#please he has gone through so much trauma already let him breath!

[kuravix]

IN THE MANGA ZORO AND SANJI IMMEDIATELY START FIGHTING AFTER THE HELL LINE. WHY DID THEY ADD SANJI WINCING, CLUTCHING HIS HEAD, EYES TREMBLING LIKE HE'S SCARED??? IT VERY MUCH DOES NOT SEEM "GOOD NOW." WHY DID THEY MAKE THE SCENE EMOTIONAL? THEY COULD'VE PADDED OUT THE SCENE WITH MORE BICKERING! WHY DID THEY DEPICT SANJI'S LINE THIS WAY? WHAT DO THEY KNOW!?!?

[merthosus]

Blank minds

@selfishlittlebeing asked:

Hi! So basically I just read every single one shot on this blog. And I am obsessed with your work. And I gotta admit that, “Wounded nights” did things to me.🧍🏼‍♀️

I’m not sure if I am requesting or smth (if you’d like to write this I wouldn’t protest, but feel free to just ponder on this with me). But like… I can’t get the image of touch starved Five out of my head. Bcs…damn. Him holding the reader in his arms like that (WN)… but can you imagine HIM having a vulnerable moment because of all that stuff with the Commission and apocalypses, just the trauma package yk. And after all those years…just Five being vulnerable with someone and touch starved.🥲 I am making myself feel depressed with all this. Wanna be depressed with me?🎀

Summary: After Luthers wedding, most of the siblings already gone to bed. You didn't feel like drinking, but loved to watch the others drown their sorrows into liquor and just have fun. Just as you were about to fall into a deep sleep, a knock on your door pulls you out of your slumber.

Thank you for your lovely request! Also, here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

“Since everything will be dust soon anyway, you won't mind if I just lie down here for a while, will you?”

You're up to your nose under your eiderdown, with only the sound of collapsing buildings coming through your window. It may sound crazy to others, but for you, it's been part of everyday life for a week. Counting every second, spending the last time with your family and savoring it. There is nothing more precious than time. Money has no value anymore, but the ticking hands of the grandfather clock do have.

Your thoughts hover over your head like gray clouds. Since the first day you slept in that hotel bed, falling asleep felt like hell. You tried a lot to finally fall asleep normally again. But every time you closed your eyes, you were met with nightmares, worse than you could ever have imagined. You were sure that this couldn't be the end, it simply couldn't be.

Like every night, you try to push the thoughts aside, to repress them as if they had never been there. But a loud and uneven knocking jolts you out of your sleep like a thunderstorm. You startle awake and clutch at the sheets of your bed. “Yes!” you shout, but it sounded more like a question than an encouragement. You watch every movement, sharper than Diego's blades. As Five stumbles in, you let out a breath you didn't even released you were holding. 

“You scared me,” you mumble. "I scared you, so please, why should anyone be scared of me?" he says to himself. Any blind person would have recognized that Five had probably had a little too much to drink at Luther's wedding. Five doesn't finish the sentence and drops his head down as he continues to mumble to himself. After he fell back against the door, you gave him a worried look. “Thanks for closing the door, but I think you have a concussion now,” I smirk to myself. Five starts to giggle. “The world is coming to an end,” he says, and pushes away from the door again.

You look out of the window that separated you from the crumbling outside world. Instead of bright sunshine, dark red fire dazzles your eyes, bricks fly off buildings and trees uproot themselves. “No, really?” you ask him sarcastically as you turn back to him. You suppress your horror as he suddenly stands right in front of you. He holds on to the edge of your bed. You think about how he managed to approach you so quietly, the alcohol in his blood must be enough to put a chimpanzee down.

“Since everything will be dust soon anyway, you won't mind if I just lie down here for a while, will you?” he asks as he tries to climb onto the bed. “Five, eh?” you ask as you hold him down so he doesn't slide off. He awkwardly pushes himself over your legs, which elicits a small squeak from your mouth. “You're really rough, Five,” you complain, but you just couldn't help the smile on your face.

You had never seen Five so shameless. Five, who is usually so strong and independent, asks you if he can lie down with you for a moment. As you think about it for a moment, you briefly doubt your sanity. Was this a fever dream? But Five's careless hand movement presses your torso so hard into the mattress beneath you that you're sure it would have shaken you awake. “I've never seen you so awkward,” you squeeze your words out of the pain. “I'm sorry, but your bed is sooo soft,” he lulls to himself. You shake your head and stifle the comment that the beds here were all the same.

“Five, why are you really here?” you ask him. He lies down on his stomach and presses his head into your pillow. He mumbles his words into the fabric so that you can only guess what he's saying. “I don't understand a word, you stupid…” you grumble to yourself as you grab a tuft of his hair and push his head to the side. 

Five groans softly as you move his head, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. You wait for him to speak, but it seems like he’s struggling to find the right words. He’s always been the one with the sharp tongue, the quick wit, and seeing him like this—vulnerable and slightly lost—pulls at something deep inside you.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” he finally mutters, his voice slurred but honest. “I’ve been alone for so long... and I guess I’m tired of it.” His words are a confession, raw and unguarded, much like the state he's in now. You’ve seen Five in many situations—fighting, strategizing, leading—but this is different. This is Five without his armor, without the walls he usually keeps so firmly in place.

You feel a pang in your chest, a mix of sadness and empathy. You’ve always known there was more to him than the ruthless time-traveling assassin he often portrayed himself to be. But hearing him admit his loneliness is something else entirely. "I understand you, Five," you say. He smiles and sightly closes his eyes. "I didn't want to be alone too, so I am happy that you are here now, I would've preferred sober Five, but this is also ok", you smile at him. 

You let your body fall back into your pillows, Five, who was still lying on his stomach, watching you. You put your head to one side and just look at him motionlessly. “Promise you won't tell anyone about the following?” he asks you. You don't understand exactly what he means. “I hardly think I have enough time left to tell anyone anything,” you say, with an unintentional sweep of sadness. “Promise” he whispers to you, while looking at you with begging eyes. Not only the pungent smell of alcohol, but also his seriousness to fly in your face. “I won't tell anyone,” you promise. Without warning, Five starts to move again. He pushed your arm up and curled up on your chest, like a cat looking for warmth.

Seeing five like this was new and made you very afraid to admit it to yourself. He cared so much about maintaining his strong, unbreakable personality that his current behavior frightened you. Despite the unfamiliar feeling of five so close to you, you almost automatically put your arms around his slender torso. His fingers slide onto the sides of your torso, clutching on it as if it was a matter of life or death.

"Five, what's wrong?", you ask him. "I am fucking scared", he lulls. His confession hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his vulnerability. You can feel your heart rate quicken, the tension in the room shifting as you process his words. It’s a rare glimpse into the inner workings of Five’s mind, and the openness is both unsettling and intimate.

“Scared of what exactly?” you ask gently. “Everything,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “The end of it all… the not knowing". The tremor in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but tighten your hold on him. You want to reassure him, to tell him that everything will be okay, but the truth is you’re scared too. The world outside is crumbling, and the future feels uncertain for both of you. 

He shifts slightly, looking up at you with his tired eyes. “I don’t want to let anyone down. Not you, not the others. I’ve messed up so many times already.” His voice is tinged with a mix of regret and fear, and you can see the conflict waging within him. “If we lose, at least we'll lose together,” you say. It didn't really sound encouraging, but you couldn't think of anything better. “Do you think you'll regret this tomorrow?” you whisper without looking at him. 

Five’s grip on your chest tightens just a little, and you can feel the slight shivering in his body as he processes your words. The silence that follows feels heavy, filled with the weight of the world outside and the vulnerability between you. “No,” he finally murmurs, his voice soft but resolute. “I won’t regret this. I might not remember every detail of tonight, but I’ll remember the way it felt to finally....", you wait for him to end his sentence. 

"feel you", he says, so quietly that you almost missed it.. There is a silence in the room, your body is no longer able to move. Your brain needs some time to process his words. “I went too far, I'm sorry I…” he tries to apologize. He pushes away from your body and leans on his arms. But before he can finish his sentence and move away from you completely, you put your hands around his face and crash your lips into his. 

The moment your lips meet Five’s, time seems to suspend itself. The world outside, with its crumbling chaos, fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate bubble. His initial shock quickly melts away, and he responds with a tentative but heartfelt kiss. His lips are soft and warm, and the urgency in his movements gradually transforms into something more tender and searching.

As you pull away slightly, you can see the surprise in his eyes, mingled with a hint of relief and something deeper that he might not fully understand himself. You’re both breathing heavily, the gravity of the moment settling in. “I didn’t want to...,” Five starts to say, but you place a finger gently over his lips, silencing him. “Don’t,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.

“You don’t have to apologize. Not now. Not ever.” Five’s expression softens, and he looks at you with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. “I’ve been so caught up in trying to control everything, in fighting against the end, that I forgot about what really matters. I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize how much I needed this, how much I needed you.”

Feel free to tell me in the comments, what you think :)

[missmonsters2]

Your Touch is My Shelter

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: 6 months later, Natasha returns from the dead. It's a tightly kept secret as it's unknown how she returned, but everyone claws and fights about who will keep watch over her like savages. You're far down the list of people who should protect her, but you find yourself unable to leave her be.

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort. undisclosed trauma. physical and mental signs of trauma. angst. somber assisted bath time. sad hair braiding. emphasis on hurt AND comfort.

Note: This takes place after endgame :-) the dates might be inaccurate idk i did my best 🥲 ha-ha enjoy 👁️👁️

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Count: 5.2k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

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You heard the news through Bruce. 

Well, it was through Bruce telling Pepper, and you just happened to be at the coffee machine getting shitty coffee. The quality drastically dropped since Tony was gone, and you've been putting off telling Pepper she needed to literally buy anything else. 

You didn't really know how long was the appropriate time for someone to grieve before you could ask if they could buy another brand of coffee.

Tony was gone. 

A part of you thinks you keep putting off telling Pepper because then you'd have to face—really face—he was gone. 

Steve was gone. 

What did it matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Coffee was just coffee, and it'd probably taste fine if you just put a shitload of sugar and creamer in it. 

Vision was gone. 

Honestly, you only really noticed because it was the same brand as whatever was stocked up at the Avengers Compound. 

Natasha was gone. 

But perhaps the coffee always tasted bad at the Compound and it had nothing to do with Tony being gone. Natasha used to bring coffee into the office most days for people, and Clint filled in the other days. 

Maybe Tony Stark just liked shitty coffee, and you were only now just noticing it. 

Natasha was back. 

Your hand faltered at the coffee machine, spilling a little of it on your hand, and the burn stung immediately.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked as he noticed you inhale a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at him before looking at Pepper. "Morgan's fine. She just has the flu and her fever's gone down. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to set up a humidifier for her and help her settle into bed with a movie and wait for her to fall asleep before I head out."

Pepper let out a heavy breath, putting her hand over her chest in relief. "Oh, perfect. Thank you so much for coming suddenly. I just—Morgan doesn't really like going to the hospital, and suddenly she started throwing up and having a fever—"

"It's fine, Pepper," you waved off her ramblings after you wiped what you spilled on the counter. "You can always call me if you need me."

"Seriously, I think I might just employ you full-time as a live-in doctor if you say that," Pepper joked, and you laughed. 

"I am already your live-in doctor, just for one of your research labs. instead."

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You don't think about Natasha—at least, you try not to. 

You heard things here and there about it through Pepper. Apparently, she's being held in a government facility similar to The Raft, detained like some criminal they needed to study instead of the war hero who sacrificed everything to save the world. 

It made you sick to your stomach. 

But you hear that Clint, Bruce, and Nick Fury have been fighting to get custody of her, so you don't think about it. There were people who knew Natasha far better than you did and were way closer to her than you were. 

She was in good hands. 

So, you continue on with your daily routine to pass your monotonous days, unaware you're waiting for some kind of update.

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The next time you heard about Natasha Romanoff, it was Clint and Bruce cornering you at your lab.

"What?" You panicked, tensing up. "Why me?"

"You're the only person Natasha ever sought out to treat her," Clint answered, and you felt even more lost at the fact he knew. "Natasha allows medical professionals onsite to help her, but there were times she left to go see you. That has to mean something."

But, of course, he knew. He was Natasha's...best friend. And Clint was an incredibly nosy person, even if Natasha didn't tell him. 

"I've only treated her a handful of times—literally only five times. I don't know her that well," you shook your head, trying to walk around them. "I didn't even know she had a sister until you told me."

"Please," Clint begged. "I'm fighting to get her out, and the doctors they have looking after her are shady and callous with her. I can only visit her with Nick's influence, but it's not enough to get her out of there."

"And what do you suppose I can do?"

"You're a renowned cellular biologist," Bruce cut in. "If they're holding her for research, we want someone on our side who will at least treat her like a human being. The faster we get answers, the faster we can get her out."

"Please," Clint begged again. "Natasha needs help. She's...different. And it's only going to get worse if she remains in there. She's not talking, and they won't let her go until they can find some answers."

It felt wrong. 

You don't want to study Natasha Romanoff like an animal. Despite being a scientist with an inquisitive mind, you don't care about how she returned.

But it sounded like Natasha would be researched whether you liked it or not. And if that was the case, you do wonder how the other doctors may be treating her.

"Fine, we're going first thing in the morning," you gritted out, unable to block out the handful of memories of times you've treated her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2012

"Oo, that looks painful," you hissed in sympathy as a redhead with a busted lip and nasty gash on her temple entered the med bay.

There was a snort that sounded like a half-grunt. "It looks worse than it feels. I hope I'm not intruding, but Tony said I should see you to be treated."

"Natasha, right?" You asked slowly, gesturing to a seat for her to take as you grabbed some medical supplies. 

"Yes," Natasha replied, equally slow with caution.

"Tony talks about you a lot," you tried to reassure her of whatever paranoia she might have. It probably didn't help that Natasha was still in her catsuit and probably would've preferred to be called by her alias.

"Well, don't believe everything he says," Natasha gives a light but somewhat tight smile. 

"Oh, so you aren't a unique woman with high intellect, sneaky, and rightfully smug?" You teased, and it was flattering that you could make a superhero laugh. 

You began treating Natasha's wound carefully. 

"You're pretty good at this, doc," Natasha commented as you blew on her brow, even if it didn't sting. "You're pretty gentle. Must be why Tony says you're his personal doctor."

You chuckled. "I'm actually a cellular biologist. Tony is funding my research and pretty much my lifestyle. With the money he's paying me, he can come crying about his boo-boos anytime. Although, he doesn't really come to me for serious stuff. It's usually if he has something ridiculous like a papercut."

"But you can treat wounds and other medical things?" 

"I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor before I decided to go into research instead."

"Huh," Natasha hummed, raising her brow at you. "Smart cookie."

"I'd like to think so," you finished cleaning Natasha's wound and putting a bandaid over it. "Feel free to come see me if you need any other basic medical aid. For a pretty redhead, it's free of charge."

"And if I come back blonde?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you smiled, and Natasha smirked back at you.

"Smart and funny. Tony has it too good."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

April 2014

"This is the worst bandage job I've ever seen. Who did you go to see for this? A grocery clerk?"

Natasha grunted. "Hi, to you too, doc."

You looked at Natasha, noticing how different her hair is now. But it's been about two years since you have seen her. Despite your offer for her to come to you anytime she needed help, she never did. Or she rarely did, you supposed. 

You could only deduce that Natasha was used to caring for her wounds on her own. That, or she didn't trust you. 

"Alright, let's go to my office," you sighed. 

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not really, kind of hit a brick wall."

"Oh, me too."

You looked over at Natasha, who had a straight face, but you noticed the bruise on her temple outside the obvious gun wound on her shoulder.

You pursed your lips. "Will you hate me if I laugh?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I may like you less if you don't."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2015

"You know, when I told you that you could come for me for basic medical aid, I feel like you didn't understand the meaning of basic."

"Is this too complicated for you?"

"No."

"Then am I unwelcomed?"

You pursed your lips at the redhead, who stared at you with a tiny upward quirk on her lip. "No," you sighed. "Just not sure why you'd want to see me for such serious wounds. There are other more experienced doctors."

You lift Natasha's shirt up, looking at the long gash on the side of her stomach. "We're gonna need to stitch this up. I've been doing research with Dr. Cho, and we have a new machine that can help with cell tissue generation. It would be faster than me manually stitching—"

"It's fine," Natasha declined. "I'd prefer if you manually did it."

You frown lightly at the fact but relent to the redhead's wishes. Another year passes, and Natasha's hair has changed again. 

You worked silently on cleaning Natasha's wound, and she also declined the anesthetic. You focus on stitching up the wound with precision and care.

"I like to go to you for some things because your touch is gentle," Natasha said quietly, but it felt so loud in the silent room. "It makes me feel human when I can feel your touch."

You looked over at her face briefly, but Natasha wasn't looking at you. You don't take any deeper meaning into it. She's someone who's probably felt dehumanized most of her life. The machines that can heal her twice as fast would be fine for life-threatening injuries, but it probably all feels clinical. 

You looked back down at the stitch. "Well, as long as you're a redhead, it's free of charge."

"Don't kid yourself, I would look perfect blonde."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

September 2016

"What are you doing here?" You hissed as you pulled Natasha in quickly, peering outside before shutting the door. 

"Why? Am I unwelcomed now?" Natasha's tone sounded a little hurt, and you scan her body. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere that required immediate attention, but you did notice crusted blood at the edge of her nostrils. 

"No, but you could get caught here," you shook your head at her. "They're looking for you and the rest of team cap everywhere."

Natasha shrugged. "I highly doubt Tony has your place under surveillance. We don't meet enough for anyone to consider looking for me through you."

You sighed, not sure what to feel about the statement. "I suppose. I don't work for Tony anymore, anyway."

Natasha's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"I don't agree with what he's doing."

"So you're on Steve's side?"

"No, I think Steve was obstinate too. They're both stupid. Men are stupid."

Natasha laughed before wincing as she held her nose.

"What happened?" You brought her over to your couch before finding your first aid kit.

"I broke my nose," Natasha shrugged. "Can you believe breaking my nose saved millions of girls?"

"With you? Yes." You smirked as you tilted her head to look at the injury closer. "Lucky you. Looks like you don't need surgery. Do you always come here immediately after you save the world?"

"Yep."

"Couldn't even clean your nose before you did?"

"And deprive you of giving me care? I wouldn't dare."

You snorted, carefully cleaning the blood in and around her nose. It was silent again before Natasha spoke up.

"So, what happened with your research stuff now that Tony's not sponsoring your work?"

"Pepper is funding it, even though she knows I won't share anything with Stark Industries at the moment. She doesn't want me to sell my research or provide any data to other companies."

"Smart cookie."

"And a really hot blonde."

"This feels targeted. It's like you know I might dye my hair blonde soon."

"You're still a redhead; I have no idea what you mean. I like your hair, though. Braids look good on you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2018

Natasha showed up at your front step, holding her rib. There's a look of genuine relief at seeing you.

