pretty Pretty Pegasus

- Raven’s room is also full of cards, flowers, etc all from fellow staff and some from patients. When she leaves (she spends a couple weeks in thanks to multiple surgeries, recovery, and other minor injuries) all of the gifts litter her apartment, the cards end up in a box by her desk, she presses the flowers, and stuffed animals are donated to children’s shelter (she keeps some that she has grown attached to)

- During this time Damian is more of an ass than usual (people notice and tease him)

- Damian at some points keeps working without breaks/sleep for hours on end. Dick pulls him aside after noticing, scolds and forces him to sleep in one of the on call rooms. (He really wanted him to go home, but Damian wasn’t leaving)

- Once Raven was discharged Damian and Garfield help her back home (clothes + gifts + Raven w/a healing hand/other injuries = need help) the other Titans would have helped but were needed at the hospital

- Garfield leaves after dropping off Raven and Damian (and her stuff) as he is called in on a Peds case (could be fake, may not be) and Raven & Damian spend the rest of the time basically watching terrible movies. (with Nevermore sitting on both of them)

- That is the night Damian realizes that not only does he like Raven, but he like likes her. He starts devising plans on how to get her to date him. 

- All his plans basically are thrown out the window because of one reason or another (he kept overthinking it)(poor guy)

- It is not until their 3rd year of residency that Raven realizes her feelings towards Damian (Have I made it clear she likes him? I can’t remember...)

- She realizes her feelings when she has to crash at his place for a night (because he lives ridiculously close to the hospital, like how expensive is that??) and he tries to make sure that she is as comfortable as possible 

- She never realized how much he cared for her? Like she was always helping him out and there for him but she never realized he reciprocated that care? *Shocker*

- Raven becomes kind of a mess because of all her emotions that she is trying to bottle up. (all the corks are disintegrating and the jar is overflowing)

- Raven is during her Ortho rotation (bone surgeon people, they are cool, ik from experience) that she actually gets a good release for her emotions (setting peoples bones and drilling and hammering in pins is actually therapeutic) 

- Raven thinks that may be the specialty she chooses

- Damian saw her as a mess and could not fathom why she was said mess, he figured it was about a romantic interest after someone made an offhand comment about her love life and she became a blubbering mess (very un-Raven like)

- After all of well *motions with hands* that Raven asks why Damian doesn’t have a s/o or someone

- He says there is only person that he has been meaning to ask out (looks pointedly at Raven)

- All Raven says is “Go for it.”

And that is where my HCs end. Now if anyone who happens upon this post decides to write a Medical AU with any of these please tag me, tell me, message me. 

You do not have to give me credit, I just want to read it. 

This took me a couple of days to write up, so if it is disjointed I apologize. 

If anything needs to be corrected for any reason let me know!

 I hope this fuels some imaginations!

-I may post more HC AU things if they come to mind, we will have to see.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Six Strangers Walk Into a Bar: Part 3 (Severen x Fem!Reader) fic

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Warnings: cursing, blood/gore/violence mention

Word Count: 3755

It took you fifteen minutes to leave your room and rejoin the group. It had only taken about five minutes for you to calm down, but you spent the other ten running the events over and over in your mind. After those feelings of anger subsided, other less manageable ones surfaced. 

Like your attraction to Severen. You reached up to touch your neck, and you could almost feel the coldness of Severens lips on it still. It made you shiver, and you rubbed your hand over the length of your shoulder. Even when you'd been with your ex, you couldn't remember a time when someone had so blatantly protected you. When someone had made you feel the way Severen made you feel. You replayed the anger you'd seen in his eyes from even the mention of how he'd hurt you, and then the way he'd stopped your ex the second he'd looked like he was going to do something rash. Your ex had never hurt you before, but Severen hadn't been willing to take any chances. You bit your nail, wondering just how you got to a point where a murderer could be considered attractive to you. 

But, when you pushed those feelings away, other ones swallowed your stomach. If you were honest, you were mighty embarrassed. You hadn't meant to lose your temper, and you were sure that you weren't being as much as a gracious host as your mother had taught you to be. You'd yelled at someone, had a fight with your ex, in front of Severen, and his entire family. The only modicum of relief you gave yourself was that, technically, they'd done worse in front of you. Still, after you had completely calmed down, you left your room to apologize.

You stood in the hallway, and saw that all of them had seemingly gone back to what they'd been doing before your ex's intrusion. They all looked up when you re-entered the room, from the sound of someone approaching more than anything, and you tried not to let your face flush from the six pairs of eyes that found you. You pushed your hair behind your ear and said,

"Sorry y'all had to see that." You said, and went to busy yourself by getting a glass of water. You earned a round of chuckles in response, and Jesse soothed your nerves with a simple,

"Don't worry about it, kid." You looked over, seeing that he had found your ashtray and was letting a cigarette dangle from his lips. You looked over, seeing that Severen was doing the same. You quickly looked away, trying to push away the budding flower of attraction that was blooming in your stomach. Of course, he smoked. It seemed Severen had a habit of finding every little thing you thought was attractive in a man.  "Now, I still need you to make sure Severen doesn't cheat." Jesse continued, and you bit your smile back before hiding it behind the cup. Severen hadn't even glanced at you as he lifted his arm and gestured for you to come over, simply looking at his cards instead. You didn't know why you found it attractive, the utter certainty that you would listen. But, listen you did. 

You came over, deciding to stand and lean against him. It wasn't more than you had already done, you assured yourself. It was the only way to properly see his cards, and there was no harm in it. Those were the things you told yourself as his hand wrapped leisurely around your waist, and your arm wrapped around his shoulder. You saw the way Diamondback smiled at the sight, and you looked away to hide the growing blush on your cheeks. After a moment, your hand lifted to curl in his hair. It was surprisingly soft to the touch. Severen didn't say a word, but he grinned to himself. After watching for a moment, you said, 

"How will I know if he's cheating?" And this earned a laugh from the couple in front of you. You didn't exactly know what game they were playing, but Severen did a quick run down of the rules. You hummed, looking at his cards. It had bothered you before, his moment of cheating, but it dawned on you then that Severen would probably never do anything of the sort. Whether that was because of the watchful eyes of his parents, or the fact that he was of better moral standing. You bet on the former, but quickly you were asking yourself why it even mattered.

When your eyes started to get heavy and it became hard to stand, you decided that you were going to have to take your shower now or never. You'd excused yourself and grabbed a pair of pajamas to bring with you into the bathroom and a clean towel. You locked the door to the bathroom, stripped yourself out of your clothes, and let the warm stream of water wash away the events of that day. Or, well, night. After you'd done a thorough job of cleaning yourself and shaving, you stood there for an extra few minutes and tried to think of just what was supposed to happen the next night.

You weren't dead yet, and it was close to dawn. Neither Severen nor his family had tried to hurt you after the bar, and it almost felt as though you were- Well, there was no other way to put it, but one of them. An accomplice. Accessory to a crime. You let out a small sound, covering your face with your hands when you realized that's exactly what you were. Even if they left the next night, that was never going to change. And you still didn't have any answers as to what had happened while you'd been in the bathroom, but you didn't have the nerve to ask. You didn't think you ever would. You sighed, rinsing your hair one last time before turning the water off. You dried yourself, changed into your pajamas, and were attempting to dry your hair as you stepped out of the shower. Your eyes were heavy and your body was relaxed, ready for sleep. You thought to leave some towels out and a pack of toothbrushes you hadn't yet gotten into, so they could shower and brush their teeth if they wanted to, and called a simple goodnight to your guests. If you could call them that. Just after you called down the hall, Mae passed you. It seemed she was going to take advantage of your offer, and you decided you could stay up a few more minutes to offer both her and Diamondback some of your clothes.

"Just to use as pajamas," You stopped to stifle a yawn. "And I can run a load." You said, gesturing to a closet next to the bathroom, where the washer and dryer were tucked inside. "And I think he left some of his clothes behind too," You said to yourself, walking away to go to your previously shared bedroom to check. You'd thrown all of his clothes out of the drawers, and whatever you had hanging up in the closet. But, tucked towards the bottom was a suitcase of his winter clothes or things he hadn't gotten around to donating. You lugged it out, but Severen was quick to jump up to help you. He grabbed the suitcase while you carried a trash-bag full of the clothes he'd wanted to donate, and Jesse cleared the table so Severen could set both of them on top of it. You gestured to the clothes as you said, "Have at it. There's sweats in the suitcase, but the bag is full of stuff that was too big." You ended the sentence with a mumble, your nails making their way in-between your teeth before looking over to Severen as you said it. He was taller than your ex, so you guessed that any luck he'd have would be with the bag.

"You sure he won't miss them?" Caleb asked, and you looked over at the light-haired brunette. He seemed to be the most considerate of the bunch, and you shrugged. You pulled your hand away from your mouth as you said,

"I'm the one that packed them, so…" As far as you were concerned, he wouldn't even know that they were gone. You left the boys to filter through what your ex had left, and went to let Mae into your room. She stood there in a towel as you gestured to some of your older clothes, or some things that you thought would fit her. When she decided on what she wanted, you left her in your room to let her change with her clothes in hand, and saw that Diamondback was going to use the shower next. She stopped you, reaching out to hold your arm as she said,

"Thank you. You've been very kind to us." And you could feel your face growing hot from the sincerity of her words. You tried to joke by saying,

"Just don't do to me what you did to those people in the bar, and we'll call it even." And you were relieved when it earned a grin. When Mae left your room in a comfy pair of your old clothes, you had already put her old ones in the hamper. You yawned again, and she placed a hand on your back as she said,

"You can head on to bed. We can do the laundry ourselves." And you assured her you could stay up a bit longer. Still, when Diamondback came out of the shower and picked out her clothes, she told you the same. You had a harder time arguing with her, and you accepted defeat by retreating back into your room and letting yourself curl under the covers.

You'd woken up with a dry mouth about half-way through the day. The only good thing about not having a job was that you didn't have anywhere to be, and you stumbled out of your room in search of something to drink. You tried to be as quiet as possible, noting as to where everyone had decided to sleep. You'd figured that Jesse and Diamondback would've picked the guest bedroom. Mae and Caleb were curled up on the couch, tight in eachothers arms. Homer was nowhere to be found, but you thought you could hear snoring coming from the bathroom. And Severen? He had obviously tried his best to make himself comfortable in the corner booth. His legs hung over the end of the booth, even from his slightly propped up position. His head was lolling to the side, and you were sure he was going to have a crick in his neck by the time night-time came. You'd figured out as much to know that they wouldn't be up until then.

You took the time to move their load of clothes, which they hadn't decided to separate by color, into the dryer so it'd be ready when they all woke up. You drank down your water, set the cup in the sink, and hesitated at the hall. You didn't know what pushed you to do it, but, the next thing you knew, you were reaching over to brush your fingers through his hair and lightly stir him awake. He blinked his eyes open, lifting himself up a bit and looking up to find the source of the touch. When he saw you, you couldn't help but smile when he relaxed.

"C'mon. You'll sleep better in my bed." You whispered, nodding your head towards the hall. It didn't take much else to convince him. You didn't know what you were doing, or what had compelled you to do it. Perhaps it was his stupid face. Or the look he'd had when he'd been sleeping, completely relaxed without a smirk, smile, or flash of anger. Or, how, without his leather jacket and in his pajamas, he just didn't look nearly as mean as he once had. You crawled into your bed and Severen closed the door behind the two of you. It was a double bed, one big enough for the two of you. Severen toed off his shoes, but he didn't take off much else. He kept the jeans and tank top he'd chosen from the pile on, and you guessed that was for your sake as he climbed into the bed next to you. He shifted, trying to find a way to get comfortable before he ended up on his back. Almost as if he wasn't used to sleeping in a bed. He curled one of his arms behind his head and laid the other on his stomach, almost as if he was keeping the side towards you open, and you silently asked yourself why you had suggested this to him once more. You stayed on your side of the bed, he stayed on his, and you tried not to wonder when you'd stopped being scared of him.

It had taken awhile to fall back asleep. You weren't used to sleeping through entire days, but there wasn't much else you could do. You had a feeling that they wouldn't take to it kindly if you decided to leave your trailer, for obvious reasons. So, you had no choice but to stay put. And, if you didn't want to wake them up, that meant staying in your room. You fell asleep after Severen did, and after you tucked into yourself.

When you woke up, it was because you felt someone playing with your hair. You blinked your eyes open a fraction, making a noise before you buried your face back into whatever was keeping you comfortable in the summer heat. Denying the suggestion of getting up. The smell was familiar, a smell that had comforted you for years. And your ac had stopped working weeks ago, so you couldn't remember the last time you hadn't woken up with your sheets tossed off of you and sweat beading down your skin. You were perfectly comfortable, and you didn't want to get up. You wrapped your arm around the weight besides you, holding onto it like a cool pillow. Only when he laughed did you realize that it was Severen. 

You pulled your hand back, lifting it up in confusion. You'd ended up on his side of the bed, so one thing was clear. And it didn't help your embarrassment when Severen noted it by saying,

"Evenin', cuddle-bug." With a wide grin on his handsome face. Sometime during your sleep you had shifted over to Severens side of your bed and wrapped yourself around him. Arms around his waist, head on his chest, and even your legs were tangled together. You weren't necessarily surprised. You'd been used to cuddling up to someone every night for a long time now, and it seemed like you'd just gravitated towards him. Still, you blushed bright scarlet, and you moved to detach yourself. "Hey, hey, it's alright. You don't gotta go nowhere." He quickly said, and you paused. He stroked your head once more, and, for a moment, you leaned into the touch. It felt nice, nice to be in someone's arms again. Nice to wake up next to someone again. Someone that hadn't cheated on you with someone else. But, you quickly reminded yourself of the massacre from last night, and, suddenly, it was a little bit harder to let yourself relax.

He seemed to notice your shift the instant it happened, and he pulled away his hand to let you pull away completely. You sat up, crossing your legs criss cross and pushing yourself backwards until your back hit the wall. You stared at him, and you forced yourself to ask,

"What happened last night? What- Why-" But there was no way to properly ask the question burning in your mind. Or at least, no way to do it while keeping your composure. What did they do? Why was there blood all over their faces? Even if you hadn't gotten the words out, Severens face went grim. He sighed, drumming his fingers on his stomach before he suddenly sat up all at once. The suddenness of his movement made you jump, and then he slowed. Like a predator trying not to scare off its prey. He looked over at you, mimicked the way you sat, and reached for your hands. You let him take them, and you watched him closely as he began.

"We don't have a word for it, but," He paused, shaking out his hair. "I'm not like you. I've been around a long time, and," It looked like it was hard for him to explain, like this was something he'd rather show you than tell you, but he continued on. "We can do all sorts of things, amazing things, but the night has its price." It was like he was trying to make it sound not as bad as it was, and he gave your hands a squeeze. But, to you, they sounded like the monsters that hid in the dark. They only came out at night, hid behind human faces, and were capable of things you weren't. Straight out of a horror story, you thought. After a moment, you urged him on,

"And that price is..." You weren't going to leave any blanks, especially if it was something that was going to bother you for the rest of your life. But the way he looked at you? He didn't need to speak for you to understand. You already know what that price is, his eyes said. It was you that finished it then. "Killing." You whispered, and his lips quirked down into a frown. His voice lacked any of its usual humor as he said,

"Well, if we don't then they'll become one of us." And you stared at him for another long moment. That answered one question. Monsters weren't born, they were made. And, in this case, they were made by a bite. At first, you thought that it wouldn't be so bad to just let them turn, but then you thought about how many of them there would be. Perhaps not. You couldn't stop the question that left your mouth before you said it,

"And you don't feel bad about it?" You asked him, and he really frowned then. He gripped your hands tighter and leaned forward, the usual cruel humor in his voice when he asked,

"Do you feel bad every time you eat a steak? It's the food chain, darlin'. We just happen to be higher on it." And you stared at him. The way he said it so carelessly, without an ounce of regret, nearly made your skin crawl. He backed off a bit, and you guessed your distaste for his reply was showing through your eyes. But, he didn't try to apologize or make you feel better. You guessed he wasn't the type.

