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Reflections - Chapter 8: Locks and White Walls
Bucky Barnes v fem!Reader
WC: 7.5k
Chapter Summary: Sam and Bucky have a conversation. Firebug settles in.
Content Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, allusions to torture.
a/n: HI SORRY my life is insane but I hope this is okay and worth the wait!!!
***
It’s been a long time since Bucky had forced himself to remain this still and quiet.
Yes, that even counts the few Avengers missions he’d taken part in.
The quinjet is a smooth flight no matter what. Turbulence, storms, even during battle, it kept pretty steady for the most part. Any sort of movement feels like gliding. It’s consistent that way.
Usually, smoothness is something Bucky and the jet have in common. Even before…all of that…he’d been nothing but smooth. Suave, even. Even when his brain was at war with itself, his body maintained surety and control.
The only difference now is her.
She’d fallen asleep seconds after Banner gave her the injection. Bucky had seen her body tense, even more than it already was, when she saw the needle. His own muscles mimicked hers, unable to keep his visceral reaction to drugs and needles at bay.
Even still, that smoothness managed to stay in the pilot’s seat. He let his instincts take control, murmuring soft assurances to her as she let Banner stick her with a needle. Maybe he should’ve given her some space, but after those first few words seemed to calm her, he couldn’t stop.
Firebug had been fast asleep now for about an hour and a half. The quinjet cuts down flight time, so even with the long distance between New York and Colorado, they would be there in the next hour or two. Her head tilts toward him, his heightened senses hearing the soft snuffling noises she makes as she sleeps.
The circles under her eyes, the way her body droops when she’s standing…Bucky knows lack of sleep. He knows trauma. It’s why he won’t let himself move now, terrified he’ll disturb what’s probably the first good sleep she’s had in a minute.
The only movement he allows himself is slightly moving his head so he can look down at her. He checks her breathing, slightly nervous about her reaction to the drug, but mostly he’s drawn to her face.
She looks younger this way. Her features get softer in sleep, as opposed to the hard lines he’s only ever seen in the day he’s known her. With a pang, he realizes this might’ve been how she’d look all the time if she’d never met Hydra. If she’d had a chance at a normal life.
As his eyes trace her face, his body finally relaxes into the seat. Bucky might be smooth in a lot of ways, but he’s made up of sharp edges. Rigid to a fault. He’s still not sure how she does this to him, but after years of feeling unable to relax, he wants more. Needs more.
Bucky’s limbs tense right up again as he glances up and sees Steve in the cockpit. Natasha is the one actually piloting, but Steve hovers behind her like a sentinel. He’s got his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stares out the window.
His best friend hasn’t relaxed since they began this mission, and Bucky has the unwelcome urge to put himself between him and the slumbering girl next to him.
“Ignore him,” a deep voice mutters next to him.
Bucky jumps as he turns to see Sam had silently taken the seat next to him on his other side, pulling a laugh from the man.
“I’ve never been able to sneak up on you, not once,” he wheezes quietly, “and all I needed was some poor traumatized girl from the mountains?”
He settles for rolling his eyes, making sure Sam sees it. If it weren’t for Firebug, he’d be giving his friend a sharp dig to the gut with his elbow. The metal one.
“Shut up, she’s sleeping,” Bucky mutters darkly, eyes glancing down to make sure of it. Even with Sam’s chuckling laugh, her eyes stay closed.
“Please, she’s not waking up until we get there. You know how good Banner’s drugs are.”
“Still, don’t be such an ass.”
Sam laughs again in that stupid, knowing way of his.
“You just don’t like that I pulled one over on you--”
“No you did not,” he interjects, “you’re just taking advantage—”
“Of course I’m taking advantage. It’s called working smarter not harder—”
They’re interrupted by a little sound from Bucky’s other side. A soft rustle of fabric. They both look over to her quickly, falling completely silent.
They both let out an exhale of relief when they realize she’s just slumped farther over in her seat. Her eyes are still glued shut.
They settle in silence, the bickering forgotten as a sort of comfort stretching over the two friends as the jet flies on. Bucky lets Sam go on believing he’s won this round, and fuck, maybe he has. He’ll get him when he’s least expecting it.
“I’m happy the sedative worked,” Sam murmurs, breaking the silence.
Bucky turns slightly to face him, and sees him training his warm smile on her sleeping figure.
“Me too,” he responds, “I wasn’t sure if it would or not. Too many uncertainties.”
Sam hums in agreement, and the quiet settles in again. Bucky leans back in his seat again, trying to ignore the prickling feeling he gets whenever Steve’s eyes dart in their direction. He can feel Sam looking at him too every now and again, something clearly on his mind.
So, Bucky decides to confront the one friend he feels comfortable confronting at the moment.
“Out with it.”
“Huh?”
“I know you’re trying to think of how to say whatever it is you’re thinking about, so just say it.”
Sam sighs, knowing he’s been caught. He takes another minute before he speaks, but Bucky knows he’s not avoiding him. He’s not like that.
“Did you know her? From…from before?”
Bucky’s brow furrows in confusion.
“What?”
“Hey, I think it’s a fair question.”
It is. It absolutely is a fair question. Bucky felt the tug of familiarity himself when he looked into her eyes for the first time. But there’s no way. He was alone during his entire time as the Winter Soldier. Hydra saw to that.
“No, I didn’t know her. Today was my first time meeting her.”
“Hm,” Sam hums to himself.
“What’s the sound for?”
“What sound?”
“The ‘hm’.”
“What ‘hm’?”
“You made a ‘hm’.”
“I did not.”
“Yes you did.”
“I don’t ‘hm’ I have never made that sound in my life.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake—”
Their quiet argument is halted again. Only this time, Bucky falls silent in the middle of his frustrated outburst. He’s never one to give up on bickering, so Sam follows suit soon after.
It wasn’t a sound that interrupted them this time. It’s because a soft, warm weight had settled against Bucky’s shoulder.
He looks down slowly, full of shock and awe and he sees Firebug sleeping peacefully against his shoulder. Her body had finally slumped over to the point where it caved in on itself in his direction, leaning until she rested her weight against him. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat.
He’s touching her. She’s touching him.
He can’t breathe.
“This is why I asked if you knew her,” Sam whispers.
Bucky turns to look at him, trying to keep as still as possible for her, and finds his friend wearing the slightly sad version of a shit easting grin. He didn’t even know that was possible until now.
“What the fuck does that even mean? Being cryptic looks weird on you.”
“C’mon, don’t act like you don’t understand what I’m saying,” Sam huffs, shaking his head. That only served to frustrate Bucky even more.
“I don’t get it, and you’re really starting to piss me off,” Bucky growls. The only reason he hasn’t smacked Sam upside the head yet is because of his sheer luck in having Firebug sleep on his shoulder.
Sam must’ve heard the edge in his voice, because he looks at him and says, “I’ve never seen you like this before. Not over anything, or anyone.”
The confused wrinkle between Bucky’s eyes only gets deeper.
But Sam just keeps looking at him, full of calm insightfulness that makes Bucky want to toss him out the window. Let the bastard hitchhike his way back to the Compound.
“Sam, I have no clue—”
“Look man, I don’t really know how to explain it either,” Sam acquiesces, raising both of his hands, “but she brings out a side of you I’ve never seen. She’s clearly important to you.”
Bucky’s taken aback, mostly because Sam’s right. She is important to him. He knew that from the moment Steve and the others told them her story yesterday. That feeling became more pronounced when he saw her face in person for the first time, fire wreathing her trembling hands.
He wishes he could explain it away by saying it’s because of how similar their stories are, and hell, maybe that’s really all there is to it.
But as Bucky looks down at her again, her warmth seeping into his bones, he knows it’s more complicated than that. He just doesn’t know why, or even how to start finding out.
“It’s not a bad thing, you know.”
“I’m not sure Steve would agree with you,” Bucky murmurs in response, glancing up at the stiff figure of his friend up front.
“Leave him to me,” Sam whispers, “he just might need some time and a little extra help to get his head out of his ass.”
“Oh yeah? You specialize in that sort of thing?”
“Absolutely. Rectum surgery is my passion.”
Bucky can’t maintain his composure, letting out a sound somewhere between a honk and a snort. Still very aware of the soft, warm weight resting against him, he uses every ounce of self-control he has to clamp down on his laughter. Sam’s utter inability to chill the fuck out leaves his friend letting out tea kettle wheezes, which of course breaks down Bucky’s composure until he’s cackling as quietly and stilly as humanly possible.
It's a testament to the power of Banner’s sedative that she doesn’t even stir.
***
“Shouldn’t she be awake by now?”
“Give her a minute. We got to New York earlier than expected – the sedative is only just now wearing off.”
Clawing your way back to consciousness is a fight. The drug and it’s aftereffects add weight to your limbs. It would be easier to just surrender and let yourself fall back to sleep.
The urge vanishes just as quickly as it appears. You’ve become aware of the muffled sound of voices muttering around you. The slight chill from the air nips your exposed left arm, but the right one feels weirdly…warm?
You’re taken aback by the observation. Why on fucking earth would one side of your body be cold and one warm? Then you realize that your face is warm too – along with being slightly smushed. You try to peel open your eyelids, get an idea of what the situation is, but they still felt beyond heavy.
The feeling of helplessness is suffocating. You feel like you’re underwater, fighting to register every sound of muttered conversation happening right beside you.
Where even are you? How did you get here?
With your rising anxiety, the chill in the air lessens. Your skin heats up as you try to make yourself move. Speak. Blink. Anything.
“Well we can’t carry in an unconscious girl, there’s no telling who’s hanging out with a camera.”
“Stark, we can’t be worried about your reputation right now.”
“Actually I’m worried about all of our reputations you insufferable kale smoothie—”
“Guys, I think we need to get her—”
Your body suddenly starts responding to the shouting in your brain and you surge upward. Your eyes shoot open as you go, breath coming in great heaves and heart hammering as you take in the scene around you.
The small group standing watch around you had moved when you did, taking two big steps back and taking up defensive positions.
Unable to stand up due to the extreme shakiness in your legs, all you can do is look around you and try to get yourself oriented. Your eyes land on the one and only Tony Stark, and it all comes flooding back.
Hydra.
Debbie.
Your mountains.
The Avengers.
There’s more of them here now besides just Tony. Bruce Banner hovers near the back of the group, fingers twitching as he watches you apprehensively. Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff are a little closer. They both still look nervous but they’re at least trying to maintain some semblance of calm.
Then you remember the warmth to your right. The steady heat seeping into your body. You quickly look over to find the source, only to find Bucky. He’s the only one completely relaxed. Nonchalant, even, as he looks down at you with sweet concern in his eyes.
You get a little lost in them. Kind of hard not to. That shade of blue should frankly be illegal.
…then you smell the burning.
You look down at your lap only to realize that you’ve started singing little patches into your jeans where your hands have been resting.
“Shit,” you mutter, picking up your hands and curling them into fists immediately. Luckily, being more aware of your surroundings helps you to douse that fire pretty quickly. You can’t fix your pants with the same speed however, which sucks tremendously considering you don’t have that many options to begin with.
You must’ve made a face, because Stark chimes in with, “Don’t worry about it kid, I hear distressed is more of a trend than a mindset these days.”
Despite his lightheartedness, you still feel a little disoriented and uncomfortable. You aren’t used to sleeping that deeply. Your body feels weird and heavy, like it doesn’t quite belong to you. It brings you back to the all too familiar setting of that god forsaken lab, where that feeling was all you knew.
“Are we there?” You ask, tone gravelly with sleep.
“Yep,” Sam answers, an easy smile curling his mouth.
You like Sam. He’s easy to like. He has this easy going nature that could make anyone feel at home, even someone as prickly and mistrusting as you.
Then you remember how everyone is still watching you. You look around the small group, and suddenly feel very small with all the eyes trained on you. The last two days would be a lot for anyone, but especially when you’re so used to keeping yourself out of sight, it’s difficult being looked at by so many.
You look away and shake your head, trying to dispel the heaviness from the sedative. There’s not much you hate more than feeling powerless. Except maybe being aware that you’re powerless. Luckily, it’s wearing off relatively quickly. With each passing second the feeling gets less pronounced.
You look over to Dr. Banner, slightly in amazement at this drug he’s managed to create, and somehow he already knows what you’re thinking.
Shrugging bashfully, he says, “Drug technology has come a long way. That, and I’m guessing your metabolism is burning through it pretty quickly.”
“Ha, good one,” Stark quips, cracking a half smile.
Banner blanches a little, realizing his accidental pun. He looks at you, face full of embarrassment and apology.
“I just meant…not that you’re literally burning…I mean, we all wake up pretty quickly…”
He keeps trailing off from one thought into the next, clearly flustered. But you find you don’t really mind it. It’s just a figure of speech.
Besides…it was a good one.
“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, “Stark’s right. It was funny.”
Banner runs a hand through his somehow always disheveled hair. Even though you try to relax, with this handful of people watching you, you feel like you’re under a microscope.
Perhaps sensing your discomfort, most of the group steps back and starts doing other things. Nat goes back up to the cockpit to finish up whatever needed to be done to power down the jet completely. Banner cleans up his medical supplies in his corner. Stark and Sam pull out their phones and step away.
But Bucky stays right next to you. You don’t mind that.