"You're still here," her voice sounds empty and hollow. "You're still here."

You pulled her inside gently. You're still in shock yourself. You were on a walk when people started disappearing left and right. The sheer panic on the streets was chaos as you were dialing Pepper frantically, almost crying when she picked up the phone. Then there were actual tears when you called other people in your life, and half of them didn't pick up...and they weren't going to. 

"I'm here," you swallowed. "What happened to your rib?"

"I don't know." Natasha looked so lost. There was the look of failure and self-blame all over her face. 

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

You grasp her wrist, carefully moving her hand away from her rib before gently putting your fingertips against them. Your fingers trail up, down, and around. 

Suddenly, Natasha broke into tears. 

"Does it hurt?" You asked, panicked.

"You're still here," was all Natasha choked through her tears.

You didn't know what to do other than treat her wounds more gently than ever before while reassuring her you hadn't disappeared. You were one of the many people on this planet still here. And when she was better, she'd get the rest of them back. 

It was a long and exhausting night, and Natasha fell asleep in your bed, and you made sure she was comfortable before leaving to sleep on the couch.

Natasha's hair has changed again.

"You look good blonde."

That was the last time you saw her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha's hair has changed again. She's gone back to being a redhead with blonde tips. Her hair was a mess, barely brushed, and looked knotted. 

The room was big and had padded walls, a singular bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in another. There were lights in parts of the cell but also areas of darkness. It looked like a fucking prison cell. 

You were looking through an unbreakable glass window, the middle holding up a microphone you assumed was linked to the speaker in the room.

Natasha stood in the middle of the room under the light in a hospital gown falling off her shoulder. Her hands were covered in scars, and her lips were so chapped, you were sure they'd split even if Natasha breathed the wrong way. 

Natasha was only a few feet away from you, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

They let you see her alone under the guise of privacy as you saw her.

You felt you weren't supposed to see this—see her like this. 

A sense of dread filled you at the blank expression on Natasha's face at what she'd gone through—what she was still going through. 

She was a hero, and this was how they were treating her? This was someone who had fought wars repeatedly for this stupid country and the rest of the world, and they had her locked up like a mental ward patient from the 1600s.

You thought the government had gotten better. There were reforms and peace after people came back from the snap. This wasn't how they were supposed to treat someone who'd given up their life to ensure everyone got theirs. 

It shouldn't matter that she came back; she had still given it up in the first place for them. 

Natasha didn't even seem to recognize you through the glass as you stepped closer to the microphone. She looked past you as if she could tell the exit was somewhere behind you. 

"Natasha?" You said into the mic, and it bellowed into the room.

Nothing. 

"Nat?" 

Natasha's eyes were listless. She was a broken, empty shell that seemed more like an animated corpse than actually being alive.

You swallowed, trying one more time. "You're still a redhead. Looks like it's still free of charge."

Natasha's eyes flickered this time, her head tilts towards you as she blinked with focus. It was just a spark, but it was something, and relief spreads through you. 

"Not completely." You could barely hear her voice, but it was coarse. Cold.

There should've been a joke about some kind of discount, but Natasha didn't make it. You were speechless.

You didn't know what to say. Don't worry, you're trapped in here, but I'm going to help with the research, and hopefully, we'll get you out soon?

It was like prolonging a death sentence. You were horrified.

"Just—wait for me," the words flew out of your mouth so fast but you meant them with every ounce of your being. "You're gonna go home with me today."

Natasha's eyes sparked at the words but just as quick as you saw it, they died out, falling back into listlessness. She turned, stepping into a darkened corner away from your view and prying eyes of the cameras as she said, "No, I'm not."

You realized she's probably spent weeks watching Clint, Bruce, and Fury try to get her out unsuccessfully.

The resignation made something lurch in your throat and eyes sting with desperation and rage. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, we can send you a contract—"

"You're going to release her to my custody," you cut off some government official. He was old, wearing some kind of toupee that was slicked back to hide his balding head. 

He looked at you in disbelief, almost laughing like you were some stupid, naive young girl. 

He looks at Clint and Bruce, who are also just looking at you in shock.

"As I've told your friends and Nick Fury, this is out of their hands. The Accords are still intact as of right now, therefore—"

"I don't care about the Accords. You will release her into my care. I'm more than qualified and I have the resources to find the inane answers you're looking for while rehabilitating Agent Romanoff," you cut him off again, able to tell that it was irking him. 

"That won't be necessary as you can see we have the resources here," the government official raised his brow at you.

"Your resources can't compete with Stark's resources."

It was no secret that Tony had left a very sizable fortune to you in his will, outside of everything he gave to Pepper and Morgan. And it was also no secret how close you were with the surviving Starks. 

"Doctor," the government official sighed, obviously making it sound like you were a nuisance. "If you're not here to join our research team, I suggest you go on your way and remember the NDA you signed."

You glared at him even more. "I'm not leaving without Agent Romanoff. You will hand her over to me, or you will regret it."

"And exactly how will I regret it?" The government official looked smug, and you smirked back at him.

"I'm still in talks with the government regarding my research, and I will pull out and sell that information outside of this country as I'm free to do so. I know Dr. Cho is in talks between the US and South Korea about her nano-technology. One word from me, and America can fall behind on those advancements as well." You pulled out your cell phone in a threatening manner. "Pepper and I will pull out all of our money from the very same banks and company investments that you're supporting and make you watch as they collapse one after another."

"You'd ruin our entire economy—our country by doing so!" The official was red in the face. "You'd put your entire country into chaos?" He sneered at you.

"I will if you don't give me Agent Romanoff!" You sneered back at him. "It's not like you won't eventually get your research and answers if she's in my custody. It works in both our favor."

The official is staring at you, glaring and seething.

"I imagine your colleagues and superiors will pin the blame on you if this entire economy and country goes into ruin because if I have to do that, I will say that it's the government's fault. The NDA said I can't specifically talk about Natasha and this place, which I won't. But I'm sure some journalist will discover the truth and plaster all over the news what you're doing to a war hero," your voice was so vindictive; you're not sure if you've ever been so cold before. 

"So," your voice was flat, devoid of emotion now. "What will it be?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was agreed that Natasha would stay in a cabin that Pepper owned out in the countryside. You were to provide monthly updates on your research and rehabilitation progress. And while this was in headway, neither you nor Natasha was free to leave the country or this planet. 

Clint initially wanted you and Natasha to stay with him and his family, but you declined. You pointed out that it would be hard for him and his family—his children, especially—to see Natasha like this. 

Pepper had everything prepared while you gingerly collected Natasha.

"We're going home, Natasha," you said softly, shrugging off your jacket to wrap around her shoulders. But Natasha still didn't react, even if she let you take her hand and drag her out of the facility. 

During the car ride, you mentally planned what you needed to do. Natasha needed to eat, take a bath, and rest. 

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked the redhead, sitting stoically in the car, straight as a rod. 

There was no answer. Natasha was peering out the windshield, her hands perfectly on both thighs. Clint looked worried as he looked at you.

"Natasha?" You gently placed her hand over hers. You could feel the bumps of the white scars over her hand. A part of you is too frightened to ask where she got these from. 

Natasha looked down at your hand over hers before looking at you. Her eyes were so empty. Such a dull green like dying grass.

"Did you eat?" 

Natasha nodded once before looking back outside the windshield. 

You looked at Clint, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but deep down, you were afraid you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Pepper says you've been here before, but let me know if you need help finding anything," you brought her into the house where Natasha just stood, looking at nothing in particular. 

"Um," you took a shaky breath. "How about a bath? I'm sure it'll be good to get the grime and stale air off of you." 

Natasha didn't move on her own, so you began to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom. 

It was a detached tub near the high window to get plenty of sunlight without anyone being able to peer in. 

"I'll just get this started for you," you offered. Turning on the tap and pouring in a liquid that formed into bubbles. "Just make sure to check the temperature and adjust. Pepper says that sometimes that faucet can be a little finicky."

You turned to Natasha, who stood there, staring at the wall. She was unmoving, making no gesture if she was waiting for you to get out or to start undressing.

"Do you, um, need help?" You asked, but there was no answer. 

Maybe it would wake her up a little once she was in the water. 

"I'm—" you took a long breath in. "I'm gonna help you undress and get into the tub. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I can stop or do something else."

It wasn't like you've never seen a naked body before. You've seen plenty both in your sex life and field of work. You've even seen parts of Natasha's body when you've treated her. You just never thought you'd see Natasha fully naked. 

You slid your jacket off her shoulders, letting out a puff of breath. You looked past her as you undid the string of her hospital gown. You looked up when you slid down her underwear before guiding her towards the tub. Your gentle guiding seemed to spark Natasha into mechanically climbing into it herself the rest of the way. 

"Okay, cool. Um," you stuttered. "I'm sure you've been through a lot. Once you're done, we can get you into bed and if you're hungry later, I can make you something."

You were getting used to the lack of answers, but it didn't make your stomach drop any less. "Just let me know if you need anything."

You don't wait for a response this time, leaving without shutting the door fully. Down the hall, you leaned against the wall, swallowing harshly. 

It feels like you brought a lifeless shell home. A part of you wonders if Natasha really did return or if this was just some lifeless doll. 

You didn't want to think about it anymore, so you pushed yourself off the wall and into a bedroom with a suitcase and unzipped it open to grab some clothes.

When you were heading back, you heard the water still running and frowned. 

"Natasha?" You called as you opened the door. The tub was overfilling, and you rushed to turn off the faucet, trying to not slip.

Natasha was sitting how you left her, staring ahead at the running water but not really looking at it.

You sighed, relieved that the bathroom floor was designed with wood and curved so that any water would naturally run towards a drain in the floor. 

You go to check the temperature of the water and find that while it was initially fine when you turned it on, Natasha hadn't attempted to adjust it, and the finicky faucet ran nearly scalding water. 

"Jesus, Natasha, you're going to hurt yourself," you yelped. You braced through it and stuck your hand in to drain the tub halfway.

You inwardly sighed, knowing you would have to help Natasha through the entire process. You began to refill the tub, monitoring the temperature and shut it off when it was filled adequately. 

"I'm going to help wash you if that's okay," you muttered. "Just let me know if you prefer to do it yourself at any point."

You grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it before grabbing the loofa. You began with Natasha's shoulders and arms, trying to wash parts of her that were easy to access.

Natasha tensed as you washed her, so you tried to be more slow and careful. 

"It's just me," you said softly, trying to reassure the redhead. "I've always taken care of you."

Natasha said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed slightly as you continued. There wasn't much dirt on her, but the stale air that was surrounding her began to fade away. 

Her knees were propped up, folded to her chest, and you washed down her thighs and legs, trying to not think of anything too much as you did it. You tried not to think about the scars on her hands and feet. 

Readjusting your stool, you went to sit behind her. You used a cup to wet Natasha's hair, trying to detangle some of it gently first. It was then you discovered a shaven spot in the back of her head, where there was a large scar. You realized that was where Natasha's head hit the ground when she—

You swallowed, trying to suppress the anger that they shaved her head to get a look at something so private. 

You squeezed a considerable amount of shampoo in your hands and gently rubbed it into her scalp. Natasha tensed at first before your fingers massaging her scalp made her relax, her body leaning back against the tub and her head into your hands. 

It was quiet as you did this. You shampooed her hair twice before slathering it up in conditioner and finally getting out the rest of the knots. You drained the tub, grabbing the shower head to rinse her down once more before you grabbed a towel and helped her out. 

You helped put a bathrobe around her to help dry her as you didn't think you had the gall to fully dry every part of her by hand. Grabbing her clothes, you led her to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed. 

Natasha sat silently as you towel-dried her hair with gentle hands. Her eyes fell closed as you began to blow dry it. Your soft fingers tousling her hair. 

So delicate. 

When it was dry, you set the blow dryer aside. 

"Hm, your hair is pretty sensitive and might be for the next week. It might be better to braid it so it doesn't tangle and break when you're sleeping," you commented, mostly to yourself. 

You took sections of her hair, delicately beginning to put her hair into a french braid. 

"You've always had beautiful hair, red or blonde," you complimented Natasha as you finished. You moved to sit in front of her to check if you did okay from the front. There wasn't a response, but Natasha opened her eyes. They focused on you, looking at you as they traced over the features of your face. She was studying you apprehensively. 

Natasha lifted a hand, slowly reaching up as her fingers brushed the side of your face. It felt bumpy from the scars, but it made the back of your throat burn. 

"Am I really here?" Natasha mumbled as she then traced your cheek before your lips. "Am I really here with you?"

Your eyes were burning now. You couldn't even answer right away because you were afraid your lips would start trembling. 

You lifted your hand, hesitating at first, before you held her hand against your face. "Yeah, you're really here."

The edges of Natasha's eyes began to brim with tears. 

"When I jumped, I didn't die right away," Natasha whispered. "There was a feeling that something bad was going to happen. It didn't get me yet, but it was going to."

You couldn't help the tears that began to fall over the edge of your eyes when they overfilled. 

"Something bad happened to me," Natasha's lip trembled. "It's still happening to me."

You gripped her hand tighter unintentionally, but it was like it grounded Natasha. 

"I was scared," Natasha admitted. "I was scared that even if you came to me, it wouldn't go away."

Then, Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it against her cheek. It was still warm from the bath and blow dryer. 

"But I can feel your touch," Natasha sighed like it was a relief. "It's gentle and I feel human. I'm scared I'm not really here."

"You are."

Your throat felt clogged with raw emotions, and you didn't know what to do with it. You've only seen Natasha a handful of times, and maybe it's because the more you do, the more emotionally charged you both feel. 

"You're really here," you told Natasha, using your thumb to caress her cheek. You didn't know what else to say. 

All you can do is offer her shelter under your touch.

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 2

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past)

Word Count: 3377

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law can't trust you yet, so you do everything you can to prove yourself. Will your memories help or hurt you?

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying writing Law in multiple fics, so I can slap different vibes on him like he's trying on different shades of eyeliner 😅

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Other Additional Tags to be Added, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

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~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, young master! You–”

“Now, now, Y/N. What did I tell you? You’re my pretty little thing now, so you get to call me Doffy, alright?”

His large hand cupped your face, warming your cheek that was already warm from his attention. 

He’s smiling at me now. I’m special to him. I mean something to him, finally. 

“Well? Are you going to answer my question properly?”

Doffy’s hand traveled down to your neck, long fingers circling your vulnerable flesh as he waited for you to obey him.

“Yes. I love you, Doffy.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N?”

Law repeated your name softly until you returned, finding yourself in that metal room, a shrine dedicated to his hatred and rage. 

“I’m sorry to have to ask you this,” Law rasped, dipping his face to meet your eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through all these years…”

His brows pinched together when he caught your grimace, and his shoulders slumped. 

Guilt pulled at his features, while you tried to understand which of the emotions inside you were worth focusing on. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you that–”

“I don’t know,” you confessed. Your voice was empty, as if a machine were spilling truths instead of your own lips. 

“I did love him. I know I did,” you continued, staring a hole through Law’s wooden desk. “I’ve been… feeling guilty for a while. Why am I not feeling that anymore?”

Your misty eyes looked up, almost pleading with him for an answer. 

“Loving Doffy is the only thing I’m good at. The only reason he needs me. What use am I–”

“You are worth more than what he takes from you,” he growled, your eyes widening until the mist turned to tears.

Law relaxed his shoulders again, releasing a breath. Those tattooed hands cupped your cheeks, and you sighed as his thumbs wiped away your show of weakness. 

“Y/N,” he soothed, his lips quirking before he continued. He dropped his hands away, and you missed their warmth, especially as those golden eyes hardened again. 

“I don’t want to keep you prisoner, but as much as I'd like to, I can’t trust you yet.”

Nodding, you tried not to shake as fear rolled back over you. 

“I can’t risk this mission. It’s not safe for me to leave you somewhere on your own. But if I let you roam the Polar Tang, interact with my crew… Especially when you can sneak into any room you like–”

“I would never,” you choked out, reaching for one of his hands on the desk. “Please, Law. I won’t betray you, I swear.”

He squeezed your hand in return, but shook his head. 

“I want to believe you, Y/N. But we both know the power he has over people. You might not think you’d betray me now, but he’s been in your head your whole life.”

The weight of loneliness pressed your body down, your hand going limp in his. He squeezed it a few more times until you looked up again. 

“If you're willing to trust me,” he started, his eyes a bit wide, “I have a way to make sure that I can trust you. It won’t hurt–”

“Hurt,” you whispered, wetting your dry lips as you waited for whatever he wanted to do to you.

“I can remove your heart,” he explained, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock the large bottom drawer of his desk. 

With all of the gruesome things you’d seen in your life, you were surprised at the gasp you let out. Law had pulled something from the drawer, holding it up so that you could take a look. 

It was a strange cube, almost glowing with blueish pink light. It looked squishy, and you reached out to touch it before you noticed the steady pulse. It was a beating heart. 

“So that story is true,” you breathed as you watched it in fascination, “you really did steal all of those pirate’s hearts.”

“I did,” he nodded grimly, tucking that heart back into the drawer. “I’ve done a lot of things to prepare for this goal.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You–”

“Take my heart. It’s not helping me out anyway, it might be good to have a break,” you laughed, trying to cover the hollow sound in your words. 

Law stood, and you followed suit, his powerful voice vibrating through you. 

“Room.”

You watched in awe as he created a blue sphere of light to fill the space before coming toward you with his sword. 

“This is just a precaution,” he explained, his breath going heavy. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I'll protect you.”

“I trust you,” you admitted before you held your breath. 

You couldn’t follow all of the emotions that crossed his face, until he drained them all away. He looked at you as if you were just a problem to be solved. A loose end to tie up to make sure his plan would succeed.

His sunny eyes were as cold and distant as the vacuum of space when he held the tip of his blade to your chest.

“Scalpel.”

You couldn’t remember the last time a weapon had hurt you. There was no need to worry about being injured in battle when you hadn’t left the castle in so long. 

Doffy was the only one that could hurt you, besides the sea and its stone.

Nothing could cut through mist. 

Law was so confident in his ability that you hadn’t questioned him. Instead, you tried to cooperate, somehow willing your body to stay solid so he could rip you open. 

But the blade at your chest seemed as weak as your own abilities. 

Until it pierced your flesh.

“You’re okay,” Law assured you as he pressed further, your gasping breaths slowing as you realized there was no pain. 

“Would you like to hold it?”

Such a strange feeling, gazing at your own beating heart. The very core of your being, the thing that keeps you alive. 

Sitting in the palm of your hand like a piece of fruit.

“What happens if I squeeze it?”

“It would hurt very– Y/N, stop!”

Law pulled your heart from your grasp as you fell to your knees. The pain was indescribable, radiating from your chest through your whole body, as if your veins were on fire. Nausea came as the pain burned through you, and you leaned your forehead against his desk as he knelt beside you. 