"Then, why didn't you kill me?" You asked, but this time he smiled. It was a wide grin, similar to the one he'd given you when he'd seen you first at the bar. He shrugged his shoulders and said,

"Because I like you." As if that was that. You stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue. But it seemed like that was it. Your eyes left his gaze, moving down to your hands instead. He gave them a squeeze, and your eyes caught a bit of movement. He'd leaned in to catch your eye, and you quickly looked up. He smiled when he had your gaze again, and your eyes followed him as he leaned back again. "And you said that you liked me." He added, and you looked away again for a different reason this time. Embarrassment edged at your mind, as did the flurry of emotions that you weren't willing to admit to yourself. You still found him attractive, even if you knew it was messed up. He was a killer. A predator. The only true predator to the human race that you knew of. But, you liked him, and he liked you too. 

You pulled one of your hands away to rub at your heated cheeks, trying to make them cool from the coldness you'd stolen from his hands. But, you found that another cold hand was catching your chin, making you look at him. His eyes were swirling with something, something you weren't quite naive enough to not be able to place. His thumb brushed against your chin, and he whispered, 

"It drives me insane whenever you do that. Littlest things make you nervous." He commented, almost as if he was saying the last bit to himself. You watched him closely as his hand travelled down so he could massage the side of your neck. Right over one of your arteries. His words made your heart beat faster at what they suggested, and the roughness of his hands made you shiver. That, or the lack of warmth from them. The idea that you got him tangled up the same way he did you hadn't really occurred to you, but it made your stomach do backflips. "I can hear your heartbeat getting quicker. Pounding out of your chest. Thinking about something, huh?" He said, chuckling lightly as his eyes drifted down to the expanse of your neck. It made you gulp, and his eyes were quick to retreat back to your face once he saw it. Your mouth was dry and your tongue was frozen, caught by his gaze and unable to think of a thing to say. A flirty response to match his. But, Severen liked to talk and he was fine to continue by himself, "At first, I thought you were still scared of me, but," His thumb brushed over your jugular, and you bet your heart was only thrumming louder. "You're not, are you?" It was a rhetorical question, and he was right. You weren't scared anymore, even if part of you knew you should be. He leaned in, pausing a moment when he was only an inch away. You let out a soft gasp, but you didn't pull back. Didn't reclaim the distance between you. Your loosened tongue didn't make a noise to stop him. Instead, after a moment of silent words passing between the two of you, you leaned a bit closer and reached up to cup his jaw when he closed the gap.

[buckyskorpion]

11 hours - part six

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: so i was gonna leave this on ANOTHER doozy cliff hanger but i genuinely thought i would get lynched so i decided to just leave it at a baby cliffhanger. a lot happened in this chapter and a lot of seeds have been planted for future chapters..... so lemme know what you think hehe. predictions?? angry letters?? pitchforks??? lemme know!! i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | please donate to my ko-fi!

masterlist 

“You’re very calm for someone with a gun to their head.”

Honestly, you had been thinking the same thing. Sure, your stomach feels like a snake pit and your hands are sweating and you don’t think you’ve ever been more aware of your own heart beat, but other than that - you don’t understand why you aren’t panicking more. There are three men standing in front of you, one behind, all with guns. They’re wearing matching leather jackets with an octo-head patch on the sleeve, and they all look very scary. Briefly, you wonder if Bucky has a jacket like this, with a patch on to match his family. It’s an irrelevant detail you can’t help but fixate on right now.

Bucky. Hopefully listening on the other end of the phone you have tucked in your back pocket which your kidnappers haven’t been bothered to check yet, thankfully. You flex your wrists against the zip ties holding you to a chair and ask, “Where am I?”

“You should know,” your stalker turned kidnapper says with a condescending sneer. “You followed me here.”

“The Lerna?” you clarify, for the sake of hopefully someone on the other end of your mobile picking it up. You glance around at the old-style bar; chipped wood and beer stains, a rickety pool table one of your stalker’s friends is using as an arm rest. You curl your nose up at it - a little proudly, you note it has nothing on Sam’s bar.

“Do you recognise the place?” your stalker asks. That throws you. You want to ask what he means by that, why you would recognise this gross bar you’ve never stepped foot in, but you clench your teeth and school your face.

Once your dad sat you down in a chair much like this one, in his office at the house you grew up in. You were eleven, maybe, and you didn’t quite understand why he was tying your hands to the back with a necktie but you went along with it. He did this, sometimes - would orchestrate some strange lesson when his nightmares got really bad, his ghosts chasing him inside the house until he saw enemies in lampshades and kitchen cabinets. To keep you safe, he would say, and then he sat opposite you and asked what you would do if anyone ever put you in this position against your will.

“Kroshka, they will use anything against you,” he had said, and you see that now with the way these men are looking at you for any weakness. But you didn’t understand then, you were a kid thinking your dad was spiralling again, so he had cast around until he found a beer bottle on the coffee table. “See, like this. When the label is flat it’s fine, but as soon as one little corner lifts you can’t help it - you have to peel it all the way off. Don’t give them any corners, kroshka.”

You blink, once. The man in front of you scowls when you don’t answer, presses forward into your space in a show of intimidation. You try not to flinch, but that fear you were missing before is starting to set in real fast. What did he mean, do you recognise it? And why the hell are you so prepared for a situation like this, almost as if your dad has been training you for it since you could remember?

“Fine,” your stalker says, his breath fanning over you with how he’s leaning into your space. “Maybe you can answer something else, about your boyfriend.”

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” you say. It’s not a lie - technically, you hadn’t had the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ chat with Bucky yet. This man is not appreciative of your loopholes. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, pressing his glock into your neck. You shiver, both at the pain and the cold of the metal. Through gritted teeth and mild hyperventilation, you say, “As a matter of fact, I dunno who you are either. That’s kinda weird, dontcha think?”

You can practically hear Bucky in your head telling you to shut up, but he’s not here right now. No corners, just like your dad said. Doesn’t mean you can’t try and find some corners of your own.

What you meant as a question to buy some time, with a bit of attitude on the side, sends your stalker reeling back from you. He’s confused, eyebrows drawn down low and his friends behind him look to each other with the same expression. Now, you’re confused as well. Everyone in the room stands (or sits, in your particular predicament) in a pure state of what the fuck is going on. It would be funny, if there wasn’t still a gun to the back of your head.

“You don’t know the patch?” the man asks, gesturing to the sleeve of his jacket. When you don’t respond he continues, slowly, reiterating his question from before but as a statement, “You don’t recognise this place.”

You have zero idea what’s going on, but whatever you’ve said seems have thrown your kidnappers for a bit of a loop, so you decide to roll with it. You say, and hope to god the man standing behind you doesn’t shoot you for it, “I’m starting to think you’ve lost control of this situation, pal.”

From the corner of the room behind you, a familiar husky-toned red head says, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Shots ring out, shattering the windows as one by one your stalker’s friends drop like dominos. Someone crouches behind you and cuts you lose with a knife, and you hear it clatter to the floor as they launch over the back of your chair feet first into your stalker. Natasha. The flash of her red hair over your shoulder as she sends him flying is unmistakable. You scramble from the chair, fumbling for the knife she dropped but your hand slides through something thick, wet. The man behind you with the gun lies dead, throat slit, his blood now all over your fingers. It mesmerises you in a sickening way, making your stomach turn and your vision go fuzzy.

You’d never seen a dead body before. Now they are all around you, the bar smelling like blood instead of beer and the sound of bullets pinging off glass the only noise other than Natasha grappling with your stalker. She’s so small compared to him but she has her thighs clenched around his throat and he gasps for breath, clawing at her legs. You watch, stunned, as he gets a grip on her and throws her off, sending her crashing into the wall with a groan.

She hits the floor and you see red - all you can think is that’s Bucky’s family and that man is walking towards her, his gun trained on her body as she tries to pull herself to her feet, so you stop thinking at all. You picture the back of your stalker's neck like the dartboard at Sam’s bar and you throw.  

Bullseye. Just like your dad taught you.

The man drops, knife buried in his neck and haemorrhaging blood. He gurgles this awful, awful sound as he clutches at his throat, trying and failing to push the blood back in. Natasha looks from your still outstretched hand, trembling in place, to meet your gaze. You can’t begin to decipher her expression, nor do you want to. You feel like you’re going to throw up, or choke, or scream, or all three. The man you just stabbed in the neck groans in pain, eyes rolling, coughing blood from his mouth in thick clumps. You can’t feel your hands anymore.

The door bangs open and you flinch, stumbling back until you trip on the chair you had been tied to and fall to the floor in a crumple of limbs. It’s Bucky, eyes wild and larger than life with a rage you’ve never seen before. He has a huge sniper-rifle slung over his back as he strides into the bar, stepping right over the writhing body of your stalker.

“I’ll deal with you in a second, Rumlow,” he practically growls, kicking aside the man’s hand that tries to grab for him. You scramble to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to get to Bucky. Doesn’t it say something about you that you run towards the man responsible for the death all around you?

You crash into Bucky hard, the force of the impact knocking the breath right out of you and once it’s gone you can’t get it back. It feels like his arms encompass the entirety of you as he holds you so tight your feet leave the ground. His chest rumbles with words but you can’t hear him, your ears are ringing and your chest is tight because panic attack, you dumbass. You press your face into Bucky’s neck and hope that’s enough to escape the scene unfolding around you.

“Get her out of here, I’ll deal with this,” you hear Natasha say somewhere behind Bucky but you refuse to lift your head to see.

Bucky attempts to pull away from you to look at Natasha, you can feel him try and twist his head but the inarticulate whine that rips from your throat stills the both of you. It’s mildly embarrassing, the sound you’ve just made, but it’s out there now. Bucky shifts his grip so one big palm rubs soothing strokes up and down your spine and you feel yourself becoming boneless with every pass of his hand.

“I’m not fucking lettin’ him get away with this,” Bucky says, low, threatening - if you were this Rumlow guy bleeding out on the ground, you would be afraid.

“And he won’t,” Natasha says, and then like she has to remind Bucky of his own thoughts, “but you have other priorities right now. Get her out of here.”

You feel Bucky nod, his scratchy chin moving against the top of your head. He kisses your temple and holds the back of your skull with one big palm, pressing your face further into his neck. It means you don’t see the carnage of the bar when he moves to place an arm around your shoulder and steer you out the door, stumbling under his guidance on shaky, cotton-fuzzy legs. He’s hurrying you, but as gently as he can. Once you feel the bright burn of sunlight on your skin you pull back from Bucky’s neck, blinking in the now empty street and Bucky’s piercing gaze as he looks down at you.

“Are you with me?” he asks, his hand dropping from your skull to squeeze the side of your neck. You still feel like you’re sipping each breath through a straw but you nod. You can see in his eyes he needs you to be with him right now, to get out of here, so you try and blink away the fuzzies in the corners of your vision and focus on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and christ, now is not the time for that stinging pressure behind your eyes you hate so much. You hope Bucky understands - sorry for not listening to him, sorry for getting you both into this mess, sorry for not being strong when he needs you to be.

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, tugs you in harsh and strong by the grip he has on your neck to press a bruising kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fierce way he holds you, presses emotion into your skin like the tattoos littering his skin - a brand of your own, in the middle of this eerily empty street with the blood of strange men on both your hands. The thought makes you shake, so you twist your fingers in the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and breathe him in deep.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he says, then pulls away from you. He grabs one of your hands from out under his shirt and links your fingers, beginning to drag you down the street. Looking back over his shoulder, he says with a grimace, “We gotta go.”

He leads you to his bike, squeezed between a brick wall and a dumpster in a side alley a block away from The Lerna. It roars to life before you’ve properly swung yourself on the back, and you aren’t bothering with helmets this time as Bucky eases the bike out from it’s tight spot with unsettling ease. All you can do is hold on tight and close your eyes as Bucky leads you away, weaving through the city in nonsensical loops before you feel the air open up around you and the familiar sounds of Brooklyn.

Bucky takes you to Steve’s tattoo in Red Hook, the first time you’re been back there since that fateful run-in with Natasha. You’ve checked out completely by the time Bucky parks - he has to lift you off the back of the bike because your legs won’t work, and he all but carries you inside. Steve is quick to rid the shop of the two customers looking at designs out front as Bucky settles you on the couch by the tattoo beds. You sink into the faded red leather without feeling a thing. Distantly, you notice the kid who usually mans the tills looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you suppose you deserve that.

“Stevie, I think she’s in shock,” you hear Bucky say, and the childhood nickname makes you smile. You watch Bucky’s face crease up deep concern at the dreamy look on your face, so you suppose you should stop smiling like a crazy person. A giant blonde head swims into your view, just as concerned, and he drapes a blanket around your shoulders.

“Bucky,” you say, your eyebrows drawing down as you fumble for his hand. He squeezes your fingers and mumbles something to Steve who leaves you again, his voice mingling with the kid’s somewhere over Bucky’s shoulder but you can’t focus on that. All you can do is swim in the back of Bucky’s too-deep stare and say, “I killed him.”

“No, no,” he says, shifting closer between your thighs as he kneels on the floor in front of you. This would be funny to you in any other moment, something to tease him for as he takes both your hands in his and squeezes them together, silently imploring you to stay looking at him. He says, “That’s not on you, sweetheart, it ain’t. You didn’t kill him.”

You’re crying now, properly, which you suppose is a good sign because you don’t think people in shock can cry. You watch as something cracks in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you break apart, but you can’t stop now you’ve started. You say, “I did, I killed him. How do you do it? How do you just- I feel like my throat’s gonna close up. How do you live past this?”

Bucky’s face darkens, smoothing out to something stone cold and frightening. You don’t feel scared, though, as he leans into your space so close you almost feel cross-eyed trying to stay glued to the blue of his eyes. He searches your face for something and says, no room for argument, “You did not kill that bastard, you hear me?”

“But-“

“No,” he says, simply, and that’s that. “The only reason you were in that position is because of me, doll, so no. You didn’t kill him. It’s on me, and I live with that so you don’t have to. You got that? You don’t ever have to live with that.”

You don’t know how he makes you feel like he’s physically reached into your chest and pulled out your guilt through your throat, but he does. You can see it clenched tight in his fist, his eyes shuttering down dark as he shoves it between his own teeth to hold. It’s too soon for the feelings clawing at your ribcage but you feel them just the same, that cigarette burn he left on your heart aching so bad you could scream from it. You extract a hand from his to run down his cheek, along his jaw, cupping his face in your palm. He closes his eyes, shudders as though swallowing down the guilt for the both of you.

I love you for that, you think to the soft flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. I’ll love you forever for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Natasha returns to the shop, and Sam bundles in not long after that, the four bikers sit around Steve’s prematurely closed tattoo shop and have a family meeting. You can’t help but feel like the kid who’s stayed up past their bedtime to try and hang with the adults, the words flying over their head and sleep pulling at their eyelids but they fight to stay awake anyway. Bucky pulls your head into his lap as he sits on the couch beside you, so you lie there and let him stroke your hair while they discuss what happened over the past two hours.

Two hours, and that’s all it’s taken for your whole world to spin on it’s axis. You’d learnt to throw knives at tree trunks with your dad as a fun, albeit unconventional after-school activity. And now you’ve buried a knife in someone’s neck, you’ve been kidnapped and tied to a chair and watched Bucky gun down men from a rooftop with his sniper rifle. He pulled the trigger with the same fingers he’s carding through your hair now, nails scratching at your scalp in a way that makes your toes tingle. How is that at all ok?

“We’ve started a turf war with Hydra, now,” Sam is saying, sitting backwards on a chair facing Bucky and spreading his hands out in a placating gesture as Bucky bristles. “It was unavoidable, alright, I’m just saying.”

“Not necessarily,” Natasha says. “Rumlow has had a vendetta against Bucky for years. He could’ve been acting alone.”

“It is strange we haven’t heard anything from Pierce,” Steve says thoughtfully. He is pressing an icepack to Natasha’s back, already bruising from where this Rumlow guy threw her into the wall. She’s lifting up her t-shirt and you can see a glimpse of a back piece standing out stark against her pale skin. Giant, feathered wings and a talon, a mosaic piece of what looks like a large hawk spanning the length of her spine.

“When Pierce finds out it was us that shot up his bar, though,” Sam says, making meaningful eyebrow movements to the group. They all nod thoughtfully and fall into silence.

None of these names make much sense to you - Hydra, Pierce, even Rumlow who you’ve gathered by now was your stalker. Was, because he’s dead now, and the thought turns your mouth dry and rusted. You shift in discomfort, drawing Bucky’s attention down to you as he gives you a concerned once over. He had done a thorough analysis for any injuries, even after you’d assured him you were fine, but you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

Unfortunately for you, all your wounds appear to be mental. They’re getting deeper by the second.

