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antiquarianfics · 10 months

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Taken pt. 2

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

A/N: The response to pt. 1 was incredible! Thank you guys so much. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Genre: Angst/Fluff / WC: 1,341 /Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Kidnapping, canon-typical violence. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

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"What do we know?" Steve asks, rubbing his chin.

"Y/N and Becca have been missing approximately 52 hours; their last known location was Central Park; there are no leads as to who took them; Y/N's phone connected to a cell tower in Munich, Germany 42 hours ago but we've still had zero contact," Tony reports, reading his notes from a tablet.

The same information Tony reports is posted on the screen behind him alongside your official Avenger's photo and a photo of Becca from her 4th birthday party. It makes Bucky sick to see his wife and daughter on the screen as if they're just victims the Avenger's need to save--but they are.

"It just doesn't make sense," Natasha says, pulling everyone's--Bucky, Steve, Wanda, Sam, Clint, and Tony's--eyes to her. "How come we can track her phone? If whoever took them have it, they would have disconnected it. If she has it, she could send a signal, a hint, something to give us a lead."

"Unless she's being watched," Clint points out, anxiously messing with a pen, twirling it through his fingers.

Sam nods in agreement. "Yeah, maybe they--they being who took the better Barnes'--don't know she has the phone and she's hiding it. As long as it's got juice and they don't know it, we've got a chance at finding her." Bucky smirks lightly at Sam's attempt at a joke to lighten the mood; you would've laughed.

"Or it could be a trap," Clint offers in rebuttal to Sam's hypothesis.

"Trap or not," Steve says, "we've got to follow a lead. The longer we wait, the less likely we find them."

Bucky stays silent, sitting alone in the corner of the room. Listening. Worrying. Trying to stay calm. He's exhausted; he hasn't slept since his girls went missing. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he scans the room, eyes falling on his friends working tirelessly to rescue his family before returning to the photos of you and Becca on the screen. He balls his hands into tight fists.

"Tony?" Wanda asks, taking a few frantic steps towards a far screen that displays your phone's tracker.

"I see it," Tony says, typing away on his tablet. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., status report?"

"The cellular device belonging to Agent Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes connected to a cell tower in Novosibirsk, Russia approximately 3 minutes ago. The device is holding at 8% battery life," the A.I. reports.

Bucky sits up straight, eyes narrowing on the red dot indicating his wife's location. He recognizes Novosibirsk as a major city in Siberia. His stomach turns as gears turn in his head. He feels eyes on him and he pulls his gaze away from your location to see Natasha staring at him, lips pulled into a tight frown; he realizes she's making the same realization he is. His gaze flicks to Steve who's staring at the ground, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration.

"I know where they are," Bucky says, closing his eyes, breathing in painfully slow in an attempt to ease his frantic heart rate.

"Well?" Tony asks indignantly. "Care to share with the class, Terminator?"

Bucky's left fist connects with the wall beside him, birthing an indentation of his hand in drywall. Clenching his jaw tightly, Bucky can't bring himself to form the words.

"The Siberian HYDRA facility," Natasha sighs. Her tone indicates she is nervous.

"Wait," Sam interrupts, "that's..." He trails off, eyes widening as he looks at a livid Bucky.

"The birthplace of the Winter Soldier Program," Steve confirms.

—

"Mommy?" Becca calls softly as her eyes flutter open.

"I'm right here, baby," you quickly confirm, swiping a few flyaways from the little girl's face. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," you assure.

You are unsure just how long you've been in the aircraft, but you know it's been a few days. You've not seen the outside of the hanger you found yourself in since you woke up inside of it. No one has brought food, or water, or even so much as spoken near enough to you to hear. You think you felt a touchdown and another take off somewhere along the way, though, and you're pretty sure you're actively feeling a descent.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Becca complains, pulling you from your thoughts.

"I know, baby, I know," you pull your daughter into your chest, soothingly running your fingers through her hair. You're trying so hard to keep Becca calm, but it's becoming more difficult the hungrier and filthier she gets.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's looking for us, sweet pea."

"How do you know?"

"Because," you pinch her cheek playfully, "your Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world, and he would never let anything happen to you. He'll find us."

Your response seems to appease her, but she doesn't have a chance to argue anyway as the plane touches ground with a jostling thunk and throws her off balance. You quickly reach out, steadying the girl.

"You okay, Becca?" You ask, hands holding her still as your eyes frantically run over her body. She nods.

About 30 minutes pass--you think--when the aircraft door finally opens. Behind the door are 3 tall, bulky men with rifles and 1 shorter, sleazy looking man who is clearly--somehow--in charge.

"Welcome! Welcome!" The mysterious man greets, clapping his hands together. You push bile down your throat as you stand as quickly as you can manage, pushing Rebecca behind you gently.

"Who the hell are you?" You ask with a grimace. "And where do you get off kidnapping innocent women and children?"

"Please, Mrs. Barnes and little Miss Barnes, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Igor Morozov, but you may call me Dr. Frost. I presume it may be easier for the little one," Morozov--Dr. Frost--introduces.

You take him in. He's small (perhaps 5'5 and skinny), and he does not exude power. His dark black hair is slicked back so much so that it appears greasy and hairsprayed directly to his scalp. His grin is unsettling, gummy and with a prominent gold capped tooth where one of his front teeth should be. He's wearing a military style jacket, pleated trousers, and dress shoes. You can hardly believe he is the man in charge; he looks like he's a man pretending he's in charge.

You say nothing, further stepping in front of your daughter to shield her from the men in front of you. Your hand grips her shoulder tighter than you think you've ever held her.

Morozov seems unfazed by your irritable and accusatory behavior, his sickening smile never leaving his face.

"It's such a pleasure to have the Asset's plaything and offspring in our midst!" He chuckles and it makes bile fill your mouth. You swallow it back down. "Welcome to HYDRA's Siberian Facility! You may recognize the place as a home of sorts; after all, the Winter Soldier was born here!" Morozov claps his hands together. Giddy.

You bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself. In most circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to fight your way out and towards freedom, but, in most cases, you're not holding yourself back for the safety of your 4 year old. Rebecca came first.

"What do you want with us?" You demand, but you're sure you'll be denied answers.

"All in good time, Mrs. Barnes. All in good time," Morozov assures, turning around and walking away. Your fingers twitch as you note you wish you could strike.

"Mrs. Barnes, do follow me, please," Morozov demands despite his polite formalities. "And I advise you keep the baby to your side. You never know where she may wander off to if you're not watching," he says ominously.

You clench your jaw as you scoop Becca into your arms. She clings to you, little arms surrounding your neck. The poor girl is terrified, and you know you have to pretend you're not, too. For her.

You follow after Morozov and pray your phone hasn't died yet.

Please, Buck. Find us.

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ko-fi

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky x you #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x reader angst #winter soldier x reader angst #james barnes x reader #james barnes x reader angst

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olsenmyolsen · 4 months

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A Sokovian Flower

master list

dark master list

Post Age of Ultron MCU (Female Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: Wanda wanted a tattoo, which led her to you.

Word Count: 4.1K

Content: Mentions of Sokovia, Wanda's Parents, and dead Pietro. But fluff!

Wanda Maximoff was nervous.

She had never done something like this before.

Her stomach was in knots, and she had no one to blame but herself. Well, she could blame Petiro, but that would be unfair. She could blame Natasha, but that would only end up with her ass hitting the floor. So that wasn't an option.

Anyways, like stated before... Wanda had no one to blame but herself.

But Wanda really, really, really wanted THIS tattoo!

She had thought about it for the last four months since the fall of her home country and relocation to the States. She wanted something that was her own. Something that would pay tribute.

Wanda eventually decided on the national flower of Sokovia.

For her parents and brother.

But as Wanda bites her lip and waits for you to come out from the back, does she now realize that she has to go through with it.

This is going to be on my body forever. But that's what I want, right?

Wanda keeps going back and forth in her own mind. Her eyebrows scrunching and lifting up. Her fingers crossing over one another.

Wanda closes her eyes and breathes out. She calms herself down.

Yep, I can't do this!

Wanda picks up her ID and goes to turn around just when you come out from the back.

Wanda barely made eye contact with you before, but now she sees you and feels her mouth go dry.

The first place her eyes go to are your ears. Full of silver. Very reminiscent of Natasha. Wanda's eyes then travel down your sharp jawline to the holes in your black shirt, exposing your soft skin before they land on the art covering your arms.