“Why would you do that,” he questioned, almost scolding you like he would when you were kids. 

“Most things can’t hurt me,” you choked out, tilting your head up to see his grumpy face. “I was just curious.”

He frowned before sitting on the floor beside you, pushing the chair out of his way as he looked you over. 

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Have you been having thoughts of harming yourself?”

“What? No,” you exclaimed, sitting straight as the pain started to fade. “I promise, I just… I don’t know. I’ve never been handed my own fucking heart before. It was like an impulse.”

“You’ll tell me if you start having thoughts like that,” he requested after a pause, making you squirm with embarrassment. 

“I promise, I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

Law helped you to your feet, then gripped your shoulder until you were caught in his serious glare. 

“That was a stupid thing to do, but you are not stupid.”

You scrunched your face up, and sat down, itching to forget everything that happened in the last hour.

“This is just a precaution,” he repeated, locking your heart in that bottom drawer. You tried not to stare as he tucked the key into his pocket, but a sick taste of guilt hit your tongue.

I wouldn't need a key to steal my heart back. I could just mist into the drawer, and absorb it. 

You gulped down the pressure to confess, to tell him to hide it somewhere else. 

I’m not gonna steal it back, but I don’t know him anymore. I should be careful. 

“Now,” Law cleared his throat, picking up his notepad again, “do you know anything about Doflamingo’s dealings with Kaidou?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him. Everything just felt blank.

“I don’t… I’m not important enough to know anything,” you explained, the words burning your throat on the way out. “I’m sorry, I probably won’t be able to help much.”

Law sat back in his chair, tapping his pen against his lips while he assessed you.

I’m still fucking useless. 

‘Can’t do anything on your own, huh? Just listen to Doffy, you’ll be the perfect little doll for me, alright?’

“Were you with him a lot?”

“What,” you coughed, your skin flushing to the tips of your ears. 

“No, I– that’s not what I…” Law sighed, shaking his head to clear his own words away. “Did he have you with him throughout the day? During meals, maybe while he took calls or meetings?”

“Oh,” you said softly, noticing yourself going fuzzy again, staring into nothing as you tried to recall.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“I mean no offense, Joker, but shouldn’t we be discussing this in private?”

“Oh, don’t mind her, Caesar,” Doffy laughed, rubbing his hand over your back as you lounged in his lap. “She can’t do any harm.”

The scientist frowned at you for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was wearing makeup, or if his skin really was that pale, his lips almost purple. He met your eyes before shifting his own away from you, and away from Doffy’s fingers that trailed over your thighs, your neck. 

Doffy always touched you so gently when visitors were around, and you melted into him. 

If not for Caesar’s grating laugh, you might have drifted off. Instead, you jolted now and then, Doffy’s hands clutching a little tighter. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Are you al–”

“I remember something. Doffy sent Monet with a scientist, this weird guy with–”

“Caesar Clown,” he prompted, his brow arching a bit.

“Yeah. And I guess you wouldn’t know Monet, she joined after you…”

Law pointed to a picture on the wall, your gaze slow in following the gesture. 

“I know of her.”

Your eyes were drawn to a shot of Monet, her wings curled around her as she read a book with those odd, hypnotizing glasses of hers. Memories of her disapproval hit you, a sigh escaping your lips as you tried to rid yourself of her judgments. 

“She’s even more loyal to Doffy than the rest of– than everyone else. She’s almost obsessive. That’s probably why he sent her.”

Law’s body had gone taut, like electricity was running through him as he set his pen to the paper. 

“Please, Y/N, tell me everything you can remember. Even if it doesn’t seem important.”

~

Your brain felt like a wet rag, with Law wringing out every detail of every call or meeting you could think of. 

It seemed strange how much you could recall from your quiet perch on his lap. You were always so bored, but had to fight yourself not to space out or yawn.

Doffy’s possessive fingers along your skin were wonderful, your revealing clothing giving him so much access. As bored as you could get, those teasing touches in front of visitors prepared your body for what came later. 

It was a relief to wet his thigh with slick before he dismissed the guests. He rarely had the patience to prep you any other way. 

You’d spaced out on those memories, Law’s face pinching in concern as he watched your nails digging into your arms.

“Are you hungry? We can continue tomorrow.”

Groaning at the thought, you followed Law back to the galley. He didn’t have much luck in calming his crew this time. They surrounded the two of you until Law begrudgingly introduced you, and your hand was shaken by many greasy, steamy hands pulled out of gloves, and one bear’s paw that you were very hesitant to touch. 

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” Bepo drawled, true sadness seeming to drip from his voice. “I just really love our cap–” 

“Bepo,” Law scolded, and you turned to scold him back as the bear scurried off.

“How could you be so mean, did you see his–”

“Don’t fall for his sad bear eyes,” Law bristled, and you held in your smile at his discomfort. 

“Is that something you’ve learned from experience,” you teased, earning you a scowl.

Law tucked into his meal, not meeting your eyes as he replied. 

“I know my crew.”

“Oh yeah? They all seem to think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. Could the Surgeon of Death be a big softie?”

If looks could kill.

“Okay, sorry,” you teased between bites, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You do realize that I could take away your tongue if I wanted to,” he threatened, with what looked like the barest touch of pink gracing his cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d enjoy some alone time with it.”

Law raised his brows as you clamped your hand over your mouth, your face going hot. He looked too smug, his lips curling as if trying not to laugh. 

“Shut up,” you choked out, putting your misty hands in your lap. 

“I’m not the one whose tongue keeps wagging,” he taunted, somehow keeping that stoic air about him, just a hint of playfulness showing through. 

You stuck that tongue out at him before focusing on your meal, and the low chuckle he let escape was hardly noticeable over the nearby conversations of his crew.

But you noticed it. 

Warmth tingled through your body, and your face was still burning by the time he led you to your room.

~

“Will you be alright in here,” he checked in, standing outside the door to the small room he’d set up for you in the barracks. “The crew are on rotating shifts, so there will always be someone sleeping or getting ready nearby if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you said in a small voice. The realization that you were about to be alone in a cramped, metal room made your skin crawl.

“Are you o—“

“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” you lied with a smile. You were good at lying with smiles. 

“Okay,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll, uh… I’ll come wake you in the morning, alright? We can have breakfast before we continue going over what you remember.”

“Sounds good,” you chirped. Your cheeks started to hurt as you waved him out, letting your muscles relax after he’d closed that heavy door. 

Quiet.

Not completely. Clanging sounds of the sub interrupted the stillness. Soft voices floated in the hallway beyond that door. 

But now that you were alone…

Thoughts. Memories. Fear. Shame. Guilt. 

Falling back on the single bed, you choked out silent sobs, the flood of emotions slamming into you. You had left your world, dove off the edge of a waterfall, but now you were caught beneath the crashing water, drowning while your body was ripped apart. 

What have I done? How could I leave the family? How could I betray Doffy? 

I’m nothing but scum. Useless my whole life, and now I’m a traitor.

Your mind went in endless loops. Gratitude for Law taking you away. Guilt for betraying the family. Relief that you weren’t stuck in that mindless existence anymore. Terror that Doffy would find and kill you both slowly. 

It hurt. Your whole body hurt, your head pounding like the clanging metal of the submarine.

And you couldn’t understand how you could feel your heart breaking and burning in your chest when it was locked up in Law’s office. 

“Y/N, can I come in?”

His knock had sent you to the ceiling, your body spread into cowardly mist while you tried to calm down. 

“Y/N,” he checked again, concern staining his voice. 

“Just a second,” you stalled, going solid in front of the door. You shook yourself, wiped your tears, and took a few quiet breaths before opening the door with another beaming smile. 

“What’s up?”

Law didn’t look at you like an old friend, an enemy, or a captain on a mission. 

He looked at you like a doctor, and you tried not to squirm.

“What’s that,” you pointed to the lump of shiny fabric he held under one arm.

He coughed, looking down at his shoes before returning your gaze, seeming to rebuild that doctor persona.

“You’ve been through an intense amount of trauma, and the shock of… If you would feel comfortable, I’d like to sleep on the floor in here tonight, just to make sure you’re okay. I could sleep outside the door if you prefer, I just—“

He glanced down at your clenched fists, and you tried to relax them as he continued. 

“I want you to feel safe.”

I’ll never be safe. I’m a traitor. I’m weak. I’ll be tortured before they kill me. 

Doffy will…

The lump in your throat burned, and you filled the room with thick mist so he wouldn’t see you shatter, sinking to the floor as you clawed at your empty chest.

Law closed the door, calling your name as he moved blindly toward you. You could feel him in your mist, and you could have avoided him. You could have let yourself expand into tiny droplets of water, keeping yourself away from any care or comfort he could try to provide. 

But you couldn’t think. Just heave silent sobs, and struggle through breaths that took in more mist than oxygen.

“Y/N– fuck,” he cursed, stubbing his toe on the bed as he waved his arms around slowly. 

The mist told you that he’d gone to his knees, crawling close to you in the small space, but you couldn’t do anything with that knowledge. 

Warm fingers found your arm, pressing lightly along to figure out what he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry I’m touching you, I just need to make sure you’re alright,” he breathed, tracing along your shaking body until he found your neck. His fingers almost burned your clammy skin as he took your pulse before gripping your shoulder gently. 

The way that you could see through your eyes was different than how you could see as mist, or through the mist you create, but you had no way to describe the difference. Through the mist, you saw him lean close, his head above yours as if he could see through the mist too. 

“I’m here. I’m right here with you, Y/N.”

Time was impossible to track as you alternated between crying and dissociating, Law’s calm presence never wavering. Eventually, your mist cleared up, from exhaustion instead of choice. 

He lifted your limp body, tucking you into the small bed before rolling out his sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to sta–”

Law interrupted your slurred words with a harsh glare, but sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

His eyes seemed brighter in this dim room, his voice too soft, yet firm.

Staring into nothing, you felt numbness trying to take you again, but words jumped out of you before you drifted away. 

“Why does it still hurt,” you accused, tapping against your chest with angry fingers, desperate to rip these feelings out. “You took my heart, Law. Why does it still hurt so bad?”

Somehow, more hot tears fell, your body too weak to keep tearing at the hole inside. 

Law’s eyes trailed away, gone to some other time, some other place. When he came back to you, he took your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If I could cure a broken heart, I wouldn’t be able to complete my mission.”

His words felt as hollow as your chest. You managed to squeeze his hand, pulling in his distant eyes. 

“So we can be broken together then,” you asked, your voice still hoarse as your lips lifted into a weak smile.

Law huffed a laugh, lifting your fingers to his lips before kissing his promise onto your skin.

“Broken together.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I knew I was going to go crazy when I started writing for Law, and I was correct. I'm obsessed with this emotionally wrecked man 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 3

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[cheynovak]

Crush Part 3

Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N) &  Sam Winchester (platonic)  

Warnings: Fluff, sexual tension, implied smut, alcohol, trauma, nothing too extreme,  

This story might not follow the SPN timeline.  

Side note: English isn’t my first language.  

Words:  4458

Short recap of part 2: 

Y/N is a high school crush/friend of Sam, when they were 16 y/o they attended the same school for a while. Sam spends his entire time hanging out with her, trying to ask her to prom, only one problem, Y/N likes Dean. Now years later Dean gets out of hell and decided he wanted Y/N in his life, but desperately trying to hold her away from hunting.  

But how long will that work out?  

Please check out my masterlist for more stories.

 --------

Jump forward in time.  

Y/N and Dean are an item for about a year now. Since the brothers were out hunting a lot of the time it still felt pretty new to both of them. Still learning about each other when they were together. Often feeling it was a long-distance relationship, but they were determent to make it work.  

Y/N felt the bed moving beside her. She turned around opening one eye slightly. “What time is it?” she asked while she saw Dean sitting on the bed, taking of his pants before crawling in bed with her. “Too early to get up yet.” He said wrapping his arm around her. “Go back to sleep sweetheart.” He whispered while giving her a small peck on her temple.  

Y/N knew how much Dean needed their quality time together after a hunt. So, she just nested her face against him, listening to his breath getting heavier until he fell asleep. She stayed a little longer enjoying the embrace of her boyfriend before getting up.  

She made a routine of getting up before Bobby and making sure he had some decent breakfast to start the day. She would clean a little but wouldn’t make the mistake of touching his books and replacing them. Only this morning she had to be move quieter than usual, since Sam was sleeping on the couch.  

Bobby had already cleaned out the guest bedroom for Y/N, because he thought a woman shouldn’t sleep on a couch. But for the boys he was a little tougher. It was indeed pretty early, so instead of starting to make a noise with pots and pans and probably waking up her best friend, Y/N decided to go to the store. For a moment she was tempted to take baby with her, but she didn’t want to give Dean a nervous breakdown if he sees she is gone, so she took bobby’s old car instead. Knowing he wouldn’t mind (as much).  

She walked outside: “Morning Baby, sorry, other time beautiful.”  she was apologising to the car for not driving it. Like Dean would even let her.  

By the time Y/N rolled into town the stores just opened. She liked shopping this early, part from a few school kids there was no rush. As Y/N strolled through the store she heard two teenagers, not older than 15 years, talk. “Oh my god! You are such a Sam girl! Don’t you realise he is a nerd?” - “Maybe but he is sooo cute and tall. I like a smart man with a troubled past.” Ha, Y/N though, looks like all Sam’s in this town are all tall, cute, smart and troubled.  

“Let me guess you are a Dean girl?” - “Yep! Strong older more experience. With monsters and girls.” Both girls started to giggle. Y/N stopped walking being flabbergasted, monsters? Girls? “Hey, eh hi girls?” The blond tall girl and short brunet turned around. “I just overheard you guys talking, about monster... and boys?” She couldn’t believe her saying this. “Yeah! We are reading a novel.” The blond girl answered, “Supernatural” 

“It’s about these two brothers who fight monsters.” - “Really? Can I see it.” They handed her their copies. “Unbelievable.” Y/N mumbled while reading a paragraph. “Incredible isn’t it.” The brunet said. “Where did you buy this?” Y/N asked while handing their book back. “At the bookstore a crossed from here, this is the third book.” - “Ok, thanks.”  

Y/N finished her groceries and practically ran to the bookstore. She asked for the “supernatural series.” and bought all of them immediately. By the time she got home all three men were awake. “What took you so long?” Dean asked while taking the bags out of her hands. “I eh, went to the bookstore.” - “What, has Bobby not enough reading material?” Sam joked.  

“No, it’s not that, I was at the store and heard two kids talk about monsters and stuff and it turned out there are actual books out there with you guys in it!” Y/N turned holding one of the boos showing it to the guys, who didn’t seem to be as surprised as she was. “Yeah, we know.” Sam said rubbing his neck. “What do you mean you know.”  

“We know, Chuck writes those, he is a prophet of the lord.” Dean filled her in. “So, you mean you guys knew this and didn’t bother to tell me? Why?” - “It’s bullshit.” Dean grabbed the book out of her hands. “Please tell me you just bought this one.” - “eh no, actually I bought all of them.” She blushed slightly. “A-all of them?” Dean repeated. “Yes, I want to read about your life story.”  

“You could just ask us what you want to know.” Sam tried to help his brother out. “Sam, I don’t even know what to ask. And this...” She took back the book Dean grabbed from her. “Is something you guys could have told me.” - “Well, don’t get too excited sweetheart, none of it is as accurate as the real deal.“ Dean said. “Besides if neither of you have anything to hide from me, like a, I don’t know fling or long-distance girlfriend or so, you wouldn’t mind me reading it. Would you?” Bobby saw how Y/N was teasing Dean, who’s eyes grew big, probably hoping not all his one nights were mentioned.  

“Y/N is right” Bobby added, “What’s wrong if she has some reading material when you guys are gone.” - Which to my defence, you are a lot, lately.” She wrapped her arms around Dean trying to sway him. Looking all puppy eyes at him. “Alright, fine. I’m going to work on Baby.” He said turning to the back door. 

“Oh eh sweety?” Dean stopped walking, she never used that nickname unless she needs something. He gave her a what now look. “Talking about working on cars, Bobby said I could pick a car out, to stop using his.” - “That’s good for you.” he wanted to move on. “But since I know nothing about that, and you are sooooo good at fixing cars... I thought, you know.” Dean’s head fell in his neck, “I don’t have time to fix an entire shipwreck for you.  

“Oh ok, never mind, you know, next time I could just take baby for a spin.” She heard Sam laughing at the background. “Fine, which one do you want.” - “Don’t care, you choose.” she kissed his cheek before joining Sam on the couch. "Oh and Dean?” - “Hm” - “Take your time it’s not urgent. Thanks.” - “Good cause baby comes first.” - “Deal” She said while he closed the door behind him.  

“You really know how to work that man.” - “I have no choice Sam. You are at least once in a while allowed to drive that car.” - “I have to get into town driving the car everyone knows is Bobby’s. People start to talk.”  

Y/N took a book Chuck wrote and started to read while Sam took his own literature. Y/N really liked spending time with Sam. It felt like when they were in high school again. Where they had their Thursday “book club”. Truth be told it was just Y/N and Sam hanging out reading books together, not even the same book.  

 She looked over at Sam seeing him getting off the couch to grab his laptop. Y/N knew he would come back but decided to tease Sam a little like they used to, by putting her legs on his place. “May I?” He asked when he came back. Y/N ignored him.  

“Real mature Y/N.” She grinned, “Ok. If that’s how you want to play it.” He pulled on her ankles before he lifted her out of the couch. “Hey! What the...” Trying to throw her over his shoulders but her fighting back made that difficult, although she wasn’t strong enough to fight herself out of Sam’s arms.  

Dean walked in, grabbed a beer when he saw his brother holding his girlfriend in his arms, keeping her off the floor while she struggled to get out. “A little help please?” She yelled at Dean who laughed and said “Keep up the good work Sammy. I need a little more time with baby.” and walked out again, Dean got used to their little fights, but Y/N seemed to forget that Sam was almost twice as big as her. She could never win.  

“Fine ok, you can have your seat back.” She gave up. “Just my seat?” He grinned, “ Ugh, the entire couch.” - “No, kidding, just my spot is good.” The peace returned in the living room.  

“Hey Sam?” - “yeah?” He answered without lifting his eyes from the screen. “You and eh, Ruby, did that really happen?” She could see the colour drawn out of his face. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just sorry to read you trusted the wrong person.” she took his hand in hers, his lips curled a little hearing her saying that. “Let’s just see it as a learning process.” He answered. “Hey, you’re not the only one who ‘dated’ the wrong person. Both of them were demons in their own way.”  

“You know, you never told me about your ex-boyfriends, why don’t you start with that?” Sam turned to her. 

“Still reading that garbage?” Dean interrupted them while walking back in, covered in oil and dirt. “Still working on Baby?” she answered. “Nope, all done, time to pick out your car sweetheart.” - “Great, then I'm done reading.” before she jumped of the couch, she squeezed Sam’s hand a little. Saying, I'm here for you if you want to talk, without using words. 