You still focus on your lap instead of him. Your awareness of his presence still feels too intense.
“Sleep well?” He asks.
“Yeah,” you answer, eyes still locked on your hands in your lap, “I didn’t dream for once, so that was cool.”
You clamp your mouth shut. It’s not like he doesn’t know about your nightmares, you think you told them something about them yesterday. But despite how powerful your feelings are about him being so close, you feel a certain…ease with him. Ease that might allow you to say more than you want just yet.
“Guess I should get my bag,” you murmur, going to stand up quickly, but a wave of dizziness slows you down. You sway on your feet a little, the last remainders of the sedative still fighting with you.
A soft touch on your back steadies you, along with a quiet whisper of, “Easy there.”
Every particle of awareness goes to that touch on your back. It’s stabilizing, but even so, your heart starts racing.
Bucky doesn’t linger, but you feel the imprint of his hand long after he’s taken it away. You don’t even want to think about what that preoccupation means for you.
You take your time grabbing your bag, focusing on making sure each and every pocket is zipped as a distraction.
Yep, still good. Not much to do here. Shit.
You feel his eyes on you as he waits, so you decide enough is enough and get ready to go. As you swing your bag over your shoulder, you turn around and see that everyone is already on their way down the ramp and off the ship.
“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, “should we try to catch up?”
“Nah, we don’t need to. Stark and the others will meet us inside.”
Inside.
In the Compound.
The Avengers Compound.
Where you’ll be living for the foreseeable period.
Yeah, none of that is intimidating or anything.
Sensing your hesitation, Bucky murmurs, “It’ll be okay. We just want to make sure you get settled, then we’ll give you some space.”
You nod a little absentmindedly. Space could be nice. Could even help with this out-of-body feeling you’re having.
With Bucky right behind you, you gingerly make your way down the ramp and into the bright, New York sunshine.
You squint as the first rays hit your eyes. After the darkness from the interior of the jet and all your snoozing, you’re decidedly not ready for it. Then the air hits you. It’s hot, not unlike how Colorado can get this time of year, but the humidity is new. It settles over your skin like a clock and you’re not sure you like it.
At the bottom of the ramp, you stop for a minute and look around. The Compound looms just to your left. It’s an imposing structure, all modern architecture that exudes power. It’s incredibly fitting for the people that call this place home.
You’re relieved when you notice the sheer number of windows placed along the face of the building. Plenty of natural light should help the tightness in your chest.
Once you’ve taken in the Compound itself, you look at the landscape surrounding it. There are tress everywhere. If you really focus, searching past the loud humming of the insects all around, you can hear the wind rustling their leaves. To your right glitters the wide expanse of a river. The Hudson, you’re assuming. You can just barely see the lazy current from where you stand with Bucky.
He gives you all the time in the world to take everything in. You glance at him. He’s watching you with a soft, curious expression you can’t quite name.
“Ready to head in?”
You nod, letting him take the lead as you both start to meander toward the building. The white color of its walls is a little off putting. Bad memories dance in the very corners of your mind, threatening to come to the surface if you let down your guard just enough. So instead you continue to try and notice new things. There’s another building off in the distance. It’s flat and low to the ground, but still enormous in size. Maybe it hold other jets like the one you arrived on. As you look up at the windows, you can see people walking back and forth in the hallways, going about their busy days as normal. It’s kind of strange to imagine anything about today feeling normal for anyone. You’re glad they have that.
Just below the windows is a gigantic, Olympic size swimming pool. You and Bucky have ended up right next to it as you make your way inside. The bright blue water is vastly different than the dark, natural waters of the river, but it looks inviting nonetheless in the humid heat. You kind of wish you could jump in—
C’mon, honey! Jump in!
You stop in your tracks. Your skin grows cold despite the temperature of the air around you.
I’ll catch you!
“You okay?” Bucky asks. His voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away.
You did it, you’re so brave!
Your breath catches in your throat. Emotion sits heavy behind your eyes, threatening to spill over at any minute. The voice in your head is eerily familiar. You think you could identify it if you let yourself. Maybe you already know, and that’s why it hurts so much. It’s not often a kind memory like that comes through. Even so…it somehow hurts more than the memories from the Prison. Stabs a different part of you, unexpecting and vulnerable.
“You don’t have to go swimming if you don’t want to,” Bucky says awkwardly next to you, pulling you from your reverie.
Looking up at him in confusion, you remember he has no idea what happened in your head just now. He only sees you looking mournfully at a swimming pool, which, let’s be honest, could look a little strange without the context behind it.
You quickly brush at the dampness in your eyes before glancing over to him.
“No, I just…”
You started to speak. Started to explain. But looking into his eyes is like a trap for you. Your breath catches again for an entirely different, foreign reason. Your voice falls away like summer rain. Something crackles in the air between you. And maybe you’re dead wrong, but Bucky looks just as affected by whatever’s happening as you are.
The two of you settle into this potent trance. Your goal of getting inside is long forgotten.
His eyes stir something in you. Something long forgotten. Those eyes would be hard to forget, but somehow…maybe you did.
Looking down, you see his fingers reaching out toward yours. The movement is tentative, almost as if he’s not sure he should. So, as if on their own accord, you feel your fingers shift as they move ever so slightly to reach for him as well. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion.
It makes it all the more shocking when a crackle of electricity erupts from your fingertips to connect with his.
“What the fuck—”
“Oh my god—”
You both exclaim in bemusement at the same time. The two of you jump backward from each other, the surprise of it all ending the brief spell you had been under.
In all honesty, you forget that hint of a connection with Bucky as you stare at now unfamiliar fingers. You’re not quite sure what just happened.
Looking up, you see Bucky eyeing you warily. He angles his left arm, the metal one you presume, slightly away from you. It doesn’t surprise or even offend you; something like that must be sensitive to electricity.
“What was that?” He asks.
You can tell he’s trying to stay calm and keep his voice steady, but he’s rattled. It’s not hard to see that. You don’t blame him; he and the others prepared for flame, not fucking lightning.
“I don’t know,” you breathe, voice trembling.
“That’s never happened before?”
“Never.”
Looking at his expression, one eyebrow raised in what you read as skepticism, a wave of defensiveness overtakes you.
“Oh come on, what reason would I have for lying?”
“Uh, what the hell? I don’t think you’re lying—"
“Well you clearly don’t think I’m telling the truth.”
“I didn’t say anything—"
“Your face said it all, and I fucking swear that it’s never happened before—”
“I didn’t say anything—"
“Everything okay out here?”
You both turn and see Sam peeking his head out of the glass doors at the entrance. He’s taking in your stance, the way you’ve both kind of squared up, and raises his brows. You try to relax your stance, but the tension lingers in your arms and the hard set of your mouth. Your fingers curl into tight fists at your sides.
“We’re good, man,” Bucky answers calmly, “she just…”
He goes to answer, but nothing comes out.
But you’re a good liar. You’ve stayed alive through lying.
“Bucky here just tried to grab my bag for me and it startled me, that’s all,” you jump in, covering his awkward pause, “I don’t do sudden movements.”
Sam only raises his brows higher but he doesn’t say anything. He just jerks his head behind him, telling you both to hurry it up before walking in himself.
As you and Bucky walk quickly inside, you mutter a tight, “I’m sorry, it just…it scared me.”
“S’okay,” Bucky reassures. Is he still a little tense, or is that your imagination? You’re not too sure.
“Please don’t say anything to them yet,” you say in a rush, right before he opens the door.
He pauses, looking back at your with trepidation in his gaze.
“They probably should know—”
“I know. And I’ll say something, I swear. Just give me the chance to, okay?”
Bucky nods after a second. He still seems unsure, but you think he’ll stick to his word. As long as you don’t wait for too long. Trying to avoid his eyes, you go through the door he holds open for you.
You step into a huge, airy room. Everything is modern and sleek. Looking up, you see walkways on different levels. In the backdrop are some more enormous windows. They allow bright afternoon sunshine to flood in, nearly erasing the feeling of being indoors.
And it doesn’t smell like a lab. You’re thankful for that.
“Did you take the scenic route or something, kid?”
Stark’s voice cuts through your observations. You look forward, finding him leaning casually against what you assume to be the front desk. An elegant woman stands straight next to him, her reddish blonde hair pulled back into a smooth ponytail. As you meet her eyes, you notice how warm and kind her smile is. It makes you feel safer.
“Hello,” she says, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”
Then she comes at you quickly. Her hand is outstretched, her heels clicking loudly against the floor. You don’t mean to, but you flinch slightly. Stopping in your tracks, you step back one pace from her sudden movements.
She stops. Her smile falters slightly as she takes in your reaction. You flush in shame at yourself.
“I’m sorry,” she begins, “I didn’t—"
Stark jumps in, coming up to stand beside her and says, “Kid, this is my better half, Pepper Potts. She runs the show around here. Definition of a girlboss.”
“Girlboss?” Pepper asks with a sigh, looking over to Tony as he settles next to her. You let out a sigh of relief. Tony covered up your little moment.
“I don’t know,” he answers with a shrug, “I heard Parker say it once and it sounded good.”
“Please don’t call me that again,” she shoots back, but there’s a soft smile on her face.
She really loves him you think to yourself.
“Noted,” he says, then looks to you, “Okay, ready to head to your apartment?”
“My apartment?” You ask, slight confusion in your voice. You figured you’d be in a small room with a small bed, that kind of situation. But an entire apartment?
“After all of this, you’re blown away by the idea of an apartment? Really?”
“I don’t know,” you mutter defensively, “the word ‘compound’ kind of has a certain connotation I guess.”
“I knew we should’ve workshopped that more.”
He runs a hand through his brown hair, looking to the young man sitting behind the desk, who you’ve just now noticed.
“Boyd, write down that we need to workshop that,” Stark quips.
“I work for Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark,” he drawls with annoyance, “you write it down.”
You blink in surprise. It’s hard to believe that anyone outside of the Avengers would speak to Tony Stark like that. You look to Tony, expecting a harsh rebuke, but he only snorts with laughter.
“Shit, I always hope I’ll catch you off guard.”
“Not today, Mr. Stark.”
Tony turns back to you, saying, “Kid, this is Nathan Boyd. He’s Pep’s assistant, so by extension, he also runs the show.”
Nathan pushes up his round glasses and thankfully only waves at you, clearly understanding that you’re so not down to do the handshake thing right now.
“Let me know if you need anything,” he says with a half-smile.
“Oh, so you’ll offer help to a complete stranger but not me?” Tony asks with faux offense.
“Yep.”
“Sounds about right. Anyways kid, ready to rock and roll?”
You make yourself nod, then look to Bucky. You know you just snapped at him outside, but…you really want him to come. Tony is cool and everything, and Pepper seems nice enough, but you’re not sure about going somewhere with them yet. Everything is still too new.
“I’ll walk with you guys,” Bucky says as he meets your eyes, and then turns to Tony and Pepper, “It’s on my way to my own place anyway.”
Tony shrugs, then turns with Pepper and begins to walk down the large hallway to your right. You look up at Bucky and offer a small smile in thanks. He answers with one of his own. Then you make yourself put one foot in front of the other and follow the others.
“Stairs or elevator, kid?” Tony asks as you go.
“Stairs, please.”
Absolutely no closed spaces, thank you very much.
“Cool, gotta get that cardio in, am I right?”
He leads you all past a pair of sleek, shiny elevator doors to the stairwell door just to the right of it, and as you step in, you know you made the right choice. The corridor is narrow, but more windows open it up to the outside.
The four of you climb up to the fourth floor, Bucky’s steady presence right behind you as you try to keep up with the fast pace set by Stark and Pepper. Really just Pepper. She walks ridiculously fast for someone in stilettos.
Finally exiting the stairwell, you arrive in a quiet hallway with doors running down each side of the hall. It’s much quieter up here than it was down in the lobby, almost like the plush carpet is absorbing all the sound.
Pepper leads you down the long stretch of hallway until you arrive outside a door embossed with a golden 409. She presses her thumb to the reader on the outside, followed by a small click as the door unlocks.
“Welcome home,” she says with a smile as she looks back at you. She opens the door, stepping back to allow you to be the first one inside.
You step inside.
Your breath leaves you in the next instant.
White walls.
Blank white walls everywhere.
You try to take in the rest of the furniture to distract yourself. There’s a plush blue couch and set of chairs to your left, taking up that side of the main room. You notice a massive television taking up some of the wall space.
The white wall space.
Ignoring the violent swoop of your stomach, you turn toward the kitchen. It makes an “L” shape in the righthand corner of the room, made up of brand new silver appliances and white countertops.
More fucking white.
Swallowing hard, you skip over that and look to the far side of the room. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows take up the entire wall, no white to be found. You heave out a quiet sigh of relief and step toward it. This apartment as a view of the Hudson, and you admire the sparkle of sunlight off the dark water.
“We weren’t sure what you’d like as far as food and toiletries go,” Pepper explains as she flips on the kitchen lights, “so we got some frozen meals, stuff for sandwiches, things like that along with some popular brands for the toiletries.”
It was a good thing someone thought of those things. You were so used to dropping everything and going that you didn’t bring a whole lot, only your toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Anything you need you can order online. We have accounts with most of the popular retailers. I’ll ask Nathan to send you the information,” she finishes as she finally looks over to you.