Wanda loves the stars and hearts filling the space between your larger pieces.

Wanda brings her eyes back up to you as she realizes that you're speaking to her. Your voice is gentle.

"Are you having second thoughts?" You ask, making Wanda open and close her mouth.

You're not an idiot. You can see the worry and nerves dancing over the face across from you. It's clearly her first time, and you feel bad that she has no friend or anyone else here with her.

You also noticed her checking you out, but it happens, so you let it slide.

"Ummm, yeah. I'm sorry." Her soft voice quietly speaks up. And you're not sure how you missed it earlier, but you hear her accent.

You love it.

You smile at her words and nod your head before turning around to grab your tablet. Wanda watches you turn back and lay it next to the blank form she had yet to fill out.

"Wanda, right?" You ask as you look up from the email she had written a few days prior. She nods her green eyes at you before crossing her arms over her body.

Black nail polish catches your eye. It goes well with her black hoodie, skirt, and thigh-high socks.

You look back down as she steps closer to the counter. "Ah, the flower... here it is." Wanda watches you fly from the email to a saved folder of your drawings. There, she watches you move your pen to three different versions of the flower. Each one having more detail than the last.

You turn the tablet over to show her.

"I hope you don't mind, but I added more detail. I think it looks very pretty with the shading and linework in the leaves." You point to the second drawing as Wanda smiles. Her green eyes dance from one to the next.

"They're amazing." She says with awe in her words without looking up. She lifts her hands over the third design. It has tiny stars and sparkles around the flower, as well as a diamond design behind the main piece.

Wanda lifts her head to you, and your eyes trace her face in a second.

She's gorgeous, and when she smiles, you smile.

"I- uh-" You pull your eyes away and turn the tablet around before you fumble and grab the form for her to sign. "I- um, if you want to go through with it." You lift your eyes and smile. "You'll need to sign this." Wanda reaches up and grabs the form. "And I'll need your ID to make a photocopy." Wanda looks up, and you see her decide her eyes. "Okay."

Wanda hands you her ID before she takes a seat at the couch near the counter to fill out the form. Before placing her ID in the printer, you take a glance at it.

She wears a pout in her photo that makes you hold back a laugh. She looks so cute. You then quickly glance around the ID before placing it down and hitting print.

When you turn around, you see Wanda finishing up her signature as she bites her lip. Her pretty pink lips.

You then look away and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the corner.

You had to get a hold of yourself.

She was a paying customer, not a random girl across the bar. However, it's not like that has worked out well for you before. Ex-girlfriends and all.

You shrug and return to grab the copy of Wanda's ID and her physical one.

"Here you go." She lays the form down on the counter as you hand back her ID. She quickly places it in her small red wallet before gazing at you. "I can show you to the table and let you get comfortable as I prepare the stencil."

Wanda nods, and you notice her hands pull at the end of her sleeves. "It'll be fine." You whisper and nod at her before leading her to your section of the shop.

It's a cute corner full of all your favorite photos, knickknacks, and collectibles from over the years.

The owner is your former mentor and teacher. And usually, on a Saturday morning, the shop would be busy, but for some reason, it's just you and Wanda.

Not that the brunette minded. Obviously. The fewer people around, the better.

So, as you slid into your chair and hit a few buttons on the machine, Wanda stood by the table with the sheet on it.

As the stencil finished printing, you turned back. "Oh shoot. I'm sorry." You got up with a laugh. "Would you like a water or soda or anything?" Wanda was about to shake her head before she looked over your face.

Yeah, she was thirsty.

"A water. Please." You smiled at her command. "Of course." You turned and bent down to the mini fridge at your feet. You pulled out a water bottle and got up before handing it to her. "Thank you." She replied as she took it.

"You can set it down right here." You pointed to a spot on the cart next to the table that Wanda would be laying on soon. "And anytime you need to take a break or have a sip of water. Whatever. During the tattoo, say something, and I'll stop." You made sure Wanda found your eyes. "Okay?" You asked again until she nodded. "Okay."

You closed your mouth and turned back to the stencil to hold in a "good girl."

Wanda's eyes went wide as she blushed.

She definitely didn't mean to hear that!

"Okay..." You cleared your throat and held up two different sizes. "We can place them, and then you can decide which size you want or-"

"That one." Wanda cut you off as she stepped closer to the one in your right hand. "This is perfect." She said under her breath, but you heard her, and it made you smile. "This one." She said as her eyes found yours.

You nodded. "Let's do it." You placed the smaller stencil down. "Okay, and placement... you didn't say on the from."

Wanda sheepishly nodded. "I was thinking my back..." You nodded. "Okay." But when Wanda didn't move, that's when you put two and two together. "Oh, sorry! I'll give you some space." You went to get up and walk away after drawing the curtain to your space close, but Wanda, without thinking, grabbed your arm and stopped you. "I wasn't thinking earlier and-" Wanda stopped herself with a sigh before she laughed.

Angelic.

Wanda's lips spread into a broader smile. You saw her begin to come out of her shell just a little more.

"I'm not wearing a bra." She said before she bit her bottom lip and looked away.

You could tell she was trying to hide her embarrassment. So you reached your hand to the one she had on your arm. "That's okay." You said before you moved your thumb over her knuckle.

Butterflies flew in both of your stomachs.

"May I?" You ask as you lifted your hand off of hers. Wanda nodded and watched your eyes lift themselves to her hoodie zipper. She felt your thumb brush the skin just below her neck.

Soft was her skin, but Wanda felt it burn once your touch left her.

And then you moved the zipper south just the tiniest bit before Wanda lifted her eyes to yours. "I-or- uh, you can unzip it a-and turn it around so the back of the hoodie covers your front."

Wanda heard you stumble and watched how your eyes looked her face up and down. She enjoyed it.

"I can do that." You smiled back and removed yourself from the room to give Wanda privacy.

Less than a minute later, she called you back in. She had her arms over her body as she held the hoodie close to her front. Meanwhile, Wanda's back was exposed to you, and you could see a faint tan line and several moles and beautiful tiny freckles along her body.

"You okay?" You asked as you put a pair of new gloves on before getting the spray and stencil ready. "Yeah," Wanda replied. "Just a little cold."

You stopped and looked around the room. In the winter, you had a heater in here, but with it being late spring, that was long gone. But your eyes did find something else.

"I have this." You pointed to a corner with a large hand-knitted red blanket that your friend Darcy made one semester in college before you dropped out. "You could bunch up under you, or I can place it on your lower back once you're on the table."

Wanda loved how kind you were being and thought about your suggestion. "Would it get in your way?" You shook your head. "Not at all." Wanda believed you. "Okay. Thanks." She smiled and grabbed the blanket. You watched her wrap around her lower back. "I guess I shouldn't have worn a skirt today." Wanda gave a laugh that made your heart skip, and your mouth said words before you could stop it.

"I think you look beautiful."

Wanda's face turned red like your blanket, and the stencil went still in your hand.

"Oh shit!"

Wanda heard your thoughts and said something before you could. "Thank you..." She bit her bottom lip and turned around so you could place the stencil on her back.

A couple of seconds when you came back to Earth, you did.

"Okay." You took a step away. "See how it looks." Wanda turned her head to the right and found the mirror beside you.

It was perfect.

She knew the process was going to hurt, but in this moment, Wanda would do anything to feel closer to the ones she lost.

"I love it." She said after clearing her throat.

That's when you realized that this wasn't just a random flower. This meant something.

"Perfect." You smiled at her green eyes. "Here." You took your gloves off. "Get comfortable, and I'll adjust the blanket however you want." Wanda let you take it from her and noticed as you turned around to give her a little privacy as she laid onto the table.

She smiled at that. "Okay." She said, and from her 90-degree angle, she watched you turn around. She then felt the blanket cover her entire lower body. It was nice and warm. The act and the care behind it.

"Good?" You bent forward, making Wanda nod. "Awesome." You said. "Remember, if at any point you need to stop, let me know." Wanda nodded once again before parting her lips. "Should we come up with a safe word?"

Your glove snapped as it went around your hand when you stopped at her words. You weren't sure if Wanda was joking, but when you saw her pearly whites, you once again got to see her leaving her shell.

You smiled back.

"Wow, Wanda, take a girl to dinner first." You said back as you picked up the tattoo gun and tested it. Wanda laughed over the noise that scared her just slightly before saying: "Pancake."