“Ok, sweetheart I’ve looked around, there are a few cars here that don’t need to much work. But personally, I would choose this one.” He stopped her in front of a green 1970 Chevrolet Camaro. “Are you sure? Seems like a lot of work.” - “The paint for the body will cost a little, but I checked and I’m sure that what’s inside will last a long time. And Bobby has parts all around this junkyard that I can re-use.”   

“Not what I meant, I thought of, I don’t know a normal small car?” - “My girl gets to drive an American classic. Nothing will last longer. Period.” She hugged him, “Besides, you’re used to driving Bobby’s Chevelle by now, switching to this won’t be difficult.” - “I’m very grateful honey, thank you.” She wiped his cheek before giving a soft peck on it. “I can think of a thing or two how you can thank me” He wiggled his eyebrows before he pulled her into a kiss.  

“Dean!” the love birds heard Sam yelling, waving his hands to tell them to come inside.  

“Chuck just texted me. He needs us.” The older Winchester pinched his nose. “Chuck as in, the guy who writes these books? Great would love to meet him!” - “No, no, no way! You never go out on a hunt with us.” - “Dean baby please. I won’t hunt I’ll stay in the motel and chat with Chuck. Keep him busy while you two do your business.”  

Dean hated the idea of Y/N joining them, but as usual she convinced him with a little help from Sam. 

They arrived at the address Chuck had texted, only to realise they were lured there by Becky. Who was waving from the moment the black impala was in sight. Dean parked the car with a big sigh. “Your girlfriend is here.” - “She is not my... never mind.”  Sam rolled his eyes. “Girlfriend?” Y/N popped her head between the two men. “Who is she?”  

“Becky, another crazy fan of the book you’ve been reading ever since we left.” Dean pointed to the book at the back seat.  

“You didn’t want me to help you with this hunt, so I have to distract myself.” The three of them walked their way to Becky and Chuck who just walked out. “What are you doing here?” He asked. “You texted us.” Sam looked confused. Chuck turned to Becky. “No actually that was me.” she confessed.  

She explained how she was hosting a SPN convention with Chuck as guest and that she wanted Sam to be there as well. Y/N couldn’t hold back a giggle. Becky looked over at her, “who are you?” - “This is Y/N. She is...” Sam started, Becky’s face changed while she interrupted Sam, jealous of Y/N ... “Your old high school crush! The girl you wished you lost your virginity to, the girl you hoped you could be her first as well...” Dean gave her a I really don’t want to hear this, look.  

 

Becky rambled on, “The girl who didn’t like you the way you liked her. Oh, I know. The one who hurt you.” - “Dean’s girlfriend.” Sam finished. “She is Dean’s girlfriend.” 

“Hi.” Y/N waved probably looking as red on her cheeks as Sam by now. 

It’s felt really weird that someone she didn’t know, knew about her. She made it very clear she though Y/N was a villain in this story.  

“H-how do you know that?” Sam asked feeling his cheeks getting redder by the minute. - “I read it.” - “There is only a small part of me in the books." Y/N looked at Sam who shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I wrote a lot of drafts, not everything made the book.” Chuck added. “Let me guess and Becky read all of them? Great” Dean said annoyed.   

“I still think you should have added the part where Y/N ditched Sam on their last book night, their last night in town, pretended to be sick just to sneak out, to fiddle with Dean.” Sam looked at her. 

 “Wait, you said that you stayed on the couch all night.” Y/N opened her mouth but before she could answer Becky did. “Yeah, the backseat of the impala you mean. At the football pitch at night with Dean’s body to keep her warm.” Clearly adding oil to the fire.  

“Wow! That didn’t happen!” Dean interfered “First off, it was the front seat.” - “Not helping!” Y/N gave him an angry look.  

“And second, we didn’t do anything. Did we make out, yes, but that’s all!” He looked at Sam who glanced over at Y/N. “Like I told you before, nothing happened.”  

Becky puffed, “He wanted to, though.” Dean cocked his head while giving Y/N a lopsided smile, clearly not apologising for it. Making her roll her eyes.  

After the awkward introduction they strolled around the convention Becky organised. Y/N stopped Dean by the arm. “Hey, eh I would like to find a motel before the three of us have no choice but to stay in the impala.” She saw the grin on his widen, “Hm, want some sexy time, eh?”  

“What?”- “Were standing in a hotel sweetheart. Enough rooms.��� He pulled her in for a small kiss. “I'm not staying the night here, it gives me the creeps, Dean.” 

“Well, I'm hungry, so let’s stay here for the dinner, and if you still feel the same afterwards...’ His hands dropped to her behind, squeezed her flesh. “We’ll leave, let’s take the impala and find our self a nice cosy place to relive that one night.” He winked. Y/N’s head dropped “D, that’s not what I mean!” but he was too focused on food to hear her.  

She noticed Sam standing at the bar, Becky sitting at the table trying to flirt with him. He’s trying to friendly ignore her, but this girl had no idea how to stop. They locked eyes, giving her the please save me stare.  

“She is really into you, isn’t she?” Y/N laughed while she wrapped her arms around his, turning him with his back against her, so now Y/N was facing her. “I really believe she is nice. Just.” - “Weird? Creepy? Obsessed.” - “Yes, yes and yes. You know she writes like her own fictional stories about us.” - “That’s cute.” Y/N looked over seeing her giving Y/N a dead stare.  

“Yeah, maybe if they were, innocent.” - “Wait what?” - “Uhu.” Y/N blinked her eye’s a few times. “You are telling me, that sweet looking girl writes fan fiction porn about you?” Sam nodded “Like I said, uhu.” - “And you read it?” Y/N was in shock.  

“What? No! I read one story she e-mailed to me last time we met. It was innocent but then when I searched her page, I found... weird stuff.”  

“Wait how weird are we talking, like you whipping her or choking?” Sam raised his brow. “Don’t act all innocent Sammy. We both know that is not the worst thing in the world. Bet you even like it!” She rubbed her shoulder against his. “Y/N, seriously.” Sam wasn’t amused “Ok, sorry, what does she write then.”  

“About me and Dean.” - “Ok.” - “Together.” Her face turned pale. “Like, together, together?” - “Yeah.” Y/N looked over Sam’s shoulder to Becky. Sam saw the wheels in Y/N’s head turning. “Please don’t tell me you like that.” He asked nervous. “What? Ew, no, that isn’t even legal!” - “Oh, so if it was you would like it?” - “Oh god no Sam, I’m just trying NOT to picture it. And not to freak out!”  

“Sam, I’m feeling really uncomfortable. I really don’t want to be here tonight, you mind finding us a motel?” - “You want to get out of here?” She nodded quickly. “Please.” She gave him the puppy eyes. “Great!” He looked around, no Dean in sight. “Let’s go. We’ll tell Dean when we get back.” Sam pulled her in front of him, holding his hands on her shoulders to pushed her through the door.  

But Becky saw all of it, she didn’t hear a word, but the fact that they were sitting so close together and now left together made her jealous and suspicious. Sam “borrowed” one of the other cars that were parked outside and left.  

When they arrived at the motel Becky’s jealousy grew, she saw how Sam took the key and opened the door for Y/N following her inside.  

Not long after she sees Sam walking outside when Y/N opened the door in a robe calling him for something. She heard Sam yell. “Just make sure you’re ready, I’ll be right back.”  

Becky couldn’t bear the thought of what was happening inside. So instead of walking up to the room and confront them she drove back. But before she would walk back inside, she called Chuck to come outside.  

“I think Y/N is cheating on Dean.” She said while walking around the premises. ”What?” Chuck couldn't follow her, literally and figuratively. “I think Y/N is cheating on Dean, with my Sam. I saw them at the motel a few minutes ago.” - “You followed them?” - “I HAD to Chuck. I don’t want her to use him. She will break his heart all over again.”  

By the time Chuck and Becky walked back they saw Sam and Y/N walk back to the convention. Y/N wrapped her arm around the tallest brother, hugging him quickly. ”Thanks Sam. For helping, I really needed to get away from this.” - “If feel you. This place is weird, and I don’t want to spend the night too close to Becky.” 

“Sam Winchester, not afraid of ghosts and monsters but scared to dead of a female.” - “You really don’t know her.” He tried to defend himself. “Ha, who knows she might sneak into your bed and you hear her whisper in your ear. ‘Oh Sammy bear, hold me tonight in your strong arms’.” She acted out the scene a little too loud. Sam laughed at her drama performance.” You’re going to give me nightmares.”  

“See?!” Becky looked back to Chuck, “I never saw that as sexual tension. I thought they were just teasing each other. You know like brother and sister.” They ran after Y/N and Sam. “Where were you? The quiz is about to start.” Dean asked while walking up to them. ”By the way the buffet was amazing!” Sam gave a grinned look at Y/N and walked away.  

“I’m happy you filled your tummy.” She padded his stomach and kissed him. “Do you have a new parfum?” Dean asked. “Eh, no why?” - “Dean? Can I talk to you?” He looked over his shoulder seeing Chuck and Becky looking nervous. “I’ll keep a seat for you.” Y/N said while clearly feeling she wasn’t supposed to stay.  

Becky walked towards her turning her away from the room. “I know what you’re doing.”  - “Sorry?” - “You want them both don’t you? Is Dean not good enough for you?” Y/N looked at Dean seeing him looking back at her a little angry.  

“I, no we, saw you with Sam at the motel.” - “Becky, we went to rent a room.” - “Oh, really is that why you screamed “Oh Sammy bear, hold me tonight in your strong arms’?” Dean’s eyes grew big. - “Cheater!” She yelled before walking away leaving Dean and Y/N alone in the lobby. “Y/N?” She could see the fear in his eyes.  

But before they could say another word one of the guests ran towards them screaming, he saw 3 little kids covered in blood. Sam asked Becky if that was part of the convention, but the brothers quickly learned this wasn’t part of the plan. 

Y/N and Becky gathered all the guests and staff at the buffet. “Becky, Salt!” She yelled while throwing it towards her. Both women covered every door and window. Trying to keep the ghosts out.  

Meanwhile Sam and Dean did what they did best. Fight while they were fighting ghosts.  

“So, you’re still not over Y/N are you?” Dean bit towards Sam while they were walking to the graves. “What are you talking about?” - “Becky and Chuck saw you two all cuddly and close.” Sam was confused. “Saw us doing what?” - “Oh you know what I mean!” He turned around standing toe to toe with his younger brother. “Why Sam? Why Y/N?” - “Dean really, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

Dean started to get frustrated. “Is this because she chose me? Or because we made up a little lie just to get together when we were young?” He walked away again “Dean seriously what are you talking about?” 

“Motel, Sam! They saw you two at the motel.” - “You didn’t want to go with her, you wanted to eat. So, she asked me.” Dean turned back around clocked his brother in his face. The anger behind the punch was enough to make Sam fall on the ground.” 

“The fuck Dean!” Sam placed his hand on his eye. “So, because I didn’t go with her, you thought hey why not, having sex with my brother’s girl was always on my ‘to do’ list? I can’t believe you did this to me. You know I love her!” - “O-of course, but I never ...” - “Dude she smelled like cheap motel soap!” - ”We never did anything Dean! I swear.”  

Dean saw the honesty in his eyes. “She is my friend and I never even think about her that way. I promise!” - “Never?” - “Never!” - “Cause you two are very close and ‘handsy’ sometimes.” - “She is like a sister, we fight constantly.” Sam said still sitting on the ground. “What if things were different? What If she wanted?” - “She doesn’t want me Dean, and I don’t want her.” - “You used to.” - “When I was 16. Please man, we didn’t do anything I swear!”  

The older brother thought for a second. “Then what did she mean by: Oh Sammy bear, hold me tonight in your strong arms’ - “We were laughing, joking what Becky would say if she had a change to sneak into my room. A-and the motel, Y/N was spooked in that old hotel, clearly, she is right. She wanted to book a room before there were no more available. So, I took her.”  

“And the shower?” - “She said it would calm her nerves.” - “What did you do during the shower?” Dean was still not convinced. “Got food, we ate we got back. Ask her!” Dean nodded sticking his hand out to Sam. Lifting him of the ground. “Let’s finish this job first, talk later.”  

Sam and Dean got back at the hotel. Y/N ran towards Dean, clinging on to his neck. “Oh god I'm so glad you are ok.” Dean placed one hand between her shoulders while his other still carried the shovel.  

Dean smelled the unfamiliar scent of soap on her. “I think we need to talk.” He said looking over at Chuck and Sam. Seems like Sam was already giving them a piece of his mind.  

“Dean baby, what Becky said...” he kissed her before she could say more. “It’s ok.” He said. “No, I was teasing Sam, I pretended to be Becky. I would never.” He smiled softly. “I believe you, I never really believed them anyway.” He shrugged his shoulders trying to play it cool.  

“Oh really? Then why does Sam look like he ran into a door?”  Dean grinned “The ghost did that.” He pulled her close. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I just, sometimes I'm a little jealous of the bond you have with him, and Chuck telling me you two went to a motel without telling me... Guess it made me nervous.”  

“Dean, I only want to stay in your strong arms, .” she over did her act again. Dean’s lips curled slightly up. ”Is that a promise?” She nodded slowly. He felt her fingers going through his hair pulling him in.  

“Does your offer of re-living that night still stand?” She asked before biting his bottom lip softly. Dean’s eyes grew big before they changed into his bedroom eyes .  

“Absolutely” He answered with a husky voice.  

--

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[disenchantedif]

Luci has wing trauma? Would he let MC touch them during the crushing stage maybe or is it a hard no for all?

Assuming you wanted Lucien by the pronouns so…

Ex-Lucien romance route ;)

His back is tense, you can see the muscles pulled taught beneath tanned brown skin. His hair is down, falling just past his shoulders in a tumble of waves, and you ache looking at him.

You can’t make this mistake again. Your heart can’t afford it.

Reaching out anyways, fingers brushing his shoulder. He flinches ever so slightly, but eventually relaxes and sinks into your touch.

Don’t do this, you remind yourself. Don’t break your own heart.

Then he looks back. Brown eyes are wide and wet, holding an unfathomable hope that takes a sledgehammer to your poorly constructed walls.

“Is this okay?” You whisper, dragging your fingers slowly through the feathers.

He’d eaten shit when he fell, that’s for sure. You’d already patched up his left elbow, which had been sluggishly bleeding. Now his feathers need to be set to rights. You notice he tenses when you brush over where wings meet skin.

A small barren path, and what looks like a burn scar. That…hadn’t been there before. You’d seen all of Lucien once upon a time and this was certainly something you would’ve taken note of.

“Fine,” He breaths out, shaky, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” You say, inching around so you kneel before him, reaching a hand out to brush hair from his cheek.

You want to curse yourself. That’s something…That’s not something you can do now. That’s from before.

His eyes widen at the touch and he makes no move to dislodge your hand.

You do it for him, you fingertips aching for the feel of his skin once it’s gone. The look in his eyes tell you he feels the same.

“Just let me take care of you.” You whisper, “Please.”

It’s as much of an admission you’re willing to make. Still, he seems to glow with the words you speak, his wings shivering behind him.

He bows his head once, “Alright.”

[juneknight]

Idling || 9

Previous drabble here.

About this: MK system/reader. I've marked this as mature for graphic depictions of violence, self-harm specifically. I do mean graphic. Proceed with caution.

Your way of contacting Jake has worked.

*

It is eerie to watch it happen. 

Marc is gone by then, and you are almost glad for it. It had nearly broken you to watch: the way that he had pulled against the bindings to try to get to you, the way he had first tried logic and then tried begging to get you to put the blade down. He had only agreed to let you cuff him to the support beam out of caution, in case calling for Jake managed to reach the man. He had had no idea what you really planned, exactly how you were going to bring Jake to the front. If he had, he never would have let it happen. 

As soon as he realized that there was nothing he could do—that he couldn’t break the bindings, that he couldn’t talk you out of this foolish plan—you had watched him disappear.  The look in his eyes grew foggy and distant while his mind turned inward, desperate to protect itself from this. From you. From this new trauma you were inflicting on him. 

And Steven—sweet, strong Steven—had stepped forward to bear the burden as you cut yourself again, deeper. 

“Please don’t,” Steven wept, testing your resolve. “We’ll think of something else, anything else.”

“Stop talking, please,” you say through your tears. “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” 

“You have made this harder than it has to be,” Steven says, voice raising uncharacteristically. If Marc had tried reason and pleading, then Steven would not waste his time. The futility of his situation—the bone deep horror and hurt he can feel from Marc—infuriates him in a way that he has never expressed to you before. “This wasn’t necessary, none of this was necessary if you had just let us figure things out ourselves!”

Your hand shakes so badly that you cut deeper than you intended. The pain makes you drop the knife. Panic floods you–you can see the meat of your arm. Nausea rises up in you, sharp and acidic in the back of your throat and your head spins. Steven’s right; this was a mistake. How could you have been so fucking stupid as to think that—in such a deep episode of self-loathing—fear for someone else was likely to be a better catalyst than fear for their own self? 

You look towards the pillar where Steven is handcuffed, apologies and pleas on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t even see him. All you can see is the ghostly figure behind him, huge and silent with its beaked head cocked in interest at you. 

Khonshu is waiting, just as eager to see Jake as you are.

You pick the knife up again. You are in too far, now. To turn back is not only to admit your own stupidity, it is to have let all of your suffering be for nothing. But as you hold the blade poised above your arm, you realize that Steven’s sounds have changed. You blink the tears from your eyes. 

The body is there, yes. Its shoulders heave with the frantic breaths Steven had been taking, but already its chest is slowing. Tears are still wet on its cheeks, still clouding the eyes—but the one in the body blinks them away, his expression gone lax and stony. 

He’s here. 

“Hi, Jake,” you say through your own tears. “Thought that might get your attention.” 

He stares and says nothing. His shoulders roll, like he is unworking the kinks in them. 

“I tried to reach you, we all did. You and Marc and Steven need to talk.”

“Deja de hablar.” His voice makes you shiver, raspy and ragged from the tears he himself did not cry. 

“I–I’m sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. Mild as his attitude is, you can sense the danger beneath the surface. He isn’t straining against the restraints the way the others did, almost as if he is content to sit there all morning. You flush at both his attitude and his words. He prompts: “Did you understand that?”

“Yes, I understood,” you snap. Your head spins a little. You still have not put down the blade. “But I have to talk to you.”

Jake says nothing. He is not even looking at you, eyes distant like he is pondering a math problem. His nonchalant disregard for you and the conversation threatens to send you into a spiral. 

“Are you listening to me?” you gasp wetly. Your heart feels fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “I need to fucking talk to you!”