You paste a smile on your face. It feels more like a grimace, but nothing on her own expression indicates that she can tell anything’s wrong.
“Thank you,” you say softly, and you find you truly mean it.
Nothing about this feels particularly normal. Everything that’s happened since they showed up yesterday has you feeling like a fish out of water. But you find you really mean it.
“I hope you like everything,” she replies, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
“I really do. This is definitely the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.”
She only smiles brighter. There’s no reason to tell her about how the white walls make you feel. What can she do? She didn’t know, and it’s not like she can do much about it now.
“Okay, so the bedroom is through that door on the left,” Pepper explains as she points to the door you saw earlier, “
“Set your bag down kid,” Tony snarks, “you look like you’re ready to bolt.”
Great. Of course he had to say something.
Pepper heaves an exasperated sigh, which makes you nervous, but luckily she turns it on Tony.
“She just walked in, give her a minute.”
“I’m just making a joke; I can’t make a joke?”
“You’re not joking you’re nagging—”
“I’m nagging?”
You tune out their bickering. Your gaze flits again to the walls. Biting your lip nervously, you make yourself look longer than you want to just to see if you can handle it. You’re going to have to handle it; this is your new living space.
But after just a few seconds, you have to avert your eyes. It just brings too much up. Too many painful and terrifying memories poke at the edge of your mind, and now just isn’t the fucking time for that.
Then you find yourself looking at Bucky. He’s already watching you, concern and questions filling his eyes. You look away as quickly as you can, hopefully without it seeming too suspicious. He must think you’re always on the edge of a breakdown at this point.
“Whatever,” you hear Tony say flippantly, and you force your attention back to him and Pepper. Nothing good can come from lingering on the walls.
The man looks at you again and says, “Okay, let’s talk shop. This place is huge, so you’re gonna need a tour at some point. Want to do that today?”
“No,” you say quickly, then try to cover by adding, “I mean, it’s just…it’s just been a long day.”
Tony shrugs, replying, “No skin off my back. Try not to get lost. But if you do, FRIDAY is always available to help.”
“FRIDAY?”
“The AI assistant for the Avengers. Mostly for me, but I’m good at sharing. Go ahead and introduce yourself, FRIDAY.”
You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but certainly not—
“Hello,” the disembodied voice echoes from all around you, “I’m here to help in any way I can.”
Okay, so maybe the disembodied voice would make sense, considering what she is. Still freaks you out. Still made you jump.
You kind of don’t like that she’s both nowhere and everywhere. Are they going to have her watch you? Are they going to be monitoring you?
The idea of that doesn’t sit well with you at all.
You clamp down on that line of thinking. You’re getting overwhelmed, and imagining being watched 24/7 isn’t helping in the slightest. Anything more, any new piece of information, and you might explode.
And you mean that literally. You’re particularly combustible.
Looking over to Tony, you see him watching you with a curious expression. Is that…concern? You’ve noticed that with him it’s very hard to tell.
“Okay,” he starts saying as you watch each other, “any more questions before we get out of your hair?”
“N-no,” you manage to stammer out.
And it’s true. You truly can’t think of anything. The only thing in your head right now is a constant stream of whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—
“Groovy, then we’ll leave you to it. Make sure you ask FRIDAY any questions that come up. She’ll know the answer. On the off-chance she doesn’t, she’ll know to contact one of us.”
Tony turns to leave, and Pepper does too after she offers you a warm smile. You turn to look at Bucky, nerves starting to twist your stomach as the true reality of the situation sets in. He gives you a little half smile, then turns to leave as well.
I’ll just insert this IV now to get you started on the medication.
The panic really starts to set in as you realize all their backs are turned to you.
You’ll just stay in here for now. The doctor should be in shortly.
The sound of a lock clicks. Or is that just in your head?
The white walls fade to black, the darkness slowly creeping in along the corners of your vision--
“Wait”, you burst out.
Your voice echoes against those empty walls. All three of them turn around to face you in surprise. You’re a little surprised yourself.
The question bouncing around in your head sounds a little childish, and maybe it is. But you won’t be able to calm down until you get the reassurance you need.
“I can…I can leave, right?”
“What do you mean?” Pepper asks with a confused look, “You just got here. Don’t you want to at least give things a chance?”
“No, I-I mean – I just –”
You try to explain. The words just won’t come. You can’t seem to get past how stupid it sounds to the logical side of your brain. Your hands start to heat up with the fight or flight of it all, and you’re so damn scared you can’t think straight.
“She wants to make sure we’re not locking her in,” Bucky murmurs quietly.
You manage to make yourself look up. As you meet his eyes, the furious heat in your fingers lessens. Bucky was able to put this fear into words when it scared you too much to do even that.
“Oh,” Tony says. His tone is soft in a way you haven’t heard before from him
He runs a hand through his hair, something you’ve noticed is a habit of his, and sighs. You don’t think the sigh is directed at you. It’s heavier than that. Almost like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
“Pep, Barnes, can we have the room?”
“That okay with you?”
It’s Bucky who asks the question. You’re not sure, but somehow…you trust Tony. He puts his foot in his mouth, but you think he means well. And it means a lot that Bucky defers to you on this.
You turn to him and offer a small smile, muttering, “It’s okay.”
He nods, then turns to go with Pepper. Tony waits until the door clicks behind them. When it does, he sighs again. This time he runs both hands over his face.
This time, you wonder if he actually is frustrated with you.
“I really am sorry, I just—”
“Kid,” he cuts you off, “you never have to apologize. Not for things like this. Clear?”
You nod nervously. You’re relieved at the reassurance, but the exhaustion and anger in his voice still throws you off. Silence fills the room as you wait for him to continue.
“Lemme show you how the locks work. I always feel better when I know how something works.”
He turns quickly back toward the front door, clearly assuming that you’ll follow. You finally set your bag down and scuttle along behind him. He opens it to the now empty hallway and waves a hand for you to come stand out there with him.
“At the Compound, we use fingerprint readers,” he explains, “much less hassle than with actual keys, and it helps reduce the security risk. Right now your door is set to Pep’s fingerprint, since she’s the one who set your apartment up. I think Boyd’s fingerprint works on it too.”
You nod, trying to keep up. It’s all more high tech than you’re used to.
“FRIDAY? You there?”
“Right here, Mr. Stark,” the AI’s voice comes through the hallway, right next to the door.
“Let’s reset the fingerprint reader and add the kid’s fingerprints.”
“Done. Miss, if you would, please place your thumb facedown on the reader for 10 seconds.”
Swallowing your nerves, you do exactly as she says. A bright line scans your thumb up and down for a few seconds, then blinks green.
“All set,” Tony confirms, “now you’re the only one who has access to your place. Wanna test it out?”
You nod, still unsure about this whole thing, but trying to trust the process. You’re not so great with the whole “trust” thing.
Tony closes the door, and you hear a faint “click” and the door locks. You assume FRIDAY’s behind that.
With shaking hands, you press your thumb to the reader. It scans for a few seconds like before, then blinks green as the door unlocks. You test the handle, finding it unlocked.
“Okay, now go inside and try to get out.”
“What?” You ask, voice as tremulous as your fingers.
“Isn’t that what you’re most worried about? Being locked in?”
“Well yeah—”
“Then let me prove to you that that’s not what we’re doing here,” he says in a rush, then adds in a quieter tone, “I promise you’ll be able to leave. You’re not a prisoner here, I promise.”
Swallowing your fear, you go inside and close the door. You decide to wait a few seconds, but in that short span, the heat begins to creep back into your hands. Before you have any more time to doubt, you reach out and fling open the door.
It opens. Your wide eyes meet Tony’s. A rush of air leaves your lungs. Your relief is overwhelming, and tears start to gather in your eyes. You turn away from Tony before he can see.
You hear the door close behind you. It seems as though he’s left, but then you hear his footsteps.
“You alright, kid?”
“Y-yeah,” you choke out, “it’s j-just a lot.”
“I get that. Do you want me to stay or do you want some space?”
“I-I think I n-need some sp-space,” you stutter.
“Say no more,” Tony says, not an ounce of judgement in his voice. You hear him turn and walk back toward the door.
You hear the door open, but just before he leaves, he adds, “You’re safe here, but if anyone or anything makes you feel unsafe, you tell me. I’ll make sure it gets fixed or goes away.”
An entirely different rush of warmth rushes into your chest, lifting you up and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. It means so much that someone is on your side and cares about how you feel. Someone who knows everything.
Silence settles over the empty room. You hate how the white walls pierce your vision no matter which way you turn.
Hoping to escape them, you quickly walk forward and grab your bag. You walk toward the room off to the left that Tony indicated earlier, only to find…
More white.
The bedroom is all white. White walls. White pillows. White comforter.
The warmth that you had just felt evaporates, replaced by a chill that settles in your bones. It drags you down until you’re sitting on the floor.
Burying your face in your hands, you cry.
***
tag list: @obsidianvibranium @dreamwritesimagines @valhalla-kristin
JENNAAAAAAAAAA! You’re chapters are always worth the wait and this one was no exception! I am so invested and you just keep pulling me even further in with every part! 💜💜💜 I am so excited to see firebug and Tony’s relationship develop, and I am dying to know more about her past with Bucky!
I’m super proud of you, bestie! Ilysm 💜💜💜
VI!!!!!!! thank you SO much my friend ❤️ your love and support to not only this fic but also to me means the absolute world. i’m so excited for you to read more!!! (whenever i get my act together enough to post a chapter)
ILYYYYYYY
Reflections - Chapter 8: Locks and White Walls
Bucky Barnes v fem!Reader
WC: 7.5k
Chapter Summary: Sam and Bucky have a conversation. Firebug settles in.
Content Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, allusions to torture.
a/n: HI SORRY my life is insane but I hope this is okay and worth the wait!!!
***
It’s been a long time since Bucky had forced himself to remain this still and quiet.
Yes, that even counts the few Avengers missions he’d taken part in.
The quinjet is a smooth flight no matter what. Turbulence, storms, even during battle, it kept pretty steady for the most part. Any sort of movement feels like gliding. It’s consistent that way.
Usually, smoothness is something Bucky and the jet have in common. Even before…all of that…he’d been nothing but smooth. Suave, even. Even when his brain was at war with itself, his body maintained surety and control.
The only difference now is her.
She’d fallen asleep seconds after Banner gave her the injection. Bucky had seen her body tense, even more than it already was, when she saw the needle. His own muscles mimicked hers, unable to keep his visceral reaction to drugs and needles at bay.
Even still, that smoothness managed to stay in the pilot’s seat. He let his instincts take control, murmuring soft assurances to her as she let Banner stick her with a needle. Maybe he should’ve given her some space, but after those first few words seemed to calm her, he couldn’t stop.
Firebug had been fast asleep now for about an hour and a half. The quinjet cuts down flight time, so even with the long distance between New York and Colorado, they would be there in the next hour or two. Her head tilts toward him, his heightened senses hearing the soft snuffling noises she makes as she sleeps.
The circles under her eyes, the way her body droops when she’s standing…Bucky knows lack of sleep. He knows trauma. It’s why he won’t let himself move now, terrified he’ll disturb what’s probably the first good sleep she’s had in a minute.
The only movement he allows himself is slightly moving his head so he can look down at her. He checks her breathing, slightly nervous about her reaction to the drug, but mostly he’s drawn to her face.
She looks younger this way. Her features get softer in sleep, as opposed to the hard lines he’s only ever seen in the day he’s known her. With a pang, he realizes this might’ve been how she’d look all the time if she’d never met Hydra. If she’d had a chance at a normal life.
As his eyes trace her face, his body finally relaxes into the seat. Bucky might be smooth in a lot of ways, but he’s made up of sharp edges. Rigid to a fault. He’s still not sure how she does this to him, but after years of feeling unable to relax, he wants more. Needs more.
Bucky’s limbs tense right up again as he glances up and sees Steve in the cockpit. Natasha is the one actually piloting, but Steve hovers behind her like a sentinel. He’s got his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stares out the window.
His best friend hasn’t relaxed since they began this mission, and Bucky has the unwelcome urge to put himself between him and the slumbering girl next to him.
“Ignore him,” a deep voice mutters next to him.
Bucky jumps as he turns to see Sam had silently taken the seat next to him on his other side, pulling a laugh from the man.
“I’ve never been able to sneak up on you, not once,” he wheezes quietly, “and all I needed was some poor traumatized girl from the mountains?”
He settles for rolling his eyes, making sure Sam sees it. If it weren’t for Firebug, he’d be giving his friend a sharp dig to the gut with his elbow. The metal one.
“Shut up, she’s sleeping,” Bucky mutters darkly, eyes glancing down to make sure of it. Even with Sam’s chuckling laugh, her eyes stay closed.
“Please, she’s not waking up until we get there. You know how good Banner’s drugs are.”
“Still, don’t be such an ass.”
Sam laughs again in that stupid, knowing way of his.
“You just don’t like that I pulled one over on you--”
“No you did not,” he interjects, “you’re just taking advantage—”
“Of course I’m taking advantage. It’s called working smarter not harder—”
They’re interrupted by a little sound from Bucky’s other side. A soft rustle of fabric. They both look over to her quickly, falling completely silent.
They both let out an exhale of relief when they realize she’s just slumped farther over in her seat. Her eyes are still glued shut.