You knew what she meant. Even if her accent made the word sound exotic. "Pancake." You repeat. She nodded, getting hair into her eyesight that she blew away. "Pancake, it is Wanda." You then rolled the stool closer to her. "I'm about to start. Don't be afraid to bunch your hands and scream or whatever. You'd be surprised what people do."

"I'll be sure to do all of those things." Wanda joked with a wide smile before she felt your arm rest on her back. The contact sent a wave of goosebumps over her body once again. "Are you still cold?" You asked with the needle inches from her.

"I'll be fine." Wanda lied. "Remember Pancake." You said, earning a thumbs up from the brunette.

Seconds later, Wanda was receiving her first tattoo.

Time passed as Wanda did her best not to let the tears in her eyes fall. She knew you were being careful and cautious. Gentle and light. But god, this hurt.

As you moved further down the flower, your eyes briefly looked at Wanda's, and you saw the water filling them. "You don't have to answer this if you don't want to..." You were going to talk to her to distract her from the droning buzz of the gun and the pain that came with it. "But." You continued. "I'm always curious about people's first tattoos." Wanda sniffled as her green eyes looked at you. "So why this one?"

Wanda let out a breath. She appreciated that you wanted to know more. "It's the national flower of Sokovia." She said, and you stopped shading as you looked down to her face. She was looking down at you. "Sokovia?" You asked, making her nod.

You knew of Sokovia.

You saw the news reports and watched the footage of buildings falling from the face of the earth. You knew about Ultron and the Avengers. And now how the once Eastern European country was slowly being washed from the world maps.

"You're Sokovian?" You asked. "I am," Wanda replied with her accent heavy. You gave a weak smile and paused before saying. "I'm sorry for what happened."

Wanda swallowed the tears in her throat.

You weren't the first person to apologize for the actions based upon others, but you were the first person who probably meant it.

"Thank you." She quietly replied before letting out a breath and some words of truth. "I was there."

You now leaned back in your stool. Maybe this was a good time for a break.

"When it was lifted into the air?" You asked, earning a nod. And as opposed to asking why she was there or how she survived like Wanda would've expected, you instead asked: "Do you have any favorite memories of Sokovia before you left?"

Wanda took in your words and thought about it.

She nodded.

"Sokovia was always on the brink of Civil War and had an uneasiness to it." Wanda paused and lifted up to drink some water. As she moved, she felt the pain and warmth from the fresh art on her body. Nevertheless, she knew the two of you had a while to go. "But.." Wanda smiled as she laid back onto her stomach. "There was this park close to our apartment. Every day after school, I'd run to the swings and try and launch myself as high as possible." Wanda laughed. "I wanted to fly."

You smiled, and for some reason, it was like you could see the stories clearly in your head.

It was beautiful.

"Nights I loved. After schoolwork and chores when it was just my brother Pitero and our parents watching old American sitcoms and having meals, my Mama grew up with..." Wanda trailed off as her voice became soft. "Those nights I'd give anything to have again."

Wanda didn't even feel the tear slip from her eyes.

But you saw it glimmer in the light, and within a second, your gloves were off as you handed Wanda a tissue.

Her fingertips brushed yours as she took it. "I'm sorry." She patted under her eye. "This is so embarrassing." Wanda balled up the tissue before you reached out for it. "No, it's not." You said as Wanda placed the tissue in the palm of your hand. "I think it's sweet." You smiled at Wanda before getting up to quickly wash your hands.

"I'd love to hear more about Sokovia as long as you want to keep talking about it." You said as you slipped on a new pair of black gloves.

Wanda shook her head yes.

And once the needle made contact with Wanda's skin again, did she tell you stories about the bake shop down the block from her school. Or how her brother was almost kicked off the school's track team. She also recounted her favorite episodes of Bewitched once you teasingly pressured her.

The conversation flowed naturally, and by the end, Wanda didn't feel the pain in her back. She only felt it in her cheeks because she was smiling so damn much.

"Okay." You put the gun down and wiped down Wanda's tattoo one last time. "You're free." You joked with a smile as you tossed your gloves away.

"Oh god, I don't think I've ever been so stiff." Wanda cracked her neck before she moved her legs off the table. She wobbled once her feet hit the ground, but thankfully, you were quick to stabilize her. "Here." You handed Wanda her water. "Don't need you passing out or anything before you see it."

Wanda gladly took a few sips before handing it back.

She then took a few steps forward before turning her exposed back to the mirror on the wall. As her green eyes made contact with the black art, she gasped and let out a ragged breath.

"I love it." She whispered before glancing over at you. Your eyes instantly connected to hers. "I love it." She repeated. Her eyes went back. "It's perfect." Up and down, her eyes went before she turned around to grab her phone.

A smaller iPhone than you were used to seeing.

"Could you take a picture?" She asked you, to which you nodded and smiled like a dummy as Wanda turned her back to you.

"Okay." You said after you perfectly framed her body. "I took about fifteen." You laughed before remembering the phone in your pocket. "Wanda?" You looked up at her. "Hmm?" She lifted her face from her phone. "Could I take a few pictures for my Instagram and website?"

"Of course."

Normally, she would've said no. She hated getting her picture taken. But normally, Wanda didn't get tattoos or become this close to someone like this.

Like you.

You were special.

"Thank you." You nodded to her as you put your phone down and grabbed some hand sanitizer. "Okay, let's get the wrap on, and then I can go over the aftercare."

Wanda's focus was back on you, and she hung on your every word.

"Y/N?" Wanda spoke up as your hand slimmed out the clear wrapping on her tattoo. "Wanda?" You said in the same tone, making Wanda teasingly roll her head away from you.

"I was thinking..." She started as you lifted your touch away from her soft skin. "Yes?" You asked as Wanda turned her face back to you.

She cleared her throat and sat up on the table.

"Could I have the pictures you took?" You easily nodded. "Sure, I can DM you on your Instagram or-"

"You could text them," Wanda said with confidence clear in her voice.

You stopped. "Or I could text them." You smiled as you stood up and grabbed a pamphlet of the aftercare process for Wanda to follow. "Here is everything you need to know." Wanda took it gently from your fingers. "What lotions to use. What soaps to not use... I could also text you this information. If you'd like."

You said as Wanda looked up and handed you back the pamphlet.

"You can text me."

You nodded. "Then I'll text you." Wanda shyly looked away from you as you both wore pink on your faces.

You looked around your space. "If you'd like to use the bathroom, it's just down the hall to the right. If not, I can meet you at the counter, and we can discuss cost. I'll only be a couple of minutes."

Wanda nodded and got up. She pulled the black curtain to your space back and was about to step out when she stopped herself and turned around to you. "Thank you. For everything. I'll probably thank you repeatedly, but I want you to know I mean it. They were with me before, but now their little flower has one for them. " She gave a watery smile, and before you could respond, Wanda walked away.

Wanda pulled out her phone, brushed her eyes, pulled her hoodie around, and stared at the tattoo pictures until you joined her at the front.

When you did, you held the red blanket Wanda had been using earlier. "Here." You said as you sat down next to Wanda on the waiting couch. "I'll text you it later, but one of the final steps of aftercare is to have a warm blanket nearby. So here."

Your kindness throughout the whole day meant more than you'd ever know.

Wanda swallowed and reached over, letting her hand run through the blanket before grabbing yours. Soft was her touch.

You let her fingers brush over your knuckles. "Is there a step about good company?" Wanda questioned as her voice became thicker with her accent. Her body leaning forward. "Yes." You nodded. "Company is supposed to take care of dinner." Your voice had become slow as you carefully weaved into this space with Wanda.

"Dinner?" Wanda husked. You simply smiled. "Text me when you're free?" You raised an eyebrow as Wanda looked up and scrunched her face.

She hadn't felt this way in a long time.

And neither had you. So when Wanda gripped your hand and gave you a very nervous but small peck on the lips, you let her.

And Wanda let you give her a discount even though she used the remaining cash she had as a tip.

Moments later. "Sent." Wanda received your text with a blushing emoji quickly, followed by a detailed step-by-step aftercare plan with a video in case Wanda needed it. "Thank you." She said before she texted back an emoji with a smile.

"I'll text you!" Wanda said in response to you as you closed the door to the shop behind her. Only then did you notice that your open sign had been flipped to close.