Jake pushes away from the pillar, the cuffs dangling from one of his wrists. He stands a little unsteadily before crossing the room in a few large steps. The surprise of him having broken from the cuffs, the fire in his eyes which promises violence has you flinching away from him. You throw your bloodied arm up to protect yourself—not even in your fear do you think to wield the knife against him, against them—

But Jake just pulls the knife from your useless hand. He moves past you to the wall, his fury palpable and having brushed against you like the first wave of heat after stepping out of the air conditioning during summertime. With one forceful stab, he buries the blade into the plaster and wood of the wall up to the hilt. Cords in his forearm pulling tight, he snaps off the handle and drops it to the floor.

The two of you stare at each other, both of your chests heaving: yours with fear, his with fury. 

He points to the table and chairs and says: “Siéntate.” 

And you do not need to ask what he means.

Next drabble here.

[sixhours]

Chapter 17 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

When you wake, Joel is already gone, back to another patrol shift. He leaves a note on the counter in his typically terse fashion:

Coffee’s fresh. Help yourself.

You don’t talk about that night again, but the effects linger. Patrol groups are larger and rotated more frequently since the bite that killed Eliot. The infected seem to be everywhere, and the council doubles the number of guards on the wall.

More than once during that summer, you wake in Joel’s bed, alone. Sometimes you find him standing at Ellie’s door, watching over her while she sleeps, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth until it’s raw. It’s the only time they’re truly at ease, when the silence between them isn’t uncomfortable. You’ll take his hand and lead him back to bed and he’ll bury his face in the back of your neck, unspoken sorrow radiating from him in waves.

But life in Jackson continues despite the undercurrent of unease. The weather turns brutally hot, and you treat heatstroke, sunburns, and so many cases of swimmer’s ear in the kids, who spend their free time frolicking in the creek that runs through the back half of the settlement.

Joel sets up a ring of stones in the backyard, and you build a fire and show Ellie how to roast homemade marshmallows in the embers. She’s impatient, and most of the time the sticky candy is set alight until it’s charred black and papery. She eats it anyway. Joel strums his guitar and hums under his breath, frowning when he misses a chord, brow furrowed in concentration as Ellie needles him about his taste in music.

There are times when it’s too sweet and simple, this life, and perhaps that’s why you don’t trust it. There is always the sense that you’re waiting for something to happen, for the terrible thing that will take it all away.

~*~

In mid-July, the council hosts an outdoor party they call the Firefly Dance, which you think is a terrible name under the circumstances, but no one else seems to think so. As much as you hate the idea of a night of watching sweaty people get increasingly drunk–all you see are future injuries to treat, more babies to deliver–you know you should make an appearance to seem neighborly. Joel seems to think so, too, because he tells you you shouldn’t miss it. It’s unlike him, to be excited about a silly dance with a silly name, so you decide to make the effort.

You’re dressed in a cornflower blue shift dress that, in the Before, would have been dubbed old-fashioned. But it’s the only slightly dressy thing you own that doesn’t have sleeves, and you’re not exactly surrounded by a dearth of choices. It falls just to your knees, and you can’t remember a time since the outbreak when you clothed yourself for fun rather than utility. It feels almost scandalous to walk around in public with bare legs and shoulders.

The way Joel’s eyes light up when he sees you confirms you’ve made a good choice, old-fashioned or not. He meets you at the edge of the party, gives you an appraising glance, and leans in to place a single chaste kiss on your cheek, murmuring in your ear.

“Clean up nice.”

He does, too, you think. His curls are temporarily tamed and slicked back, the usual flannel replaced by a short-sleeved plaid button-up with jeans. He looks almost presentable.

Before you can tell him this, he’s taking your arm and steering you…away.

“The party’s back there, Miller,” you say, looking over your shoulder at the strings of lights and the people mulling about.

“Got a better idea.”

You walk through an alley, down a narrow street, then into the open field near the northwest corner of the wall, until the lights and music are a distant pulse in the background.

His bedroll is already laid out, flattening a small patch of the tall sweetgrass. He pulls you down against him, cups your face in his wide palms, and kisses you long and deep.

“Joel Miller,” you murmur against his willing, open mouth. “I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He hums against your lips, hands already sliding under your dress. Maybe there’s something to bare legs after all. “Stars didn’t do it for ya?”

“Mmm,” you breathe. “Too cold.”

He rolls you onto your back, the grass warm and soft underneath you, almost soft as a bed. His nose grazes the spot behind your ear that makes you shiver, one hand already slipping into your panties, curling around your sensitive center. Your hands reach down, eager to touch him, to return the favor, but he gently pushes you away.

“Uh uh,” his voice tickles at your collarbone, stubble scraping your throat. “Just for you tonight.”

An undignified sound escapes you in half moan, half-whisper. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” he growls, and his fingers begin their achingly slow ministrations at your cunt. Your back arches into his touch, but he teases, stroking until you’re feverish with the sensations pulling deliciously low and tight in your abdomen.

At some point, he’s pulled one of your breasts free of the confines of your bra, and his mouth settles over the nipple, laving and suckling until your fingernails leave little half-moons on the back of his neck.

You grind against his fingers, making soft little keening noises, desperate to be filled. Your eyes flit to the wall; a distant figure moves there. Joel follows your gaze. “They ain’t lookin’ in here,” he says.

“And so what…if they are?” you gasp.

There’s a growl from somewhere deep in Joel’s chest and he groans, two fingers finally, finally pushing inside you and curling hard. “You’d like that, huh?”

But you don’t have the words to answer. His big fingers are circling that spot deep within you and his palm grinds on your clit, and then you’re clenching, clenching, almost, so close .

And then you are brutally emptied, and he’s crawling down your body with ravenous hunger, burning a slow trail of lingering kisses to the apex of your thighs. His tongue caresses your clit, and your moan is low and primal, one hand buried in his hair and the other twisted in the long grass, clawing at the earth until you are blissfully full again.

You open your eyes to the stars, you close your eyes and they follow you into the dark.

~*~

You’re draped over his chest as his hand rubs a soothing path up and down your spine. There’s a flicker of light in your peripheral vision, then another, and another–fireflies darting and blinking lazily in the grass.

“Welcome back,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Mmmm.”

He gently extracts you from his arm and sits up, eliciting a little whine, which he pointedly ignores. You roll to your front, burying your nose in the scent of his blanket, the lingering heat of his body.

“C’mon, lazy bones. Up.” He’s tugging at your hand.

“No.”

The music drifts over the field, something soft; Fleetwood Mac.

“It’s a dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You do. Ellie said so.”

“She lied.”

He grunts. “I think you’re the one who’s lyin’. Up.”

You huff in protest, but take his hand, knees cracking lightly as you get to your feet.

He holds one hand out, the other around your waist, a proper southern gentleman…and then not. The hand on your back slides down to cup your bare ass through your dress, and you realize at some point he’d removed your panties.

He sways, and you find the rhythm, barely, still drowsy and sated. He hums along with the song into your hair.

When he tries to spin you, your feet catch on the bedroll and you feel yourself falling backward with a little shriek. He pulls you back into him, both strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“Told you,” you mutter into his chest, and his chuckle reverberates in the space between your ribs, straight to your stupid heart.

You look up to meet his eyes, so soft, and something inside you twists, sharp and steady. He’s gazing at you, fucking gazing at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Untouchable.

His lips start to form the words and a panicky little bird inside you thrashes against your ribs, beating against the confines of your chest.

“I…I–”

The shot rings out, and you drop to the ground on instinct, Joel’s body landing heavy over yours. You wait for more gunfire, hands pressed into the dirt, breathing hard. It’s quiet. There’s a distant shout from the wall.

“Got ‘im!”

Just a straggler, then.

“Hate it when they get close like that,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, willing your heart to settle. “We should–”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grunting softly as he gets to his feet. He’s distracted now, and you know he’s thinking about Ellie, intent on making sure she’s safe. “Let’s get back.”

~*~

The gunshots from the wall become more frequent as the weeks pass, and the whole community seems drawn into the same stoic, waiting lassitude. You want to blame the heat, but underneath it all is a deep-seated fear that gnaws and twists and burrows like the fungus you’re trying to keep at bay. On the rare occasion he’s with you, Joel is taciturn, even quieter than usual, and Ellie is equally distant from you both.

It’s late August, and you’re eating dinner in the kitchen with Joel and Ellie when she drops the bomb. All the windows in the house are open but there’s no breeze, the air hangs damp and stifling. There’s no conversation, and you’re barely eating, just pushing the food around on your plates in tired silence.

“I’m on patrol tomorrow after school.”

The words are casual enough–like she’s asked one of you to pass the salt–but the fallout is instantaneous.

Joel’s fork clatters to his plate. “Like hell you are.”

She glares at him, but there’s none of her usual tenacity in it, only exhaustion. Her burn has finally healed, but the rift between them is still raw. “I’m sixteen. Tommy says I’m ready.”

“Tommy’s not your fath–your guardian,” he says tightly. “I am.”

“Can you not be a prick about this? For once?”

“If you wanna help, you can go on the wall,” he says. “Safer up there.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve seen my aim. I’m not trained in sharpshooting. And anyway, they need patrollers. The wall is full.”

Joel glares at you as if to demand backup, but you don’t meet his eyes. Every kid in Jackson is given a role at sixteen. That Ellie hasn’t had one until now is probably the result of some influence on Joel’s part to keep her within the walls. But she’s right; Jackson needs as many capable hands as they can get, and Ellie is more than qualified.

Joel’s jaw tightens as he realizes you aren’t going to intervene.

“Fine,” he snaps, slamming his hand down on the table, chair screeching against the wood floor as he stands. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

He leaves the house before you can call him back, and you set down your fork, no longer able to pretend you’re interested in eating.

Ellie stabs at her plate with renewed force, sullen. “He treats me like a stupid kid.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Ellie–”

“He’s such a fucking hypocrite. He says he’s protecting me but he’s just protecting himself,” she spits.

“Hey, that’s en–”

“He’s a fucking coward.”

Her eyes are filled with tears that don’t spill over. She glares at you, daring you to tell her she’s wrong, but you can’t.

You’re just as much a coward as him.

“I’m going to Dina’s,” she says, more clattering of dishware, the scraping of her chair against the floor, and then you’re alone at the table in a house that doesn’t belong to you.

~*~

You find him at the bar, hunched over a glass of bourbon that he’s barely touched.

“Thanks for leaving me the dishes,” you say.

He snorts. “Thanks for backing me up.”

“You can sulk all you want, Miller, but she’s right, and you know it,” you sigh, easing yourself onto the seat next to him. You hook one of your legs on the rung under his stool until your knee is brushing his thigh.

The bar is just as miserably hot as everywhere else, but there’s a decrepit floor fan in the corner that stirs the warm air around you. If you close your eyes, you can pretend there’s a faint breeze.

“I see you’re not drinking again,” you nod at his glass, and he grunts.

“Not yet.”

You reach over and take the glass out from under him, lift it to your lips, and take a mouthful of the warm, woody liquid. It lights a slow-burning fire down the seam of your throat. The bartender cocks his head at you, silently asks if you want your own, and you wave him away.

Joel scowls at you but doesn’t attempt to take the drink back.

“She shouldn’t have to…after everything…I kept her safe,” he mutters. “She shouldn’t have to go through it again.”

“You’re out there almost every day,” you say. “At least if she’s bit–”

He shoots you a warning look.

“She’ll be okay,” you say, lowering your voice. “She’ll probably be paired with Tommy. He won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Bet your ass she will,” he grumbles. “I make the damn schedules.” 

“Then you knew this would happen, you jerk,” you kick him lightly in the shin. “And you’re going to let her go out on her first patrol with, ‘Try not to get yourself killed,’ as your parting words of wisdom?”

His shoulders slump.

“She went to Dina’s,” you say. “Go find her. Tell her you love her…or whatever passes for love in your fucked-up, co-dependent worldview, Miller.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you,” he growls, but he’s already turning, sliding off the stool.

“Isn’t it, though?” you say softly, watching him go before you finish the rest of his drink.

~*~

He crawls into your bed that night, rousing you from a light sleep as he curls his body around you and hums into your ear.

“Mmm. Did you find her?”

“Nope.”

You blink sleepily, looking over your shoulder. “Why not?”

He growls into your nape, nips at your hairline. “I switched the schedules. She’s partnered with me.”

“...and Ellie is okay with that?”

“Dunno.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he mumbles, latching onto the soft skin at the base of your neck and shoulder. You suck in a breath, trying to focus on the conversation rather than the kiss of his tongue and the bite of his teeth.

“You can’t keep her forever, y’know,” you mutter, stifling a whimper as his hand comes around to grip your naked breast, fingers pressing into your flesh, kneading and pulling and rough in the way you like.

“Can try.”

“God you’re…so stubborn…” Now his hand is sliding down your stomach, rubbing back and forth at the sensitive skin just underneath your sleep shorts, teasing.

“Mmhmm.”

“Christ, Miller, she’s–”

“Shuddup,” he murmurs, pressing a hot kiss to the side of your neck. Then he’s pushing you onto your stomach and tugging down your shorts, hands gripping your ass, spreading your cheeks and making a lewd growl of appreciation at what he finds. One arm comes under your hips, lifting you, and you promptly forget what you were trying to say when he enters you. The room is soon filled with the sound of your combined moans and whimpers and the frenzied smack of his hips against yours.

“Up,” he grunts, one hand cupping your breast as he pulls your back flush against his chest. His hands are in your hair, stroking your stomach, gripping your hips, and he groans in frustration, as if he can’t touch all of you at once. He makes up for it by thrusting harder, forcing you forward to brace yourself on the wall behind your bed until you’re keening at the perfect angle.

The liquid molten pleasure in your belly pools and spreads through your limbs, and you come around him with a harsh cry, thighs trembling, nails scraping down the wall as you grip his cock in a tight throb. Three hard, grinding thrusts and he follows you, fingers melded to your hips. He collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress and wrapping you in his arms with a satisfied grunt.

“How’s that for a fucked-up, codependent worldview,” he murmurs, nipping lazily at your earlobe, pulling it into his mouth until you’re squirming underneath him.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you mutter. It’s too fucking hot, you’re stuck together with sweat and come, but you pull his arm tighter around you regardless.

“Just did.”

You chuckle despite yourself. After a few minutes, you push him off, ignoring his protests as you kick away the sheets and blankets and lay like a starfish on the bed. He settles for keeping one hand on your stomach, rubbing sleepy circles around your bellybutton.

“Think she hates me,” he mumbles.

“She’s sixteen,” you sigh. “She’s supposed to hate you a little.”

He snorts, sulking into his pillow.

You thread your fingers through the curls that have overtaken his forehead, damp with sweat and plastered to the skin. You can just make out the furrow between his brows, feel the ridges of worry lines under your thumb.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” you say softly. “But if she actually hated you, she wouldn’t spend so much time trying to piss you off.”

He huffs softly, and you allow yourself to be pulled against him, allow your legs to twine with his, allow yourself to fall asleep in his stubborn, sweaty embrace.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Meeting Texas

Christian Kane x Reader

Summary: Y/N is down in Texas with friends for a vacation from her stressful life as a small-time Alberta farmer. Single mom to 4 beautiful kids, she never expected to fall into the arms of the perfect stranger, especially Christian Kane.

Warnings: drinking, talk of trauma, dirty talk, public sex, p in v, fingering

A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to post a new story. My family and I went through alot this year and either I couldn't find time or I wasn't in a good mind set. I am hoping writing some steamy smut for you all will get me back into the swing of things :) Please remember this is a work of fiction. I have respect for Christian and his family amd am only writing this for fun and entertainment.

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

"For fuck sakes will you stop checking your phone every 5 minutes!" My best friend yelled over the noise of the busy bar.

Rolling my eyes I respond, "sorry, but you know I worry when I'm not there." I'm a single mom of 4 kids who owns a small farm. Between my animals and children I worry when I'm not home to keep everything in check.

The girls dragged me to Texas for a few weeks. Trying to help me unload and unwind. They mean well, I just always have a lot going on and don't trust others to get it done.

When in Texas I guess.

"I'm going to go get us more drinks."

The line is long waiting for drinks. Texas bars on a Friday night are busy, or maybe it's all bars and I just forgot. Been a while.

"Hey baby, how you doing?"

Oh, good, a drink idiot. This should be fun. I move with the line as we slowly move towards the bar, completely ignoring this drunk guy behind me.

"Baby girl why are you ignoring me? I know I could show you a good time."

Okay I could help but chuckle at that line. The guy had to be 10 years younger than me. There is no way he could show me anything I haven't already done.

I wasn't the only one who found it amusing. Apparently tall, dark, and I hope handsome in front of me did as well. I heard a small chuckle come from under his breath.

"Come on darling, stop being a bitch and loosen up." Apparently Mr. Drunk is getting annoyed.

I feel him get closer behind me. His fingers ghost down my side. That's it, time to get rid of this idiot once and for all. I get closer to the man in front of me and pray he will understand.

Grabbing his hand and entwining it with mine. I look up at this stranger I have pulled into my plan. Bright blue eyes of the man I have only ever been this close to in my dreams shine down at my y/e/c.

My brain begins to backfire the long he stares into my eyes with that adorable grin on his face. No words are exchanged between us, which is for the best as I don't think I could form any currently. Without a word, he gently pulls me closer to his warm, hard body. The hand that was tangled with my own is now resting on my hip. His other hand tangles in my y/h/c hair before he brings his soft lips onto mine.

I'm kissing him! The man who I fantasize about in bed. The one who's voice plays on my Bluetooth while I do chores or ride my horses. The gorgeous man who I watch on my TV once my kids are in bed. I think I may have died and gone to heaven. There is no way this is real.

He is committed to this act we are putting on. Molds my body to his as he deepens the kiss. His tongue gently asks for entrance, I don't hesitate to grant it.

I get lost in his kiss. It's been years since I kissed a man, let alone one who has this much passion behind his kiss. My underwear dampen, my fingers twist in his long brown hair, I think I even let out a small moan.

He pulls away slowly. Both panting just a little. We both look beside us and see that the drunk guy has disappeared. Chuckling to each other we move forward in line together. His hand tucked into the back pocket of my jeans and mine are warped around his waist.

"Thank you for playing along."

"No problem Sweetheart. I'm glad I could help a pretty lady out tonight."

"Well I will let you get back to your night. Thank you again." The line moves again and finally its his turn to order. Instead of letting go of me and ordering his drink, he pushes on my butt and moves me to the bar top with him.

"I'll have a jack neat please, and my lady will have..." blue eyes stare down at me. Well okay, I wasn't expecting him to buy my drinks.

"Oh, I need to get 5 shots of vodka and I am drinking jack and coke. You don't need to buy it for me though."

He turns back to the bar tender, "You heard her. Please add it all to my tab."

We wait for our drinks, "thank you."

"Anything for my girl."

A small giggle escapes as I shake my head. "How am I your girl if you don't even know my name?"

"Oh, I don't get hung up on details, besides a beautiful lady like yourself will definitely have a beautiful name to match."

You look into those oceans of blue, "Y/N."