They settle in silence, the bickering forgotten as a sort of comfort stretching over the two friends as the jet flies on. Bucky lets Sam go on believing he’s won this round, and fuck, maybe he has. He’ll get him when he’s least expecting it.
“I’m happy the sedative worked,” Sam murmurs, breaking the silence.
Bucky turns slightly to face him, and sees him training his warm smile on her sleeping figure.
“Me too,” he responds, “I wasn’t sure if it would or not. Too many uncertainties.”
Sam hums in agreement, and the quiet settles in again. Bucky leans back in his seat again, trying to ignore the prickling feeling he gets whenever Steve’s eyes dart in their direction. He can feel Sam looking at him too every now and again, something clearly on his mind.
So, Bucky decides to confront the one friend he feels comfortable confronting at the moment.
“Out with it.”
“Huh?”
“I know you’re trying to think of how to say whatever it is you’re thinking about, so just say it.”
Sam sighs, knowing he’s been caught. He takes another minute before he speaks, but Bucky knows he’s not avoiding him. He’s not like that.
“Did you know her? From…from before?”
Bucky’s brow furrows in confusion.
“What?”
“Hey, I think it’s a fair question.”
It is. It absolutely is a fair question. Bucky felt the tug of familiarity himself when he looked into her eyes for the first time. But there’s no way. He was alone during his entire time as the Winter Soldier. Hydra saw to that.
“No, I didn’t know her. Today was my first time meeting her.”
“Hm,” Sam hums to himself.
“What’s the sound for?”
“What sound?”
“The ‘hm’.”
“What ‘hm’?”
“You made a ‘hm’.”
“I did not.”
“Yes you did.”
“I don’t ‘hm’ I have never made that sound in my life.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake—”
Their quiet argument is halted again. Only this time, Bucky falls silent in the middle of his frustrated outburst. He’s never one to give up on bickering, so Sam follows suit soon after.
It wasn’t a sound that interrupted them this time. It’s because a soft, warm weight had settled against Bucky’s shoulder.
He looks down slowly, full of shock and awe and he sees Firebug sleeping peacefully against his shoulder. Her body had finally slumped over to the point where it caved in on itself in his direction, leaning until she rested her weight against him. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat.
He’s touching her. She’s touching him.
He can’t breathe.
“This is why I asked if you knew her,” Sam whispers.
Bucky turns to look at him, trying to keep as still as possible for her, and finds his friend wearing the slightly sad version of a shit easting grin. He didn’t even know that was possible until now.
“What the fuck does that even mean? Being cryptic looks weird on you.”
“C’mon, don’t act like you don’t understand what I’m saying,” Sam huffs, shaking his head. That only served to frustrate Bucky even more.
“I don’t get it, and you’re really starting to piss me off,” Bucky growls. The only reason he hasn’t smacked Sam upside the head yet is because of his sheer luck in having Firebug sleep on his shoulder.
Sam must’ve heard the edge in his voice, because he looks at him and says, “I’ve never seen you like this before. Not over anything, or anyone.”
The confused wrinkle between Bucky’s eyes only gets deeper.
But Sam just keeps looking at him, full of calm insightfulness that makes Bucky want to toss him out the window. Let the bastard hitchhike his way back to the Compound.
“Sam, I have no clue—”
“Look man, I don’t really know how to explain it either,” Sam acquiesces, raising both of his hands, “but she brings out a side of you I’ve never seen. She’s clearly important to you.”
Bucky’s taken aback, mostly because Sam’s right. She is important to him. He knew that from the moment Steve and the others told them her story yesterday. That feeling became more pronounced when he saw her face in person for the first time, fire wreathing her trembling hands.
He wishes he could explain it away by saying it’s because of how similar their stories are, and hell, maybe that’s really all there is to it.
But as Bucky looks down at her again, her warmth seeping into his bones, he knows it’s more complicated than that. He just doesn’t know why, or even how to start finding out.
“It’s not a bad thing, you know.”
“I’m not sure Steve would agree with you,” Bucky murmurs in response, glancing up at the stiff figure of his friend up front.
“Leave him to me,” Sam whispers, “he just might need some time and a little extra help to get his head out of his ass.”
“Oh yeah? You specialize in that sort of thing?”
“Absolutely. Rectum surgery is my passion.”
Bucky can’t maintain his composure, letting out a sound somewhere between a honk and a snort. Still very aware of the soft, warm weight resting against him, he uses every ounce of self-control he has to clamp down on his laughter. Sam’s utter inability to chill the fuck out leaves his friend letting out tea kettle wheezes, which of course breaks down Bucky’s composure until he’s cackling as quietly and stilly as humanly possible.
It's a testament to the power of Banner’s sedative that she doesn’t even stir.
***
“Shouldn’t she be awake by now?”
“Give her a minute. We got to New York earlier than expected – the sedative is only just now wearing off.”
Clawing your way back to consciousness is a fight. The drug and it’s aftereffects add weight to your limbs. It would be easier to just surrender and let yourself fall back to sleep.
The urge vanishes just as quickly as it appears. You’ve become aware of the muffled sound of voices muttering around you. The slight chill from the air nips your exposed left arm, but the right one feels weirdly…warm?
You’re taken aback by the observation. Why on fucking earth would one side of your body be cold and one warm? Then you realize that your face is warm too – along with being slightly smushed. You try to peel open your eyelids, get an idea of what the situation is, but they still felt beyond heavy.
The feeling of helplessness is suffocating. You feel like you’re underwater, fighting to register every sound of muttered conversation happening right beside you.
Where even are you? How did you get here?
With your rising anxiety, the chill in the air lessens. Your skin heats up as you try to make yourself move. Speak. Blink. Anything.
“Well we can’t carry in an unconscious girl, there’s no telling who’s hanging out with a camera.”
“Stark, we can’t be worried about your reputation right now.”
“Actually I’m worried about all of our reputations you insufferable kale smoothie—”
“Guys, I think we need to get her—”
Your body suddenly starts responding to the shouting in your brain and you surge upward. Your eyes shoot open as you go, breath coming in great heaves and heart hammering as you take in the scene around you.
The small group standing watch around you had moved when you did, taking two big steps back and taking up defensive positions.
Unable to stand up due to the extreme shakiness in your legs, all you can do is look around you and try to get yourself oriented. Your eyes land on the one and only Tony Stark, and it all comes flooding back.
Hydra.
Debbie.
Your mountains.
The Avengers.
There’s more of them here now besides just Tony. Bruce Banner hovers near the back of the group, fingers twitching as he watches you apprehensively. Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff are a little closer. They both still look nervous but they’re at least trying to maintain some semblance of calm.
Then you remember the warmth to your right. The steady heat seeping into your body. You quickly look over to find the source, only to find Bucky. He’s the only one completely relaxed. Nonchalant, even, as he looks down at you with sweet concern in his eyes.
You get a little lost in them. Kind of hard not to. That shade of blue should frankly be illegal.
…then you smell the burning.
You look down at your lap only to realize that you’ve started singing little patches into your jeans where your hands have been resting.
“Shit,” you mutter, picking up your hands and curling them into fists immediately. Luckily, being more aware of your surroundings helps you to douse that fire pretty quickly. You can’t fix your pants with the same speed however, which sucks tremendously considering you don’t have that many options to begin with.
You must’ve made a face, because Stark chimes in with, “Don’t worry about it kid, I hear distressed is more of a trend than a mindset these days.”
Despite his lightheartedness, you still feel a little disoriented and uncomfortable. You aren’t used to sleeping that deeply. Your body feels weird and heavy, like it doesn’t quite belong to you. It brings you back to the all too familiar setting of that god forsaken lab, where that feeling was all you knew.
“Are we there?” You ask, tone gravelly with sleep.
“Yep,” Sam answers, an easy smile curling his mouth.
You like Sam. He’s easy to like. He has this easy going nature that could make anyone feel at home, even someone as prickly and mistrusting as you.
Then you remember how everyone is still watching you. You look around the small group, and suddenly feel very small with all the eyes trained on you. The last two days would be a lot for anyone, but especially when you’re so used to keeping yourself out of sight, it’s difficult being looked at by so many.
You look away and shake your head, trying to dispel the heaviness from the sedative. There’s not much you hate more than feeling powerless. Except maybe being aware that you’re powerless. Luckily, it’s wearing off relatively quickly. With each passing second the feeling gets less pronounced.
You look over to Dr. Banner, slightly in amazement at this drug he’s managed to create, and somehow he already knows what you’re thinking.
Shrugging bashfully, he says, “Drug technology has come a long way. That, and I’m guessing your metabolism is burning through it pretty quickly.”
“Ha, good one,” Stark quips, cracking a half smile.
Banner blanches a little, realizing his accidental pun. He looks at you, face full of embarrassment and apology.
“I just meant…not that you’re literally burning…I mean, we all wake up pretty quickly…”
He keeps trailing off from one thought into the next, clearly flustered. But you find you don’t really mind it. It’s just a figure of speech.
Besides…it was a good one.
“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, “Stark’s right. It was funny.”
Banner runs a hand through his somehow always disheveled hair. Even though you try to relax, with this handful of people watching you, you feel like you’re under a microscope.
Perhaps sensing your discomfort, most of the group steps back and starts doing other things. Nat goes back up to the cockpit to finish up whatever needed to be done to power down the jet completely. Banner cleans up his medical supplies in his corner. Stark and Sam pull out their phones and step away.
But Bucky stays right next to you. You don’t mind that.
You still focus on your lap instead of him. Your awareness of his presence still feels too intense.
“Sleep well?” He asks.
“Yeah,” you answer, eyes still locked on your hands in your lap, “I didn’t dream for once, so that was cool.”
You clamp your mouth shut. It’s not like he doesn’t know about your nightmares, you think you told them something about them yesterday. But despite how powerful your feelings are about him being so close, you feel a certain…ease with him. Ease that might allow you to say more than you want just yet.
“Guess I should get my bag,” you murmur, going to stand up quickly, but a wave of dizziness slows you down. You sway on your feet a little, the last remainders of the sedative still fighting with you.
A soft touch on your back steadies you, along with a quiet whisper of, “Easy there.”
Every particle of awareness goes to that touch on your back. It’s stabilizing, but even so, your heart starts racing.
Bucky doesn’t linger, but you feel the imprint of his hand long after he’s taken it away. You don’t even want to think about what that preoccupation means for you.
You take your time grabbing your bag, focusing on making sure each and every pocket is zipped as a distraction.
Yep, still good. Not much to do here. Shit.
You feel his eyes on you as he waits, so you decide enough is enough and get ready to go. As you swing your bag over your shoulder, you turn around and see that everyone is already on their way down the ramp and off the ship.
“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, “should we try to catch up?”
“Nah, we don’t need to. Stark and the others will meet us inside.”
Inside.
In the Compound.
The Avengers Compound.
Where you’ll be living for the foreseeable period.
Yeah, none of that is intimidating or anything.
Sensing your hesitation, Bucky murmurs, “It’ll be okay. We just want to make sure you get settled, then we’ll give you some space.”
You nod a little absentmindedly. Space could be nice. Could even help with this out-of-body feeling you’re having.
With Bucky right behind you, you gingerly make your way down the ramp and into the bright, New York sunshine.
You squint as the first rays hit your eyes. After the darkness from the interior of the jet and all your snoozing, you’re decidedly not ready for it. Then the air hits you. It’s hot, not unlike how Colorado can get this time of year, but the humidity is new. It settles over your skin like a clock and you’re not sure you like it.
At the bottom of the ramp, you stop for a minute and look around. The Compound looms just to your left. It’s an imposing structure, all modern architecture that exudes power. It’s incredibly fitting for the people that call this place home.
You’re relieved when you notice the sheer number of windows placed along the face of the building. Plenty of natural light should help the tightness in your chest.
Once you’ve taken in the Compound itself, you look at the landscape surrounding it. There are tress everywhere. If you really focus, searching past the loud humming of the insects all around, you can hear the wind rustling their leaves. To your right glitters the wide expanse of a river. The Hudson, you’re assuming. You can just barely see the lazy current from where you stand with Bucky.
He gives you all the time in the world to take everything in. You glance at him. He’s watching you with a soft, curious expression you can’t quite name.
“Ready to head in?”
You nod, letting him take the lead as you both start to meander toward the building. The white color of its walls is a little off putting. Bad memories dance in the very corners of your mind, threatening to come to the surface if you let down your guard just enough. So instead you continue to try and notice new things. There’s another building off in the distance. It’s flat and low to the ground, but still enormous in size. Maybe it hold other jets like the one you arrived on. As you look up at the windows, you can see people walking back and forth in the hallways, going about their busy days as normal. It’s kind of strange to imagine anything about today feeling normal for anyone. You’re glad they have that.
Just below the windows is a gigantic, Olympic size swimming pool. You and Bucky have ended up right next to it as you make your way inside. The bright blue water is vastly different than the dark, natural waters of the river, but it looks inviting nonetheless in the humid heat. You kind of wish you could jump in—
C’mon, honey! Jump in!
You stop in your tracks. Your skin grows cold despite the temperature of the air around you.
I’ll catch you!
“You okay?” Bucky asks. His voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away.
You did it, you’re so brave!