You didn't remember doing that.

But it didn't matter. You found yourself smiling and laughing all day. Learning about a country you were going to search traditional dishes from.

You met Wanda.

Wanda Maximoff.

You blushed when she texted you about a half hour later, letting you know that she had made it home safe. Wanda then sent a picture of her with the red blanket wrapped around her body.

You and Wanda texted every single day before and after your first date. You made Sokovian meals for her and took her around the city to let her experience anything she wanted. You held her close and kissed her as the two of you found yourselves under the same red blanket. You told her you loved her two months after she introduced you to her co-workers/housemates.

And now, as you wait for Wanda to text you after her mission in Lagos, are you working on a flash tattoo sheet of a scarlet witch.

Your girlfriend.

Wanda Maximoff. Your Sokovian Flower.

dividers by @/benkeibear

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 5 months

Text

Do I make you nervous?

Originally published on my wattpad: slvt4em1lyprenti2s

Summary: Unit Chief em noticed that you get a little flustered around her and she picks up on your crush

Word Count: 1.9k

Fluff, (kissing)

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

(ik it's chief em but Derek and Spencer are still gunna be in the BAU)

Emily's pov:

I walked to the round table as I just got notified about a case out in Montana and had called in the team. I was setting out everyone's tablets and got Garcia to send them the case information.

I heard some shuffling behind me and footsteps approaching the room. I turned around and saw y/n, she's a younger agent that joined the team around 2 years ago. She's an amazing profiler and has adapted to the team well, although she always seems to be a bit nervous around me. I'm not sure if it's because I'm her boss, or maybe she finds me intimidating? I'm not sure.

"Hey!" she says in her usually cheery voice.

"Hi, you got here quick." I say surprised at her speed, I only called them in like, 10 minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was in the area, so I just came in." She was looking everywhere but my eyes and a rosey tint stained her face. I smirked to myself as she set down her coffee cup and took a seat.

Reader pov:

Oh my god. Could she be anymore hot? Like I know she's my boss and quite a bit older than me but, hey, a girl can dream. She can obviously feel my stare and turns round to look at me, I instantly avert my gaze to the tablet in front of me and start flicking through the crime scene photos.

"Y/n/n, can I ask you something?" She asks as she stalks closer to me. Heat rises up my neck and into my face once again.

"Uh- uhm yeah ofc course." At that moment Garcia walks through the door completely oblivious (which is very strange, she notices everything) of all the tension she just walked in on.

"Okay so, the case was sent to the tablets 15 minutes ago, the jet is ready and everyone should be here- oh y/n/n hi!" her voice lifting my mood instantly. Pen has that effect on everyone she meets and I love that about her.

"Hi Pen!" I reply just as enthusiastically, happy to have the previous conversation interrupted.

Once Garcia had come in she was closely followed by: Spencer, Rossi, Tara, Derek and JJ. We all sit down, ready to be briefed about the case.

"Okay so we're going to the one and only Treasure state of Montana my crime fighting friends..."

Time skip to when they're in Montana:

Emily pov:

Me and y/n are setting up in the local PD while everyone else is out at either, crime scenes, disposal sights or interviewing witnesses. I chose for her to stay with me because she's been acting weird around me ever since she joined the team but, it's been getting worse recently. I was going to ask her about it in the meeting room earlier but, we were interrupted by Garcia.

"Can you pass me the photos from the scene?" She asks, looking at me with those gorgeous y/e/c eyes. She's your subordinate Emily Jesus- I mean she's been acting weird but that doesn't mean she likes you! I look around in the case box and pull out the photos, she had shifted her position so she was now not facing me. I walked over and brushed my hands over her lower back and handed them to her. Her head snapped round to face me as she took the photos. Her fingers danced over mine as she took them from my hand. I see her blushing as she smiles and look back to the board. This is going to be fun.

Reader pov:

HUH? Her hand brushed and lingered on my back and she touched my hand as she gave me the photos. God I don't know if I'm reading too far into this. I really hope I'm not.

I begin pinning up the photos as Derek and Spencer walk in the room.

"You got something?" Emily asks them expectantly.

"Yeah, a plate from the vehicle the UnSub used to kidnap Sarah Johnston. 24Y-FTX." Spencer said as he picked up his phone, presumably to call Garcia.

"Already? So this is going to be over quite quick then, huh?" Derek looks over and nods as Garcia's voice rung out from Reid's phone.

"The car is registered to a Gary Solomon, and Ive got a home address and he's unemployed so no work address! Sending it to you now!" Pen hung up as we checked our phones.

"Get JJ, Rossi and Tara to meet us there." Emily tells Morgan as we all walk to the SUV's. Derek and Spencer get into one, leaving the other to me and Emily. Great.

We climb into the car and speed off in the direction of the house. I can feel Emily's eyes on me at points but I choose to ignore her and focus on saving the girl he took.

We pull up to the house and get ready with the team to storm it, going in our original groups, me and em round the back, JJ, Rossi take the left, Tara and Spencer take the right, and Derek breaks down the door and goes in the front. We go in through the back, Emily in front of me and we begin our sweep through the house. Doors are swung open and signals are passed left and right.

"Hey, stop a sec." Emily says holding up her hand. I hear a faint creaking of floorboards to our left. I raise my gun and point it down the dark hallway of the house. We being walking down it, slowly as to not give away our position.

"Look out!" I hear Emily say before she grabs me by my hips and pulls me flush against her. I hear a bullet whistle past my ear. I lift my gun and shoot the guy a few times before he drops to the ground.

A sigh of relief escapes my mouth as Morgan simultaneously radios in that they found the girl. It takes me a second to realise Emily is still gripping my hips and that if I were to move an inch closer our lips would touch. I clear my throat and break away from her warmth as I go to check the guy is gone. As I suspect, he's dead so we call in the ambulance crew to pick him up.

"Good work here today guys, the jet isn't leaving till the morning as it's too late right now but, I think we could all do with a little sleep. Garcia booked a hotel just down the street so let's get going." A chorus of 'thank god's' and 'good, I didn't want to sleep in the jet' rippled through the night air as we made our way to the SUV's once again.

Time skip to when they're at the hotel:

Emily pov:

I walk over to the front desk and ask for the reservations made under the name Prentiss, and the lady at the desk tells me there's been 4 rooms booked, two double and two single as they were sold out of everything else. Instantly JJ and Tara, and Spencer and Derek pair up and run to grab the keys for the double room and speed off before we can argue. I look at Rossi and can see he clearly doesn't want to share a room which I totally understand and hand him a key to his own room.

"Looks like we're roommates for the night," I say to the y/h/c standing next to me. As soon as I said it she averted her eyes from raking up my body to the floor. She muttered something I couldn't quite make out but I chose to not push due to her demeanour, something about us sharing a room is making her nervous and I think I know exactly what. We step into the lift and I click the floor we're on, y/n was slightly in my way as I did it so I help her waist to get lean over her, I felt her tense and the relax under my touch. I stand beside her as we start our silent ascent to our floor.

Reader pov:

I'm sharing a room, with one bed, with Emily Prentiss. If I wasn't so helplessly attracted to her I'd be okay, but, I'm helplessly attracted to her so...

We walk to our room and she swipes the key card to let us in. There isn't even a sofa to sleep on. Great, so we're definitely sharing a bed.

We move silently as we change and do our nighttime routines. Emily starts walking towards me as I brush my hair in the full length mirror.

"I never got to ask you that question you know," My breath catches in my throat at the proximity. I can feel her hot breath on my neck, and her hands ghost over my waist as she speaks. I stiffen at the touch and look away. "Do I make you nervous?" I dryly swallow as I look at her.

"What would you do if I said yes?"

"You'll have to find out."

I turn around and meet her eyes, her hands are now firmly planted on my waist, her grey hair falling perfectly over her shoulders and her pyjama tanktop capturing her figure perfectly. My arms find their way around her neck as I lean in a little bit closer, her nose brushes over mine as I do so.

"Yes, you do." I whisper, feeling my breath fan over her lips.

As soon as I finish my sentence she closes the gap in a soft, slow kiss. It's warm and comforting, as our lips dance together as if we've done this a thousand times before. The cage of butterflies in my stomach doubles and she puts her right hand on my cheek and starts caressing my face as she deepens the kiss by running her tongue over my bottom lip and asking for entrance, which I gladly gave. Our tongues fight for dominance, and she quickly wins that battle. She explores my mouth, not leaving an inch untouched. I happily sigh into the kiss, who knew she felt the same way? Air begins to become a problem and we pull away. Her dark eyes, stare at me for a moment before pulling me back in to peck my lips once more.