“I keep thinking,” you say to Bucky, “why was he so surprised I didn’t know where I was? Or who they were?”

“Hydra is our biggest rival,” Bucky says, and huffs a laugh at your crinkly brow so he clarifies, “They’re another gang, one we’ve had a lot of run-ins with. Rumlow especially. He wasn’t our biggest fan.”

“So he expected you to have told me about him, and Hydra,” you say, the name unfamiliar on your tongue. He nods, and you have to ask, “Why didn’t you?”

Bucky frowns at that. “I already told you - the more you know, the more dangerous it is.”

“And I already told you, no secrets,” you say, frowning just as deep. A beat passes and Bucky doesn’t budge, just glares down at you like he can physically bore his opinion into your brain and make it yours. Exasperated, you say, “Bucky, it didn’t matter anyway - the danger found me. Telling me things like that isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It would’ve if you’d listened to me and not done the stupid thing,” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. He may have a point, but you aren’t going to back down that easily. Bucky knows you, he knows if you see a loose thread you’re going to pull it. The fact he thought you’d listen to him tell you what to do at all is laughable.

“This gang is your life,” you say, and you don’t bother to hide your frustration now, “They’re your family. I’m no safer not knowing what’s going on - I got stalked and kidnapped regardless. Clearly, it’s dangerous no matter what, so just tell me, Bucky. Whatever it is.”

Bucky stares at you for a long time. Steve, Natasha, Sam - they cease to exist in this room with you. Those first few weeks, when you refused to stay the night in Bucky’s bed and would only see him to fuck - you used to be scared of looking into those eyes for too long, for fear of getting lost. Now you dive head first, a part of you hoping you do get lost so you never have to find your way back out again.

Eventually, Bucky clenches his jaw tight and says, “You’re right.”

You blink, surprised. You hear Sam whisper to Steve, “did you record that?”, and honestly, you wanna ask the same thing. Except the way Bucky is look at you- dread curls thick and choking in your gut. You look up at Bucky and he seem so far away, out of reach even though you feel him all around you. He continues stroking your hair but it’s absentminded, his mind far away too.

You are drawn back to the tattoo shop by Sam saying, “I gotta say, Barnes, your girl is smart as hell. Keeping your phone on you and out-smarting Rumlow in a hostage situation? Pretty badass.”

Bucky smiles briefly down at you, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. You turn to Sam and say, “I got the impression out-smarting Rumlow isn’t really that hard.”

Everyone laughs at that, even Bucky, and it clears away some of the dread eating away at your stomach. But it’s still there, acidic and bubbling no matter what you do to smother it.

Eventually, they grow tired of talking in circles about Rumlow and Hydra and the possibility of the feds showing up (Bucky assures everyone the cops will find no rifling on the bullets and won’t be able to pin them to the crime scene, but Sam mutters heard that before and an argument erupts about some debacle in Bucharest so you tune out). Bucky takes you back to his apartment, tucked securely in his leather jacket in the best kind of shock blanket you could ever ask for.

For the first time, you noticed the tiny embroidered star on the sleeve of his jacket. You wonder if all Bucky’s friends have the same star on their jackets, because they’re not just friends, they’re a gang. One you feel suddenly, irrevocably intertwined with since they’re the only reason you aren’t sitting in a jail cell for murdering someone.

You feel jittery as you walk into Bucky’s apartment, almost nervous. It looks the same as this morning, the coffee cups you used for Steve and Bucky still in the sink and hoodie of his you’d worn last night draped over a chair. But everything is different, now. It’s all changed, there’s weird new shadows over everything long after Bucky turns on the light. You linger in the doorway to Bucky’s bedroom while he rummages around for sweats and jumpers, laying out a pair for you before he begins changing himself. He shucks off his t-shirt and you see his tattoo sleeve, the mottled scars hiding underneath, and your heart flies out of your throat before you can stop it.

“So do you guys have a fun, spooky name like Hydra or what?” you ask, closing your eyes with a grimace as soon as you ask the question. What are you, twelve? Bucky doesn’t answer and you’re too afraid to open your eyes too see the look on his face.

You’re startled when you feel him kiss your cheek, sensing his large frame towering over you and blocking out some of the soft bedroom light. You open your eyes to find him smiling down at you, laughing at you with his eyes as he says, “Not so spooky. Steve named us, he called us the Howling Commandos. The HC, for short.”

You crinkle your nose up at him and he flicks the tip with his ringed fingers. You say, “That’s very old-fashioned.”

“Nat teases him for it all the time,” he says, “She calls us her barbershop quartet.”

You smile, imagining Bucky in suspenders playing the accordion, and say, “Now that I like.”

The longer Bucky looks at you the more sober he becomes, mouth becoming pinched and jaw muscle ticking. He holds you soft by the biceps and walks you back until you hit the wall, still gentle, but bracketing you in now so all you can see is the weight of whatever complicated thing is running across Bucky’s face.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me today,” he says. He shifts, grips your jaw tight so his rings dig into your skin with none of the gentleness of before - he means this. “Never do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, twisting in his tight grip to press a kiss to his fingertips. He softens, allows you to pull him in flush against you by his waist, his bare skin so warm under your hands. “And, thank you. I don’t- I guess I’ve never had someone come save me before, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me,” Bucky says, shaking his head. He kisses you, a rough press of chapped lips against yours and is gone again before you can react. Says, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Come back,” you say with a pout, and you have just enough time to see Bucky smirk down at you before he’s kissing you again. It’s just as fierce, almost painful, but the rough slide of it distracts from the burn in your chest and your racing thoughts like razorblades. You lick into his mouth, chasing away the ghosts nipping at your heels, and he presses you back into the wall with a thunk hard enough to leave a bruise on your tailbone tomorrow. You don’t care. It feels good to hurt in a way that’s physical.

The ease with which Bucky picks you up makes your head spin. It’s all you can do but pepper kisses along his stubbled jaw as he carries you to the bed, lips suddenly ripped from his skin as he dumps you on the covers. He is quick to follow, squashing you down with his tongue in your mouth before you can take another breath. This, you know. All the messy feelings and heartache and fearfearfear that beats in time with your heart, that maybe you’ll lose him or he’ll lose you and you came so close today, is unfamiliar to the both of you. But arching your back off the bed so he can take your shirt off, scrubbing your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck as he peppers kisses across your tits with a trail of goosebumps left behind - this is how you know Bucky best.

He makes quick work of your clothes and you fumble with his jeans, laughing into his mouth as he bats your hand away to do it for you. Bucky bites your bottom lip in playful admonishment and you chase his mouth as he tries to pull away. He places one big palm on your clavicle and pushes down, holding you against the bed. He shakes his head at you with a smile.

“Stay,” he says like he would to a dog, grinning wide as you glare at him. But you do as you’re told as he leans over you to grab a condom with his left arm. Maybe you bend the rules a little to trail kisses up the bits of his outstretched forearm you can reach. Over a shadowy skull, the stem of a rose, what looks like military windings near the crook of his elbow and tiny handwritten letters that spell S N S. Sam Nat Steve, because Bucky might be a tough guy to most but he’s a giant sap deep down.

Bucky shudders at your touch, and it makes you wonder if the scarring under his tattoos is extra sensitive. Or maybe he is just sensitive to anyone touching him in such a vulnerable place. You flick your eyes up to watch him watch you, lip drawn between his teeth and a dent between his eyebrows you ache to soothe if he wasn’t still holding you down. You don’t stop, even though he looks physically pained with every brush of your lips against his skin. You trace the edges of another small wolf with your tongue, like the ones on his chestpiece, and watch as his eyes flutter closed when you get close to the paper-thin skin of his inner wrist.

That hits Bucky’s limit. Suddenly his hand on your chest slides up to your neck and he’s leaning over you, left arm braced by your head and his mouth swallowing yours. You groan against his lips at the rough drag of his hands down your sides, gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. He makes your brain go fuzzy, the only coherent thoughts being Bucky and touch me more. He seems to understand. His fingers find your clit, smoothing slow circles which spark embers in the pit of your stomach. Bucky’s mouth falls open as yours does, as if to breath in the whine he draws from you.

“Fuck, you always sound so good,” Bucky groans. He buries his face into the side of your neck, taking advantage of your thigh trapped between his legs to rut against you while he continues playing with your clit. Every time Bucky gets filthy with you it’s like the first time, shocking and almost embarrassing in the sexiest way possible. Heat floods your cheeks and makes you lightheaded, unable to stop the moan he draws from you. You’re rewarded by Bucky’s teeth in your neck, the sensitive spot just over your pulse point, and if you’re being honest you could come just from this.

Bucky’s cock growing harder against your thigh, as his hips shift in rhythm with the circles he draws on your clit, becomes too difficult to ignore. To gain his attention you twist and nip at the closest piece of skin you can find, Bucky’s ear, and he engulfs you in a kiss which steals the breath right out of you. You buck your hips, hoping to nonverbally convey the demand get in me right now, and Bucky doesn't need any more hints than that.

He fumbles with the condom for a second and you take the time to sit up on your elbows and look at him. Bucky is so beautiful, drawn in harsh lines and stark contrasts. Tan skin turned paler against the opaque black of his tattoos, colour swirling in-between and it should be jarring, but you think he just looks like art. Bitten red lips, startling blue eyes pinning you to the mattress as he catches you staring - such bright, primary colours because he is a statement piece, and one you could look at forever.

Bucky grins almost bashfully as you stare at him, leaning back over you to kiss you soft and sweet in a sharp juxtaposition to the rough tumble which got you here. Again, he sends your head spinning when the tender kiss is punctuated by the unexpected push of Bucky’s cock in your cunt. He bottoms out before you can blink, throwing your head back out of the kiss with an untamed groan - both pleasure and pain, in the good way. Bucky drags his teeth from your lips down your chin and neck, biting a mark into your collarbone to set the tone for the bruising pace he creates as he pounds into you.

He doesn’t do anything in halves, you think. You gaze up at him with an almost dopey smile while Bucky fucks the literal breath out of you. You lift your hips to meet him as he bottoms out with every thrust, watching in awe as his face creases up in ecstasy - it’s you who brings him there. He palms your tits like he can’t help himself, loses control in your pussy because you make him feel that good, and the thought makes you giddy. Drunk, almost, as you drag your nails down his chest and nearly come once again just from the moan you draw out of this brilliant, dangerous, gorgeous man.

“You take it so well, baby, fuck,” Bucky pants, eyebrows creasing as the pleasure gets almost painful in its build. You know the feeling. Bucky’s mouth is always your undoing, rolling your eyes back into your head and the sounds you’re making turning positively feral. He kisses you again, more a slam of mouths than anything finessed, and says, “Never gonna get over this, never gonna get over how good you feel.”

“Bucky, you gotta-“

“I gotta what, huh?” Bucky grins at the pleasure-addled panic he brings you too, not wanting to come too fast but also needing to let go before you actually explode. He knows exactly what he’s doing, balancing on one hand to thumb harshly at your clit as he says, “You want me to stop? I don’t think so, sweetheart, I think you wanna come on my cock just like this, wanna hear me tell you how good you are, how sweet you are for me all laid out like this-“

Everything whites out as you come, hard, all your muscles spasming like crazy with the orgasm that rips through you. Bucky’s voice is drowned out, but it doesn’t matter what he’s saying anymore, he’s made you feel like you’ll never catch your breath again. Bucky thunks his forehead against yours, collapsing on top of you as the fluttering clench of your cunt around his cock becomes too much. His thrusts turn sloppy, his breath hot and ragged across your face as you press lazy, barely-there kisses to his cheeks - all you can muster in your fucked-out haze.

Bucky comes with his eyes closed, eyelashes tangling with yours, and you cling to him with all four limbs as he shakes through his orgasm. The release was so needed for the both of you, the events of the last twenty-four hours frying your nerves to the point where it was either fight, cry, or fuck. It feels so good to have Bucky on top of you, inside you, all around you in every single sense and it warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible until now. Until Bucky.

Maybe that’s the afterglow talking, and you should stop. But you can’t help but press another kiss to Bucky’s cheek, and another, over his nose and across his still-closed eyelids until you reach his mouth and he can kiss you back just as soft. You hope he gets it. You hope he feels it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You go to see your dad, eventually. The chaos of yesterday kept you attached to Bucky’s hip - you showered together in the morning, and he allowed you to pretend it was just the water and not tears soaking your face. But he made you cuddle with him on the couch and fed you an omelette like you were incapable of feeding yourself, and maybe you were, because the reality of what happened in that shitty Manhattan bar was starting to eat away at your executive functions. It took all of your strength to convince Bucky you would be ok and that you’d come back to him as soon as you were done, but it was time to pull on a thread you’ve been ignoring for far too long.

It turns out, that paranoid over-questioning part of your brain doesn’t turn off even during a traumatic event. Your dad lets you in without a word, tugging you into a side hug as you both walk to the kitchen to make tea.

The house you grew up in has taken on a different light since the Lerna. The kitchen chairs aren’t the same, reminding you too much of ziptied wrists and a gun in your face. Why can you superimpose the memory of Rumlow holding you hostage to one you have of being eleven and tied to a chair by your father? You shouldn’t be able to do that.

He nudges your hip, jerking you out of your staring contest with the dining chairs, and offers you a mug of tea. You both sit at the table, either end, the fruit bowl a mediator between you. He looks tired, old, like he always has somehow in your memories from childhood. He’s still your dad, the same man who always been there because he’s all you’ve ever had. He loves you, you know does. Ya lyublyu tebya, luna. But he has always been the first to say your paranoid streak runs a mile deep, and once you find a thread-

Well. Everyone knows how that ends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” your dad asks, and it’s like he knows you aren’t here to ask for boy advice or moan about a case or your skyrocketing rent.

There’s a lot you want to talk about. Why did I learn to throw knives instead of joining the soccer team, like normal kids? Why did I learn how to survive an interrogation instead of going to sleepovers, like normal kids? Why did you train me to question everyone and everything in this world, but I’ve always blindly believed you? Like a normal kid would, you suppose, the only normal you’ve ever really gotten. Always believing your dad is the superhero of six-year-old dreams, someone who would never keep you in the dark.

“No,” you say, taking a sip of tea. It burns your tongue to numbness, but you can’t bring yourself to care. We had the secret language for only us - why did I never think you might have secrets from me as well? You grimace into your tea and say, “Not right now, I’m sorry.”

“Tayny budut presledovat tebya vechno, malysh,” he says. Secrets will haunt you forever, little one.

You don’t dare look up from your tea as you say, “Ya dumayu, ty by znal vse ob etom.” I guess you’d know all about that.

He gives you leftover curry in a carry bag when you leave. Kisses you on the cheek and lets you go, but you can feel him watching you the entire time it takes you to walk down the street and out of sight. As soon as you round the corner you retch into the nearest bush, a well-manicured rose which you silently apologise to as it gets covered in your bile.

This guilt isn’t something Bucky can save you from - it feels like it’s eating you alive. You had never, ever thought you would get to the point where you’d be leaving a bug stuck to the underside of your dad’s kitchen table, but you suppose you never thought you’d be stalked and kidnapped either. You wipe the your mouth with the back of your hand as your stomach finishes emptying itself of tea and betrayal, and try to tell yourself you won’t find anything, you're just being paranoid. But you know you will.

Maybe you always have, and that’s why you’ve been too scared to pull on the thread you’ve known has been dangling in the back of your mind since you were a kid. Just one secret you wanted to leave, one dark corner you didn’t want to shine a light into. That’s never been in your nature. You spit the foul, acidic taste from your mouth onto a poor, innocent rose bud and think with just as much bitterness as the bile coating your throat, that’s not who my dad raised me to be.

Part 7

[lesbian-deadpool]

New Surroundings

Part One Of Two: “Glad You’re Back.”

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,856

Warnings: Amnesia, metal limbs, death, bombs, seizures, a hard af ball being thrown at a face, I think that might be it.

Request: Yes. Thank you sm anon for donating to BLM!!

Summary: You forgot her. You just wondered when you’d remember.

Ko-Fi

(Not my GIF)

***

You don't remember.

Haunting isn't it?