Your breath catches in your throat. Emotion sits heavy behind your eyes, threatening to spill over at any minute. The voice in your head is eerily familiar. You think you could identify it if you let yourself. Maybe you already know, and that’s why it hurts so much. It’s not often a kind memory like that comes through. Even so…it somehow hurts more than the memories from the Prison. Stabs a different part of you, unexpecting and vulnerable.
“You don’t have to go swimming if you don’t want to,” Bucky says awkwardly next to you, pulling you from your reverie.
Looking up at him in confusion, you remember he has no idea what happened in your head just now. He only sees you looking mournfully at a swimming pool, which, let’s be honest, could look a little strange without the context behind it.
You quickly brush at the dampness in your eyes before glancing over to him.
“No, I just…”
You started to speak. Started to explain. But looking into his eyes is like a trap for you. Your breath catches again for an entirely different, foreign reason. Your voice falls away like summer rain. Something crackles in the air between you. And maybe you’re dead wrong, but Bucky looks just as affected by whatever’s happening as you are.
The two of you settle into this potent trance. Your goal of getting inside is long forgotten.
His eyes stir something in you. Something long forgotten. Those eyes would be hard to forget, but somehow…maybe you did.
Looking down, you see his fingers reaching out toward yours. The movement is tentative, almost as if he’s not sure he should. So, as if on their own accord, you feel your fingers shift as they move ever so slightly to reach for him as well. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion.
It makes it all the more shocking when a crackle of electricity erupts from your fingertips to connect with his.
“What the fuck—”
“Oh my god—”
You both exclaim in bemusement at the same time. The two of you jump backward from each other, the surprise of it all ending the brief spell you had been under.
In all honesty, you forget that hint of a connection with Bucky as you stare at now unfamiliar fingers. You’re not quite sure what just happened.
Looking up, you see Bucky eyeing you warily. He angles his left arm, the metal one you presume, slightly away from you. It doesn’t surprise or even offend you; something like that must be sensitive to electricity.
“What was that?” He asks.
You can tell he’s trying to stay calm and keep his voice steady, but he’s rattled. It’s not hard to see that. You don’t blame him; he and the others prepared for flame, not fucking lightning.
“I don’t know,” you breathe, voice trembling.
“That’s never happened before?”
“Never.”
Looking at his expression, one eyebrow raised in what you read as skepticism, a wave of defensiveness overtakes you.
“Oh come on, what reason would I have for lying?”
“Uh, what the hell? I don’t think you’re lying—"
“Well you clearly don’t think I’m telling the truth.”
“I didn’t say anything—"
“Your face said it all, and I fucking swear that it’s never happened before—”
“I didn’t say anything—"
“Everything okay out here?”
You both turn and see Sam peeking his head out of the glass doors at the entrance. He’s taking in your stance, the way you’ve both kind of squared up, and raises his brows. You try to relax your stance, but the tension lingers in your arms and the hard set of your mouth. Your fingers curl into tight fists at your sides.
“We’re good, man,” Bucky answers calmly, “she just…”
He goes to answer, but nothing comes out.
But you’re a good liar. You’ve stayed alive through lying.
“Bucky here just tried to grab my bag for me and it startled me, that’s all,” you jump in, covering his awkward pause, “I don’t do sudden movements.”
Sam only raises his brows higher but he doesn’t say anything. He just jerks his head behind him, telling you both to hurry it up before walking in himself.
As you and Bucky walk quickly inside, you mutter a tight, “I’m sorry, it just…it scared me.”
“S’okay,” Bucky reassures. Is he still a little tense, or is that your imagination? You’re not too sure.
“Please don’t say anything to them yet,” you say in a rush, right before he opens the door.
He pauses, looking back at your with trepidation in his gaze.
“They probably should know—”
“I know. And I’ll say something, I swear. Just give me the chance to, okay?”
Bucky nods after a second. He still seems unsure, but you think he’ll stick to his word. As long as you don’t wait for too long. Trying to avoid his eyes, you go through the door he holds open for you.
You step into a huge, airy room. Everything is modern and sleek. Looking up, you see walkways on different levels. In the backdrop are some more enormous windows. They allow bright afternoon sunshine to flood in, nearly erasing the feeling of being indoors.
And it doesn’t smell like a lab. You’re thankful for that.
“Did you take the scenic route or something, kid?”
Stark’s voice cuts through your observations. You look forward, finding him leaning casually against what you assume to be the front desk. An elegant woman stands straight next to him, her reddish blonde hair pulled back into a smooth ponytail. As you meet her eyes, you notice how warm and kind her smile is. It makes you feel safer.
“Hello,” she says, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”
Then she comes at you quickly. Her hand is outstretched, her heels clicking loudly against the floor. You don’t mean to, but you flinch slightly. Stopping in your tracks, you step back one pace from her sudden movements.
She stops. Her smile falters slightly as she takes in your reaction. You flush in shame at yourself.
“I’m sorry,” she begins, “I didn’t—"
Stark jumps in, coming up to stand beside her and says, “Kid, this is my better half, Pepper Potts. She runs the show around here. Definition of a girlboss.”
“Girlboss?” Pepper asks with a sigh, looking over to Tony as he settles next to her. You let out a sigh of relief. Tony covered up your little moment.
“I don’t know,” he answers with a shrug, “I heard Parker say it once and it sounded good.”
“Please don’t call me that again,” she shoots back, but there’s a soft smile on her face.
She really loves him you think to yourself.
“Noted,” he says, then looks to you, “Okay, ready to head to your apartment?”
“My apartment?” You ask, slight confusion in your voice. You figured you’d be in a small room with a small bed, that kind of situation. But an entire apartment?
“After all of this, you’re blown away by the idea of an apartment? Really?”
“I don’t know,” you mutter defensively, “the word ‘compound’ kind of has a certain connotation I guess.”
“I knew we should’ve workshopped that more.”
He runs a hand through his brown hair, looking to the young man sitting behind the desk, who you’ve just now noticed.
“Boyd, write down that we need to workshop that,” Stark quips.
“I work for Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark,” he drawls with annoyance, “you write it down.”
You blink in surprise. It’s hard to believe that anyone outside of the Avengers would speak to Tony Stark like that. You look to Tony, expecting a harsh rebuke, but he only snorts with laughter.
“Shit, I always hope I’ll catch you off guard.”
“Not today, Mr. Stark.”
Tony turns back to you, saying, “Kid, this is Nathan Boyd. He’s Pep’s assistant, so by extension, he also runs the show.”
Nathan pushes up his round glasses and thankfully only waves at you, clearly understanding that you’re so not down to do the handshake thing right now.
“Let me know if you need anything,” he says with a half-smile.
“Oh, so you’ll offer help to a complete stranger but not me?” Tony asks with faux offense.
“Yep.”
“Sounds about right. Anyways kid, ready to rock and roll?”
You make yourself nod, then look to Bucky. You know you just snapped at him outside, but…you really want him to come. Tony is cool and everything, and Pepper seems nice enough, but you’re not sure about going somewhere with them yet. Everything is still too new.
“I’ll walk with you guys,” Bucky says as he meets your eyes, and then turns to Tony and Pepper, “It’s on my way to my own place anyway.”
Tony shrugs, then turns with Pepper and begins to walk down the large hallway to your right. You look up at Bucky and offer a small smile in thanks. He answers with one of his own. Then you make yourself put one foot in front of the other and follow the others.
“Stairs or elevator, kid?” Tony asks as you go.
“Stairs, please.”
Absolutely no closed spaces, thank you very much.
“Cool, gotta get that cardio in, am I right?”
He leads you all past a pair of sleek, shiny elevator doors to the stairwell door just to the right of it, and as you step in, you know you made the right choice. The corridor is narrow, but more windows open it up to the outside.
The four of you climb up to the fourth floor, Bucky’s steady presence right behind you as you try to keep up with the fast pace set by Stark and Pepper. Really just Pepper. She walks ridiculously fast for someone in stilettos.
Finally exiting the stairwell, you arrive in a quiet hallway with doors running down each side of the hall. It’s much quieter up here than it was down in the lobby, almost like the plush carpet is absorbing all the sound.
Pepper leads you down the long stretch of hallway until you arrive outside a door embossed with a golden 409. She presses her thumb to the reader on the outside, followed by a small click as the door unlocks.
“Welcome home,” she says with a smile as she looks back at you. She opens the door, stepping back to allow you to be the first one inside.
You step inside.
Your breath leaves you in the next instant.
White walls.
Blank white walls everywhere.
You try to take in the rest of the furniture to distract yourself. There’s a plush blue couch and set of chairs to your left, taking up that side of the main room. You notice a massive television taking up some of the wall space.
The white wall space.
Ignoring the violent swoop of your stomach, you turn toward the kitchen. It makes an “L” shape in the righthand corner of the room, made up of brand new silver appliances and white countertops.
More fucking white.
Swallowing hard, you skip over that and look to the far side of the room. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows take up the entire wall, no white to be found. You heave out a quiet sigh of relief and step toward it. This apartment as a view of the Hudson, and you admire the sparkle of sunlight off the dark water.
“We weren’t sure what you’d like as far as food and toiletries go,” Pepper explains as she flips on the kitchen lights, “so we got some frozen meals, stuff for sandwiches, things like that along with some popular brands for the toiletries.”
It was a good thing someone thought of those things. You were so used to dropping everything and going that you didn’t bring a whole lot, only your toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Anything you need you can order online. We have accounts with most of the popular retailers. I’ll ask Nathan to send you the information,” she finishes as she finally looks over to you.
You paste a smile on your face. It feels more like a grimace, but nothing on her own expression indicates that she can tell anything’s wrong.
“Thank you,” you say softly, and you find you truly mean it.
Nothing about this feels particularly normal. Everything that’s happened since they showed up yesterday has you feeling like a fish out of water. But you find you really mean it.
“I hope you like everything,” she replies, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
“I really do. This is definitely the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.”
She only smiles brighter. There’s no reason to tell her about how the white walls make you feel. What can she do? She didn’t know, and it’s not like she can do much about it now.
“Okay, so the bedroom is through that door on the left,” Pepper explains as she points to the door you saw earlier, “
“Set your bag down kid,” Tony snarks, “you look like you’re ready to bolt.”
Great. Of course he had to say something.
Pepper heaves an exasperated sigh, which makes you nervous, but luckily she turns it on Tony.
“She just walked in, give her a minute.”
“I’m just making a joke; I can’t make a joke?”
“You’re not joking you’re nagging—”
“I’m nagging?”
You tune out their bickering. Your gaze flits again to the walls. Biting your lip nervously, you make yourself look longer than you want to just to see if you can handle it. You’re going to have to handle it; this is your new living space.
But after just a few seconds, you have to avert your eyes. It just brings too much up. Too many painful and terrifying memories poke at the edge of your mind, and now just isn’t the fucking time for that.
Then you find yourself looking at Bucky. He’s already watching you, concern and questions filling his eyes. You look away as quickly as you can, hopefully without it seeming too suspicious. He must think you’re always on the edge of a breakdown at this point.
“Whatever,” you hear Tony say flippantly, and you force your attention back to him and Pepper. Nothing good can come from lingering on the walls.
The man looks at you again and says, “Okay, let’s talk shop. This place is huge, so you’re gonna need a tour at some point. Want to do that today?”
“No,” you say quickly, then try to cover by adding, “I mean, it’s just…it’s just been a long day.”
Tony shrugs, replying, “No skin off my back. Try not to get lost. But if you do, FRIDAY is always available to help.”
“FRIDAY?”
“The AI assistant for the Avengers. Mostly for me, but I’m good at sharing. Go ahead and introduce yourself, FRIDAY.”
You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but certainly not—
“Hello,” the disembodied voice echoes from all around you, “I’m here to help in any way I can.”
Okay, so maybe the disembodied voice would make sense, considering what she is. Still freaks you out. Still made you jump.
You kind of don’t like that she’s both nowhere and everywhere. Are they going to have her watch you? Are they going to be monitoring you?
The idea of that doesn’t sit well with you at all.
You clamp down on that line of thinking. You’re getting overwhelmed, and imagining being watched 24/7 isn’t helping in the slightest. Anything more, any new piece of information, and you might explode.
And you mean that literally. You’re particularly combustible.
Looking over to Tony, you see him watching you with a curious expression. Is that…concern? You’ve noticed that with him it’s very hard to tell.
“Okay,” he starts saying as you watch each other, “any more questions before we get out of your hair?”
“N-no,” you manage to stammer out.
And it’s true. You truly can’t think of anything. The only thing in your head right now is a constant stream of whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—
“Groovy, then we’ll leave you to it. Make sure you ask FRIDAY any questions that come up. She’ll know the answer. On the off-chance she doesn’t, she’ll know to contact one of us.”
Tony turns to leave, and Pepper does too after she offers you a warm smile. You turn to look at Bucky, nerves starting to twist your stomach as the true reality of the situation sets in. He gives you a little half smile, then turns to leave as well.
I’ll just insert this IV now to get you started on the medication.
The panic really starts to set in as you realize all their backs are turned to you.
You’ll just stay in here for now. The doctor should be in shortly.
The sound of a lock clicks. Or is that just in your head?
The white walls fade to black, the darkness slowly creeping in along the corners of your vision--
“Wait”, you burst out.
Your voice echoes against those empty walls. All three of them turn around to face you in surprise. You’re a little surprised yourself.
The question bouncing around in your head sounds a little childish, and maybe it is. But you won’t be able to calm down until you get the reassurance you need.