"When we get back home, do you want to go on a date with me?" Emily seems nervous to ask the question, which I find weird for two reasons: one, is the em is never nervous and two, her tongue was just down my throat, what does she think?

"I'd love to em." I smile ear to ear as I get pulled into her warm embrace.

"C'mon let's go to sleep, it's getting late." I agree with her as we slip under the covers, our bodies mould together as if we were two puzzle pieces sliding into place. She was behind me, spooning me and she had her arms wrapped tight around me. I had my head under hers and one my arms are tangled with hers as they wrap around me. She kisses the crown of my head as I drift of to sleep, my only thought being that this, us, it just feels right.

She's my person.

A/N: lmao sleep deprived and had motivation sorry if it isn't great, DONT FORGET TO LEAVE REQUESTS!!!

#wlw #lesbian #sapphic #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw pride #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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yanverse · 2 months

Note

I’m curious how the yans would react to their darling suggesting being free use? Some of them would never act right EVER again; but I also think some would start out too nervous to make a move, but once they do it a few times, they become something of a menace.

prrrrr.......free use, you say? i have.......ideas >:) (lmk if u want more! <3)

Elias, Kaito, Lilith, Isabelle, Adrian, Nina

(cws: free use kink, domination, degradation, dressing up, fingering, overstimulation, messy sex)

Elias obviously needs to keep you around while he's working, and it just so happens that he's also in need of a good secretary for his practice. Win-win! He can have the best of both worlds: keep you close enough that he can see you whenever he wants, and you've got something to busy yourself with when he gives you paperwork--but aside from filing a few things you basically just get to mess around on the computer while he's in session. And unless you're into it, you won't be hearing any questionable noises and thumping through the wall--he's had to rebrand and lost some repeat customers, but he's a taken man now, so no more shenanigans.

Of course, that means you've got a much hornier, much needier cowboy on your hands than you're used to. He doesn't need to jerk off between clients or on his break anymore if the mood hits him midday--that's what he's got you for now, right? He can just waltz out of his office, tap you on the shoulder, and drop to his knees right there. Worried you'll get caught, that someone might walk in early or a solicitor will drop by? Then you just need to stay nice and quiet while he's under your desk. He might just end up leaving indents in the floor from the spurs on his boots, cause it's so easy and you're so accessible and you don't even have to stop working! In fact, if he's in the mood to tease, he might dangle the threat of stopping over your head if you don't keep working while he goes down on you.

But knowing him, there'll be an equal chance of him rushing over, locking the door to the office, and just throwing you over the desk like he can't wait a second longer to have you. There's a reason he's got so much time in between his clients, and it's because there's no better time to mess up his cute little secretary, and make sure you have to sit with his cum leaking down your legs the rest of the day.

Kaito has half a mind to just sit you on his lap all day. He doesn't have to go out for work, he barely leaves the house as is, and you're around each other most of the time anyways. Why not? He could game or tweak his latest sketches with you settled and comfy on his lap, his cock twitching softly inside you with those pretty mewls of yours perking him up. That, to him, is heaven.

If that's not the case, though, then sparing a hand to entertain you is just as good. Especially if you're in an argument, or if he's mad at you, or if he's just annoyed but not in the mood to talk about it. He doesn't even have to be paying attention, but more than likely you'll be begging for him to give you some.

With the spare seat next to him and his eyes glued to his computer screen, he only needs one hand to fiddle with his tablet pen as he shades his latest drawing. And all the while he has his fingers buried between your legs, his reactions minimal as you soak his chair with sweat and grab at his sleeve in desperation. You keep cumming all over yourself, you're a mess, and he's already gonna have to clean you up after so at least don't distract him. Each orgasm aches more than the last with overstimulation melting your brain into your skull, but you won't even stop him. You probably could, but why would you? He said it himself: he's gonna clean you up when he's done, you just have to wait until he finishes up. But knowing Kaito, odds are he's gonna make you much, much messier before he actually gets to that part.

Lilith loves providing for you. She loves to make you happy, to come home with money and food and love, and to shower you with everything she has without you having to lift a finger. You love her, you've done enough.

But when the opportunity to bus tables at her restaurant comes around, it's a hard deal to ignore. Extra income, extra time together, and extra chances for you to socialize and put in some hard work? If you're all over it then she can't exactly say no. A good girlfriend wouldn't say no to such a simple request. It may have her biting her nails at first, but seeing you succeed fills her with a feeling of pride that gives her an extra spring in her step on those extra-hard days.

But she's lucky that the diner has so few willing waitresses and such a small staff to begin with, because you two can get so close to getting caught with your pants down. She'd never consider getting off at work before this, but with you so present and available all the time...shooting her those lusty looks across the dining room, bending over just a little too far while you're cleaning tables, brushing by her just a little too close while she's taking an order...if she didn't pull you into the bathroom and push you up against the stall, she might just go crazy. Whether it's your hand up her skirt or hers down yours, it really doesn't matter--if you're going to let her touch you whenever she wants, then she has to take advantage of it. Nearly every break soon turns into a chance to get away, her lunch swapped out for a glorious ten minutes with your legs spread, body bent forward, and her tongue making short work of that promise you made that you'd stay quiet.

Isabelle isn't offered the suggestion of free use. You are free use. You're her toy, you're meant to be used, and you're smart enough to know that she doesn't take such a stance lightly. She's not fucking around with any of that touchy-feely, "casual dominance" crap. You'll know she's dominating you because she won't let you forget your place--look away for a moment, let your guard down, and you'll be pounced on before you can make sense of it. Even if she's just finished making you cum for every year you've been alive, she could very well come back into the room after a minute and decide she's not quite done yet. Bathing, showering, eating, sleeping, it's all the same. So long as you're still breathing, there's an incredibly high chance that you won't go very long without her weight pinning you down or your legs pulled apart for her to have a taste. But at least you're still alive, which is more than can be said for Isabelle's other playthings and romantic interests.

You would think that someone as poised, confident, and professional as Dr. Moorwell wouldn't be nearly as intrigued by the concept. Adrian is a romantic, after all--a chivalrous one at that--so you would struggle to imagine him as being so crass and self-indulgent with his lover.

Alas, he is. In fact, he's like a beast while in pursuit of it. Adrian loves to catch you while you're unawares; reading, reaching up for something on a high shelf, organizing his library, taking a sip of your drink, crawling under the sofa to retrieve whatever you dropped, the view makes him shudder and his belt comes off like the buckle is melting. There's always a touch first, a light tap or a brush down your sides to reassure you that it's him, but it's just a formality. The quick smack of his palm hitting your backside is the real test, because so long as your cute little squeal is followed up by a whine or a moan, he knows there's no risk. He can squeeze you, pull you apart, violate those precious, sacred spots so deep they've never seen the light, and it'll satisfy you to the point of making you gush all over him like he's turned the dial of a sprinkler.

At this point he might as well give you the title of housemaid. Your presence in his home reassures such tidy, homely feelings even amidst the stacked clutter and the piles of unread books. Besides, he'd have an excuse to put you in one of those silly, frilly costumes with the headbands and the wrist cuffs, and you could call him--w-well, it doesn't matter what you call him, so long as you prance around as happy and sweet as usual, and look at him with all that love in your eyes even once he's reduced you to tears and trembling legs.

Nina would be the last person to ever accept such a sinister request. Touch you? Unprompted? Without gloves, or a thorough hand washing, or..? You seriously think she would ever do such a thing on a whim?

That terrible attitude only lasts a few minutes, however, because her complaints are only a farce for how her mind has started working in overdrive. Because you like her enough to ask her for something so lewd. Because you think she's pretty. Because you look at her and think hot, wet thoughts despite her difficult attitude and her insistence on keeping everything clean. You desire her, and that's a feeling that's only come by on very, very rare occasions.