How those three words can chill someone to their core. Coming up blank when they try to pinpoint a part of their lives.

It could positively turn someone's veins into ice. The blood flowing underneath cold, like a rushing current underneath a frozen river.

Your name.

Your serial number.

Your rank.

Those were the first things running through your mind, as you realised the darkness you were seeing all around you, was because of your own eyelids. Nothing was blinding you, nor keeping them shut. Nothing but the heaviness they held. For reasons, you did not know. But, whatever it was, you knew that it was not good.

You didn't know where you were.

Or what had happened to bring you to a place that felt strange and abnormal to your gut. It was just that sense you had. Forged from your years in the military.

When you thought hard about where you were, you came up with a blank. There was just nothing there. Nothing that told you where you were, how you cam to be here, not even if you were safe. Nothing.

The last thing that you could remember was laying on the warm, sandy ground. Conversing with your squadmates.

Things had been peaceful at that moment, out in the sun, having a few minutes of downtime.

But now?

Now your eyelids began to flutter.

You were coming through. Retreating from the dark clutches the back of your mind had upon you.

A high-pitched ringing swam through your brain, whilst you tried to focus your blurry vision, blinking heavily. When the ringing slowly started to dull, the realisation dawned on you that the ringing was not blaring around you, like some faulty radio that you could turn off. But was your own ears.

Yeah.

Your previous perceptions were correct.

Nothing about this was right.

That feeling swelled now. Vibrating in your bones.

A muffled yell rang through the room, and a cloudy figure ran towards you, fiddling with something in front of you. They kept yelling. The shouts grated against the slowly dispelling ringing in your ears.

Then.

Then you began to hear them clearer.

"Y/L/N!"

What?

"Y/L/N!"

Ugh.

"Y/L/N!"

Oh, yeah! That's your name!

Suddenly, as if you had had a bucket of ice water thrown on you, you snapped out of your hazed state.

Your vision was clear.

The ringing in your ears dulled into nothing within a few seconds.

And now you could fully see the man in front of you. The one looking shocked beyond belief. The one, you realised, who had freed you from your binds on the metal recliner-like chair.

The flesh on your left wrist bright red, raw, and light scars littered it. Ones old and new. Your other wrist hardly damaged, just a few small scratches adorned the metal there.

Wait...

METAL?!

Your arm hadn't been made of metal before. It was flesh, muscle, skin, and bone. Not this!

Many thoughts ran through your head at that moment, looking around the dark room you were in, with the close to erratic man, who wore a black kevlar suit.

What the fuck was going on?! Where were you? What happened? Who was the blonde guy in front of you-? And how did he know your name? And why in the fuck did you have a metal arm?!

To name a few...

"Y/L/N!"

"What?!" you yelled back.

"We gotta go!" the blonde man said, handing you a pistol.

Okay, yeah. That's fine, you knew how to use a gun.

As you pushed yourself out of the "chair" that you were previously strapped too, you followed the unknown man through the half-open door, and into the hallway. You finally resonated the thunderous, ongoing, heavy fire going on throughout the whole building.

"This way." He gestured forward with his head, his gun raised, with yours mirroring him, noticing you looking around the hallway curiously.

So, you followed him.

This strange man. That you just met. Not knowing if you could even trust him.

But he knew your name.

So, you trusted him more than most others right now.

Not having many other options, that weren't stupid as all hell. You followed him.

"We've been after this base for some time now."

"Right," you said, voice slightly conveying your confusion as to why he was telling you this.

"We just never expected to find you here- Or at all, really. God only knows what HYDRAs been doing to you, all of these years."

"Okay..." you replied slowly, before the rest of his sentence dawned on you, "Wait. HYDRA?"

"Yeah. Those slimy motherfuckers have been making their comeback," he noted, "But we're working hard to eradicate them before they get too up and running."

Hydra?

Like the snakey Greek water-monster?

That's a real thing?!

"Anyway," the blonde scoffed, with a smile upon his face, "Who do you think has been holding you here, all these years?"

"I... don't know."

Before your new-found ally could reply, a person dressed in all black, with a patch sewed onto their chest, that looked like a red skull and some type of octopus tentacles surrounding it. Who was- aiming a gun at you!

Yep! He's a bad guy!

You cleverly deducted.

Swiftly you raised your borrowed gun and fired a single shot. Hitting him right between the eyes.

"Huh," the blonded chuckled once at your marksmanship, "Ya still got it, Y/L/N."

"Thanks," you uttered, "When did I lose it?" you asked with a cocky smile upon your lips.

"Not as long as I've known you."

"What?" you whispered to yourself, continuing in that same hushed tone as you watched him run down the hall, and past the man you just shot down, "How do you know me?"

Then you were taking off after him before he could get too far away.

***

You said nothing the whole way to wherever the hell the blonde guy and his teammates were taking you. You just sat and processed everything.

Hundreds of questions running through your mind, as you stared off into space in front of you. 

By the way, he and his team were glancing your way every other second, you knew they wanted to talk to you. Ask you question after question, that ran through their own heads, that you knew you would not be able to answer. But they didn't bother you out of respect, and you obviously wanting to be alone right now. That, or they didn't know how to talk to you, at this moment.

Soon enough you were back at "home base" or "HQ", as they called it.

"Y/L/N," said the same blonde man that helped you escape, leading you out of the back hatch of the 'Quinjet', "Welcome back to SHIELD."

You walked off of the jet and onto an aircraft carrier.

The bright blue sky surrounding it. Not a grey cloud in sight.

"SHIELD." You nodded once, deciding to go along with everything you were told, by the man who obviously knew you. Until you could talk yo someone more senior, that is. "Right."

That's when you noticed it.

The sky.

There was only sky. 

No water in sight.

Then you saw the gigantic thrusters.

You were in. The sky.

Your eyed widened at the realization, the blonde beside you noticing this. He let out a hearty laugh and slapped your shoulder blade. His hand hitting a portion of metal, making it thud dully.

"Oh yeah, we got the hellicarriers back up and running, while you were away."

"Right. Okay." You nodded again, voice trying to stifle the shock you still felt running through you.

"This way, Y/L/N. You're wanted."

"Wanted?" you asked as he began to lead you towards a tall man wearing an eyepatch. "By who?"

"Fury, of course," he laughed heartedly," He'll want to debrief you on all of this."

"Aha."

You never took your eyes off of the man before you. You assumed he was 'Fury' or someone who would be taking you to them.

"Y/L/N," the new man said, nodding to you once in greeting.

"So, you're Fury? The boss of all this shit?" You waved your fingers around.

He looked at you somewhat confused. As the blonde uttered a confused, "What?" behind you.

"Yes."

"Good." You smiled, before your whole demeanour changed, entirely. "What the fuck is going on?!"

***

So, you lost your memory -that much you already knew- and apparently, you were some Agent at this SHIELD Organisation, and a member of some team called The Avengers.

Well, you were.

They thought you were dead- Well, who wouldn't after you had been missing, for the last six or so years?

If only you could remember anything of the last eleven years.

"So, now what?" you asked, sitting before Fury, in his office, "I don't remember you, anybody- I don't remember that blonde guy that saved me from those "HYDRA" dudes," you stressed 'HYDRA' questioningly, because you had only heard of them today, and had no clue who they were. All that you knew, from what Fury had told you, was that they were the bad guys.

You could have guessed that from the way one of them was trying to shoot you before, but okay.

However, you didn't know if you could even believe the man before you.

That is until he showed you proof. Documents, pictures, videos of you around the base, laughing with people you had never met before. Some even had you training recruits in them.

You had this whole life here.

And you couldn't remember any of it.

"That man was Tompson. He was a part of the team you directed before you joined The Avengers. He was one of your close friends."

"I've never met that man before in my life," you told him assuredly, pointing at his closed office door.

"You have."

"But I can't remember, Fury!" you yelled jumping up from your seat, "The last thing I remember, was being in Afganistan, talking to my friends."

At that, his face grew sad. He remembered how much you cared for your squadron, they were like your family.

You noticed this.

"What? What happened to my friends?"

"They died," he told you bluntly. Shocking you to your very core, more so than finding out aircraft carriers could fucking fly. Tears welled up in your eyes, "It was a bomb. You saw it all... they didn't survive it. All but one. But he... he lost most of his brain ability. You used to visit him... he had a seizure a few years ago. He died too, I'm so sorry."

"Who-" you choked out, "Who was it?"

"Petersburg."

Your face contorted into nothing but one of pain. Tears finally slipping down your cheeks, as you turned to face away from Fury.

That man was like your brother. The closest thing that you ever had to one. And to find out what happened to him, it felt like getting shot.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Fury repeated.

Before you could get a chance to reply, the door burst open, interrupting you. And in ran a red-head.

"Romanoff!" Fury bellowed in the background.

You were surprised when the small woman threw herself at you, but your reflexes kicked in just in time, and you managed to catch her. Holding her against your body as she hugged you.

"Oh my, God," she breathed, trying to keep her emotions at bay. She pulled back, holding your face between her sort hands, you could see her eyes shifting from pure relief and happiness, to worry, "Y/N, are you okay? I've missed you so much, baby."

"What?" you whispered at her pet name towards you. Unable to tear your gaze from her shining green eyes.

"Romanoff." Fury tried to get her attention, at the same time. But failed. But, in her defence, you did blank him calling her name, too.

"-I was so worried about you." Tears grew in her eyes, as she uttered, "I thought you were dead." But she blinked her tears away, shaking her head at the mear thought, moving to wipe your tears away with her thumbs. "Are you tired-? Hurt-?"

"Romanoff."

"-God, I can't believe you're really here-" she smiled... then.

"Romanoff!"

Her attention finally snapped to the man, who she had ignored ever since barging into his office. "What?"

"Y/L/N here has lost their memory."

"What?" she repeated her previous question, shoulders drooping, and her fingers trailing to the sides of your jaw. "How much?"

"Eleven years."

"What?" She convulsed. Then turned back to face you, slowly lowering her hands from your face, them moving to hang by her sides, and you instantly missed her warmth. Yet, she finally noticed the wonder in your eyes, as you studied her face.

"Before you came in," Fury began, "I had just told them about Petersburg."

"Oh," she uttered breathlessly, seeing the sadness flashing in your eyes before you dropped your head slightly. The green-eyes stranger grabbed your biceps, immediately feeling the difference between them, but decided that could be dealt with at another time, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's not your fault." You waved her off, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the room, somewhat. And she finally noticed the metal of your hand, her eyes widening just so before she blinked them back to normal.

"I went yo his funeral," she told you, "I said goodbye for you."

"I- Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

You let out a small chuckle at her graciousness.

You shook your head, gesturing to her, "Hey, who are you again?"

"I'm Natasha. Natasha Romanoff." She smiled. "We were... we were close."

"Close? How close?"

"Very close."

"Well... it's nice to meet you, Natasha Romanoff. You already know who I am," you joked, putting your hand out for her to shake.

She laughed, taking your metal hand and shaking it.

"That I do... I'm glad you're back."

"I'm glad to be back."

And you were.

It was better being here, in the bright open world, with people who seemed nice. Rather than back in that dank building where you had been held captive.

Yeah...

You were glad to be "back".

***

Three weeks later and you were flourishing.

All that you were missing were your memories.

You hadn't remembered a single thing in the short amount of time that you had been staying at the compound.

Your "old" new-found friend, Tony Stark, and his college and teammate, Bruce Banner, had told you not to worry about that. And that your memories will come back, you just had to give them some time.

You had asked how they knew. How they knew that you would remember everything, and wouldn't have to essentially restart your life.

That's when they told you about Bucky. A man currently on a mission with some guys named Sam, and Steve. A man who also had a metal arm, but no metal leg- Which you soon discovered you had, the same day you had returned, as you went to the bathroom.

You had quite the shock, seeing the metal of your left leg, starting at your mid-thigh.

However! That Bucky guy had been brainwashed, just like Tony and Bruce had verified, that you had too. And Bucky's brainwashing had gone on for much longer than yours have. More years than you had even been alive. He had managed to get all of his memories back within a few years. So, they were sure you would, too.

So, that filled you with hope.

But still. They ran tests.

Just to make sure.

But you knew they just wanted to document your brain activity for research, and you were happy to play along.

They even brought in a teenage girl named Shuri, to "decondition" you. Just in case you had any triggers that could be randomly set off and would make you into a killing machine. Along with many other possibilities.

You jumped at that. Not wanting to accidentally hurt the people you had found yourself growing close too, in such a small amount of time.

The people who saw you as family.

Now, here you were.

Outside on the compound's grounds, getting ready to kick a re-enforced ball, towards a kid named Peter Parker. And with your metal leg, no less.

The boy asking you to do so, because he was curious about how far you could kick it.

Let's just say.

You could kick the ball super fucking far, with your left leg.

Peter dove for it. Huffing as he caught it. Landing on his ass.

You laughed as Natasha came up beside you, with a smile on her own face.

"I like that kid," you told her, pointing to Peter, who was moving to a stand.

"Well, I would hope so. You practically adopted him."

"Wait. What?" you snapped your attention to the stunning woman next to you. Just as Peter managed to regain his footing, and a re-enforced ball was colliding with the side of your face. Sending you tumbling to the floor.

Them worryingly yelling after you.

Okay, yeah. That kinda hurt.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Connor Rhodes x Reader Motherfucking Done

requested prompt:  Hey!😊 Could you write an imagine with Connor Rhodes, like the reader is a doctor, and he is jealous of her friendship with Will? Cute ending maybe. Thank you so much

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

warnings: swearing, pregnancy complications, this is shit, I’ll probably redo it later, but I’m so tired and stressed, oh and Cornelius Rhodes murdered his wife and no one can tell me otherwise

You and Connor returned to the U.S. as fast as you could. Connor more anxious than you, but then again, he had reason to. Two weeks ago you and your husband were at a party thrown by one of his patients at his penthouse. His massive, over the top, Fast and Furious 7 penthouse. It was three stories with a balcony with a pool. You and Connor always felt out of place at these parties, not even Connor had grown up around such extravagant wealth. But you made do, it was part of doctor-patient culture apparently, so you went. You hadn’t been feeling all that well, nauseous and with a skull-splitting headache. Connor had gotten another email from his sister, so you didn’t want to stress him out more than he already was. You and Connor had mostly stuck to the shade of the indoors, but eventually, you both had to go outside. Connor went to socialize with the host while you went to the third floor to the balcony that hung over the pool. There was a bar there, but you weren’t interested in alcohol. You didn’t think you could stomach it, but you hadn’t been able to stomach anything lately. You’d just sat at a table with a large umbrella and ordered a water.

You’d started feeling dizzy, the heat was suddenly beyond unbearable. You started panting and you knew that stressed out or not, you needed to tell Connor what was going on and leave. Something was very, very wrong. You turned in your seat, waving trying to get his attention. You leaned against the railing while still sitting down and he didn’t notice again. So and flimsy, shaking legs you stood up, clutching the railing. Sweat was pouring down your face and neck, it became so much more difficult to breathe, you were about to try yelling his name over the blaring music when, in a matter of seconds, you felt like you were going to faint, your entire body went limp, and you fell unconscious.

When you woke up you were, not only in a hospital, but the one you worked at. Connor, who was clutching your hand and praying in Hebrew noticed you stirring. “Y/N, sweetheart? Oh thank heavens, how are you feeling?”

“Groggy. What happened?”

“You fell off of the balcony at the top on the penthouse, three stories into the pool. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“It wasn’t bad when we left for the party, for most of the time we were there even. It was just at the end, I tried to wave at you, but looking back on it I probably should have just gotten one of the waiters to get you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please don’t be. The, uh, the doctors found out what was wrong though.”

“Really? What? Oh please tell me it’s not cancer, you know I’ve got a family history of that.”

“No, you don’t have cancer. You, uh... You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant? Like with a baby?”

“Yeah, heat just doesn’t agree with some women and pregnancy though, so we need to move.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, you are... We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents.” The dam finally broke and happy tears flooded your face. Connor joined you seconds after, but his tears were a combination of joy and relief, after all, he did watch you fall three stories into a pool.

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

You and Will had gone to med school in New York together. You’d been fair acquaintances, but he was a bit too cocky and you were a bit too serious. You both decided to have two specialties, the one you shared was emergency department medicine. You became Facebook friends, but that was about it. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d see him in person again unless there was a reunion. So you were a bit surprised when you ran into him on your way to your OB appointment. “Y/N? It’s been a while, how are you?”