"See I knew I was right. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady." He sends you a cheeky wink, "I'm Christian Kane."

You just smile and shake your head.

"Yeah I know. I'm a fan, which probably makes everything we just did awkward for you and I'm sorry."

"Nope. I'm still glad I helped you and it may be the whiskey talking but I'm a little horny now because of your babe."

Christian freaking Kane is horny because of me. Oh dear God, my underwear is soaked now.

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

Oh God my head. I haven't been hung over in years. To be fair I haven't let loose in years. This bed feels like a giant pillow, I never want to leave.

Oh but I want... no need coffee.

Rolling over I hit a brick wall of warmth. Well thats new. I was in a hotel room by myself last time I checked. Cracking open my eyes I come face to face with those same blue eyes from last night.

Oh shit. That wasn't a dream.

"No it wasn't a dream sweetheart."

Oh crap, I said that out loud.

Christian pulls me against his hard chest. My hand that's still under the blankets brushes his hard, and large, cock with the movement.

"Mmmm..."

"S..s..sorry, I didn't mean to do that." I quickly move my hand.

Christian moves my hand back down so it's laying on top of his cock. Pushing his hips into the air slightly, he rubs it against my open hand, "Oh darling, I'm not complaining."

I softly move my hand, rubbing the monster hiding in his boxers. Watching the bliss look on his face from my gentle touch. His hand spreads my thighs and makes its way to my core. I apparently gave no pants or underwear on, his fingers brush my now wet center sending a jolt of pleasure through my system.

"Fuck babe, you're always so wet for me."

"Always?"

He looks down at me, "you don't remember?"

I shake my head no. What the hell did I do?

"Oh you were such a dirty girl last night. I came outside with you when you went for a smoke and you dragged me into the alley beside the bar."

His fingers pick up the pace as they tease my folds making my core wetter.

"I was kissing your neck, had you pushed against the wall. My cock was aching so bad for you. I was leaking pre cum steadily into my boxers as your rubbed your pussy on my clothed cock."

I have lost any sense I had this morning. I can't even continue rubbing his cock. Between his words and the pleasure his fingers teasing me is bringing, I'm lost in bliss.

"Then dirty girl, you told me to stretch your pussy. You told me to shove my big cock inside your tiny pussy and fuck you against the wall. How could I resist the temptation. So that's what I did. I pulled out this hard cock for you and buried it deep inside your warm, tight walls."

As he talks about feeling my pussy grip his cock for the first time he pushes two fingers all the way in my wet center. I'm so tired on I cum just from the penetration alone. His speed picks up until he is finger fucking me deep and hard. Making me moan and scream beside him.

"Mmm... still so warm and tight even after I fucked these pussy so good last night. After I unloaded all my cum inside you. After I took you hard and rough, making you scream so loud I had to kiss you to keep you quiet."

"F...f...fu...ck."

"That's right baby. Grip my fingers. Show me how tight this pussy is for me. Cum on them. Cum all over them, soak them for me. Oh God babe, I need to be inside you."

I can't form a sentence or thought. All I can do is nod my head. Christian hovers above me as he frees his dick.

One swift move and he's buried deep inside my walls. The stretch feels amazing as my body fights to get use to his large size.

"Oh God."

"I know babe. I know."

He pace is slow at first as he pumps in and out of me. The louder I moan the faster he goes. Fuck he feels so good inside me. My first orgasm comes hard and fast. My walls tighten around him as I flood his cock in my cum.

"That's it babe. Fuck, I need one more before I fill you up. Come on baby, one more for me."

His pace never waivers as he drills me into the bed. I'm no longer moaning, I'm screaming his name for him. He has my eyes rolling in the back of my head.

"Christian!"

My body let's go and I feel a wave of cum gush out of my pussy.

"Fuck me, that's so hot. I'm cumming baby."

And he does. I feel his cock twitch inside me and then cum fill me up until it's leaking out around his cock. He collapses on top of me. His cock still twitching inside me sending small pulses of pleasure through my body.

Slowly he pulls out. I whimper at the loss. Then I feel his fingers on my well used pussy. Kissing me slow and passionately as he plays in the mess we just made of my core. Fuck me he can't get enough, and God that feels so freaking good.

"Now that I've made you a mess, let's go get coffee. I like knowing my cum is dripping from you when we are with our friends."

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

2 weeks later....

"Why don't you just call her. She gave you her number dude." Aldis says before taking a sip of his beer. I regret tell him anything about y/n. He won't stop bugging me about her.

"I don't know what to say to her."

"Why not the truth? That you can't get her out of your head."

Shaking my head, I think it over. What do I honestly have to lose? And he isn't wrong. I can't stop thinking about her. I'd call her now but my phone is at home tonight.

Oh fuck it, it's not like I don't have her number memorized already.

"Hey man, can I borrow your phone?"

[marshmallowprotection]

Hey there Kait^^ I was wondering if you can give me some insight into your perspective of the question I've been asking myself.

It's about sexual intimacy, therefore I'll keep it simple. But, of course, you can explain and elaborate as deeply as you like.

I've been thinking about SE Saeran and how he would receive/persuade something sexual in his relationship. If he would ever try persuade it in the first place.

There would be a chance for one of them to try going further at some point, right?

How do you think would he respond to such indication? Would he avoid the topic? Or would he be the one doing a step when feeling more comfortable over time?

Anything to the question, please let me know about your pov. Because this is really a tricky thing to figure out for him.

I tend to not go into detail about these topics on the blog since everything is safe for work here. So, let's go over this with a very generalized response.

So, when I'm working with Saeran, any of them for that matter, I write with the notion in my head that he's a Biromantic Demisexual. I have always seen him that way. He isn't that invested in sexual intimacy but romantic intimacy is fine by him once he trusts you as a person. He won't go out of his way to seek a physical act like sex on his own terms.

Romance is hard enough as it is for SE Saeran because of how he feels about himself. He just can't stand to see the person looking back at him in the mirror. The person looking back at him is a real monster who has done things with his hands that he can never be sure will be forgiven. He is wary of intimacy with others for a good reason. What if he slips up and hurts someone again? Emotionally? Physically?

He can't do that.

He won't do that.

Sometimes, he thinks about sexual intimacy but more often than not, it's just something that squicks him out. There's a pull he feels but it's not something he wants to explore. His trauma is too much for him to imagine getting into a relationship to being with, much less one with sexual intimacy. It'll take months if not years for him to be able to feel okay with loving someone... or even being loved by another person. It won't be overnight.

This man would struggle with receiving verbal affection from the get-go... and everything that comes after that is going to be just as hard... it's not personal, either. He might know very well that he has feelings for you as a person, but he's not going to be able to voice that for the longest time. You'd have to be the one to broach that topic, and even then, he needs time and space to decide if he's—

If he's even okay being in a relationship with someone.

He's not going to seek out sexual intercourse. He's already going to avoid verbal intimacy! So, what does that mean in regards to what that means once he does get into a relationship? It means that you will need to take your time with him. You need to go slower than you think with him. Work your way through his comfort levels day by day and that will do a lot of good.

Getting him to smile after a simple "I love you," is a huge milestone. Getting him to say "I love you, too" is like reaching the top of a huge mountain. Brushing your fingers against his for a moment when you walk is another step in the right direction. Actually holding his hand for the first time is like seeing the sky for the first time. Hugging him is like.. you just tasted ice cream for the first time.

Kissing him is like discovering something that people thought was long gone from our eyes. Every step of intimacy is a challenge for his heart. One step forward can feel like two steps back. He has to brace himself every step of the way because each time he reveals another part of himself... it feels dangerous and he can't breathe... but being able to love you openly and willing is what motivates him to be okay with it.

If you want to have sexual intercourse with SE Saeran, it's going to come very deep in your relationship. Be warned that even if he does consent to intercourse, it might take baby steps to get to full-blown penetrative intercourse. Sexual intimacy can make you vulnerable in ways that Saeran might not have even realized when he said it was okay to share that moment with him.

Many people don't realize how vulnerable sex can make you if you're not prepared for your feelings, both emotionally and physically. You need to be gentle with yourself and know when to say "Keep going", or "We need to stop".

So, consent is key, a safe word is crucial, and your patience matters. If you respect and love him, this should be no problem. On the other side of this, if you don't want to have intercourse with him because it isn't something you want in your relationship, he's fine with that. His world doesn't end with sexual intimacy. He is content with a life with you that lets him curl into your embrace on a blanket with the warm sun kissing his cheeks.

Talk to Saeran about your feelings on the subject when you think you're ready for it. If you want sex, take your time, and if you don't want sex, that's just fine by him!

[c-atm]

Crystal clear

Original song by me

"Hmm... 3 a.m." Connie groaned, hearing her phone ring." Hello.."

"Con-Connie," Steven spoke. His tone was weak, vulnerable almost as if he has been crying.

"Steven." Concerned in her voice, fully alerted," Biscuit..are you ok?"

"I..." he paused guilt in his voice.."It's nothing..just.. a nightmare..episode..." he spoke trying to hide his feelings," Sorry..you need your-"

"Steven.." Connie began.." Biscuit..talk to me... Please..."

Steven paused taking a deep breath.

[Steven]

When I first began this tour 

I thought it would open up doors,

Provide me with a chance

To act human more,

But you know

Being Steven Universe Is a curse,

If things seem better

 means it is about to get worse,

GEEZ!

I thought 

this trip would help me ease the trauma,

Clear My mind and heart of damage 

From years of human failure and gem drama.

And despite all the new sites,

The multiple city lights

With all the experience and new skies,

 that suppose to help me bloom

 I'm in this room, 

calling you,

Plague by my nightmares

Hoping you,

 Can see me through 

And I'm sorry, Berry that I'm not being fair.

[1st chorus Steven ]

..I'm so sorry

My dear

I wish my mind was crystal clear

And so gone of fear.

[True chorus:Connie]

Never fear.

my dear

Your days will remain Crystal clear

As long as I'm here.

[Verse 2: Connie]

Biscuit, you don't need to regret,

Calling me, When your heart feels unrest,

We knew this journey would be a test.

And sometimes things will become a mess.

It's an unfortunate truth but in this life

We always have times of trouble and strife

Especially when you're trying to find

the answer to the question of, "Who am I?"

But Steven, don't lose hope,

Don't let your fears make you mope,

Since you've been on the road

I'm amazed by how you have grown,

You've faced so much already

and you're still standing steady,

So on the remember when things feel especially dark 

Call me and I'll remind you just how much you are an awe-inspiring star you are.

[True chorus:Connie]

So Never fear.

my dear.

Your days will remain Crystal clear

As long as I'm here.

[True chorus:Connie and Steven]

So Never fear.

my dear.

Your days will remain Crystal clear

As long as I'm here.

Connie smiled hearing him chuckle a bit, " feeling a bit better, Bisky."

"Yeah...Thank you." Steven's admiration shown through his voice, "I would be lost without you."

"I doubt that." Connie's voice was one of pride, "Your more capable than you think...Finding yourself out there, forging your own path. I'm so proud of how far you've come...and happy that I can be a part of your life."

"Even the bad and worse times?" he asked a bit of hesitation in his voice

"Especially during those times." Connie declared," that when we need someone the most and it's a great source of pride that can be that someone for you Steven Universe."

"shit.." Steven swore wiping his eyes, his tone more joyous," I love you, so much...The best thing that ever happened to me, was you."

"Steven. " Connie sniffed," I feel the same... I'm happy to have you...To be with you. And always will. No matter what may come."

"No matter the trials and tribulations."

"We'll never have to fear," she sang gently.

"our days will remain Crystal clear."** he joined, continuing.

"Causes we'll always be there." they harmonized together before giggling between them.

The two of them spent the rest of the night talking and laughing, basking in the warmth of their love for each other. They knew that no matter what the future held, as long as they had each other, everything would be okay. 

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Come Back Home (Bucky x reader)

Come back home

Bucky x reader

Word count: 3,061

Summary: You were getting worse and were afraid to hurt Bucky, but unable to hide it. Instead of talking it out, you ran away. Embarrassed and afraid, you avoid the calls and voicemails from the man you left. But one night, you can’t help but listen to them, and you need to hear his voice.

Warnings: depression, reader blames herself, Bucky blames himself, anxiety attack, lots of tears, lots of fluff and comfort

I actually got this idea from @thelifeof.jana on TikTok, she posts different scenarios with comfort characters and I wanted to make it into a fic. 

Tags: @buckfics @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @stucky-on-spiderman @thatfangirl42 @thundering-barnes   

A/N: It’s nearly finals week and it is CRUNCH TIME so I’ve been writing when I can, I apologize for the sporadic-ness of it. Thanks for sticking with me! 

A/N 2: I left a few things to interpretation, such as a nightmare. Insert what you want, I know everyone has different experiences and I wanted this to be as relatable to as many people as I could. I also left out when y/n gives an address because 1) I don’t know New York and 2) It’s likely somebody’s address in real life so...interpretation. 

-----------

Your phone began ringing, piercing the otherwise silent house and startling you

Answer it.

You stared at the phone, taking a deep breath.

Ring 

You picked it up and turned it over, closing your eyes and letting a breath out.

Don’t answer it.

You looked at the screen again, seeing the name of your favorite person.

Bucky…

Ring 

Answer it

No. 

Please, I wanna hear his voice.

I can’t

Ring

Letting a breath out, you put the phone down and sat on the floor next to your bed, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Then you were left in the silence once again.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, waiting a few more seconds for the next noise. Sure enough, your phone made a sound, notifying you of yet another voicemail.

Another addition to your library of ignored messages.

You picked up your phone, clicking to see the messages you never listened to.

25 unheard messages. All of them from Bucky. 

Your finger hovered over them for a moment, allowing yourself to ponder listening to them. But you sighed, closing your phone and placing it back on the nightstand. You couldn’t listen to them. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to resist calling him back. And you couldn’t take that risk. 

You’d spent this much time without him. Once you heard his voice you’d be spilling everything to him. Just like you used to. Which is why you left in the first place. 

Bucky was special to you. He always had been. Despite all the trauma he’d gone through, he was still kind and gentle. He had been the one to pull you out of the dark place you were in at the time. He was always there to talk to you, listen to you, or help you take care of yourself when you just couldn’t anymore. He’d sat through many of your panic attacks and calm you down if you had a nightmare, just as you would for him. He would drop anything for you, you always came first.

And that was the problem.

He did too much for you, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. This man had already gone through so much pain and suffering and was finally getting better. He was going out more and the nightmares happened much less often. You were grateful for the love he gave you, and you loved him more than anything.

Which is why you couldn’t bring him down anymore. So, one day when he was out on a mission, you had packed up your few positions and left him a note.

Bucky,

I just wanted you to know that I love you so much, but I have to go now. I’m sorry. 

-Y/n

You had to keep it brief. If you said anything more you knew you’d say too much, and it would only make leaving harder. And if he knew you were leaving because you were hurting too much, he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

Not that he wasn’t looking for you know.

You had rented out a room in the cheapest hotel your could find in somewhere-New-York-City. It was small, it wasn’t the cleanest, but it was fine. You didn’t care, it was functional. Within hours of leaving, your phone started ringing. Not that you answered. You couldn’t, not when you would start crying once you heard his voice.

You got many texts and calls that night. 

What happened?

Where are you? Y/n are you okay??

Tell me where you are, we can talk this out, please.

You couldn’t bring yourself to read more than that. You silenced his messages and let the calls go to voicemail, never able to bring yourself to reject a call, instead letting it ring all the way until he got the same voicemail message every time.

Hi, it’s y/n. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, have a nice day!

The same fake cheery message every time, giving an empty promise.

What you didn’t know was that on the other end of the line, Bucky was shattering a bit more with each voicemail he left. 

Bucky’s POV:

He couldn’t understand what could have happened. Why you had left all of a sudden. He knew you had some bad days, and the first time he had read it he was terrified that you had done something. He usually was able to see when things were getting bad again but he couldn’t think of what he could have missed. When he saw that you had read his texts that night, seeing the word read appear after a few of them, he told himself that you were okay. 

Because he didn’t know what he was going to do if you weren’t.

What you didn’t know was that you had helped Bucky just as much if not more so than he had helped you. His nightmares happened less often because you were there with him every night. He was more outgoing because you had dragged him out to those first few bars and parties. He felt happier because he was helping you, and you made him feel safe and wanted.

And then you left.

He couldn’t sleep most nights, worried about you. Most of the nights he did sleep, he dreamt about you and everything that could have happened. He called you every day, multiple times, needing desperately to hear your voice. He withdrew again, only going on one mission when the team absolutely needed him. It was his only sense of purpose anymore, but it meant nothing compared to what you had meant to him

But you didn’t know that. Because you hadn’t opened any of his messages yet. 

It was late now, and Bucky was discouraged. It had been over a week since you had left, and his texts had gone unread ever since a the first night you left. It wasn’t a long time. But it was still too long. He decided to try your phone once more. 

Ring 

Ring 

Ring 

Ring 

Bucky closed his eyes, begging you would pick up, silently knowing you wouldn’t.

Ring 

Ring 

“Hi, it’s y/n. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, have a nice day!”

Sighing, he got ready to leave a voicemail. After the beep he said, broken.

“Please y/n. Come back home.”

Your POV:

You sighed as yet another round of rings echoed through your apartment, hearing the notification soon after, notifying you of yet another new voicemail. 

You looked at the time. 11:03 P.M.

You sighed, knowing you should get some sleep. But no matter how tired you were, you knew that once you closed your eyes, you would have nightmares again. And no one would be here this time. 

You couldn’t deny it, you weren’t doing well. Your appetite had diminished and you relied heavily on caffeine to supplement the sleep you refused to get. Not that it helped your appetite in any way.

You would go through the motions, make it to work (most days) and get through the day just to...get through the day. You weren’t living really. Just surviving. You knew it was getting bad again, some nights so dark you weren’t sure if you would see the light the next day. Yet you couldn’t let yourself call him. You didn’t want to hurt him.

But you didn’t know that you had already hurt him more by leaving than you ever could’ve by staying.

You sighed, knowing that eventually, you were going to need to sleep. Might as well try to. You didn’t know if for sure you would have a nightmare, so may as well try?

That turned out to be wishful thinking.

Major wishful thinking. 

You woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and looking around the room frantically. When you realized it was just a dream, you put your face in your hands and felt tears immediately prick your eyes.

When was this going to stop?

You felt your chest contract as you realized the truth. It wasn’t. Not like this at least.

Just over a week and you were already at your breaking point.

Call him

You looked at the time. 2:47 AM.

You couldn’t call him now.

Call him.

You opened your phone and found Bucky’s contact, finger hovering over the name once again. At the last second, you clicked your voicemail inbox instead, scrolling back down to the first one on the night you left.

“Y/n?”

Your breath hitched as you heard his voice, fresh tears pricking your eyes. Not just from his voice and how much you had missed it, but also the absolute panic in his voice.

“Where are you? Are you okay? Why- why did you leave? Please, answer the phone, I need to know you’re okay.”