“I can…I can leave, right?”
“What do you mean?” Pepper asks with a confused look, “You just got here. Don’t you want to at least give things a chance?”
“No, I-I mean – I just –”
You try to explain. The words just won’t come. You can’t seem to get past how stupid it sounds to the logical side of your brain. Your hands start to heat up with the fight or flight of it all, and you’re so damn scared you can’t think straight.
“She wants to make sure we’re not locking her in,” Bucky murmurs quietly.
You manage to make yourself look up. As you meet his eyes, the furious heat in your fingers lessens. Bucky was able to put this fear into words when it scared you too much to do even that.
“Oh,” Tony says. His tone is soft in a way you haven’t heard before from him
He runs a hand through his hair, something you’ve noticed is a habit of his, and sighs. You don’t think the sigh is directed at you. It’s heavier than that. Almost like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
“Pep, Barnes, can we have the room?”
“That okay with you?”
It’s Bucky who asks the question. You’re not sure, but somehow…you trust Tony. He puts his foot in his mouth, but you think he means well. And it means a lot that Bucky defers to you on this.
You turn to him and offer a small smile, muttering, “It’s okay.”
He nods, then turns to go with Pepper. Tony waits until the door clicks behind them. When it does, he sighs again. This time he runs both hands over his face.
This time, you wonder if he actually is frustrated with you.
“I really am sorry, I just—”
“Kid,” he cuts you off, “you never have to apologize. Not for things like this. Clear?”
You nod nervously. You’re relieved at the reassurance, but the exhaustion and anger in his voice still throws you off. Silence fills the room as you wait for him to continue.
“Lemme show you how the locks work. I always feel better when I know how something works.”
He turns quickly back toward the front door, clearly assuming that you’ll follow. You finally set your bag down and scuttle along behind him. He opens it to the now empty hallway and waves a hand for you to come stand out there with him.
“At the Compound, we use fingerprint readers,” he explains, “much less hassle than with actual keys, and it helps reduce the security risk. Right now your door is set to Pep’s fingerprint, since she’s the one who set your apartment up. I think Boyd’s fingerprint works on it too.”
You nod, trying to keep up. It’s all more high tech than you’re used to.
“FRIDAY? You there?”
“Right here, Mr. Stark,” the AI’s voice comes through the hallway, right next to the door.
“Let’s reset the fingerprint reader and add the kid’s fingerprints.”
“Done. Miss, if you would, please place your thumb facedown on the reader for 10 seconds.”
Swallowing your nerves, you do exactly as she says. A bright line scans your thumb up and down for a few seconds, then blinks green.
“All set,” Tony confirms, “now you’re the only one who has access to your place. Wanna test it out?”
You nod, still unsure about this whole thing, but trying to trust the process. You’re not so great with the whole “trust” thing.
Tony closes the door, and you hear a faint “click” and the door locks. You assume FRIDAY’s behind that.
With shaking hands, you press your thumb to the reader. It scans for a few seconds like before, then blinks green as the door unlocks. You test the handle, finding it unlocked.
“Okay, now go inside and try to get out.”
“What?” You ask, voice as tremulous as your fingers.
“Isn’t that what you’re most worried about? Being locked in?”
“Well yeah—”
“Then let me prove to you that that’s not what we’re doing here,” he says in a rush, then adds in a quieter tone, “I promise you’ll be able to leave. You’re not a prisoner here, I promise.”
Swallowing your fear, you go inside and close the door. You decide to wait a few seconds, but in that short span, the heat begins to creep back into your hands. Before you have any more time to doubt, you reach out and fling open the door.
It opens. Your wide eyes meet Tony’s. A rush of air leaves your lungs. Your relief is overwhelming, and tears start to gather in your eyes. You turn away from Tony before he can see.
You hear the door close behind you. It seems as though he’s left, but then you hear his footsteps.
“You alright, kid?”
“Y-yeah,” you choke out, “it’s j-just a lot.”
“I get that. Do you want me to stay or do you want some space?”
“I-I think I n-need some sp-space,” you stutter.
“Say no more,” Tony says, not an ounce of judgement in his voice. You hear him turn and walk back toward the door.
You hear the door open, but just before he leaves, he adds, “You’re safe here, but if anyone or anything makes you feel unsafe, you tell me. I’ll make sure it gets fixed or goes away.”
An entirely different rush of warmth rushes into your chest, lifting you up and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. It means so much that someone is on your side and cares about how you feel. Someone who knows everything.
Silence settles over the empty room. You hate how the white walls pierce your vision no matter which way you turn.
Hoping to escape them, you quickly walk forward and grab your bag. You walk toward the room off to the left that Tony indicated earlier, only to find…
More white.
The bedroom is all white. White walls. White pillows. White comforter.
The warmth that you had just felt evaporates, replaced by a chill that settles in your bones. It drags you down until you’re sitting on the floor.
Burying your face in your hands, you cry.
***
tag list: @obsidianvibranium @dreamwritesimagines @valhalla-kristin
Bucky Barnes Avenger!AU Fics (Pg. 2)
DISCLAIMERS
DO NOT REPOST THESE FICS AS YOUR OWN OR ON ANY SITE, EVEN IF YOU GIVE THE AUTHOR CREDIT! It’s rude; don’t be an asshole.
[18+] means NO MINORS! This is not to be discriminatory; it is to protect you and the authors.
***this list is linked in my Marvel Fic Library so be sure to check it out so you can see some other amazing fics!***
Loved a fic? Reblog it to show the author some love! Reblogs > likes!
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★ TWO-SHOTS
Graveyard & Sacrifice by @wkemeup
[avenger!bucky x engineer!reader/mutant!reader; friends to lovers] 1. As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. 2. In the midst of an attack, you’re dosed with an unknown chemical and your healing ability becomes compromised.
Deadweight & Deliverance by @loving-bucky-is-easier
[avenger!bucky x avenger!reader; friends to lovers] 1. The reader is reluctant to go on a two-person op with Bucky, and her instincts prove to be far more accurate than either of them would have thought. 2. [18+] Almost three months to the day since you’d woken up in the med bay with his hands wrapped around yours, since you’d finished your first kiss in a hospital bed and he’d stayed with you until Helen shooed him away. Almost three months of dating Bucky Barnes, which was lovely and confusing, because how many couples got together because of an accidental confession of love mid-argument post-torture in a terrorist facility?
Insomnia & Daydream by @bemine-bucky
[avenger!bucky x techie!reader; friends to lovers; fluff] 1. You and Bucky keep each other company at 3am.* 2. [18+] You can’t help but replay your night with Bucky over and over again in your head.*
Keep it Going & Acquaintances by @writingcroissant
1. [1940s!bucky x 1940s reader/enhanced!reader] Bucky remembers a girl from the 40s, a girl not even Hydra could make him forget. 2. [18+; avenger!bucky x avenger!reader] Bucky found his long-lost love in a whole new century.
Looped & Looped (again) by @softlybarnes
[avenger!bucky x avenger!reader; can be read as separate oneshots] 1. You are inadvertently trapped in a time loop without any memory of the last five years, including your relationship with Bucky. But Bucky would stay in the loop forever, explain everything again each day, if it meant getting to stay by your side. 2. Bucky is inadvertently trapped in a time loop without any memory of the last five years, including his relationship with you. But you would do anything, if it meant getting to stay by his side. (alternate to Looped where the reader loses their memory)
★ SERIES
Guiding light by wkemeup
[avenger!bucky x avenger!reader; friends to lovers; complete] It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong, and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.
Oh! The weather outside is frightful: one | two | three by @mallowswriting
[avenger!bucky x avenger!reader; enemies to friends to lovers; Ongoing] Bucky Barnes is a condescending, infuriating ass. Your mission has gone terribly wrong. There’s no way this could get any worse. Right?
Catch Me by @buckyywiththegoodhair
[avenger!bucky x avenger!reader; complete] In which a bet leads Bucky to have to catch you every day for a week, no matter what.
Reflections by @breadqueen95
[post-civil war!au; avenger!bucky x enhanced!reader; Ongoing] When Steve and Natasha lead the fight against Hydra in 2014, they had no way of knowing just how many secrets there were left to uncover. They suddenly have one more person to add to their list as they search for Bucky Barnes. Fast forward to 2018. Bucky Barnes is living with the team at the Avengers Compound, trying to settle into life as an Avenger and as a free man. Steve and Natasha, with the help of the third part of their leadership trio Tony Stark, have finally managed to track down the human subject that escaped four years ago. And you…you’ve been on the run for four years. Desperately avoiding any detection by hiding your identity, resisting your memories, and suppressing any flicker of power raging to get out. What happens when an unexpected arrival forces you to face everything you’ve been running from?
Harmless by @shurisneakers
[avenger!bucky x villain!reader; crack!fic: perry the platypus!bucky x doctor doofenschmirtz!reader; complete] Bucky volunteers to go stop a small-time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with.
These Ties That Bind by @sweetascanbee
[soulmate!au: avenger!bucky x teacher!reader; complete] When you’re sixteen years old, you get a soul mark with the letters ‘JBB’ emblazoned on your left wrist. The only problem is, soulmates pairings have basically gone extinct, and the man you’ve been paired with has been dead for seven decades.
On the Run by @fanfic-scribbles
[post catws; avengers!au: avenger!bucky x smartass!reader; complete] Your life is fairly normal, up until Captain America shows up on your doorstep asking for help for something nobody should know about. Some things you do know are: 1) James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes is an asshole, 2) This is all his fault, and 3) You’re going to punch him in the face. If you survive.
AH OMG violet is the kindest person and recommends my work and every time it makes me so happy 💜💜💜💜 feeling very honored to have been included in this list of very talented writers
I was tagged by @jacksope-lives (who put me in a post with a blacklisted name, so I'm on another post instead) for a tag game! Rules: spell out your url with song titles, then tag as many people as there are letters in your url.
N: No Ordinary Love - Sade
E: Expression - Salt N Pepa
S: Symptoms of True Love - Tracie Spencer
H: Hello Tomorrow - Karen O
A: Aww Naw - Nappy Roots
T: Thug Luv - Bone Thugs N Harmony and 2Pac
R: Recall - Joanna Teters
I: It's Not Up to You - Bjork
U: Underneath the Stars - Mariah Carey
M: Miss Moon - Cree Summer
P: Playas Rock - Hurricane Chris
H: Home - The Wiz Soundtrack
S: Step Yo Game Up - Snoop Dogg, Lil' Jon, Trina
Whoever thinks I know 13 people well enough to tag is trippin...
@chenoahchantel @bitchmilsky @adorkable-blackgirl @daintyurbanprincess @sunsetcurve @zackmartin @nerd-li @floffybean @antarcticlibrary @copyofacopyofacopylive @tiredtiredtiiirred @tallulahchanel @unfriendlyblackwitch
Thanks for the tag @lovebittenbyevans
T: Thunderous - Stray Kids
H: Hands Up - B.A.P.
E: Euphoria - Jungkook
S: Swipe - Itzy
O: On the Ground - Rosé
O: Outta My Head - SOMI
T: Treasure - ATEEZ
S: Savage - Aespa
P: Pretty Savage - Blackpink
R: Russian Roulette- Red Velvet
I: I’m a B - Hwasa
T: Tomboy - (G)I-dle
E: Egotistic - Mamamoo
Tag these poor 12 souls: @littlefreya @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @captainsy-cookiemonster @luna-aestas @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @angrythingstarlight @musingsinmoonlight @starynighty @navybrat817 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @loveofafangirl @ao719 @zaffrenotes
hehe thank you @the-soot-sprite
M— Me Enamoré de Ti —Chayanne
A—All The Stars- Kendrick Lamar
L— La Vida Es Así- Ivy Queen
A— Amor Prohibido- Selena
D— Duele el Amor - Aleks Syntek & Ana Torroja
A— Angel - The Weeknd
P— Primavera- Ludovico Einadui
T— The Awakening - Christopher Haigh
I— Impatient - Jeremih
V— Video Games- Lana Del Rey
E— Entre Nosotros- Tiago Pzk & LIT killah
X— X - Nicky Jam
X— Xo- Beyonce
D— Drops- Jungle
A— Ayer - Enrique Iglesias
Y— You & Me - Disclosure
D— Downtown- Anitta & J Balvin
R— Rock That Body- The Black Eyed Peas
E— Everybody But Me- Lykke Li
A— Amour plastique - Videoclub
M– My Blood– twenty one pilots
I– Inolvidable- Reik
N— Nunca Es Suficiente - Los Ángeles Azules
G– Good as Hell - Lizzo
24 loves 💜 no pressure:
@bonky-n-steeb @sexyspector @kaitkat @lfnr-blog-blog-blog @firefly-in-darkness @irisofeden @atlaese @indyluckycharlie @jobean12-blog @mrsmischief209 @mrs-marc-spector @princessgriffin1998 @draguta @justagirlinafandomworld @marvel-3407 @purpleshallot @fluffyprettykitty @slyyywriting @rae-gar-targaryen @nekoannie-chan @the-sal-del-mar @yarnforbrains @sunshinebuckybarnes @writing-for-marvel
Thank you my darling Ali 💜💜 this was a fun challenge!