“I’m doing great. Really, really great, actually. I didn’t know that you came back to Chicago, though. When we were in school you always said you’d never come back.”

“Things changed. Congrats, by the way,” Will gestured to your obviously pregnant belly, “how far along are you? How are the symptoms?”

“Five months. Uh, the symptoms have been really bad. And I’m just on my way to an appointment though so I should get going. But maybe we could get dinner sometime, I’d love for my husband to meet you so that he’ll finally believe all the crazy med school stories I have thanks to you. He works here too, actually.” You weren’t kidding, pregnancy had taken a huge toll on you. You had wretched morning sickness, high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, and a pregnancy-related iron deficiency. It was a quick walk from the entrance to the elevator to the OB ward, so you thought you’d be fine, but you were starting to feel weak and Will noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I need to sit down.” Will whipped around and grabbed a wheelchair for you, helping you to get in. “What’s wrong do I need to call your doctor or husband?”

“Honestly, I already feel better, but would you mind taking me to OB or getting someone else who can? This has just been a difficult pregnancy overall, so feeling faint really isn’t unusual for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, I’m just gonna text Connor and let him know, he was going to try to meet me there if he can get away from work for a minute.”

“You don’t happen to mean Connor Rhodes, do you?”

“I do, why?”

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

You found out why when Connor burst through the doors just after you and Will had entered. He kissed you on your forehead and gave you a once over. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Connor, I’m okay. I just started feeling weak so Will got me a wheelchair. I think that I was just on my feet too long, well too long while pregnant. I really hate that I can’t do what I used to be able to...”

“I know, but you should have just gotten help at the door, here let’s go talk to Dr. Hajjar. Thanks, Halstead, I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will!”

“You heard me, Rhodes, why didn’t you meet her at the car or entrance? You can’t really think you’re too important to help your pregnant wife.”

“Will that’s not-”

“That’s enough Halstead, you should get back to the ED, where your obnoxious presence is actually required.”

“Okay, that’s more than enough jabs from both of you. Will, thank you for helping me get here after I tried to get here myself when I probably shouldn’t have, Connor, I’m sorry for being so stubborn and I’m glad you had time today to come to another of my appointments which are happening more and more frequently.”

Will and Connor begrudgingly nodded at each other. “Thanks for getting her here safe Halstead.”

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

You decided to hold off on dinner together after seeing how little they got along. Having only realized at that first meeting that the ‘doctor douche’ your husband ranted about so much was your friend from med school. So instead you did what you could to keep the peace whenever you were in the hospital, which was frequent, but their pissing contest was grating on your nerves. It all came to a head the day you went into labour two weeks early. Connor was finishing up a surgery with Dr. Downey so Will was the one in the ED when you were rolled in. “Get Connor, Will.”

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“YES I’M SURE!”

Connor came running into treatment four minutes later and gently kissed you all over your face. “I’m here, Y/N. I love you so much.” Will, who had been holding your hand while you waited for Connor, scoffed.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WILLIAM?! I AM SO OVER THIS SHITTING CONTEST YOU HAVE WITH CONNOR. YOU ARE BOTH GROWN-ASS MEN GET OVER YOURSELVES. YOU ARE BOTH GOING TO APOLOGIZE TO EACH OTHER AND HUG RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM MOTHERFUCKING DONE!”

“Y/N-”

“WILLIAM SEAMUS HALSTEAD I KNOW THAT YOUR MOTHER TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN TO INCUR THE WRATH OF A PREGNANT WOMAN!”

“I’m sorry, Will.”

“I’m sorry, Connor.”

“Y/N Y/L/N you are officially my favourite person in the world, I was just about to ring their necks!”

“No problem Maggie.” You gave a weak smile as another contraction hit and Dr. Hajjar looked under the blanket before nodding. “Alright, Y/N, it’s time to push. If you’re not her husband or part of the delivery team; get out.”

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

Five days later you were still in the hospital, because of all the complications you’d had during pregnancy. Dr. Hajjar wanted to make sure your blood pressure wasn’t a high average before she discharged you. So when Natalie went into labour, you could hear her screams from down the hall. You’d also been where Will briefly went to hide with his tail in between his legs after Helen, Natalie’s mother in law, dressed him down. When you heard her screaming for Will, where he was, you gave Connor one look before he sighed and called Will.

Connor briefly appeared at his father’s ‘I-want-control-as-much-of-my-son’s-life-as-possible-so-I-donated-money-in-my-wife’s-name-for-mental-health-when-it’s-mostl-likely-that-I-murdered-her’ ceremony. He only went for the speech, and when it was over he approached his sister. “Connor, it’s nice to finally see you. You’ve been back in Chicago how long?”

“Almost four months. I, uh, want you to meet my wife and daughter.”

“You- what? Who? How?”

“Well I personally have absolutely no idea how I got lucky enough to have a baby with my wife Y/N, much less have her love me as much as I love her, but I’ve decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“Five days today.”

“Oh my God... When can I-”

“Now. You can meet them now.”

“I’ll get dad-”

“Claire don’t. Please. He’s the reason I left Chicago, you’re the reason I came back. I just don’t want the happiness I feel to end just yet.”

“Okay.” She hooked her arm around his as he led her out to the hall. “Did you really come back for me?”

“Well Y/N couldn’t stand the heat while pregnant, but you’re the reason we came back here and not to Seattle.”

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

You were cradling your bundle of joy and poop, Aviva Nadya Rhodes, in the lounge chair when Connor and Claire came in. “Hi, you must be Claire, I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. Is it okay if I hold- Aviva?”

“Sure, here just sit down on the loveseat and I’ll pass her to you.”

“Oh, she’s so tiny. And she looks just like you Y/N. Doesn’t look like she got anything from Connor. You sure are a lucky girl, huh?” Claire had Aviva’s head in the crook of her elbow and was giving the infant an unbridled, beaming smile.

”Hey! Stop trying to turn my daughter against me.”

“Connor don’t worry, you’re going to be an amazing dad and she is going to love you so, so much. I can feel it.”

“Y/N’s right, Connor. You’re going to do great, plus I’m only joking, I promise. Aren’t I, my sweet, sweet girl?”

“She loves my daughter more than she loves me.”

“I’d normally say no and try to reassure you, but she does,”

“And that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah, exactly. I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

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Sorry this was so bad, I’ll probably re-do this at some point cause I really like the whole faint-cause-pregnant-move-to-Chicago storyline I came up with. 

Again, sorry.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

hi! if youre still taking requests could you do the gaang doing dumbassery because they are all dumbasses? (if you want) anyways ur cool have a nice day

Aw, thanks, Anon🥰 I’ll raise you one better and give you Christmas-themed-Modern!AU dumbassery (feat. Zuko, Sokka, and Aang)

Words: 973

******************************

Zuko approached the house with a slack jaw and a firm questioning of...well, of everything. He blinked three times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and he immediately wanted to walk away when he realized he wasn’t imagining things. He had developed a sixth sense for knowing when he needed to have plausible deniability, and his instincts were screaming at him to get away from there.

Why. And why today. He was too tired for this.

“What…” Zuko struggled to find the ability to string his thoughts together. ‘Confused’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what he was feeling. He was concerned, for certain, and for many reasons. Some of it was for his own sake, but most of it was for his dwindling hope that humanity, as a collective, would be able to evolve forwards ever again. “...What is he doing?”

Sokka shrugged and didn’t look away from the warning-label-in-the-making wandering around on the roof. He lifted the lower half of his face out of his powder-coated jacket and accepted his fiancé’s greeting-gift of hot cocoa—extra marshmallows and a little gingerbread-man on top because being extra had its perks when Zuko got in trouble.

“He’s trying,” Sokka said between sips.

Zuko stared at the roof and the confused monk on top of it. And as he watched Aang gamble his life amongst the snowy shingles, he couldn’t help but have the same feeling of watching a documentary on National Geographic where he knew the baby deer was going to be killed and couldn’t do anything about it.

“But what is he trying?”

Sokka shrugged again. “‘Dunno. I’m just here to keep him company and to catch him when he falls off the roof again.”

“Again?”

Sokka spared him the same half-lidded gaze he had been giving their tattooed brother (in all but blood). “You were his teacher, Zuko. You should know he can be a pretty slow learner, sometimes.”

Zuko rubbed his growing headache and fought the urge to pound his head into the nearest tree. Aang was on the highest point of the roof and tangled in what had to be forty or so feet of Christmas lights. Thankfully, he had stopped waddling in a circle in his vain search for freedom and plopped into a seat in the snow. If the inevitable two-story fall didn’t kill him, then hypothermia definitely would. Born and raised in the mountains or not, he had no business wearing only jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the damn sleeves rolled up to his elbows (the shirt was reindeer themed and had ‘Naughty List Advocate’ printed across the chest).

Sokka sipped his hot cocoa. Zuko contemplated his place in the universe. “...She’s going to kill us for letting him do this,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Sokka slung an arm around Zuko’s shoulders and tugged them together. He gestured with his cup of cocoa towards the arrowed human hazard. “Katara won’t spill blood around the holidays. She’s too much of a goodie-goodie. Besides, this is Aang’s first Christmas. She wouldn’t dare mess it up for him.”

Zuko scowled but looked thoughtful. “I guess it is, technically, his first Christmas. Has he really only been here for less than a year?”

“Eight months. Feels a lot longer than that. And don’t worry too much about him falling from the roof. He pretty much lived up there for the first few weeks he moved in.”

“...Why?”

“He missed the altitude.”

“Ah.”

A small avalanche slid off the roof and plopped into a heap in front of them. The Christmas lights were all somehow turned on and probably an electrical hazard with how taut they were pulled, and Aang paused for breath from trying to free himself of his cocoon of pretty colors. He moped—nearly pouting—in a way that made them fight the urge to hug him and donate to an ASPCA commercial.

“Has he even seen Christmas lights before?”

Sokka smiled from ear to ear. “Nooooope,” he said, suspiciously happy.

“And you didn’t bother correcting him on…,” Zuko gestured to Aang’s creative stringing of lights, “...whatever that is?”

“He knows what Google is. He can look it up if he wants to.”

“Does he, though? Does he really?” Zuko shook his head. “Someone has to tell him.”

“I think it’s cute. Let him figure out what it means to him all on his own.”

“Hey, Sokka!” Aang shouted from two sheer stories above them. “Are all of the lights working—Oh, hey, Zuko!” The overgrown golden retriever disguised as their best friend smiled down at them with a floodlight’s intensity. He flailed his freed arm like one of those inflatable things in front of car dealerships. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right? I’ve been working on it all day!”

“Yeah, I can see that!” Zuko said. Sokka cackled, and Zuko elbowed him. “It looks...It looks very nice, Aang! Just be careful, okay?”

“I am, don’t worry! I’ve fallen from higher places back at the Temple!”

Zuko gave Sokka a pointed look. “You still think he’s going to learn?”

“Point taken.” Sokka passed Zuko his hot cocoa so he could cup his hands over his mouth. “Hey, Aang! I think that’s enough! It looks really good, but you don’t wanna overdo it! It’ll be too bright!”

“But...But I still have so much left to do!”

“Can’t you finish it later?” Zuko yelled. “You’ll catch your death out here if you don’t put on a jacket!”

Aang ignored that last part. “I can’t stop! Katara is going to be home in a few hours, and I have to have the lights up before she gets here! It’s a surprise!”

Sokka cupped Zuko’s mouth with one hand and projected his voice with the other. “Okay, that’s fine, then! Just be careful, okay? We’ll be right here if you need us!”

Aang nodded so fast that his head threatened to come off his shoulders. “I will! Thanks, guys!”

Sokka released Zuko’s mouth, and Zuko mumbled through his forced smile so Aang couldn’t see him talking. “You do realize that if he gets so much as a scratch, then our lives are forfeit, right?”

Sokka laughed a little, shrugged yet again, and sipped his cocoa some more.

Zuko rolled his eyes so hard that it was a miracle he didn’t go blind. “Do you have to have a deathwish for Christmas?”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Right on cue, Aang appeared as if he had been summoned—first as a startled yelp, then as a snowballing cocoon of lights, and then as a projectile.

Luckily, Zuko caught him.

Not so luckily, Zuko hadn’t meant to catch him.

...Zuko’s broken arm throbbed just as badly as his headache, and Aang—lying in the hospital bed right next to him and admiring the little Christmas wreaths and snowflakes Katara drew on his leg’s cast (she even colored a blue line to show where his tattoo wound down his leg)—wasn’t exactly helping him.

He was way, way too tired for this.

Zuko made the mistake of looking at his companion-in-cast. Aang’s puppy-dog eyes were internationally ranked, and they disabled Zuko’s ability to say ‘no’ when he asked if he could pretty please make up for breaking his arm by decorating his cast for him.

(‘Creative’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the end result...But Zuko really did like the pair of red and green dragons. They had antlers and snowy-white beards, and the fire they breathed looked like Christmas lights thrown into a blender. It made the nauseating amount of permanent-marker-smell completely worth it.)

Every few hours, Sokka brought them greeting-gifts of hot cocoa and fruit cakes—extra marshmallows and moonpeach-flavored gooey centers because being extra had its perks when Katara was contemplating her allowance of her brother’s and her future brother-in-law’s continued existences.

Aang meekly showed Katara the little drawing he made of what he intended their roof to look like.

She kissed his frown away and practically lived on the roof for the next two days to make it happen.

Once the lights were lit, a small crowd gathered around their house like how people did when they saw a car accident.

But Aang couldn’t have been happier, and, when he slung his arms around their shoulders and thanked them for making his first Christmas that much brighter, Zuko and Sokka couldn’t not smile along with their brother (in all but blood) if they tried.

[crewhonk]

Only Happy Accidents (13)

AN: Second last chapter!!!! How insane is this! Sorry for the late upload, the queue ate the original post rip. Anyways!

Summary: Steve and clan deal with the consequences of YN’s high risk emergency surgery and the birth of Steve’s son, Charlie

Warnings: Surgery complications, mentions of blood, Steve is afraid, Bucky is afraid and he has a little meltdown

“Uneven Odds”— Sleeping at Last / “Everything Changes”— Sara Bareilles / “The Story”— Sara Ramirez

Only Happy Accidents

_________________________

July 5th, one day post birth

Steve sat by the bed, staring. It’s all he could do, honestly. Charlie was asleep in the cradle a foot away (he slept with his mouth as far open as it could go— just like Steve did), and sleep was so far away he couldn’t even think about it. So, he stared.

YN was alive, but the tubes and wires connected to her body and going down her throat made her seem farther away than ever. Her hands were warm, sure, but she wasn’t breathing on her own, so what was the point, really. 

Helen had found him crying over Charlie, and she’d sat down in the chair opposite him and told him that YN’s heart had stopped beating for a while during surgery— something about blood loss, and the lack of oxygen going to her brain for that extended period of time put her ability to wake up or even breathe on her own a slim possibility. Cho had taken him and Charlie down to YN’s room, and the tubes and wires were honest to god worse than the screaming and blood, because at least when she was in that amount of pain, his wife was still alive. Sovereign. 

Steve had immediately asked if he could do something, and after getting his blood tested, found out he wasn’t a match for a blood transfusion— hoping that the enhancements in his blood would help YN heal. Even in all his super-enhanced glory, and with the enhancement created under the best of intentions, Steve still couldn’t save the people he loved the most— no matter what century it was, he couldn’t stop things like this from happening. So, Steve had cried like a damn baby as he held YN’s limp hand, begging and praying and compromising with the universe for her to wake up. 

Charlie was the only thing stopping him from doing something dangerous— the cooing happy baby, unaware of the grief around him was a reminder for Steve that good things still existed. To think that Steve could ever hate something like this— something so good that he’d created made him sick to his stomach. When Steve wasn’t cradling the baby or hovering over the bassinet, he was at YN’s head, pushing the hair away from her face and glaring at the tubes and kissing her cheeks and knuckles. 

Apparently, Bucky Barnes had taken enough pity on him after walking in on him crying for the fifth hour in a row and had pulled Helen aside, asking if he, possibly could get tested. 

He was a match. 

So, that’s how Busy Barnes found himself standing next to his godson and best friend, watching as his own blood— that created and given to him by such evil people for such evil purposes as it saved the lives of the people he cared most about in this world. 