You clicked on another one from a few hours later.

“Y/n, please, I saw you read the first few texts I sent. Please answer the phone. We can talk this out, whatever it is just - please call me.”

Tears were falling from your eyes, and you didn’t have it in your power or even the desire to stop them. You flicked to another one that was sent a few days later, this one was longer. 

“Please y/n,” it started, his voice soft and cracking with emotion. “Where are you? Just - just tell me where you are, please. I need you. These past few days it’s like I hear your voice and then there’s nothing. I miss you so much. I’m nothing without you please....please just come back home. I don’t care what you did or think you did or why you left. I love you. And I could never stop loving you. I can come get you, we can talk this out. Please. I can’t do this without you. I - I’m falling apart.”

You were now sobbing as you flicked over to your text messages and clicked on Bucky’s name, seeing texts upon texts from him.

One of the more recent one’s caught your attention.

“I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

Never, never in your heart did you ever think Bucky would think that he had done something to drive you away. Your heart broke, realizing he could be blaming himself for your leaving. It was never his fault. It could never be his fault.

With shaking hands, you pressed the phone icon below his name, bringing the phone to your ear as you listened to it ring.

You tried to control your breathing through the tears, falling apart after a few seconds of thinking you had it together.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Please pick up, I need to hear your voice.

Ring 

I’m sorry this is all my fault.

Ring 

Please, I -

“Hello?”

Your breath hitched and your eyes flew open. Your words got caught in your mouth, having no idea what to say. Bucky, on the other side of the line, hadn’t even looked at the caller ID. He hadn’t fully fallen asleep yet, but the tiredness was evidence in his voice.

“Hello?” he said again

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

Bucky’s eyes flew open and he pulled away his phone, seeing your name across the screen. All exhaustion was gone from his body, and he heard you trying to control your breathing on the other side of the line.

“Y/n?”

“I’m so sorry…” you said again, breaking out into sobs.

“Y/n, can you tell me what’s wrong? Where are you?” he said, panicked and getting out of bed, pulling on a shirt and shoes.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I’m so sorry,” you said again, not being able to say much else. 

“Y/n, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay. But I need you to tell me where you are, can you do that for me?”

He waited for a moment while you tried to pull yourself together enough to repeat the address of the hotel.

As you did, Bucky was already out the door and in the car, starting it and putting you on speaker, driving as fast as he could to the hotel and ignoring all traffic signals. It was the middle of the night, and you were not okay.

“I’ll be there soon, angel, can you keep talking to me?

“I’m sorry Bucky…”

“It’s okay y/n. You’re okay. We’re okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

His words didn’t reach your ears, your breathing getting harder to control and your tears fell faster. You had fucked up, this was your fault. Why did you call him, now he knows where you are and you were going to burden him with all your shit again. 

He could hear your breathing become labored as he sped further towards your location. He tried talking to you more but he soon realized that he wouldn’t be of much use until he was in front of you. His heart was breaking and he was hoping nothing was seriously wrong. 

But you wouldn’t have called him like this if nothing was wrong.

Clenching his jaw, he scanned the street signs for yours, knowing the city well enough to know he was close. 

When he pulled up to the street, he couldn’t help but wince at how dingy this place was. It was run down and the smell was putrid. He was so sad that this was where you had run off to. He took his phone, saying how he was here but it fell upon deaf ears. You weren’t calm enough to hear his voice from the phone you had dropped when you had moved to cover your face instead.

Bucky took the stairs 3 at a time, getting to your room in record time. He pounded on the door, trying the knob even though he knew it would be locked. Calling out your name and getting no response, he decided to break the door in. It was barely hanging on its hinges anyway.

“Y/n? Y/n where are you?” he called out, met only with the sounds of your labored breathing. He followed it to your room, where you had curled yourself into a ball against the headboard, hands covering your face as you struggled to breathe. 

He walked over to your side, reaching out his hand but thinking better at the last moment. He needed to make sure you knew that he was there, he didn’t want to scare you.

“Y/n?” he starts softly. 

You lifted your head and looked around yourself wildly, startled when you saw the figure of a man standing in front of you, trying to push him away. He grabbed your arms and you tried to break free

How did he get in here? 

What does he want with me? 

Why- 

Your eyes settle on his. Light blue eyes, staring right back into yours. You knew them, you were safe with them. Your own eyes, red  and blotchy flash with realization and you let out a sob. 

“Bucky…”

He took you into his arms as sobs wracked your body, rubbing an arm up and down your back in efforts to calm your shaking form. He was repeating comforting words over and over again. You clung to his shirt as you kept apologizing over and over again, not knowing what else to say - or even how to say it. 

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Shh, y/n, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m here. I got you.”

You tried to focus on his heartbeat, steady and strong, as you tried to take deep breaths. Eventually your tears slowed down as you still clung to him, tears drying on your face as you were able to deepen your breathing to match his. His hand still rubbed up and down your back as the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes.

You took a shaky breath. “I - I’m so sorry Bucky.”

Bucky took a deep breath and held her a little more tightly. He could still feel her heart racing. What could she possibly have to be sorry for?

“What happened y/n?”

You felt tears prick your eyes again. Sadness, shame, embarrassment and made you feel sick to your stomach. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before you were able to speak. 

“I - I don’t know.”

“Please y/n. Tell me why you left.”

“I just… I was… “ you swallowed and let out a shaky breath. “It was getting bad again,” you said, voice barely audible. 

Bucky clenched his jaw, angry at himself that he didn’t see it. “Why didn’t you tell me? I told you you could talk to me about anything.”

You screwed your eyes shut. “That was the problem…”

Bucky pulled you back to look at you. “What?”

Your eyes darted everywhere but Bucky’s face. You didn’t want to see the pained expression you knew he’d have right now. You took a deep breath. 

“I just… you were doing so well. And I - I just felt so bad for bringing you down all the time. You would drop anything for me, and you were always there and you were always perfect but I wasn’t.” you finally looked at him. “And I left because I realized I was never going to be.” You shook your head slightly. “I didn’t want to put you through that when you were doing so well.”

You looked away, unable to look at Bucky’s sad eyes any longer. Bucky broke the silence after a few moments. “You were the only reason I was better.”

 Now it was your turn to look at him confused. “What?”

“You brought me out to places when all I wanted was to hide. The nightmares stopped because you were there to make me feel safe. Every time I helped you, I was helping me too,” he said, voice cracking. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. You weren’t too much for me, you never could be.” 

When you still looked unsure, he moved his hand to cup your cheek. “It’s okay to let people help you, y/n.”

Tears pooled in your eyes once again. That had been what you had said to him when he began closing himself off, be it an intense nightmare or being triggered. Back when things were bad. Like they were for you now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay.” he whispered, hugging you again. “Let’s go home.”

[turtletaubwrites]

Gone Too Far ~ Part 20

Pairings: Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader, Robin x Fem!Reader, Sanji X Robin

This is part 20 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

Word Count: 4411

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Link (Ch. 10 of We've All Got Needs cont.)

Summary: The crew splits up to enjoy time on Water 7. Then everything goes wrong. Can your crew hold together when it's being torn apart?

Rating/Warnings: AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Swearing, ANGST, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Pet Names,

A/N: !!SPOILER WARNING!! Spoilers for the anime for the Water 7 arc. I'm sorry y'all, I had to write it, so please have my tears. This part is rough, but I swear there will be breaks ahead. Plus, I hope you enjoy the extra smut scenes from the missing month, an extra sweet and smutty one will be posted tomorrow! 💜

You grumbled as you got ready for the day, wanting to stay in bed with Robin for the next week.

“Come, botanist. Let’s explore together.”

That stopped your grumbling, and you followed her out on deck. 

Usopp was hugging the mast, and you left Robin’s side for the first time to go pat him on the shoulder.

“You took great care of her, Usopp.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I know all the tinplate patches don’t look like much, but they bring back a lot of fond memories.”

“Why don’t you keep some of them? You can make something cool out of them, like a decoration for the Merry.”

Usopp broke out into a grin.

“That’s a great idea! But don’t tell Luffy, he still wants me to make him a statue.”

“Ha, you have my word.”

“Hey, Needy.”

You had started walking back to Robin, but Zoro’s voice carried over from the bow of the ship. Your body already itched to be close to her again, but you walked toward your swordsman as he leaned over the railing. 

“Hey, babe.”

Zoro stared down at you for a moment, before reaching an arm toward you. Stepping toward his warmth, you let him pull you into a hug.

Outside of sparring, you hadn’t had much time with Zoro since you’d been so focused on Robin getting better. A twist of guilt hit your stomach, but you breathed through it. 

It’s only been a few days, and she almost died. 

Still, part of you had started to worry that he was upset. It’s been a couple months now since you first started seeing each other. Zoro hadn’t had any more blowups recently, and it seemed like things were going well. 

The calm didn’t feel safe though. You wanted to believe that if he was harboring any resentments or pain that he’d come to you, talk to you about it. But he hadn’t brought anything up. It made you uneasy sometimes. 

Knowing that a lot of that fear was your own trauma from past relationships, you fought not to project it onto Zoro. 

I just wish he’d talk to me about his feelings. 

You pulled him tight against you at that thought. At the three little words that you were too much of a coward to say out loud, even after all this time. 

Afraid that you’d scare him away. Afraid that he didn’t feel it too. Afraid that he’d never examine his own feelings enough to know if he could feel it or not. 

Those thoughts made you feel sick, and you knew most of it was your own shit. You didn’t want to think about him that way. 

But no matter how clear you got your mind on those thoughts, you still felt too afraid to tell him. 

“I’m glad she’s okay,” he whispered against your temple.

“Me too.”

You took a deep breath in, still trying to convince your body that it was true. That she was okay. 

“Are you gonna… spend the night with her again?”

You pulled back, searching his eyes.

“Why?”

“I, uh…”

He frowned at you, and you tried not to roll your eyes. 

He’s trying to tell me what he needs. He just doesn't have enough practice yet. 

“Would you like some time with me tonight?”

Zoro looked away from you, but nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Now look who’s needy,” you teased, winning you a playful grin from him as he picked you up. Then he stopped, setting you back down as he looked out across the bow. 

“Hey, I think we’re there.”

Most of the crew ran up, shouting as you all squinted to see the island. 

“He’s right, I can see Water 7!”

Luffy’s excited words had you covering your eyes from the sun, until you could see the island coming into view. It was massive, built of gray stone, huge numbered gates surrounding all sides. Everyone was speechless for a moment as a giant fountain came into view, spiraling water into the air, towering in the center of the island. Canals flowed down, spilling back down into the ocean. 

You squeezed Zoro’s arm before making your way to Robin, loving the way her face lit up at the sight. 

Holding her hand, you laughed as you sailed through the town. Everything was floating. Instead of streets, people took small boats led by strange fish creatures across the water. 

The crew found a place outside the city to dock, and you watched your swordsman furl the sails. His strong arms were mesmerizing as he pulled the rope, but your breath caught in your throat as the mast started to crack. 

“Are you trying to break the ship,” Usopp yelled, as everyone panicked.

“No! All I did was pull the ropes like I always do. Holy shit, if the Merry’s falling apart this easy, we’re lucky we made it here at all.”

Ice sank into your stomach at Zoro’s words. You knew it was bad, but the mast seemed like it was barely holding on to the ship now, swaying dangerously overhead. 

Nami took charge, declaring that Luffy and Usopp accompany her to turn in the reference letter to have the ship looked at, and to trade in the gold from their last big score. 

“I guess I missed my chance to go with them,” Chopper pouted as he watched the group head toward the city. 

“You can come with us later if you like.”

Hearing Robin’s voice still gave you shivers. 

“Really? Can we go to a bookstore?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed, reaching for her hand again. “I wonder if they have a nursery here, I'd love to see what plants they have available in a floating city.”

You rushed to give Zoro a kiss, then ran after Robin and Chopper as they left the ship. 

A small part of you felt bad for not searching the ship to kiss Sanji goodbye, but it was quickly drowned out by Robin’s laughter, and the feel of her arm around your waist while you followed Chopper. 

~

The city was bustling, street vendors hawking wares, while citizens laughed and bartered. The people were almost strangely friendly here, even to pirates. 

Sometimes a little too friendly.

That thought got stronger the more you and Robin were showered with compliments as you walked past. 

“This town is full of Sanji’s,” Chopper noted, and it left you and Robin in a fit of laughter at the thought of your amorous lover. 

A lot of the townsfolk were wearing painted wooden masks, and you stopped by a vendor to take a look as Robin reassured Chopper that they were just masks, not monsters. 

“It seems the people here take the sea train to San Baldo Island where they hold a costume carnival every day.”

You tilted your head at Robin, while Chopper asked how she could know that. 

“The people walking by are talking about it.”

“And you hear everything they say?”

You tried not to tense your hand in Robin’s, hoping she would answer his question. 

“I can’t help it. Ever since I was young, I’ve made it a habit to keep a critical eye and ear on my environment.”

Her tone toward Chopper was sweet and light, but you felt yourself going still. 

What has she been running from? Why is she so scared?

“Look at that, I think we found your bookstore,” Robin observed.

Chopper ran forward, talking excitedly. You knew public spaces were difficult for him alone, so you found yourself reaching out for him. He shifted into his massive human form, and you raced forward to join him, dropping your hand from Robin’s for a moment. 

“Hold on, Chopper, we’re coming.”

You followed him through the doorway, seeing that he was already perusing the shelves, and that no one seemed to be bothering him. 

I’m glad everyone here is so friendly.

Robin hadn’t joined you yet, so you stepped back outside.

The street looked the same. Vendors, customers, people in masks. 

Ice cold fear shot through you. 

Where’s Robin?

“Chopper! We have to go.”

“But, Y/N,” he said, a pile of books in his large arms. 

“Robin’s missing!”

Panic raced through you, and you saw Chopper’s eyes fill with concern as he left the books on the counter. 

Chopper shifted into his reindeer form, and you yelled her name as he followed her scent.

She’s okay, she probably just got distracted.

What if Aokiji came back? What if he took her?

What if she’s hurt?

Robin didn’t answer your calls, but you kept trying until your voice got hoarse. 

~

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it’s like her scent just vanished.”

“What do you mean vanished?”

“I don’t know, it just stopped,” the note of panic in Chopper’s voice as he explained wasn’t helping your speeding pulse. 

“Hold on…” 

Chopper lifted his nose to the air, and hope gripped your chest.

“There’s something else over here. I know that smell.”

Racing to look around the corner, your hope dropped when she wasn’t there. Instead, you found Sanji.

He was sitting on the edge, looking out to sea with a pile of groceries beside him. 

“Sanji! Have you seen Robin?”

Chopper's hooves clattered on the stone as he caught up to your frantic steps. Sanji frowned at him.

“I just saw her. It seemed like she ignored me, and she was walking with a large person in a masked outfit. I thought that was you in your human form, Chopper.”

“It wasn’t m-”

“She’s missing, Sanji!”

You gripped his arm, watching him take in your features, your panicked eyes. He gestured behind him, looking around the area.

“I followed her over here, and it seemed like she just disappeared.”

“So did her scent.”

Your ears were starting to ring as they spoke, and you pulled away, shouting her name. 

“Angel, hold on!”

He clambered after you, grabbing the groceries as he and Chopper followed. 

Your voice was cracking, and your breaths were ragged. 

Sanji dropped the bags again, wrapping his arms around you. 

“We’ll get her back, Y/N. We’ll always get her back.”

They convinced you to hop into a boat while you continued to call for her around the area, before heading back to meet with the rest of the crew. 

You noticed Sanji and Chopper had started speaking in hushed tones, and you were able to pull yourself together enough to start listening. 

“I hope she’s alright. I feel uneasy.”

“Do you need an examination?”

“No, Chopper, it’s not like that. It’s what the admiral said, all that terrible stuff he said about Robin’s past…”

Your voice was raspy and empty as you interrupted.

“Protecting this troublesome woman leads to nothing but regret.”

They turned to you, brows tensed in concern. You kept going. 

“He said that every group she’s ever been a part of has been destroyed, everyone except for her.”

You glared defiantly at them, anger bubbling in you. 

“But I don’t care about her past. I don’t care what he said.”

Sanji gripped your knee while Chopper nodded.

“None of us care, sweetheart. We’re going to get her back.”

~

“The Merry can’t sail again.”

You couldn’t understand Zoro’s words as Chopper and Sanji started to argue. Your fists clenched hard, nails digging into your skin as you tried to make sense of everything.

“It just seems so extreme, it's our same old Merry, we’ve traveled with her so long.” 

Sanji’s emotional words brought you into the moment, only for Zoro’s calm, unaffected voice to make your mind go sickly still. 

“You just answered your own question. Human beings get stronger after hardship, but ship’s wounds just pile up. The shipwright said her keel is broken, she won’t even make it to the next island.”

Chopper started to cry, and you almost sobbed as you watched Sanji touch the top of his hat to comfort him. 

“We need to find Ro-”

“Hey, everyone!”

Nami’s frantic voice interrupted your plea, and you watched her climb onto the deck. She was carrying a large briefcase, and was dripping with sweat and tears. You ran to her, fresh panic flooding your veins.

“Are you o-”

“Usopp’s hurt! Some assholes called the Franky Family stole most of our money for the Merry, and they- they…”

Everyone surrounded her, all speaking at once while you moved her hair out of her face, taking the briefcase from her trembling arms.

“Where’s Usopp?”

Chopper’s serious voice broke through Nami’s staggered breaths. You felt like your world was spinning as the boys set out to find him, and to go after the pieces of shit that hurt your friend. 

Zoro’s face was inches from yours, his hands gripping your arms. 

“Stay here with Nami. Protect the Merry. Okay, Needy? You need to stay here. Protect that money so we can get a new ship.”

Nami gripped your hand while Sanji kissed your temple. 

Zoro’s eyes burned into yours. 

“Promise me, Needy.”

“I promise,” you managed to whisper, voice still shot from yelling Robin’s name. 

Nami’s palm was clammy in yours as you watched your crewmates head back into danger. 

Why is this happening?

~

It felt like years had passed when you finally saw the five Straw Hat boys walking home, Luffy back with his crew, and Chopper’s human form carrying Usopp’s bloody, limp body.

You sat on deck against the unstable mast, and tried not to scream at everyone.

We need to find Robin. 

“Angel, are you okay?”

Sanji was crouching in front of you, soft eyes searching yours.

“No.”

His lips pursed as he nodded, and he looked like he was about to speak when Chopper yelled.

“He’s awake!”

Relief moved through you for your friend as you followed the crew inside. But you caught Sanji’s eyes, and knew that he was still thinking about your missing archaeologist too. Reaching for his hand as you went through the door, you caught the sound of Usopp crying out. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if I was strong like you guys. It’s all my fault, I’m so ashamed of myself!”