Hence why your request is fulfilled so quickly--like, less than twenty minutes quickly. Less than the time it would take for her to shower and scrub and go through her step-by-step routine in order to touch you, because the waiting is too agonizing and she just has to feel you. To feel your love and your beating heart in your chest, your pulse pounding all the way up your fingertips as you spread her open on your stupid, dirty, filthy hands. The only reason she'll allow it is just because it's you, but don't you dare get a big head! This is just more convenient for her. She'll just take a shower afterwards. But...well, you're coming with her. It'll surely be easier to clean up if you're already in there, so if you think your bathing time from then on is going to go uninterrupted, you'll be very sorely mistaken.

#yandereverse #spicy writing #elias norwood #kaito ooe #lilith surrey #adrian moorwell #isabelle dmitriev #nina sojourn #male yandere #female yandere #ellie writes #yandere x reader #anons

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Don't Speak 21

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

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

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

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Sickness be gone!

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

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Dr. Kemp gave me this journal. I met him today. He’s a therapist. Or a psychologist? He’s a doctor and he’s going to help me.

I hope.

He told me to put my moods in here, to write about how I feel, and to set a small goal every day.

How I feel today: scared.

This morning was scary. We went to the doctor’s office and I didn’t know where we were going. I met Dr. Kemp and was less scared. Then we went to the mall and that was scary too. I tried on a short dress and that was scarier. Now we’re back at the house and I’m still afraid.

What if this doesn’t work either? What if I’m stuck this way forever? What if Dr. Kemp can’t help me?

A knock comes at the door and you tuck your new pen into the journal, closing it as you set it on top of your tablet. You put both on the nightstand as you call for Andy to enter. He inches open the door and pokes his head around.

“Hey,” he says, “I was just thinking, it’s been a long day. We can order in for the night?”

You shrug. You’re not very hungry. The large breakfast keeps your appetite at bay. Your anxiety helps as well.

“Um, that’s okay. I’m not very hungry.”

He sighs, his hand on the door. His fingers tap on the wood as he grips his hip, “you really shouldn’t skip meals. It’s not good for you.”

“I ate a lot this morning–”

“That was hours ago. You need to eat,” he insists, “I missed a week of work, honey, I can’t miss any more. I need you to start trying. Didn’t Dr. Kemp talk to you about this?”

You wince. He’s upset. You didn’t mean to make him angry.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I’ll, uh… take out sounds good.”

He lets the door fall all the way open. He crosses to the foot of the bed and touches the top of one of the shopping bags. You chew your cheek as you watch him.

“Are you gonna put all this away?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’ll do that now,” you get up.

He bought all those clothes, he took you to the doctor, on top of everything else. The least you can do is choke down a meal he’s also paying for. You go to the closet and open it up. You have two sweaters and a pair of jeans hung there. The rest of the hangers are empty.

“Chicken or beef?” He asks as he backs up.

“Hmm?” You look back at him with a handful of hangers.

“For dinner?”

“Oh, chicken,” you answer as you come back to the bed, “I’ll come down after I finish with all this.”

“Sure… uh, I could help,” he offers.

“No, I can do it,” you say, “that’ll be my small task today. Put this away and tidy up the room.”

He nods, both hands on his hips, “sounds like a good plan.”

You try to smile but your cheeks only twitch. You focus on taking out the clothes from the bag and looping them over the plastic hangers. He lingers and slowly slides out his phone. He turns on his heel and leaves you, thumbing at the screen with a hum.

You’re tired of letting everyone down. Amber, Andy, yourself. You’re not going to let Dr. Kemp down. You’re really going to try. You look over at the journal and take a deep breath.

They’re just pages, but you finally have someone to talk to. Someone you can tell everything. The paper can’t answer you but it can listen without judgment. And in the end, you can always crumple it all up and forget the words.

You get everything hung, folded, and some put aside for the wash. There’s a weight of dread in your feet. You don’t want to go downstairs, you’d rather stay up here and lay down. It’s been a long day and you’re exhausted.

You find Andy in the living room. You bring your tablet to quell your restless hands. You sit on the far end of the couch as he watches a ball game. You peel back the cover and take out the pen.

“Not a baseball fan?” He asks.

You pop your head up and look over at him. You shrug. You look at the screen as the umpire calls a strike.

“Don’t watch sports,” you answer.

“Ah, didn’t want to assume,” he leans forward, elbows on his arms as he presses his hands together, “we can watch something you like. I can catch the highlights tomorrow.”

“No, it’s okay,” you swipe the nib across the screen, “I like listening to this.”

You tuck your legs up and hunch over the tablet. You sense him watching you before he slowly leans back against the couch. You draw without thinking, a twisted elm tree with crows in the branches.

The commentators offer a steady soundtrack for your work. The crowd jeers then roars, swaying with the momentum of the game. You pick the perfect shadow of brow to add streaks to the trunk of the tree. You feel the couch shift but don’t look up. It isn’t until Andy’s right beside you that you tear your attention from your work.

He’s close. Very close. You sweat as heat radiates off of him. He stretches his arm behind you as he leans in to look at your drawing.

“Just a sketch,” you lower the pen.

“Pretty,” he says, “I’m not very artsy. Writing’s chicken scratch.”

You nod, “art is art. As long as you’re creating.”

“Pretty good way of looking at it,” he leans in closer, placing his hand on the corner of the tablet, “do you ever draw people?”

“Sometimes,” you answer, wilting at his proximity. He seems even bigger as he crowds you. You look up at the TV and drag the cover over the tablet, “why are they cheering?”

He lifts his head and exhales heavily. He retracts his arm from behind you and points with his other hand.

“Hitter just got a double and another player got home,” he says, “tied it up. If they can get another run, they’ll win. If not… well, another inning.”

“Oh,” you blink. You really don’t know much about baseball.

“We could go to a game, maybe, if you’re interested,” he offers, “they have great pretzels.”

“Maybe,” you keep your eyes on the TV, even as his head turns and he narrows in on you.

The heat between you becomes stolid. You have no space to turn over and you’re too afraid to stand up and go. You don’t want to upset him. He probably doesn’t realise how close he is. Plus, your personal bubble tends to be bigger than most.

The doorbell rings, breaking the tension, and drops his head as he grips his thighs. He stands with effort and you put aside your tablet. You listen as he answers the door and the crinkle of a paper bag underlines his exchange with the delivery driver.

He shuts the door and the smell of the take-out wafts in, stoking your hunger. You get up and meet him at the doorway, following him to the dining room. As he puts the bag down on the table, you wring your hands.

“Should I get plates?”

“Sure, sweetie,” he says as he rips past the staple in the fold of the bag, “that’d be great.”

🕊️

You can’t help but be relieved when Andy goes back to work. The house is still cold and lonely to you, but you’re happy to be alone. You set yourself a goal for each day; in the very least, you’ll make dinner, and when you feel up to it, you’ll do one other thing.

Monday, you spend most of the day painting. You make a decent amount of progress by the time Andy returns. You reheat leftovers for the night and make sure to tidy the kitchen.

Tuesday, you do the laundry. It feels like a great accomplishment as you sit and fold everything before Andy gets back. You leave his clothes on his bed. He’s pleased by your efforts and you are too.

Wednesday, you paint some more and vacuum the first floor. Thursday, you clean the bathroom, and Friday sees you so exhausted that you only do a quick sweep before starting supper. Each day, you record in your journal. Not just your tasks but your feelings; the pendulum between helpless and sad and proud swings back and forth throughout the week.

Saturday comes and you stay in bed late. You’re tempted to stay there and sleep all day until a knock sounds from the other side. You knew he wouldn’t let you.

“Dove,” he calls through, “you have an appointment at noon.”

“What?” you sit up and rush across the room. You crack the door open and peek out, “I didn’t know…”

“I mentioned it, didn’t I?” He asks.

He may have. Sometimes you forget things. You fight a frown and dip your chin.

“I’ll get ready, I’m sorry.”

“No problem. I’ll have breakfast waiting,” he looks through at you, his eyes searching, trying to see through the gloom. “Why don’t you wear some of your new clothes?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you murmur, “thanks.”

You shut the door and watch the shadow underneath. He doesn’t go right away but when he does, you flip on the lights. You go to the closet and ponder the selection. It’s a bit overwhelming. The skirts and dresses.

You take out a pleated plaid skirt and a pumpkin coloured turtleneck. Andy didn’t particularly like it but he let you grab it anyway. You put it on with a pair of ribbed black tights. At least you’re covered up, even if it’s all a bit snug.

You go into the bathroom and get freshened up; brush your teeth, wash your face, put some moisturizer on. You’d started using more of the bottles piled into the basket. You feel bad just letting them go to waste.