His best friend. 

His godson.

YN Rogers, who had brought so much fullness to everyone she touched— she reminded him so much of Rebecca it tore his heart in half some times. 

And he waited with the Rogers family, holding Charlie when Steve was too distraught to hold him, and leaning into Natasha when he needed the support she gave him. She was taking it hard, too. Not being able to have children herself, and then watching a wonderful, peaceful pregnancy turn into something so traumatic had shaken her to her bones. Her bravery in this made Bucky admire her more than he ever had, and the ring in his pocket burned a hole through his skin down to his bones as more days passed. 

As soon as Helen had injected the blood, her stats had increased gradually— not the dramatic, gasping romantic event he’d half been expecting, but as the hours went on, YN’s cheeks grew flushed with just a little more colour. 

The room remained quiet into the following day. The sun rose slowly on the anxious family, and Steve squinted as the sunlight shone directly in his face. He’d fallen asleep with Charlie sprawled on his chest in the armchair next to YN’s head, and someone had thrown a clean blanket over them, keeping them warm as Charlie was kept in a comfortable snooze agains this fathers heart beat. Steve’s hand cradled the kids bum as he rubbed his back lightly and leaned his head back, shutting his eyes and listening to the constant heart rate beeping from the monitor beside him. She was still alive— that was nice. At some point, Bucky had put Charlie in the basinet so Steve could fall forward onto the bed and just rest his eyes for a few seconds. 

“Steve—” A raspy, chalky, but all too familiar piped up from beside him, and his eyes flashed open as he jolted, almost forgetting the newborn in his arms before hugging him closer and staring at the woman in the bed. 

She didn’t look as if she was awake. Her body hadn’t shifted, and her eyes were still shut peacefully, but the breathing tube was nowhere to be found so either YN was dead and her ghost had come to haunt him or—

“YN?” He whispered, leaning towards the bed and staring hard, begging the Gods again to just stop playing with him. 

“You’re yelling, you know.” She whispered back, cracking her eye open at him. 

“How long have you—“ Steve whimpered, standing and leaning over her, tracing his eyes over her features— she looked good. 

“A few minutes. You looked like shit so I figured you could use the beauty sleep.” She teased and he let out a sound halfway through a cry and laugh before he ducked down and kissed her breathless. He knew she felt just as relieved to have her eyes open by the speed of the heart monitor— it beeped quicker than it had today, and the thought of her alive and well and responding had tears wetting his cheeks. 

“YN, baby. I thought you were— I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do if you didn’t—“ He choked out, tears falling onto her cheeks, which he kissed off quickly. 

“Hey, don’t think about that, okay, baby? I’m alive and— wait, where is my baby?” She cut herself off, suddenly remembering that she was in fact a mother now. Steve smiled and kissed her nose once more, trailing his fingertips over her cheek and lips as he stood up. She kissed his fingertips and he flushed, pulling them away regretfully before turning around to the cradle and scooping a sleeping Charlie into his arms and walking over to his wife. He moved slowly, watching the adoration fill YN’s tired face as Charlie got closer. 

Steve placed him on her chest, and her hand, delicate and hesitant rested on his back as if her touch would shatter him. Charlie stirred only slightly, burrowing his face into YN’s chest and wrapping his tiny fists into the fabric of YN’s hospital gown. 

“This is our son, Charlie.” Steve whispered, throat tight with emotion as YN let out a dry sob. She ran her fingertips over his coned head lightly, the soft downy hair caressing her fingers. 

“Charlie.” YN whispered, tears streaming down her face as she looked down at him. “He looks like you, Steve. And my dad, but there’s a lot of you in him.” She commented and he smiled, hand on her thigh as he stared at the scene in front of him. This— this is the only moment of his life he would ever want to remember. Somehow, despite how scared and angry he had been, everything— everything leading to this moment was worth it. 

“I thought he looked like you. Wait until you see his eyes, baby.” Steve whispered, brushing the back of his knuckle across Charlie’s cheek. 

YN looked up at him, eyes bright and shining and alive and she lips pulled into a tired smile. “Kiss me, Steve Rogers. Please, kiss me.”

And so he did. He sat on the bed next to her, and covered over his little, perfect family and kissed his perfect wife breathless. 

“I love you, YN Rogers. I love you, I love you, I love you and thank you for surviving and coming back to me.” Steve whispered against her lips and she shuddered out a breath. 

“Hey, you married me so you’re stuck with me for life, pal.” YN smiled, kissing him again rubbing her thumb across his cheekbone once she pulled away. He leaned into her touch, turning his face to litter her palm with kisses. The small family was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. 

Steve loved Dr. Cho. He really truly did, and he had all the respect int he world for her, but could he just have an hour without seeing her wearing that stupid damn poker face. There was a polite greeting as she looked over YN’s charts, nodding and humming to herself before she clipped the board back on the bottom of the bed and looked at the Rogers. 

“So, YN, we should likely discuss the surgery.” And with a small nod, Cho continued. Steve shifted to take YN’s hand as she wrapped her free arm around Charlie who made a tiny squeaking noise before smacking his lips and falling back to sleep. 

“So, the surgery was extensive, and did not go without trouble. Your heart stopped for longer than any of us would have liked, and it is because of Mr. Barnes that you’ve recovered so well.” She started and YN looked at her confused. 

“Pardon?”

“Mr. Barnes donated his blood— he was a match for donation, and the serum he had been enhanced with kickstarted your recovery. Without it it’s unlikely you would have woken up with full brain function if you woke up at all.” She said, grimly and YN looked up at Steve quickly, watching him purse his lips and nod. 

“I tried, but we weren’t a match. I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry.” He whispered, coughing when his voice cracked. YN, shocked with the news clutched his hand harder and nodded, turning back to Cho.

“There’s something else, isn’t there.”

“Usually, the placenta carrying the child would be set up higher int he uterus and away from he cervix. However, your own was lower— closer to your cervix, and had adhered to the uterine wall too deeply for it to release properly. Usually, this complication would have been detected in scans, but it was such a microscopic abnormality that we missed it, and during your contractions, your placenta detached too quickly which caused the bleeding and damage.” She said, and YN fell back against the bed. She clutched Charlie closer to her as a comfort and the feeling of his little fists tightening reassured her slightly. 

“So what happens now?” YN whispered, not wanting to look at Steve for fear of him looking disapointed in her. 

“Well, there was so much damage to your uterus that the chances of you becoming pregnant again are low, and if you did the pregnancy would be incredibly high risk. If you’d decided to carry on with the pregnancy, you would likely have to have a cesarian, and depending on the placement of the placenta, the entire uterus would need to come out.” Cho said, trying her best to keep her poker face. 

YN’s chin wobbled at the news and her eyes grew hot as she flicked them up to the room, glaring at the ceiling with everything she had in her. Why would this have happened? Was it because fo the snap? Was it just her body’s inability to deal with things like this? 

Before he let YN fully pull away and retreat into herself, Steve squeezed her hand and called her name. On the third repetition of her name, she looked at Steve and the tears finally fell from he corners of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered. “I know you wanted a big family but—“

“You stop that right now,” he demanded, voice strong despite the sinking feeling in his heart. “This is not your fault, okay? And I’d rather have a healthy, alive wife and a healthy, loved, spoiled little boy than anything else, okay?” He ducked his head, trying to catch her eyes again. Her beautiful eyes looked up at him again and he cooed, wiping her tears away with his fingers. “And if we decide we want another baby, we can adopt. Maybe we can even get a pet first— cause, you know. That’s something that couples usually do before they get married anyways.” He joked and YN snorted, wiping her eyes and nodding. 

“Maybe a plant.”

“Maybe even a plant.” He confirmed and smiled, kissing her nose and playing his hand on Charlie’s little bum. 

“I would also like to take you out on a date for once. No baby. Just me and you.” He offered and YN smiled, blushing lightly. 

“Yeah, we kinda skipped out on that bit too, huh?” She smiled, and neither Steve nor YN noticed Cho leaving, noticing that her company was no longer wanted in this moment. 

“Like a movie and dinner, and I take you home and kiss you on the doorstep.”

“We live together, Steve.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” He defended. 

“I want flowers.” She said. “And chocolates. I wanna be wooed.” 

Steve sat back and laughed, hand resting over his heart as he looked at her so fondly. “I married you and gave you a baby and you still need to be wooed?”

“No, but I like the way you get flustered when you try to flirt with me.” She wrinkled her nose at him and he rolled his eyes. 

“I do not get flustered.”

“Okay, you big ol’ beefcake DILF. I’ll believe it when I see it.” YN teased, giggling when a blush crept up his neck at the nickname. 

“I am not a DILF.” He hissed, smile on his lips. 

“You’re my DILF.”

_______________

Charlie had latched onto YN’s nipple immediately, and soon enough, the soreness in her breasts diminished exponentially. She sighed and leaned back into the many pillows Steve had brought her once they found out she’d be in this room for the next week and under Cho’s careful eye. It was the first time YN had alone with her son, and frankly, she couldn’t wait to watch this little guy grow up into someone she could love relentlessly. 

He had her eyes. It was simple and plain as the sun— her eyes lived on in Charlie, and seeing the exact mirror of herself in this creation which had lived in her stomach for nine months was nothing like she’d ever felt before. Holding this squirming, cooing little angel in her arms as he fed on her was the most satisfying thing she’d ever felt. She felt productive and accomplished, and peaceful as she ran her fingers over his body. Down his head and cheeks and over his back and bum, poking at his chubby little thighs and counting his toes and fingers over and over again. 

She was scared she wouldn’t feel a maternal surge take over her body once she met Charlie— it was a common thing, apparently. She’d learned about it in the birthing classes she and Steve had gone to, as well as the couples therapy they’d gone to, but it was a weight off her chest to feel this much love for her little guy. 

There was a knock at the door, and YN looked up to see Bucky walk in and upon seeing her breastfeeding averted his eyes. 

“I can come back later if you—“

“Bucky come in.” YN smiled, feeling an incredible warmth of appreciation flood her body at the sight of this man. This man who had given her chances upon chances and who had walked her down the aisle and saved her life— she wouldn’t have anyone else as her sons godfather. 

Bucky nodded, and placed the small bouquet of sunflowers he had brought her on the bedside table and sat in the armchair that Steve had made his home in. His eyes never left Charlie, smiling at him and how well he was feeding. 

“God, he’s a strong little guy huh?” He hummed and YN nodded, looking down at him and sighing. 

“I didn’t think he’d be so small, though. I thought he’d be way bigger considering how big my stomach was.” YN hummed, almost missing the swell of her stomach. She’d shrunk well, but her skin was loose and soft— something she’d have to train down once more with the provided trainers Cho recommended. 

“You did have a huge bump.” He laughed and YN pretended to be offended. There was a period of silence before Bucky spoke again. 

“Did Cho tell you?” He whispered, looking down at his hands and YN nodded. 

“Thank you, Bucky. I know you weren’t the biggest fan of me in the beginning, but that was a very wonderful thing you did.” She responded, feeling regret at her words. No matter how much she praised Bucky and thanked him, he would never know just how damn grateful she was. “You’ve done so much for me these past few months, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

Bucky let a rush of air through his nose and he shook his head. “You take care of Charlie and Steve, and let them take care of you. That’s how you pay me back.” Bucky smiled a closed mouth smile and he went back to picking at his nails. 

“What’s going on, Buck?” YN whispered, reaching towards him. He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again. “Buck, talk to me.”

“It’s just— I was enhanced with HYDRA’s serum. I was only allowed to save your with a serum hat killed so many people and caused so much pain and that’s not fair to you— you deserved so much more than—“

“James Buchanan Barnes you listen to me now and you listen closely.” She said, making her voice strong but remaining quiet as to not disrupt Charlie. “I don’t know how many people have told you this before, but I’m assuming you’ve heard it more than once. You are not the serum in your blood. You are not the things they made you do. You are the man in the stores Steve told me. You are the man who loves science, and space, and technology. You are a man who loves gun and knives and knows to treat them with respect. You are a man who is planning a proposal to the woman who he loves, and you are a man who carries the ring around waiting for the moment you feel she deserves. You are a man who watches. A man who looks out for the people in his life— for Steve, and Sam, and Natasha. You are the man who sacrifices himself for those he loves. That is the man I want to have as my child’s godfather because I believe that man is someone to look up to as a hero and an idol. James Barnes you are one of the most magnificent people I’ve ever had the true honour to meet.”

Bucky looked up, tears making his grey eyes shine, and he grabbed YN’s hand before pressing his head against it and letting out a sob. She let her hand glide through his hair, soothing him to the best of her ability as he cried into her mattress. 

“You are worthy of the love you receive, James.” YN whispered and he nodded into the mattress, coughing out another sob before wiping his nose and eyes and looking at her with soft eyes. 

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” He whispered. “Thank you.”

“You’re my family now, it’s my job to tell you how everyone else feels.”

Bucky wiped his face again and sat back, sighing out a choppy breath. It was a while before his head shot up and stared hard at YN. 

“How did you know I was planning that?” He asked, brows furrowed. 

“Steve’s really bad at keeping secrets. You’re better off doing it sooner than later before he lets it slip to Nat.” YN shrugged, smiling as Bucky’s eyes widened and he shot up front he chair, rushing out of the room to find where Natasha and Steve had gone to, fearing that his best friend really was as ditzy as his wife claimed he was. 

________________

July 13th

“We could so make it all the way down this ramp with me on the back of this wheelchair.” Steve joked as he pushed YN through the halls of the compound in her wheelchair, and YN threw her head back and laughed, slightly startling the baby in her arms. 

“Steven Grant we will do no such thing with your child in my arms, do you understand.” YN scolded through her laughs and she could almost feel Steve’s smile behind her. Charlie had grown strong, and his eyes were brighter than ever as he stared up at his parents and listened to their happy sounds. He was swaddled tightly in a thin blanket, and was dressed in the softest light yellow onesie YN had ever felt. YN’s favourite part of the outfit Steve had chosen today, however, was the black and white beanie with cartoon zebras dancing around the rim of it. God, she’d done well. 

“Yes ma’am.” He chortled, and the sliding doors opened in front of them, making YN gasp a large breath of fresh air. In this moment, she made a vow that she would spend more time outside. This past week of indoor solitude was enough to make her insane. She was excited to go home, though— the familiarity of her own home and the welcoming scents of her and Steve was something that made her eager to leave the compound. 

Steve walked up to the range rover and scooped Charlie into his arms, stealing YN of her breath. It was an image she would never get over— the man of her dreams carrying their child and making Charlie look like the smaller thing in the whole wide world. Steve lifted Charlie up to his face and peppered light kisses all over his chubby cheeks, eliciting shrieking giggles from the child. Steve was the one to make Charlie laugh the most, and it made YN slightly jealous. Mostly happy, but what the heck? She carried the kid for nine months, why wasn’t she the favourite parent. 

“Remember to have it tight! But not too tight because—“ YN watched as Steve put Charlie into the car seat, and he looked back at her, glaring slightly in amusement. 

“I know how to strap the kid in, Sweetheart.” He chided and YN pursed her lips, watching Steve’s every move. Steve tucked Charlie into the seat with a blanket and pulled the carseat hood over him, encouraging the kid to take a nap in the car. 

Steve shut the back door and turned to his wife, smiling down at her. Before she could move to stand herself, he curled his arms around her and scooping his arms around her as he lifted her bridal style. She squealed and cliched at him, making him laugh. He continued to hold her with one arm as he opened the passenger side door and placed her on the seat, cupping her face in his large hands and kissing her softly. 

“How about we go home, huh?” He whispered against her lips and smiled and nodded, kissing him again slowly and tasting him. God, YN would never get over how damn lucky she got with him. 

“I would very much love that. Can we stop at McDonalds though? I need to do something that Cho doesn’t approve of for once.” 

______________

 Later that same night, YN came out of the master bathroom wrapped in a towel to find the hottest thing she’d ever seen before. 

Steve was sitting against the headboard shirtless, his slow even breaths telling her that he was asleep. His long eyelashes dusted over his cheeks, and his mouth was wide open, head lolling to the side. His wide shoulders were bare and the dark smattering of brown chest hair made YN’s mouth water. However, the hottest thing about this whole situation was the fact that Charlie was curled up on his chest, mouth open the same way and eyelashes mimicking his fathers. His ear was pressed flat against the left side of Steve’s chest, and had probably been lulled to sleep by the steady beat of Steve’s heart. 