Even covered in bruises and bandages, Usopp lurched forward, catching Zoro off guard as he wrapped his arms around one of his thighs. Zoro seemed to panic, flailing a bit, unsure of what to do as Usopp wept against him. 

Tears streamed down your face. You knew all too well the fears of failing the crew because you weren’t strong enough. 

“It’s not that big a deal, alright. Calm down.”

Zoro squirmed as Usopp still clung to him, and you rushed forward, rubbing Usopp on the shoulder until he let Zoro go. He clung to you now, and you didn’t know what to say. You just held your friend, letting your own tears fall quietly as he kept sobbing in your arms.

“I lost the money, what are we gonna do about the Merry?”

“You need to rest, Usopp, or you won’t get better,” Chopper pleaded, the threat of tears in his voice. 

Luffy was finally able to calm Usopp a bit, declaring that they would find that asshole, Franky. 

“Besides, even if we can’t get our money back, we still have a hundred million berry, so don’t worry about it!”

You thought the vein in Nami’s forehead would pop when she scolded him. The crew had lost two hundred million berry on Usopp’s watch.

Poor Usopp. This is awful.

The thought of what a shitty day it was brought you back to Robin, and you almost screamed to get everyone to focus on her. But Usopp’s hopeful voice made your stomach twist in knots. 

“Is Merry gonna be okay? Can we get her fixed with the money we’ve got? There’s all these awesome shipwrights, you talked to them about it, right?”

Luffy glossed over the pain, smiling as he broke the news. 

“Uh, yeah, we did. But we decided to get a new ship instead. The Going Merry has taken good care of us, but it looks like our journey has to end here. But look, there’s a bunch of great ships we can still afford,” Luffy said lightly as he showed Usopp a catalog from the shipyard.

Feeling the pain from the silent crew with the captain’s choice, the look in Usopp’s eyes made your heart break. 

You watched him build himself up again, trying to convince himself that it was a joke. 

Until he looked at all of your faces, the truth evident. 

“Does it mean we don’t have enough for the repairs? Is it because I lost the money?”

“Usopp-”

You tried to move back to him, wanting to reassure him, but Zoro’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you. 

Usopp was yelling at Luffy now, demanding the truth, and you’d never seen Luffy’s face like this. Not when looking at a friend. 

His teeth were clenched as he held his words in, sweat beading on his brow. Until he started yelling back. 

Zoro moved past you then, stepping in to stop the fight. You caught eyes with Nami, your pain echoed in hers.

“I don’t see what I’m doing wrong, he’s the one saying all this dumb shit.”

Nami broke in to stop Usopp, begging him to calm down and rest. 

“Who cares about me? How can you all just sit here when he's making jokes about getting a new ship?”

Luffy was shaking now as he started to yell back.

“I’m not joking about anything, this was a hard decision for me too!”

“Oh yeah, I feel really sorry for you,” Usopp growled, before grabbing the ship catalog out of his hand. “Already window shopping for a new toy!”

You gasped as Usopp slammed the pages to the ground, wishing this nightmare would fucking end so your crew would be safe and happy again. 

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Usopp?”

He kept yelling at your captain, demanding to know that it was his fault for losing the money, his fault for failing the Merry. 

Luffy finally said the words, the painful words that none of you wanted to hear. But you hoped it would stop the fight. 

“The Merry can’t be fixed.”

But that awful truth didn’t stop the fight. Usopp denied, and accused, and bartered. Then he demanded.

“Don’t give up on the Merry!”

Hot tears stung your cheeks as you stood frozen. 

More yells and accusations toward Luffy felt like whips snapping in your face, almost making you flinch with each swing. 

Sweet Chopper moved toward Usopp, hoofs quivering as he reached out. 

“I know you’re upset, but you need to calm down.”

“Not until we settle this, I won’t let you take the Merry away from me! You’re ignoring your crew, ignoring your friends. I can’t believe that’s the kinda captain you turned out to be.”

Usopp had stood and grabbed Luffy by the front of his shirt. He wasn’t listening to any of your voices as the crew pleaded with him to stop. 

“I thought you were better than this!”

“You’re not being fair, Usopp-,” Nami tried again, before Luffy flung out his arm for her to stop.

“You stay out of this. It was my call. We’re getting a new ship whether you like it or not.”

Usopp was sweating through his bandages now, dark spots of blood showing through some of them. You didn’t know your friend could make a face like the one he had right now. You felt like you were going to throw up. 

They kept screaming, and you couldn’t follow the words anymore as you watched in horror. Sanji tried to step between them, but Luffy pushed Usopp to the ground, yelling in his face. Nami cried out, and you tried to run forward, but Zoro stopped you again. You almost screamed at him. 

Luffy’s next yell pierced through it all.

“Fine, if you don’t like the way your captain does things then why don’t you get-”

Sanji’s leg was so fast as it spun, launching Luffy straight through the kitchen table, shards of wood and dust flying. You gaped at your cook, rage and sweat dripping from him. 

“This is going way too far. What the hell is wrong with you? If you don’t watch it you’re going to say something you can’t take back, so calm down.”

Sanji was shaking now, breath ragged, and you felt your lips quiver at the anger in his eyes. 

Luffy crawled from the broken pieces of the table, and apologized. You felt a breath of relief, before Usopp tore it away. 

“If you’re gonna throw away the Merry, might as well throw me away too.”

Sanji tried to step in again, but then Usopp laid out his own fears before the crew. You felt raw, aching. You wanted to reassure your friend, but how could you, when you felt the same way he did about being weak?

“It’s not like it was before. You’re all too strong for me now. You can’t even trust me to guard our money. You don’t want weak people on your crew do you?”

Nausea flooded you, your own guilt and shame at your weakness making you hate yourself in this moment. 

“I’m leaving the crew. This is goodbye.”

It’s only a matter of time before something like this happens to me. Maybe I should follow Usopp. Maybe he's right. 

Most of the crew lurched forward, calling for him until he shut the door. Part of you was screaming to join him, to leave the crew before you could fail them, before you could hate yourself for failing them. 

“Luffy, what are you doing, go after him!”

Nami’s frantic voice kept pleading with him, but he stayed down, eyes dark. 

“Fine, have it your way then.”

Nami ran out the door, Sanji and Chopper following. You heard the three of them calling his name, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. Luffy and Zoro stayed, their silence heavy. Finally, Luffy stood, moving outside. You ached for him, finally free to follow.

Usopp’s voice carried over from the shore, and you grabbed Nami’s hand. 

Please, Usopp, please come back.

“I challenge you to a duel, Monkey D. Luffy! At ten tonight. If I win I'm taking the Merry, and I’m leaving.”

The silence on deck was deafening as you watched Usopp’s limping form move toward the city.

Robin’s still missing. 

You hated yourself for it, but thinking about Robin was the only thing keeping you from falling into self pity. The only thing keeping you from leaving the ship in shame along with Usopp. 

So you dug through her quarters. She was so private, and you felt sick as you searched for any kind of clue for where she might have gone. 

You could hear Nami pleading with Luffy through the thin walls to apologize, and talk things through. 

“It’s gone too far already.”

You shivered at Luffy’s tone, and kept on your hunt. 

It wasn't long before you heard your boys screaming at each other, and you sank to the floor, too spent to try to stop them. 

I’m worthless. I can’t protect anyone. I can’t do anything. 

Nami tapped lightly on the door, calling your name softly. 

“Y/N, it’s ten.”

Swallowing your self pity, you followed your friend to the deck again, watching Usopp’s silhouette against the city lights as he moved closer. 

“Listen up, I don’t want any of you leaving the ship,” Luffy called over his shoulder.

You grabbed onto Chopper’s small arm as he started screaming, crying for them not to fight. 

But nothing would stop them now. 

Usopp started pelting Luffy with all different types of ammo, and you couldn’t hear what they were saying over the waves, and Chopper’s cries. 

You thought Luffy was going easy on him at first, letting Usopp hit him, but soon you saw your captain jumping off the ground in pain shaking off what looked like caltrops. 

Then the air around Luffy was filled with flames. Luffy made it through the smoke, and you almost screamed as you saw him pull his fists back. But before he could make contact, Usopp kept shooting star after star, and you watched your friend, the sniper, hold his own against your captain.

For a while, at least.

Luffy was looking wrecked, and you felt a twinge of disgust in yourself that you felt proud of Usopp for hurting him so badly.

This is horrible. 

Then Luffy pulled back again, and this time, his fist hit. You sobbed as you clasped your hand over your mouth. Usopp swayed for a moment, and you could see more blood draining from him even from a distance. 

You fell against the railing, barely holding yourself up as Usopp collapsed. 

“At least it’s over now.”

Zoro’s steady voice made your head whip around, finding him looking as he usually does. Stoic, seemingly unmoved. Your mind was too filled with pain to think clearly, and then Sanji’s voice broke through. 

Chopper was crying, trying to jump off the ship to help Usopp. Sanji was holding him trying to stop him and you wanted to scream. 

“I’m a doctor-”

“He’s not a part of our crew anymore.”

Chopper shifted into his human form, but Sanji tackled him. You sank to the ground as you watched everyone fall apart.

“Chopper, it’s bad enough that he lost the fight. If you pity him now, you’ll end up hurting him even more. He knew this is how it might end when he challenged Luffy. We need to give him dignity in defeat.”

“That’s such bullshit,” you growled, voice cracking. You might have yelled if your voice wasn’t shot.

Sanji glanced back at you with pained eyes. Chopper used that moment to break away, running off the ship toward Usopp’s crumpled body. 

Pulling yourself to your feet, you went to Nami, clasping your cold hands together.

Luffy made his way back, his head lowered under his hat, and you let out a sob at the pain in his cracking voice.

“It’s too much.”

Zoro didn’t even turn to face him as he took a breath.

“This is what it means to be captain. You can’t doubt yourself. If you lose your confidence, then who can we have faith in?”

Emptiness filled you as everyone stood silent. Then Zoro had to say the last words, the truth that twisted like a knife. 

“Usopp can never return to the crew.”

Thank You for Reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Part 21

Tag List: @astheni-a | @ferns-fics | @heilee | @iamn1ya | @ghostfacefricker6969 | @onlybassoon01 | @apothicgloom | @slyhersophia | @cyberaestheticals

A/N: I'm sorry 😭😭😭 We won't be sad forever! I hope you enjoy the sweet and smutty extra scene with Sanji tomorrow, I'll make sure we have a good mix to get us through all this angst 💜

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[ruckystarnes]

Title: Don't Do This

Author: RuckyStarnes

Card: B018

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: WinterWitch

Warnings: implied torture, implied violence, mind control/mind rape (however you want to define Wanda's mind powers/magic), just a lot of implications and what not, MoM non compliant

Rating: Teen

Words: 1,014

Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

Prompt/Square: B5: Dark Alleys

Summary: Bucky is tasked to bring in Wanda, to answer for her infraction in Westview months earlier.

Type: Fic | Moodboard

Bucky stared at the figure at the end of the alley way, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth. Weeks of tracking had finally led him to a small town in the midwest, standing behind a building that has been forgotten about, staring at the person he was tasked to track down. The moonless night only had him relying on the faint yellow glow of the small street light back at the mouth of the alley, but he could see almost clearly to know who it was. 

“Wanda,” he breathed, his body humming with anticipation, knowing he couldn’t let his guard down with her, “please, don’t do this.” She looked back at him, eyes wide and no emotion written on her face. He could see a smear of something across her face, and it made his stomach lurch slightly thinking the worse it could be.

“Wanda, please, don’t do this,” he pleaded lightly, his metal hand reaching out towards her, palm upwards as his other hung by his side, trying hard not to have an aggressive stance. He knew the folder he was given stated that she had “gone off the deep end” and was “beyond reason”, that the government wanted her captured, dead or alive, with no preference given. He knew that she had suffered a great deal of losses in her life, the most recent Vision and her (lack of a better word) fabricated boys, and he knew the kind of trauma those types of losses would cause. But he couldn’t help but wonder before why Sam wasn’t one to come, he had the skills to talk to people. Bucky, not so much.

“I already did, James,” Wanda replied coolly, and Bucky could see a glint of red in her eyes. “You think anything you’d say would make me come with you? Let them do whatever they want to me?”

Bucky swallowed thickly before sighing. “Wanda, Sam and I can help you.”

The laugh she gave made alarm bells go off in the back of his head: it was cold, emotionless, eerie. She dropped her head back and started to pace, her hands twisting slightly drawing small trendles of red in the air. 

“Just let me go James.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he replied softly, taking a slight step forward.

“I know, and I don’t want to hurt you. You’re a good man working for some sketchy people.” Wanda stopped, her body facing the building but she turned and cocked her head slightly at him. “How can you sleep at night knowing who you work for? Steve didn’t, but when he did, he left. So why don’t you?” The corner of her mouth tilted upwards a bit as her brow rose with the question. “Tell me James, if you fail to bring me in, what are they going to do to you? You think they will pat you on the back and say you’ll do better next time? Or do you think they will see it as aiding and abetting a dangerous enhanced person? What do you think they will do with you? Torture, I think, or maybe they will use that chair HYDRA had, because you know they have it.” 

Bucky could feel the blood drain from his face, because he knew she was right. When HYDRA fell back in 2014, the government had found items that HYDRA were using, thanks to Steve and the Avengers. The chair was one thing he hoped was destroyed, but there were rumors that there was such a device that was used on enemies of the state to “reform” them.  He swallowed thickly and shook his head, thinking there was no way Sam was going to let that happen to him again.

“Sam won’t be able to protect you,” Wanda went on, walking towards him now, slowly turning her wrists to spread the trendles of magic through the dark air. “Come with me James, I’ll protect you from them. You wouldn’t have to watch over your back anymore, worry that someone will betray you.”

“W-Wanda, I-I can’t. And stop looking into my mind!” His raised voice made her flinch, emotion washing over her face. “You know I hate it,” he added quietly, his voice wavering slightly. He dropped his head and took a slow, ragged breath, but it caught in his throat when he felt her hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

“I apologize, James,” she whispered, “I am so sorry that I didn’t come to you right away, and I’m sorry I tried to get into your head.” 

He slumped slightly when she finished talking, inhaling slightly when she pressed her lips to his forehead. “Wanda,” his voice quivered as his eyes closed, “Please, stop running. Don’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” 

“I can’t,” she whispered, and he looked up at her then, noting that the smear on her face was nothing but mud or dirt. She tried to maintain a stoneface but he could see her emotions betrayed through her eyes and mouth. 

“Then I apologize for doing this. Just remember I do care about you. A lot. I want you safe.” She pressed her fingers to his temples.

When Bucky blinked he was looking down a dark alley with a faint glow from a street light. He looked around, confused as to why he was standing behind an abandoned building with nothing around. The phone in his pocket buzzed, making him cuss as he dug it out and answered it.

“What the hell man,” Sam yelled before Bucky could get out a greeting, “I’ve been trying to call you for eight minutes.”

“I-I didn’t feel the vibrations,” Bucky replied, “but I haven’t found her, Sam. If she wants to be a ghost, Steve taught her well.”

But Bucky could smell a faint hint of plumeria and lavender, a scent that he knew was Wanda. It plagued him for the last two months while he searched for her, but it seemed like she was just out reach with that floral scent being the only physical evidence she was there.

[witchersgoldenbard]

Ooh, I'm very intrigued by "witcher jask whump" if you haven't talked about it already? <3

oh you coming right for the whump, huh? but don't yell at me later, darling (jk, pls do).

"Mister Pankratz. Our esteemed lab rat, though that is a bit too low for your title, I'm afraid. Pardon me while I look for a better analogy, then. In the meantime, let me introduce you to your plan. You will be pleased to find out that the body of an adult human is much more suited to survive the Trials than that of a child, so there should really be nothing for you to fear hre. That is, if you turn a blind eye to the emotional, psychological and physical trauma that will come with the torture-like treatments. But, personally, my coins are on your survival, what with being the Witcher's bard and all. Do not disappoint me, Julian."

jaskier becomes a witcher because some Bad People (maybe a cult, maybe stregobor) decide to fuck around and replicate the serum. maybe after the mountain or sometime before when he isn't travelling with geralt, jaskier gets captured by them. he is the only one of the first batch to survive. but at what cost?

He wakes with a start, and immediately everything is wrong again His heart should be racing, but it's too slow, unable to catch up with all the panic and distress he can't feel anymore. No, that's wrong, too. He does feel it. He shouldn't. But he does. Because he is wrong. He takes a breath, then another, takes stock of his mind, What he remembers. What he doesn't. He doesn't know where he is. But there is a name, a shadow of a memory. The sound if it coming from chapped lips pulled into a grimace that will forever haunt him. A name. His name. It's right there, just out of reach, impossible to grasp when there are too many sensations cagin ghim, assailing him, petrifying body and mind. He takes a deep breath, quiet enough not to disturb the silence of the room, and tries to remain calm. There is nothing to ground him, though, and suddenly he is floating, trying to remember the name. Grasses. No. Dreams. No! Not a dream, not a dream, not-- Mountain. His hands are shaking where they are resting on the bed, and the panic spreads through him like a wildfire. No more. Not again, no more memories, no more feelings, no more, please! Flower. The world turnes dark once more, pulling him under and away from the heavy dread that has made it hard to breathe. The last sign of life before the darkness pulls him under feels important. It feels old. Familiar. It feels like... Like a name. Jaskier. Then, only darkness.

he loses his mind because his brain is not used to his sentences being so sharp, the only thing he knows is pain and overstimulation because every single sensation is more intense than it was before. he gets headaches all the time, sensory overload, wants to hide and cry and curl into a ball and just wants it all gone, wants to rest and adjust but he can't because they're sending monsters his way -- maybe even new breeds of monsters, a la s2 -- so he can practice his slaying and so they can run tests and see how good their New Witcher is.

jaskier also keeps secret journals during his torture.

Grasses. Dreams. Mountain. Things I used to love. Things I used to feel, things that were proof of being alive. I don#t love them anymore. Now, I'm alive and wish I weren't don't understand.

Grasses. Dreams. Mountain. No choice. No smiles, no point. Only pain.

They say there's more. Another Trial. Don't know how many are left. They say it's time. For the Trial of Bards. Am scared.

this goes on for a few months until geralt finds him, kills those people, takes jaskier somewhere safe and sits with him in absolute silence. jaskier cries then, beraks down and sobs, "it's all a lie" "what is?" "you said they don't feel." "hm?" "you said witchers don't feel. you said witchers don't fucking feel but it's a stinkin' lie because i sure as hell feel, geralt. pain, anger, hate, confusion, i'm--. you lied. you lied geralt. and i wish you hadn't because i dont want to feel!"

"or... or maybe they tried to take that, too. maybe they weren't done with me, maybe i could have not ended up feeling everything with more intensity than before, which is a fucking rich thing for a bard who's in love with a witcher to say, but... i don't... i want, i--i need..." "i'm here, jask." "that. yeah, that. i need that."

[ev-pierce-writes]

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin.  He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.