W - When You We’re Mine by Joy Crookes
R - Reforget by Lauv
I - I don’t want to watch the world end with someone else - Clinton Kane
T - Tell Me That You Love Me by James Smith
I - If You Love Her by Forest Blakk
N - Never the 1 by ROSIE
G - Getting Over You by Lauv
F - Fix It to Break It by Clinton Kane
O - On Your Way Home by Patrick Droney
R - Rescue by Lauren Daigle
M - Medicine by Robinson
A - A Little Bit Yours by JP Saxe
R - Red Ribbon by Madilyn
V - Visiting Hours by Ed Sheeran
E - Everywhere by Michelle Branch
L - Light On by Maggie Rogers
16 no pressure tags: @fluffyprettykitty @fluffycutecevans @rookthorne @buckys-dollface @buckysbirdie @buckyseddie @bxcketbarnes @imaginearyparties @foreverindreamlandd @summerofsnowflakes @breakablebarnes @jobean12-blog @snufflet @bucky-barnes-diaries @real-jane @bluemusickid
Ooh fun!
R - Runaway by Ben Abraham
E - Eyes Wide Open by Gotye
A - And So It Goes by Billy Joel
L - Let Me Drown by Orville Peck
J - Jericho by Ethan Carlson
A - A Sunday King of Love by Etta James
N - Nobody by Mitski
E - Empress by Morningsiders
tagging @naarna @peterhollandkait @motsdouxdejanie @mayasreadingnook @obsidianvibranium @fandoms-writings @buckysbirdie @thornsnvultures
Thanks Kate! 😘 I love this idea!
O — Oh My Love by To Kill A King
B — Brain Damage by Pink Floyd
S — Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House
I — I Couldn’t Be More In Love by the 1975
D — Dust to Dust by the Civil Wars
I — I’m Not In Love by 10cc
A — Ain’t No Rest For the Wicked by Cage the Elephant
N — New Kid In Town by the Eagles
V — Void by the Neighbourhood
I — I Want to Break Free by Queen
B — Blame by Bastille
R — Renegade by Styx
A — Anagram by Young the Giant
N — Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues
I — I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys
U — Up 2 U by Walk the Moon
M — My Future by Billie Eilish
No pressure tagging: @sweetascanbee @breadqueen95 @lisstothebliss @notgoingwell @demonpoxballad @heavenlybarnes @sanguineterrain @earth2bucky @winter-soldier-vibes @hailing-stars @rodrikstark @mellifluousmusings @loving-bucky-is-easier @lovelybarnes @aphrogeneias @imaginearyparties @intrepidacious
PLEASE I LOVE THIS i’ve done something like this in the past but i’m doing it again idc. thank you for the tag violet! the numbers i decided are dealers choice bc idc
B - Bodies by The Knocks and MUNA
R - Rivers and Roads by The Head and the Heart
E - El Tango De Roxanne from Moulin Rouge
A - Akuma no Ko by Higuchi Ai
D - Doomsday by Lizzy McAlpine
Q - Quite a View by Thomas Newman
U - Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken by Ramin Djawadi
E - Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears
E - Earth by Sleeping at Last
N - Notos by The Oh Hellos
9 - Why Am I Like This? by Orla Gartland
5 - Family Tree by Ethel Cain
This is a Tumblr hug, pass it on to your loves! 💞💝💖💘💗
HI ILY
Reflections - Chapter 7: Soft Metal
Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
10.9k (wut)
Chapter Summary: How can you possibly say goodbye?
Content warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic, general trauma, physical pain
a/n: here's some food for ya sorry i can't make a commitment to a schedule. also i will not lie this is not proofread sorry
Chapter 6
***
The rest of the night passed in a blur.
Despite having thought you’d need every single nighttime hour to make a decision, one conversation with Natasha Romanoff had you agreeing to their proposal before 11pm. Definitely not something you’d expected.
Even now, as the anxious roiling of your stomach begs you to back out and stay right where you are, you can’t say that you think you made the wrong choice. You won’t know that for sure until you get there, and even then, you already decided to give this a try.
Besides…Hydra would come for you no matter what. Natasha said as much. It’s far safer to buy yourself time by being around other people, especially people who were actually capable of keeping you safe.
…Even still, it’s hard to turn off the sheer heartbreak you feel.
Admirably, Wanda came out of your bathroom after showering and didn’t even flinch at all of the new developments. She simply nodded, smiled at you kindly, and asked if you wanted to start packing.
So that led you to where you are now. Staring at the small stack of books in your trembling hands, you try in vain to get your mind to just focus. You’ve been compartmentalizing for years now. All you need to do is flip that switch, right?
A voice says your name softly nearby, but it only registers as white noise in your brain. You just keep staring down at your books, but you don’t really see them. All you see are the white walls. The white lab coats. The—
Then there’s your name again, more insistently than the first time. It drags you out of your head, causing you to look up.
There’s Wanda, dark red tresses still a little damp from her shower. She’s looking at you with a frustrating mix of kindness and pity. For as much as her expression makes you unreasonably mad, it also gives you a weird sense of comfort.
You’re not sure what to do with that.
“Natasha stepped outside to call Tony,” she explains. She looks down to your shaking hands holding your books, which you’d grabbed while Natasha quickly updated Wanda on what she’d missed. You’d thought you should get started on gathering your meager belongings, only to end up frozen.
“I should, um…” you start, only to have your voice fade away as you struggle to find the words. Your mouth remains slightly ajar as you try to wrestle yourself into the efficient survival mode you’d perfected over these years.
But you can’t. That mode, that prey animal’s instinct, it doesn’t fit anymore. Not like it used to.
The shaking gets more pronounced. Harder to control.
“Are these the books you’d like to bring?”
Wanda’s soothing lilt yanks you back from the precipice again. Looking up, you find that same kind patience.
“Y-yes,” you choke out, “they’re the only ones here that are m-mine—”
“Okay, so they’re coming,” Wanda interrupts you kindly but forcefully. She reaches out to take the stack from you, but without thinking, you only hold them tighter and jerk them closer to you.
To her credit, she doesn’t flinch or take offense. She just says your name again, lightly, nothing but understanding in her tone.
“Would you like to set them on the table over here? Or maybe tell me where your bag is so we can pack them?”
The words bounce around in your head like an echo chamber. You’re not used to this, this collaborative thing that’s been added to your process.
Usually, when you leave, you throw your shit in a bag and go. You never give yourself time to think about the particulars of what you’re doing or why. Never really perceived yourself having a choice in leaving – it was always the only choice.
Everything about this time was deliberate. Thought through. Emotional.
How the fuck are you supposed to navigate that?
“I don’t know how to do this,” you whisper, unaware you’ve spoken the words aloud until you hear them in your own ears.
A beat of silence passes. You’re scared Wanda has finally lost her patience with you, done with this bullshit of a day and done with you.
But she hasn’t. And she isn’t.
“You don’t have to know. None of us do. But we’ll help you, I promise.”
Looking at her, you see that she is holding her hands out, palms up. There’s no expectation there, just an offer.
Slowly, deliberately, you place your books in her hands. Your heart stutters as you let go of their worn and well-loved pages, but even still, you release them. Wanda’s elegant fingers close around them, holding them as reverently as you had.
“I’ll grab my duffle,” you mutter, finally able to turn and purposefully walk to your bedroom. Grabbing the canvas bag from your closet, you march right back out to where Wanda is waiting and set the duffle on the floor.
“You know,” Wanda says as she sets your books down on the table, “we have a lot of books at the compound.”
You don’t say anything, just sort of look at her, so she continues.
“You could read some of them. If you wanted.”
Blinking, you try to think about how many books could be available at the fucking Avengers Compound. With such limited resources and almost zero access to a good library, it’s hard for you to picture.
“Any of them?”
“Any of them,” she grins.
You watch her as she glides over to where you keep your shoes by the door. She bends and picks up your old pair of hiking boots that double as snow boots in the winter, bringing them over and carefully arranging them at the bottom of your bag. You notice she’s left your beat up pair of sneakers by the door, somehow knowing you’ll want to wear them tomorrow.
“I could put a list of recommendations together if you’re interested,” she offers, “the choices can be overwhelming, and I’ve read through a lot of them.”
It’s then, for the first time in the hour since you’ve decided to leave, you feel an emotion other than devastation.
“Sure,” you reply, “I would like that.”
***
It’s that very same night that Tony Stark decides he hates moths. Despises them. Loathes them.
Okay, so he knows they’re important. Pollinators and all that. But the violence in which these massive mountain motherfuckers are going after the dim light on his phone really isn’t all that groovy of them.
A little while after they’d arrived back at the jet, after he’d given Bruce the lowdown and conferred with Hill and Fury about next steps, Nat’s name had lit up his phone screen with an incoming call.
He just didn’t think he needed a shield to step outside and answer a call.
Normally, Tony would answer inside with the others. Put the damn thing on speaker and play Candy Crush or some shit during the conversation. But with the way Rogers was seething in the corner like a little broccoli floret, he didn’t really wanna invite his opinion on whatever was happening right away.
“Hello hello, my lovely little bowl of borscht,” Tony greets as he answers the call, “what’s new?”
“Fucking hell, Stark,” Natasha barks, “you know I hate the food thing. Especially since I hate borscht.”
“So sorry, what would you prefer sweet blini of mine?”
He knows this is important. Tony feels the weight of it, and had felt it since Nat and Steve approached him about Firebug the very first time. But goddamn it, he hates this feeling. He hates that everyone, including the new pal they were trying to recruit, felt it.
Hence…the nicknames. It’s like a compulsion. He has to.
“I don’t know, maybe my name?”
“Don’t you wanna spice up your life?”
“Ugh, fine,” she relents, talking in this quick way that says she’s beyond ready to move on from this, “at least ditch the borscht.”
“Sounds swell you delightful handle of vodka,” he quips back without missing a beat, “now stop wasting time and give me that update I know you called with.”
“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”
“Clock’s a tickin’.”
“Fine,” she huffs, “anyways, she agreed. She’s coming back with us.”
Tony’s taken aback. He quickly checks his watch, seeing 11pm illuminated on the screen before having to swat away another dusty abomination.
“Damn, you guys work fast. I was convinced I wasn’t gonna hear anything until tomorrow morning. What did you say to her?”
“I can explain more when we get back,” she sighs, “let’s just say it was an emotional decision. She’s not gonna be okay for a long time, and this adjustment will be hard. Everyone’s gotta find some patience.”
“We’ll take care of her. Make sure you tell her that.”
“I will,” Natasha responds, voice far softer than it had been mere seconds ago, “Wanda’s in there with her now, I think she’s helping her pack.”
“Perfect. We can get outta here first thing in the morning.”
“Did Fury plant the false info for Hydra?”
“He’s getting it started,” Tony explains, “when I asked him for more details he told me to fuck off.”
“That tracks.”
“We’ll be fine,” Tony reassures her, “we’ll get her outta here and get her to safety, no problem.”
“Sure thing,” Nat sighs, then adds, “keep an eye on Rogers, would you?”
“Already ahead of you, I’ll make sure he keeps his shit together. At least until we get her back to the Compound.”
A lull in their conversation begins. Tony usually doesn’t pay attention to these sorts of things; he’s usually thinking too fast to notice anything beyond his own thoughts. Even so, he can feel the tension from the other side of the phone.
Natasha is worried. And more shocking than that, she’s letting it show.
“He’ll come around,” Tony says in what he hopes is a soothing, casual tone.
“What if he doesn’t?” She whispers back hoarsely.
“He’ll have to. Until she gives us a good reason to mistrust her or her intentions, we gotta lead with a little faith here.”
She huffs a laugh on the other line, retorting, “Thought you didn’t go by things like faith.”
“Yeah, well…”
It’s him who pauses this time, mind distracted by that poor girl’s terrified face. Distracted by all the awful things that were done to her. What could still be done to her if they didn’t get her to trust them.
But to get her to trust them, they needed to show that they trust her.
“Not always.”
***
It hadn’t taken long for you to pack up your meager belongings. Even less time than you thought once Natasha had come back inside and began helping. You told both of them they didn’t have to, but they insisted.
Nice of them. Still kind of wish they hadn’t so you could waste more time, but whatever. Win some, lose some.
By the time your books were settled on top of the last of your clothes, it was nearing 12am. You’d dragged your feet a little, but everything still hadn’t taken more than an hour. While you still felt wired, you could tell that Natasha and Wanda were exhausted. They tried to explain away their sleepy faces and yawns, but eventually you convinced them to try and get some sleep. They only listened if you promised you’d do the same.
As if that would happen.
You’re a chronic insomniac on your best nights. It didn’t take a genius to figure that tonight wouldn’t even come close to even being considered restful.
So you didn’t even try. You just curled up on top of the bed and stared at the wall, begging time to go by just a little faster.
And you’re still there. You check the clock on the bedside table, convinced it would be at least 3am or something, only to find—
12:30am.
Well fuck.
Releasing a heavy sigh, you roll onto your back to change views. Maybe staring at the dark ceiling would be more entertaining.
…definitely not the case. Not in the slightest. Because the more you stare, the more hyperaware you become of the fact that you might never see this ceiling again. Or these walls. Or this room. Or this house.
Before you know it, you’re sitting upright at the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the comforter as you try to ground yourself.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Who’s to say you’re making the right choice?
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Who’s to say Hydra would even find you way out here? Maybe they wouldn’t.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Even worse, what if they find you no matter where you run?