“Fuck.” YN cursed, dashing over to the best of her ability to grab her phone, taking several pictures for reasons. She threw her phone back on the bed and pulled on some underwear and a pad as well as one of Steve’s hoodies— the first time she’d actually managed to fit into one in months. It wasn’t long before she walked over to her boys, sitting next to Steve and using the long hair he’d grown from his eyes. 

He hummed, furrowing his brows and closing him mouth, licking his lips and rolling his head to face YN. He opened his eyes slowly, and blinked in the light from the bedside table. 

“Hey, beautiful.” She murmured and his cheeks darkened slightly. 

“You stealin’ my lines now, Sugar?” He whispered, hands wrapping around Charlies body and hugging him tighter to his chest. 

“They’re good lines.” She replied, wiggling her fingers around Charlie and scooping him to her chest. She stood slowly and bounced her way over to the cradle only two feet from Steve’s side of the bed. She lay him in gently and jumped slightly when Steve hands circled around her waist, hugging her to him as he rested his chin on her shoulder. The two stared down at this creation and swayed. 

“What the hell do we do now?” He snorted and YN giggled, making him kiss her neck and cheek in pure happiness. 

“I have no fucking idea.” She shook her head and reached up behind her, curling her hand into his hair and scratching his scalp almost making him purr in delight. 

“How about we figure it out together, huh?” He replied and YN turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and standing on her tip toes to kiss his chin. He squeezed her upper ribs, careful of her incisions before guiding her to the bed and sitting her on it, cupping her face in his hands before bending over and capturing her lips in his in a heated kiss. 

“We got time, don’t we.” YN mumbled against his mouth as she backed up on the bed, making room for him to crawl on her and cage her between his arms. 

“We have so much time, baby. So much damn time to figure out anything we wanted.” 

“You’re not tired of me yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Shithead.”

“Your favourite shithead.”

“Maybe so.”

_____________-

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[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Domestic Disputes And Bad Habits (mysme x MC)

--- Zen ---

He hadn’t lived with anyone for years. After running away from home, he struggled with housing, sometimes couch surfing and sometimes he had legitimate leases. And when he lived with others, he was usually the ‘messy roommate’ because leaving home at a young age meant little opportunity to learn how to manage a living space. 

Even now, his apartment is relatively clean largely by virtue of him not owning a lot of stuff. He doesn’t cook so no dishes to clean, he doesn’t own loose knick knacks to spread around. 

When he housed you for a couple days prior to the first RFA party, he had quickly cleaned his apartment of empty beer cans and loose socks, which made it look like he was a man who kept a clean house. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and by the next afternoon you noticed random articles tossed over chairs and upon the floor.

That was fine when it was only his space, but when the two of you began living together, Zen quickly had to learn that it wasn’t acceptable to shed his clothing upon the floor all the time, especially when the laundry basket was right there. No, Zen, get your loose socks out of the couch cushions. Zen, stop piling up empty cigarette boxes on the nightstand. Zen, once you’ve unwrapped the sheet mask from its plastic envelope would it kill you to throw it away, instead of leaving it on the bathroom counter?

He’s consistent when it comes to chores like doing the laundry and taking out the trash. But asking him to hang up his jacket instead of letting it crumple in the corner? It’s like getting blood from a stone. 

After a while, you finally get him to pick up after himself. “It’s our home, now,” you said. “Not just yours.” A promise that said he wasn’t alone, anymore. And he took it to heart.  

--- Yoosung ---

It may seem like his depression-ruled lifestyle seemed to change overnight, but that wasn’t the case. Sure, he did regain a lot of his motivation and energy, but simply getting a new lease on life won’t overrule years of neglecting yourself.

You’d text him in preparation for a date, only to arrive and find out he hasn’t even left his bed since he replied with an ‘I’ll get ready!’ More than once your dates had to be rescheduled because Yoosung had been stuck in bed, or still in his pajamas on his desktop. 

On the third time you voiced your complaints, Yoosung got a bit defensive. He couldn’t help it, it’s hard for him to maintain a tidy schedule after so long lacking the proper will. 

It was a terse discussion. Your first couple fight, if you will. “Yoosung, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t want to seek professional help?” “No, MC, I’m fine. What could a counselor possibly help me with?”

It was Yoosung’s own initiative to finally google some nearby therapists during a particularly slow morning. He didn’t tell you he’d been seeing someone until four sessions in, since he struggles with the idea that he might need help. You hug him tightly and treat the both of you to tasty pastries at a cute bakery. 

Yoosung took his therapy to heart. He started slow, working on self-affirming mindfulness and motivating himself to tidy his living space. Then he worked on his time management, which helped his schooling and energy both. 

Within the year, both you and Yoosung saw progress. He felt better, which made his life better. More time to live. More time to spend with you.

--- Jaehee ---

Domestic arguments didn’t arise until you moved in with her. Before that point, Jaehee and you meshed so gracefully, it was damn near magical. 

Even moving into her place and having to carry around heavy couches and unpack a million boxes didn’t dampen that honeymoon phase. You loved witnessing Jaehee’s hidden strength as she tugged your mattress down seven flights of stairs. 

But within a week of living with her, you noticed that you and her ... clashed when it came to interior living. You kept using up the hot water before Jaehee could take a shower. She would misplace your possessions thoughtlessly. The both of you thought each other as messier. 

It was like a new roommate situation. At first, the two of you tried to calmly talk these things out. But new issues would arise after the old ones were resolved. She didn’t like how you tossed your coat across the desk chair, or left the living room lamps on during the night. 

“It’s my apartment, MC!” “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought being your co-owner at the cafe we co-manage meant my co-money go into our co-rent!”

Jaehee went to work in a huff, leaving you to your own devices. Alone in the apartment, you decided to do some regular chores, and as you rested for a minute you absorbed the living space - you could see Jaehee’s touch in ever corner, thoughtfully and carefully labored over. It really almost seemed like your mindless efforts were invading her space.

When Jaehee returned that evening, the two of you tried to apologize at the same time. “Oh, sorry, you go -” “No, you, sorry for interrupting -”

“It’s just ... MC, I want to apologize for treating you like a naughty guest. You’re my partner now and deserve more say in our home.”

You made up and eventually the apartment evolved into a true home between the two of you. A perfect representation of your love.

--- Jumin ---

The dude can be shockingly conservative. In the beginning, it only manifested in him being somewhat of a prude. “I wish you wouldn’t wear that particular dress to the social. You look more beautiful when you show less skin.” “... you mean you’d personally prefer I didn’t show much skin, right?” “Yes? What was wrong with my previous sentence?”

But sometimes he’d be watching the news and blurt out, “I’m not sure if marriage between two men should be recognized by law.” Which leads to you trying to convince him that he’s being very unethical. 

He usually ends up saying something like, “I’m sorry, love, I’m rather uneducated when it comes to this issue,” and leave it at that. Because he’s not some right-wing jackass or anything, he just grew up in an isolated Christian family and never really got to socialize beyond that. So he never learned about viewpoints that challenged what he heard growing up.

It can be infuriating, though, especially with issues you’re concerned about. Because Jumin just kinda tries to compromise by taking a non-stance, since he just doesn’t have a strong opinion on things like reproductive rights or colonialism. It’s partially due to his sheltered background, and partially due to being raised to literally be conservative in his life dealings.

But after seeing you becoming more and more frustrated, he digs a little deeper and realizes that he’s kinda being an ass.  Eventually he begins to say things like, “I think you’re right, MC. Demonizing drug abusers is antithesis to their recovery. They deserve sympathy instead.”

But a pleasant surprise is his appreciation for climate conservation. He likes to donate and fund green power initiatives because he believes in preserving the environment and preventing nature exploitation. You join his efforts, and he finally understands how important it is to have solidarity from your significant other.

--- Saeyoung/707 ---

Being merely twenty-three years old (not to mention his neglected upbringing) leads to some rocky relationship problems. His self-doubt and anxiety can go wild during his worse days, making him revert back to his colder personality and try to push you away once more.

It doesn’t manifest as just him ignoring you. His mind can make him do some really round-about sabotaging. One day, you open the kitchen cabinets to see it all the objects thrown within haphazardly. You confronted Saeyoung and it took hours before he coldly confessed that he was considering throwing away all your favorite foods, before realizing how fucked up that would be and quickly replacing it all again. 

He knew it was his mother’s influence talking. And the thought made him sick. 

Sometimes, you responded to his darker days with loving patience and lots of hugs while he allows himself to break down. Sometimes, you choose to distance yourself a bit. Either way, Saeyoung’s mood eventually evens out. The two of you talk at length about why he feels the way he does, and why he’s propelled to do these things. As time goes on, his dark moods pop up less and less.

On a lighter note, Saeyoung can be a pretty messy dude. Partly because of his underlying mental issues, partly because that’s the type of guy he is. He doesn’t shower as much as you like him to, and he tosses trash just ... everywhere. If his bunker wasn’t so big, the clutter he alone produces would bury you both. No wonder he needed a ‘maid’. 

Yeah, it takes more than a few pushes to make him stop being a slob. He eventually owns up, but not without some effort. Everyone living in the house is grateful. 

--- Saeran ---

It took many months before Saeran felt stable enough to start integrating into normal society, and even longer before his daily schedule began to stabilize beyond surprise breakdowns, spreads of bad days spent holed up, or horrible dips in moods.

Saeran would always live with dissociative identity disorder, and during the first few years it could get tough. Both ‘Suit’ and Ray would be triggered seemingly without warning, and sometimes last for days. Ray did anything he could to earn your affection, ‘Suit’ defected his fears by trying to provoke you. 

Therapy and medication was an ongoing process. You and Saeran went through more than a couple of therapists before finding the ‘one’. Medications had to be tried then dropped because of side effects, or lack of effectiveness. There were long periods of months in-between where all he could do was hope this new treatment would be more effective than the last.

‘Suit’ once got particularly violent with you, not hitting but shaking you by the shoulders and screaming in your face, “Just say it!! You hate me ... you want to hurt me!!”

You found 'Suit’ later, crying and curled up in a corner. After long coaxing, he confessed that he was so afraid you were eventually going to hurt him, so he was pushing you to see if you’d do it. 

And Ray’d do things like blow away all his saved up money to buy you gifts in a desperate show of affection. Just because the two of you were living in a safe, stable environment doesn’t mean old haunts wouldn’t pop up.

Saeran eventually got better and better. Looking back now, Saeran is so much happier. He never lets you forget your amazing influence on him. “Thank you for saving me, my love.” 

--- Jihyun ---

He’s the perfect example of a loving boyfriend. After his two years spent in a therapeutic journey of self-discovery, he returned ready to be a reliable partner. And for the most part, he lived up to it, barring some moments where he accidentally gets sucked into bad memories.

Insomnia is the most common problem. Settling down to sleep means his mind gets easily swamped, and when he does manage to sleep he wakes up during the night and gets overwhelmed with memories once again. Some nights are worse than others.

He tries not to get up from the bed to avoid waking you too, but you eventually develop a second sense for his insomnia spells and you can feel it when he’s struggling. Then he feels bad that he’s affecting you this way.

See, that’s his problem that he can’t resolve on his own. He thinks of his problems as obstacles that bother others, and not the obstacles themselves. This prevents him from finding ways to truly resolve them. 

“I’m sorry, MC. Go back to sleep.” “... Jihyun, how many nights has it been since you’ve slept properly?” He measures it by the nights you’ve been kept awake too, and you stop him there.

“Don’t you see? It’s not about me. Think about your own health.”

And that’s not easy for him. He had obsessed over being a figure that offers unconditional love for so long, it’s hard to shed it. He thinks of his mother and his eyes grow wet. 

He and you find a relationship therapist, and it helps a lot. Jihyun’s two years of self-discovery did wonders for his mood, but it took a bit of professional aid to really unravel the really complicated stuff. 

He feels his state of thinking shift gradually, and it makes his life less cloudy, less stuck in those bad memories and regrets. Instead, he goes to sleep every night thinking about how much he loves you and his family. His heart falls asleep feeling light instead of heavy. 

[semi-occasionally-writing-stuff]

Of Bullets & Blood - Chapter 3

Read on AO3

Summary

C.C. Tinsley. A preacher’s son. Now a bounty hunter who will do whatever it takes to find who killed his wife and son.

Ricky Goldsworth. A former samurai running from his past. Now a bounty hunter trying to stay honourable in a land riddled with crime.

At first glance, these men were opposites in every way. However, through betrayal, blood, corruption, and the crimes of a serial killer, they will find that they have much more in common than they first expected.

Western/Samurai AU!

Chapter 3: A Warm Meal & Bad Company

To say Ricky’s day wasn’t going that well would be an understatement. He had been out hunting for almost 7 hours and still hadn’t caught a thing. He found a deer, but his boot got stuck in the stirrup and he ungracefully fell off his horse and spooked the poor thing. Then an hour later Francesca bucked him off his horse when a rattlesnake slithered out onto the path. Other than that, there wasn’t much that he could find and he knew he didn’t have anything left in the cupboards as he donated it to the local church to feed the poor. Accepting defeat, Ricky started to head home until he came by a dirty white house where an old man was sitting on the steps of the porch.

“Hey son! You look like you’re in desperate need of a warm meal. Why don’t you come on in?,” he hollered.

Ricky noted that the man seemed pretty harmless, there was a walking stick resting beside him and he was had a wide welcoming smile that beckoned him in. Despite this, he didn’t really want to bother the man.

“It’s okay sir, I’m just passing through. No need to put yourself through all that trouble.”

“Nonsense, it would be my pleasure! Good company always has a seat at my table. My wife always makes too much for me and my son. It’s best that you do come in and help us eat all of it.”

The front door creaks open and an older lady appears who waves at Ricky, “Abe, that’s dinner ready. oh hello there, I’m Delilah! Come on in, I’ll set an extra place at the table for you.”

“The lady has commanded you to the table now boy, you better get in there,” the man laughed as he stood and walked inside.

Ricky sighed and decided that eating a homemade meal with a family instead of stopping by the general store for some awful tinned food was a better alternative. So, he climbed down from his horse, brushed the dirt off his clothes the best he could, took off his bow and quiver, packed them onto the horse and straightened his jacket as he walked up to the house and into the dining room.

“There’s our guest of honour! Come take a seat next to Samuel here. When was the last time you had a good meal with family?” Delilah said as she placed a plate full of stew in front of him.

“It’s been a while, they’re all back home. But I have to thank you, ma’am. This is real kind of you all.”

“You aren’t the first to say that and you sure won’t be the last.”

Before Ricky could find the words to come up with a response, he felt a sharp pain exploded in the side of his head as everything went black.

When he woke up, he was on his back in a dark and dirty well. His head was pounding and his whole body was stiff and achy. A foul but sickly-sweet smell invaded Ricky’s nostrils as he put his hand on something smooth and tried to push himself up, but his hand went right through and plunged into something cold and slimy. As Ricky took a closer look at what his hand was in, it was clear that his hand was in the guts of the rotting corpse of a young woman. He screamed and cursed as he scrambled back into the wall of the well. There were skeletons and half rotting corpses strewn around him. If he didn’t get out soon, he would be one of them.

The family had taken all his possessions from him, all he could do was try to climb out or stay here and starve to death. With a deep breath, he tried to grip onto the uneven rock that lined the well and tried to pull himself up with the little grip that he had.

“Alright…right hand there, push up with left leg then grab onto that jagged rock there with the left hand. What could go wrong?”

Unfortunately, many things could go wrong. As soon as Ricky grabbed onto the rock, he slipped which caused the rock to slice his hand open as he fell back into the depths of the well. He hit the bodies with an ugly crunch and prayed that the bones that broke were not any of his.

As the panic and desperation set in, he heard an echoey but familiar voice, “You know, of all the places I feared that I would run into you again. This was not one of them.”

“You know, this may be the only time that I’ll ever be happy to hear your voice Tinsley.”

Tinsley snorted, “And you call me pain in the ass, someone was certainly self-projecting there. Give me a second and I’ll throw down a bit of rope for you. Then you can tell me who the hell dumped you down there.”

Ricky slowly dragged himself back up onto his feet as he applied pressure to his bleeding hand. When the rope was lowered, he grabbed it and began to climb up as Tinsley worked to pull him up at the same time, “You might want to savour this moment, it will be the only time I will appreciate you Tinman.”