You go downstairs, the smell of toast greeting you as you enter the kitchen. Andy looks over his shoulders and still the knife as he butters a slice. He turns to you fully and grins, “wow, you look… nice.”

“Oh, thanks, I…” you pull at the fabric across your stomach, “maybe I need a bigger size.”

“No, no, really,” he finishes scraping the butter across the hard bread, “you look really nice.” He grabs a plate and brings it to you as you stand by the island, “those tights look warm.”

“Um, yeah,” you look down, twisting one leg behind the other, “not really.”

He nods and clicks his tongue, “anyway, breakfast,” he hands you the plate, “enjoy.”

“Thanks,” you say as you take it, “er… are we going to see Dr. Kemp?”

“Uh huh,” he goes back to the counter and takes out another slice from the toaster, “you… you like him?”

“Sure,” you cradle the plate, slowly drifting to the door, “he’s nice.”

“Well, you know, you can always let me know if you don’t.”

“What?”

“Just… if he makes you uncomfortable or anything,” he shrugs, “you know I’m always here for you, dove.”

You don’t say anything else. You go into the dining room and set down your plate. You’re almost excited to go see Dr. Kemp. Strangely so. You can’t wait to tell him everything you did this week and talk about your new pens for your journal. It feels like you’ve actually made progress, for once in your life.

🕊️

You sit in the same chair as last time. Dr. Kemp stands by the window. His cool demeanour is a counterweight to your tense anxiety. You chew your fingertips as he turns and pace towards the wall. He stops and flicks on the electric kettle set on the polished console table.

“You like tea?” He asks.

“Um, yeah,” you clutch your hand into a fist and lay it on the armrest.

“Green? Black? I have Earl Gray,” he offers.

“Green is fine,” you wiggle your foot, the action drawing his gaze. His piercing blue eyes crawl up your legs and he considers you with calm calculation.

“New clothes?” He prompts.

“Y-yes,” you open your hand as you bend your arm, rubbing your neck.

“Hmm, cute. I liked that sweater you wore last time.”

“Oh, it was old,” you scratch along your hairline.

“It’s whatever you're comfortable in,” he says, “skirt’s nice but… I don’t know. Not quite you.”

You don’t comment. He’s not wrong. It’s too short and the pattern is cute but you find the fabric stiff. You bring your hand forward and tap your chin.

“So, did you have a good week?” He asks.

“I think… I did a lot. Exactly what you said,” you push your shoulders up, clasping your hands in your lap. He watches you intensely, not looking away as he listens. “I used the journal and uh, I made myself set goals. Erm, oh, I made dinner every night and I cleaned–”

“That’s great,” he turns and takes two mugs from the stacked tower of porcelain. He drops in the tea bags before he backs up. He crosses his arms, pacing around as he rubs his chin, “but what about things for you? Not cleaning or cooking. Those are chores. You should be doing things just for you.”

He leans on the side of the sofa. You squeeze your hands tight and teeter on the edge of the chair. Your chest sinks.

“Well, I… I guess I didn’t… I thought…”

“It’s okay, there’s no wrong answer here. But this week, I want you to focus on you. Do things for you. Treat yourself kindly,” he drops his arms and hooks his thumbs in the tops of his pockets, “you could do a face mask, have a bubble bath, or even just read a book you enjoy.”

“Oh, okay.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being nice to yourself. Self-love is important. If you don’t find worth in yourself, other people won’t either.”

“I’ll try,” you agree.

“That’s all you need to do,” he smiles as the kettle clicks off and he pivots on his heel. He pours the steaming water in the mugs and continues, “today, I think we should talk about your sister.”

“What?” You gulp.

“You mentioned her before. She seems to be a big part of your life,” he sets the kettle down, “I’d like to know more about her.”

You tuck your lip in and frown. You don’t know if you can talk about Amber. You’re still so confused about her. But what is all this for. To understand how you feel. And like he says, it’s all confidential.

“Amber… her name is Amber,” you eke out, “er…I don’t know where to start…”

“Take your time,” he coaxes, “we can take it slow.”

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

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attleboy · 4 months

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What software do you use for drawing/animation

i've answered that question for animation over here but i'll go into more detail on the drawing program part since it got sidelined into the tags...

the main program i use for drawing is adobe photoshop elements 10 BUT i would NOT recommend that to anyone... i just use it because it came with my first drawing tablet so i've been using since i was 8 andddd i don't like change. it's actually missing a lot of the neat stuff modern art programs have and i don't even think it's really aimed at artists so... yeah don't use that ^-^;

if you want alternatives, i would say the turnip pen on clip studio is probably the closest thing i've seen to the pen settings on there, so do consider that? i think it's a far more common software in this day and age, and it seems to have some pretty neat features. and if you want something free, krita can be used for regular art and not just animation so try that out!

i have also been using medibang paint for when i want to draw on the go... for a phone app it works pretty good! i did most of the coloring and shading for pomni in this art on my phone so ik it works nicely

sketching can be a little messier if you're working w a finger but ehhh if you don't mind that or you're going to clean it up after you'll be fine. here's an example of something i did fully in medibang paint mobile... a sneak peek ;)

#tl;dr: krita for animation... an old version of photoshop for art but id recommend csp or krita instead... medibang paint for phone art #btw that background is a placeholder but i did the actual one on my computer so i can't count it #ask response

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iraprince · 1 year

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Hi i wanted to know if, as a full-time artist, you have any stretch routines that help reduce pain in ur hands/wrists/back etc

yeah!! so, my stretch bible for years has actually been.... a splatoon-themed wrist stretch poster made by the artist captainhanyuu???? you can see it here! i know nothing about splatoon but i just find it really memorable. i do a more thorough version of this where i do the finger curls (bottom left exercise on the poster) in every possible position (palm up wrist flexed towards me, palm up wrist flexed away, palm down wrist flexed towards me, etc etc).

as for remembering to do this stuff regularly: trying to set alarms with my phone or the clock on my computer usually just doesn't work for me. i find the notifications irritating, and i'm already used to ignoring my phone, so i dismiss them without thinking. recently i was recommended something called workrave, which reminds you to take microbreaks to let go of your mouse/tablet pen and look away from the screen for a few seconds every 3min, in addition to longer breaks every 30min. i've only used it for a day, so idk if it'll stick, but somehow it's been way more effective for me.

on that subject, it's not just your wrists; PLEASE remember to stretch/rest your eyes!!! at my age, my vision should have plateaued, but it's degraded severely over the pandemic bc of increased screentime/being stuck in my (very small) flat, so i often spent all day never looking at anything further away than the nearest wall lol. it's scary and i don't want it happening to anyone else! i've been trying to at least stick to the 20/20/20 rule: every 20 minutes, spend 20 seconds looking at something 20 feet away.

back pain i haven't been great at mitigating lol. i know it is extremely annoying to hear "have you tried yoga? UwU" but like genuinely when i remember to stay on the yoga wagon it does make my body feel really good. you can look up "cat and cow yoga" to see some poses that are easy and good for quick relief — but please don't overdo it and watch a few guided youtube videos if you can, it's possible to hurt yourself doing yoga poses if you just throw yourself in and imitate pictures!

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luveline · 11 months

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jade my darling, could i please request the bf that is fred weasley looking after r with an ear infection? it could be muggle OR modern!au and not in the asf universe but up to u <333 i just need comfort from my freddie because i am in immense pain with a probable ear infection (spoiler: it sucks!)

sorry this took me those two days sweetheart i hope you're doing better now!! asf fred x fem!reader

"My mum said I should give you mudwort and lavender tincture," Fred says.

"Both sound awful," you mumble, laying on your back on the sofa, hands held out to take his as he approaches. He tried to make you chew mudwort this morning, you vehemently denied it.

Fred looks bitten by the cold, though he's barely been gone for ten minutes. Quicker to go see his mum and ask for a solution than pen a letter and wait for her to get it. He crouches down next to you and feels along your forehead with his cold fingers, a nice relief.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I'm okay, please don't make me take mudwort."

"No, I won't," he assures you. He's wearing a frown, the 'my heart is so broken for you' expression he actually lets you see these days.

"You used to do all your worrying secretly," you mumble.

"So did you," he says, kissing your head carefully.

You wince despite his gentleness, the ache in your ear having pervaded into your teeth and brow, even behind your eye. "Can I have more painkillers now?"

"Yes, I think so. It's not quite been four hours, but," —he sighs and kisses your hand before letting it rest on your chest— "I don't think it's alright for you to be in this much pain, lovely girl."

Even now his pet names make you giddy. Smiling through the pain, you pull the throw blanket he's laid over you upto your chin. You haven't cried for a few hours, but the pain is acute and building fast. Your eyes hurt, your nose hurts, Fred's too far away and his stupid brother hasn't come to see you, either.

"Will George be coming over?" you ask.

Fred pops ibuprofen and paracetamol into his hands. If you're refusing mudwort (as you have from the beginning of your sickness), then those will have to do. "Round two."

"Time is it now?"

"Two. Sit up, then, you can have these with some apple juice."

You blow out a suffering breath and sit up. Your ear feels better for it, honestly, so you elect to stay sitting, taking your tablets and shifting your legs to make room for your devoted boyfriend to sit beside you. Luckily you're not contagious. Fred's the one who made you sick, and he got sick from one of his many siblings who got sick from who knows, but so far you're the only person to suffer with an ear infection.

He's free to sit close to you and ogle you shamelessly. "You're still very, very pretty, even when you're ill. How do you manage that?"

You smile at him. It's a sad smile, too pained to really give him much minding. "Practice," you joke.

Fred appreciates your effort. He pulls your arm into his lap to touch gently, drawing shapes and stars and spirals into your hot skin.

"Mudwort's not as bad as you remember," he begins lightly, his nonchalance a dead giveaway that it is definitely as bad as you remember. "It's like long grain rice, you know?"

"It tastes like clay if clay was evil."

"Yeah," he says, his guilty smile making apples of his cheeks, his freckles dancing. "Okay. The lavender tincture will be ready in a bit, you don't have any qualms against lavender, do you?"

"Quite like lavender," you mumble, closing your eyes. You're too tired to stay alert but hurting too much to sleep.

"I quite like you, ghost," he murmurs. Ghost a silly nickname and not silly at all, a lasting moniker that the twins defer to whenever they feel like being especially affectionate. You used to be very quiet before you met them, like a ghost.

You frown deeply as a wave of throbbing pain worsens. Lost in it, you're unsure how much time passes, but George arrives at the same time as the tinctures ready, sitting gingerly beside you.

"This is very unfortunate," he says. He pokes your arm. "Fred does realise that if he fails to look after you, we'll only have Lee Jordan left?"

"You love Lee Jordan," you mumble.

"Ah, but I love you more." You squint at him. He looks a lot like Fred, but he doesn't look at you as Fred does. When Fred looks at you, it's with a lovelorn, inescapable fondness, like he wants to wrap you up in his arms for days at a time and just hold you. George grimaces at your dishevelled appearance. "Well, I loved you. I'll give a heartfelt eulogy."

"We aren't best friends anymore," you complain, pushing at his hand ineffectually.

Fred sits down. You'd barely recognised his departure. "I think you should mercy kill me," you say, scrunching your eyes closed. You're joking but tears well unbidden along your lash line, trying hard to push out. You scrunch your eyes harder.

"You'll be okay," Fred promises, tincture in hand. "I promise. You'll have a couple of drops of this, okay?"

"Wait, I have to eat it?" you ask, suddenly much more reluctant.

"Yeah. I'll take some too, if you like. We'll all have lavender mouths."

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, knowing Fred will dropper the tincture into your mouth. It's oily and tastes cloying. George presses a cup into your hands, and you drink quickly to get rid of the bad taste.

You nearly gag, swallowing roughly against the oily feeling coating your teeth.

"Bet you wish you'd taken the mudwort now."

"Shut up, George."

George doesn't shut up. He doesn't yell, but he talks to you for a while, staving off tears with his presence alone. He gives your hand a good squeeze as he says goodbye, promising to bring you a proper jar of sweets if you make it through the infection.

"I notice you haven't offered me anything," you tell Fred as he sits down. Tears bump down your cheeks from the pain. You're trying to ignore them. "I want things, you know."

"That's music to my ears," he says, pulling your head toward his chest gently, giving you the chance to stop him if it hurts. "I love when you want things. I'll get you literally whatever it is you want just as soon as you can fight your poorly ear off."

Fred gives you a tiny kiss at your crown. You sniffle.

"What can I do?" he asks.

"This is really perfect," you say, wiping your tears away before they can tickle. "I have everything I need until it's over. You and paracetamol."

He knows how much you mean it. Nearly every horrible thing you've lived through has been while you were holding his hand. Fred looks a little like he could cry himself as he smiles at you, stroking your damp cheek with the back of his hand. He softens his touch as your eyes flutter closed, his voice like a hum as he says, "Sorry, lovely. I didn't mean to make you so unwell."

"I could've slept on the sofa," you say with a shrug.

"But you insisted on taking care of me, and now you're not well," he says, kissing your crown a second time. "I'm sorry. Please try not to cry, okay, it's only going to hurt more."

"You need to distract me, then," you say, pursing your lips for a kiss.

He leans down to give you the kiss you're craving. "Love you," he says, all smushed.

"I love you, Freddie," you say, dropping back down into your cushion nest. "Don't feel guilty, okay? Everyone gets sick."

"I just don't like you getting ill. You've had a rough enough go."

You breathe in through your nose, pulling his upper arm toward you so he can't run away. He wouldn't, but still.

"I can manage. Have a really nice boy looking after me."

Fred makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan and settles down next to you for the long haul. "You're easy to look after. Try and have a rest, yeah? Let's kip."

#a special friend universe #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley

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starrysharks · 2 months

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ZENO STARRYSHARKS BIG FAQ. YAY

this is gonna go over all the questions people ask me about my art, OCs, etc etc ^^ starting with -

ART QUESTIONS:

Q: WHAT DO YOU USE TO DRAW?

A: ibispaint x on shitty samsung. no stylus just my fingers. very occasionally (and not in several months now) i will use MS paint with a wacom tablet and pen!

Q: WHAT BRUSHES DO YOU USE?

A: main lineart pens are love pen and dip pen (hard) on a 60-80% opacity. when i do my pencil style i use hard mapping pen (bleed).

Q: HOW DO YOU DO THAT SCREENTONE THING?

A: this PNG.

you're gonna place the png over where you want to add a halftone, and then lasso that area. then, click "invert selection area", and erase over the halftone layer. it should only be left on the area you wanted it to be on. you can change the color with alpha lock.

Q: HOW DO YOU COLOR SO WELL?

Q: HOW DO YOU DRAW DIFFERENT BODY TYPES?

A: it's kinda complicated because i myself believe that i have poor body diversity when it comes to my original characters, but i'll try to explain myself. by a general rule, contrast is most important. top-heavy, bottom-heavy, larger lower limbs, smaller lower limbs, etc etc etc it's all in the contrast baybe. let's use nova (a skinny character), pins (a top-heavy character), and novocaine (a fat character) as examples. please ask me directly if you want any advice on other body types.

firstly, nova. she is very thin with a more scrawny build rather than athletic. to draw her, there are three parts (excluding arms) -

head, body and legs.

these are parts that almost every character has and the most important thing about them is their size. different characters will have different sized heads and bodies and legs as we'll see later, based on age, body type, etc... nova is only a teen, so she'll have a big head with big eyes to up the childish moe-factor of her design! other than that, she's pretty proportionate by anime standards with a regular sized body and long legs.

however for a character like pins a lot changes. pins is extremely top heavy, and larger than nova. he has a muscular build that's heavily unrealistic - while there's probably someone out there with a similar build to nova absolutely nobody can achieve the elusive pins build. because his body is so exaggerated, it must be the forefront, and he has small legs and a small head to compensate.

because i have few muscles in my oc roster, i tend to exaggerate the buffest characters. i would give another example but his existence is spoilers for the project he belongs to. ;;

when it comes to fat characters, i have little to say for dudes because i don't draw them often (sorry fat guy enthusiasts 💔). but novocaine is an example of how i go about drawing fat girls. namely it all comes back to contrast - rather than drawing her ankles and lower arms larger, i draw them smaller to emphasise the size of her thighs, hips and upper arms as when it comes to irl fat people, those parts are usually larger. i also added more examples from my dangan art.

Q: WHAT INSPIRES YOU?

otherwise the proportions are similar to the skinny teen model, just with shorter legs.