“Alright Golden boy, don’t taunt the hand that saves your ass.”

As Ricky reached the top, Tinsley grabbed onto his forearm and helped him over, “Well, don’t you look rosy. You doing okay, Goldsworth?”

“I got knocked out by some old man, spent God knows how long down a well filled with dead bodies and sliced my hand open. How do you think I’m doing?”

Tinsley carefully took Ricky’s injured hand in his and examined the cut. Without saying a word, he retrieved some whiskey from his bag and a bandage. He poured some whiskey on his handkerchief and gently cleaned his wound and then began to wrap the bandage round his hand as carefully as he could.

“Who did this to you?” Tinsley murmured.

“Why do you care?”

Despite how Tinsley presented himself and how desperately he tried to suppress it, he cared deeply about every victim he has come across. From the little boy he found drowned in the river with dark red and purple bruises all over his neck to the kind old lady that he found with her skull caved in from a robbery gone wrong, the weight of every life he wasn’t able to save or avenge haunts him. Even though Tinsley wasn’t too fond of Goldsworth, he knew he was a decent enough man worth saving.

“This is the first time in years that I’ve found a victim that was still alive. So, forgive me if I care about who is responsible for this.”

Ricky sighed; he has had his own fair share of failings. Often times it’s not the victims faces that haunt him; their names are long forgotten. It’s the little things left behind that stick out the most. A lone burnt children’s sock next to a smouldering house or streaks blood being carried down a river.

“It was some family. I think the old man was called Abe? He had a wife and a son but I can’t really remember their names. It was at some big old house, not too far from the pig farm. They very kindly served me with food that I didn’t get a chance to eat before robbing me.”

Tinsley finished bandaging up Ricky’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder, “Well, luckily for you, I think I know where that house is. The general store owner mentioned that he had heard a rumour that bodies were being dumped in this well. I found the bodies last week but didn’t have any leads and I knew if I reported it, then whoever was doing this would get away.”

“So, you waited for another victim to get thrown down the well? What if the next one was killed before being dumped here? You’re just letting another person die!”

“If there’s no trail to follow then there’s no killer to catch. They’ll just get a little more careful and keep going. This was the fastest way to find the killer and save as many lives as possible. It all worked out in the end though, right?” Tinsley reasoned.

Ricky grunted, relenting because deep down he knew that Tinsley was right.

Tinsley nodded, climbed on top of his horse, and stretched his hand out to Ricky. “There you go, Goldsworth. Now, how about we have a friendly chat with your hosts and show them that your sins do truly come back to haunt you?”

Ricky grabbed his hand and climbed onto the back of his horse, “I would love nothing more.”

By the time the two men reached the house, with the extra horse outside, Ricky knew they had picked up a new victim.

“We need to be careful here, wouldn’t put it past them to use whoever they have lured in as a hostage to get away,” Ricky said as they jumped off the horse.

“So, I suppose you’re not planning on announcing our arrival so they can fight us?”

Ricky opened his mouth to answer but Tinsley held his hand up and cut him off, “Don’t answer that, I’m afraid what you’re going to say. Listen, your whole honour thing works when you’re up against other honourable folk and when the time comes, I’ll let you have at it. But these folks are cowards that will put anyone they damn well please in danger if it means they get away. We can take them in alive but we need to do this the right way or that person is as good as dead.”

“Does the right way include being a sneaky little shit?”

Tinsley laughed as Ricky slowly broke out into a grin, “We can be direct little shits if you’d like?”

“I’d like that,” Ricky hummed.

Tinsley reached into his horse’s saddle bag, pulled out an old large revolver and handed it to Ricky, “Here, you know how to shoot a gun right?”

“Of course. Just because I favour the sword and the bow doesn’t mean I don’t know how to shoot a man.”

“Good, because we’ll be outnumbered, and I don’t feel like doing all the work if things go sideways. Anyway, I’ll go in the front and you’ll go in the back. Sound good?”

Ricky thought it through and with the little that he remembered of the house, he knew that it would take longer for him to go in the back and through the kitchen which would leave Tinsley outnumbered long enough to get riddled with bullets.

“Sounds like a great way for you to earn a couple extra bullet holes. I’ll smash through the window of the dining room, get the poor guy out and we’ll deal with them that way.”

Tinsley drew his pistol and cocked it, “It’s nice to know you care but if I get shot doing it your way, you’ll never hear the end of it. You head on round and on 3, we’ll smash in like the direct little shits you wanted us to be.”

Ricky nodded, quietly snuck round and pressed his back against the wall next to the window as Tinsley bounded up the stairs to wait at the front door. Ricky peaked through the window and saw two men with their backs to them conversing, one of which Ricky was sure was the son.

1

Delilah emerged from the kitchen and handed him the bowl of stew.

2

From his position he could see Abe reaching into a drawer and slowly pulling out a revolver.

3

Taking a deep breath, Ricky aimed at Abe and fired once, hitting him in the head and splattering blood all over the wall, then smashing the rest of the window with his gun and stepping through as Tinsley kicked the door open with his gun aimed at Delilah who was screaming next to her husband who was missing a chunk of his head.

“Alright folks, let’s play a game called ‘all the killers in the room stay still so no one else dies,’” Tinsley shouted as he nervously darted his eyes between the family and Ricky who had his gun pressed against the back of Samuel’s head, half expecting him to shoot them all in quick succession.

Ricky grabbed the back of the shirt of the young man whose eyes were wide with fear, hauled him to his feet and ushered him through the broken window, “We’re not going to hurt you, but you should most certainly run. Can’t imagine this scene is going to get any friendlier.”

The man frantically nodded and held his hands up, “Of- of course! I won’t tell anyone about this, I promise!”

“Now, will one of you kindly tell me where you put my things?” Ricky asked calmly despite the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Fuck you!” Samuel growled.

Using the barrel of his gun that was pressed against the back of his skull, Ricky pushed his head down roughly onto the table, “Wrong answer, you really should try again.”

“It’s in the compartment behind the painting on the wall there, you murdering bastard!” Delilah screeched, pointing at the painting that was hung a few feet to the right of her.

“You got it?” Tinsley asked.

“Just watch my back,” Ricky answered, slowly moving his gun away from Samuel and walking towards the painting as Tinsley set his aim on the man to avoid friendly fire.

Once Ricky reached it, he tucked the gun into his belt, lifted the painting off the wall and was met with his katana, tanto, and a bundle of money. He tucked the money into his pocket and sheathed his tanto but kept a hold onto his sword.

“So, what now, you going to turn us in? You really think that is a punishment to us? You’ll make us famous and our legacy will be remembered for generations while the fools that we killed have no one around to even know that they’ve disappeared,” Samuel sneered as he slowly rose to his feet.

“What makes you think either of you will be leaving here alive? Can’t tell your story then huh?” Ricky chuckled.

Tinsley started to feel his sweat running down his back, there was a slight manic glint in Ricky’s eyes that alluded to something dangerous that was buried deep within, “Uh Goldsworth…What exactly are we doing? I thought the whole point of this was to catch them and turn them in?”

“Unfortunately, there has been a change of plans. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Before Tinsley could question him further, he stuck his katana into Delilah’s chest who frantically tried to reach for the gun her dead husband grabbed earlier.

With a shout of protest, Samuel rushed towards Ricky but didn’t get far before Ricky threw his dagger which lodged itself in his throat. He only made it a few more steps before collapsing to the ground and coughing up blood, wheezing and gurgling as he tried to draw more air into his lungs.

With a sigh, Ricky withdrew his sword from Delilah’s chest. Then he slowly walked over to Samuel and pulled his dagger from his throat, letting the blood pool on the wooden floorboards but ignored the clear sings of Samuel’s dwindling life.

Tinsley’s arms slowly lowered to his gun to his side, “What the fuck was that?”

“They're a bunch of cold-blooded killers Tinsley.”

“And it seems like you are as well. You going to kill me too?”

Ricky took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his blades, “I did what I had to do. You know that better than anyone. I'm willing to bet you've killed many unarmed folk in your time.”

“That's...different.”

Ricky snorted, “You might pretend to stand there all calm but we both know you've hunted down criminals and slaughtered them in a blind fury.”

He was right. It didn’t matter how hard he tried; Tinsley would not be able to suppress the memory of bone crushing underneath his fist or the spray of blood that hit his face. Two men had been foolish enough to dig up the grave of not only his wife but also his child. They had taken his wife’s necklace, her wedding ring and had also stolen the charred teddy bear that he buried with his daughter which they regarded as some sort of trophy for their hard work. This ignited a burning fury that was fed by the pain of grief which turned him into a raging inferno that left a river of crimson and a howling wind of mercy that was silenced with a violent unforgiving blow.

Tinsley sharply holstered his gun and tried to control his heavy breathing, “They took something that didn't belong to them and well…they had it coming.”

“Then why is that principle different now? They took the only thing I have that connects me to my family! They took this and many innocent lives just to birth a legacy of blood and fear. Are you really saying that you wouldn't have done the same?”

I did. I did and perhaps the worst part of it is, I don’t regret any of it.

Tinsley held hands up, “You got me there. What do you want to do ‘bout this mess then?”

Ricky sheathed his weapons and started to light the lamp, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s if you want to destroy a legacy then you must burn it to the ground. And that is what I intend to do.” Tinsley nodded and walked out, “Alright then. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got an appointment with a cigarette.”

Tinsley didn’t quite understand Goldsworth. One minute he was yelling at him for being a cold killer but then went ahead to cut anyone down that dared to invoke his wrath. But perhaps he understood him more than he let himself believe. Tinsley used to try to be good but more of what he had to give was brutally taken from him and all that was left was an insatiable desire to seek revenge on anyone who had dared to wrong him. Maybe they were one of the same, one trying to be better than he was and the other who knew what path he had taken but couldn’t find it in him to change.

He lit his cigarette and as he held it between his lips. He took a deep drag to let the hot smoke fill his lungs. He heard the crash of the lamp being thrown onto the floor and soon felt the warmth of a dying legacy press against his back. And with the cigarette smoke shifting through the air like a ghost, Tinsley can’t help but wonder if he died right now, would the legacy that he would leave be more than one forged with the bullets he fired and the blood he has spilled?

Yes? No? He cannot find satisfaction in either answer. He knows that he never will.

[captainjimothycarter]

Title: 'What now?' Do whatever you want with it. 😊

Spoiler for Season 7 of Agents of Shield Episode 11: only doing this one because the idea is so fresh in my head post chronicon laser strike Steve was in the middle of cooking a late dinner for him and Peggy to enjoy when she got home. She’d told Steve during their walk around DC on her lunch break that tonight was another long night in the office simply because of something to do with Hank. That was a normal theme between them as of late and Steve was used to it, making dinner for her to heat up or to surprise Peggy with dinner and let her talk about her day. He was going to do the latter tonight - bring her dinner and coffee. Maybe even mention that vacation they’d talked about taking a few weeks ago to visit her brother and Bucky. That was the idea, at least, but it all came to a halt when Steve looked out the kitchen window. The lemon tree had been thick with lemons this year and he had plans to use one when a bright flash of light that burned his eyes struck him. He had just enough time to look away, the sound of an explosion rocking the hardwood floor beneath him. And in his heart, Steve knew before he opened his eyes that something terrible had happened to the love of his life.  Just this once, he wanted to be wrong. In his heart, in his soul, Steve knew he wasn’t. That light, the blast, the smoke, and screams echoing down their normally quiet neighborhood told him disaster had struck. It only got worst as he rode onto the scene, pushing past police and workers trying to keep people from entering the danger zone. They didn’t even try to stop Steve nor Howard and Jarvis when they pulled up.  There’s little hesitation between them as he started to dig with his bare hands to find Peggy, to find anyone. It takes no time before his hands are raw and tears are burning his eyes, but that doesn’t stop him. He barely notes Michael joining them or Bucky or even Howard. In the corner of his vision, he can see Jarvis calming down a teenage Tony.  Those who are not injured are doing what they can.  A familiar bracelet catches Steve’s eyes in the setting sun. He’s sobbing before he could even start to move the larger of the rubble out of the way. It’s not her time. It can’t be. She wasn’t supposed to die, not like this. Never like this. Not so cruelly ripped from him when they’d just gotten one another back. They still had a whole life to live.  She’s scarcely breathing in his arms, incredibly injured. Peggy must’ve seen something coming because, in her last few moments, she’d thrown her body over that of an intern. Steve didn’t even pay attention as an EMT carefully extracted the intern with Bucky’s help.  Peggy’s eyes part opens just enough to see Steve, her hand shakingly laying on Steve’s jawline, trying to comfort him as he tried his goddamn best not to jostle her, not to sob. To keep her safe, like he promised.  There’s not a dried eye between the makeshift family as Steve rushes her out of the base and Howard is leading him to an ambulance. Micheal is driving, he knows that much. Howard and Jarvis are following in the car behind them. Bucky sits beside Steve, but he can’t tell you a single word he says. It’s all background noise. There’s an underground SHIELD hospital not on any record. That’s where they end up and Steve feels numb as doctors take Peggy from his arms and rush her back to surgery. Bucky has to stop him from following. Howard does follow after them, shouting something but his ears are ringing too much to know exactly what he’s saying.  Bucky has to lead him to a private room to clean him up, ordering any nurse or doctor who steps inside to leave them alone. Michael with Jarvis and Tony returns to the surface to do what they can to help. Steve should. He should help, but he’s far too numb to be of any use. Steve has died a few times in his life, physically. On the slab, heart giving out, too weak to continue fighting with a spirit that refused to give in. He’s known the pain of dying, slowly. Each breath is labored and shakes you to your core. Each day you wonder if it's your last. He knows how it is to die quick and sudden too, to watch the ocean rise to meet you and not even feel the point of impact. But none of those times compare to this. This agonizing wait. The seconds feel like minutes, the minutes hours, the hours days as they slowly melt by. Eventually, Howard returns and makes Steve and Bucky drink some water before he does. Because he knows those two by heart now and their focus is on the woman beyond those doors.  Steve loses it when Howard doesn’t come clean, not because he’s mad at Howard or finds any way to blame him but because he needs someone to lash out to and sorry Howard, but you’re there. Howard takes it too, with a stoic face that tells Steve there is as much guilt burning in him as there is Steve. Howard just hugs him and somehow Bucky is in on the hug and Steve is a crying mess. It reminds him of when he comes down a hospital hall very much like this one, a proud but nervous smile on his face as he tells the sleepy people crowding the waiting room so late at night that they’re parents. Twins. Sarah Elizabeth and Micheal James. The memory only makes him cry harder, the thought that their kids don’t know something had happened to their mother.  It takes both of them to lead Steve to Peggy, the blonde stopping in the doorway at the sight of the woman he loves. It’s almost a mirrored image from when he laid in that bed years and years and years ago as a pipsqueak kid. Just a lot fewer tubes and wires.  There’s something odd that Steve doesn’t notice right away. That he doesn’t catch onto, just so relieved she’d alive. She’s younger. Gone is the gray streaks in her hair, the slight wrinkles. She looks rested and youthful. It takes him a long moment to realize that Peggy is younger as if she’d stepped out from the 1940s. Howard finally admits that they were forced to use Steve’s blood in a transfusion in order to save Peggy’s life, granting her what he described as a watered-down version of the serum. It was aided by the fact that she was given a prototype of the same serum, developed in secret. Not even Peggy knew and Howard admits, that perhaps he shouldn’t have done that, but they had no choice. It was a last-ditch effort to save her life.  Steve knows he wouldn’t hesitate to donate again, I fit meant saving Peggy’s or Howard’s or Tony's or anyone’s life in the future. It’s not even a full 24 hours later, where Steve is slumped over Peggy’s lower half while she sleeps, holding her hand that Howard injects Steve with the same serum. He’s too tired to be mad and Howard has a look on that face that tells him he has his reasons. And for once, he’s going to trust the mad scientist. It’s nearly forgotten when Peggy’s eyes open and Steve immediately sits up with a watery smile on his face. He brings her hand up to kiss over the dented wedding bands, a wet sob escaping him when her thumb rubs over his cheek. She smiles at him, her smile lighting up the entire room as much as it did his life. “I’m afraid...I’m a bit late to our dinner date, aren’t I?”