Breathe—
You go to take a deep breath, but your lungs constrict. They stutter. Your airway closes in on itself. No matter how hard you work, you can’t get that breath. The very nature of your respiratory system failing you feels symbolic, representative of the pitiful state of your life falling around you.
Suddenly, those walls flash white in your mind, erasing the darkness with the threat of a memory far worse.
Then you’re on your feet.
As quietly and quickly as you can, you flit to the door and slowly twist it open. Hoping beyond hope that your guests don’t hear you, you leave it cracked behind you and make your way to the backdoor and slip outside. You usually wouldn’t risk closing yourself off from safety by closing the door completely, but tonight you do.
It’s not lost on you that the presence of the Avengers makes you feel a little safer than usual.
Just like every other night before, the first inhale of fresh air helps your lungs expand. You feel clean again. You feel alive.
Taking your seat on the steps of the back porch, you lean back until your back rests against the worn wood.
Nothing in front of you but open sky. Millions of stars. The moon an old friend in the distance, providing the faintest light through the darkness.
Then you’re crying. You don’t even remember starting.
But the tears stream endlessly down your cheeks. Sobs rip themselves from your chest. You press both hands over your mouth to try and keep yourself from making any noise, knowing there’s actually people who could hear you this time.
It’s kind of like your reaction with the books earlier tonight. This forceful acknowledgement of the thing you’re giving up; this illusion of safety and home you’ve crafted for yourself.
For the first time since before you can really remember, you’re being allowed time to mourn something you’ve lost.
You don’t like it. You don’t want it.
You can’t take it.
This emptiness, this heaviness weighing down every part of you…it’s torment. It’s anguish.
Just from understanding what this feeling was, this grief, it’s cracked open the door you closed to everything else you’d lost. The endless list of things you can’t let yourself remember.
But if you open that door wider, if you actually let yourself remember…
You think you’d actually shatter.
So you focus on the stars, knowing tonight is your last night with this particular stretch of sky.
***
Bucky can feel his heart break as he watches her from the tree line. He sees the way her body crumples in on itself, her small hands trying in vain to keep her pain quiet.
It was his turn for patrol. Stark had assigned them all shifts after talking to Natasha, and this happened to be his hour.
There wasn’t much for him to do, not with all the other steps Stark, Fury, and the others had taken to keep Hydra at bay. Just walk around in the dark and try to keep from tripping. He was way too used to sidewalks now.
City boy. Old habits die hard.
Of course he wasn’t going to sleep anyway. He’s way too amped up and distracted, and that was before knowing she had decided to come back with them tomorrow. Now he can’t quite seem to settle that fluttering feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks about it, which was…every second.
He’d been hanging around the area by the cabin when she came outside, trying to listen for anyone else hanging around who shouldn’t be. She’d actually given him quite a scare when that back door opened.
Bucky actually thought about going over to talk to her when she first sat down. Get to know her more, whatever. It’s kind of pathetic, this weird pull he feels toward her.
But the second he heard the first sob, he knew he couldn’t. Not now. Not tonight.
He understands that she’s trying to fall apart quietly because of the people in her home.
It’s easy for him to understand that this, all of it, is pain beyond pain for her.
That she maybe doesn’t even know how to understand it herself just yet.
He remembers vividly those first few weeks away from Hydra. First in Romania, then in Wakanda, then finally at the Compound. Bouts of extreme emotion like this was all too common. He still has them, even now, though they’re far less frequent.
But because of that intimate experience he has with this brand of breakdown, he leaves her be, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.
So Bucky retreats further into the trees, taking extra care as not to alert her to someone witnessing this.
His heart breaks more with every step he takes away from her, as though he’s fighting instinct itself.
***
Wanda hadn’t slept well.
This isn’t anything new for her; she’s used to running on very little sleep. It had been that way ever since that bomb fell on her home in Romania. Ever since her parents died. Ever since Pietro.
Instead of sleeping through the approaching dawn, she found herself sitting up on the soft leather couch where she’d settled in for the night. Angling her eyes just so, she watched the sky gradually lighten in the morning hours.
It’s easy to see what Firebug saw in this place – why she’s so deeply attached to it. There’s a certain magic in every soft breeze, the quietness that coexists with the racket from nature itself. It reminds Wanda of early mornings in her village as a child. Those early hours where she listened to people rising early to begin their days, the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking.
It pulls at her heart. She knows it must pull at Firebug’s.
No…that isn’t her real name. Wanda silently but firmly reminds herself of it in her head.
This girl might like the nickname Stark had so easily assigned to her. Might even find a certain comfort in the affectionate way in which they all seemed to say it now. But she doesn’t know, not for certain anyway.
And besides, there’s a certain humanity that comes with using someone’s real name. She’s gone so, so long without hearing hers. Maybe she doesn’t want to, but until she says otherwise, Wanda wants her to know that it’s okay to step back into herself. If she wants to.
Late last night, she’d heard the quick stumbling of someone rushing to get outside. Having felt that sort of claustrophobic panic before herself, Wanda left her alone. The familiar sights and sounds around her would comfort the young woman better than she could.
Sighing deeply, the redhead peeks over Natasha, curled tightly in on herself on the laid back recliner. It seems as though she’s sleeping, at least a little. Her friend is way too good at pretending, so she hopes that’s not the case. Nat sleeps even less than she does.
Checking the time on her phone, Wanda sees that it’s nearly 5:30am. Stark and the others would want to get moving soon.
It would be better for everyone, especially her. The longer they linger, the worse it’ll be.
So she picks herself up from the sofa, stretching languidly in the weak morning light. She opens the curtains a little more, allowing the rising sun to rest on Natasha. She stirs a little, and Wanda continues over to the small kitchenette. She makes the decision to start a pot of coffee, hoping it doesn’t irritate their host. Wanda’s honestly just hoping that if she and Nat can keep things purposeful and efficient, it’ll make things easier for everyone.
As soon as the coffee maker starts groaning (how is that thing still functioning?) she pads over to Natasha to start waking her up.
Taking extra care not to touch her or get too close, Wanda murmurs her name to rouse her. Everyone on the team knew better than to try and wake each other up with loud noises or unexpected physical contact. There’s nothing worse than having slept badly then jumping awake because your trauma is telling you than someone’s trying to kill you.
It only takes two more verbal pokes for Nat to start stirring. She grumpily cracks open one eye to glare at her, but she doesn’t scare Wanda. This is the only time she can say that the ex-assassin is all bark and no bite.
“Coffee’s starting,” she smirks, knowing that’ll help speed up the process.
And it does. Natasha begrudgingly opens both eyes and starts to sit up, the old chair creaking at the movement.
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles.
As soon as Wanda’s convinced Nat is up for good, she heads back over to the kitchen and looks around for some mugs. After opening a few cabinets, she locates a few. She pulls out two for herself and Natasha, and then grabs the clean mug she saw sitting by the sink for the third member of their temporary trio. It’s probably the one she likes using most.
As Natasha gets up to start her morning stretches, she looks around before looking back at where Wanda leans against the counter.
“Where is she?” She asks.
“Back porch,” Wanda offers, glancing in that direction, “I heard her slip outside a few hours ago.”
Natasha nods and returns to her stretching, completely unbothered. And despite not having seen her for hours now, Wanda is fairly certain that when she walks outside in a few minutes, she’ll find her exactly where she expects she’ll be. The patrols would’ve seen if she’d tried to run, but more than that…Wanda just thinks she’s tired of running.
A glance at the clock reminds her of the time, and Wanda sighs.
Efficiency will make this easier she reminds herself again as she pushes off from the counter. As she walks down the hallway to get to the back, Wanda purposefully makes a little noise instead of her usual silent steps, not wanting to sneak up on her. Scaring her wouldn’t exactly be a great start to the day.
Wanda makes an entire process out of grabbing loudly (but not too aggressively she hopes) at the door handle and creaking it open. Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but with these sorts of things, it’s so hard to know what the right thing is.
…and if she’s being honest, she wants this girl to like her. Be her friend.
Wanda loves the team; they’re the family she’s needed every since losing Pietro. Nat is like an older sister, and every single one of the guys act like her big brother. And she appreciates that. Loves it, even. But what she really wants is a friendship with someone that doesn’t feel like she’s being taken care of all the time. Something more equal.
Peeking her head out into the crisp morning air, Wanda sees her sitting on the porch steps. She’s sitting up, but her body seems to droop in on itself. Like every single limb is weighed down.
It’s impossible not to ache for her. She’s far too young to have been through as much as she has.
With a wry, humorless smile to herself, Wanda reminds herself that she’s cut from that exact same cloth.
“Good morning,” she murmurs.
To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch. But now that Wanda thinks about it, all of the noise she made probably helped. She makes a note to high five herself later.
Peter had explained about self-high fives to her. Said they were good for morale and self-confidence, which she has to agree with.
“Hello,” she whispers back hoarsely.
“Is it alright if I sit?”
A single nod. Wanda walks over to the steps and takes a seat next to Firebug.
No. Y/n.
After settling in, she takes a deep breath and looks around at the view. That magic she felt from inside? It’s even more potent out here. It’s not muted or dampened by walls or ceilings – nothing between her and the sky.
A sense of bittersweet euphoria rushes over her. She remembers the walls during her time as a Hydra experiment. She remembers how addictive the open sky became to her after getting out of there. It’s hard not to think of Pietro in times like this, and how much he would’ve loved this place.
It’s then, with the image of her brother fresh in her mind, that Wanda turns to look at her.
Her breath catches at how truly haggard she looks. Did she sleep at all?
It’s not even the physical things that worry Wanda the most. It’s the desperate, broken look so apparent in her eyes. She looks out at the grass and trees with a hunger that only comes hand in hand with grief; knowing that something or someone is here for the last time.
“I can feel you staring,” she bites out quietly, a hard glint a new addition to her expression.
Wanda fights the urge to look away and apologize. She knows that would be the polite, even kind, thing to do, but that doesn’t feel right.
“Not many people wear their expressions so openly.”
She’s not sure what made her say it, or even that she should’ve. But she does.
“Not many people get stared at on their back porch before 6am, yet here you are.”
Instead of being offended, all Wanda can do is chuckle to herself. She looks back out toward the mountainside. Neither of them speak for another minute or two, just breathing together.
“I’m sorry,” Y/n finally whispers, “I don’t…I’m not—”
“It’s okay,” Wanda reassures, “you don’t need to apologize for anything.”
More quiet. More thinking. Wanda feels pulled toward more peaceful emotions, but the torment and anguish from the young woman beside her is palpable. It’s hard to ignore, and despite what she might want, Wanda doesn’t want to pretend like her hurt isn’t happening.
She takes a breath before turning back to her, then says, “You could come back someday.”
Because she could. It might take some time, but it’s obvious to anyone how much she loves it here. How happy she would be if she could stay.
Wanda thought that might bring her some measure of comfort.
Instead, she shakes her head, pressing her mouth into a hard line. There’s something painfully hopeless about it.
“No,” she finally whispers, “I can’t put the people here at risk like that.”
“Maybe not while Hydra is still a threat, but they might not always be. Once they’re gone, then—”
Her words die in her throat as Y/n meets her eyes for the first time this morning. There’s nothing but despondency in her expression. She lifts one corner of her mouth in a humorless half smile.
“Not gonna bank on the impossible.”
Wanda’s heart breaks. It’s obvious that she believes that the threat of Hydra will never go away, and even worse, that she’ll never be safe on her own.
“You don’t know that,” she tries to say, even though she’s not sure she believes it herself.
Y/n scoffs. It’s a cold, sad sound, filled with an emotion that Wanda knows all too well. She looks away from her and back out to other mountains in the distance, the desperation reappearing on her exhausted features.
“It’s easier this way,” she mumbles, trying to shrug nonchalantly to hide the heaviness she feels, “it’s easier to forget.”
***
At this point, you’re shocked you haven’t burned a hole straight through your esophagus. It’s probably only due to your…abilities…that you hadn’t.
Because in trying (and failing) to ignore the churning of your stomach and all-consuming nervousness, you’re chugging your third hot cup of coffee. It gives you something to do with your hands, and the repetitive movements are kind of soothing.
But let’s be honest. It’s not working. For as high as your caffeine tolerance is, the jitteriness that comes with it for well adjusted people is starting to come on at full force.
…and you’re not exactly well adjusted.
You feel Wanda and Natasha’s eyes on you as your shaky hands lift the mug for another scalding sip, but you actively avoid acknowledging them. You’re not sure you can stand the expressions you might find there.
You’d finally made your way inside after those tension filled moments with Wanda outside. She was trying to help, you know that. And on some level you appreciate it. But after everything, especially after a sleepless night alone with your thoughts, every bit of it felt hollow.
Even your own optimism from yesterday feels naïve. It doesn’t make you change your mind about going with them; you’re not stupid, realistically it’s still the safest option.
At least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you washed your face, brushed your teeth, and went about getting ready to do something instinct was begging you not to.
As you were getting ready in your room, Wanda and Natasha got dressed in the living room and called Stark. When you came back out, they explained that he and the others wanted to wait for the all clear from someone named Fury (coolest name ever?). You asked why he thought you’d get jumped in an empty field, but they both just kind of looked at you like it was the stupidest thing you’d ever said.
Now that you think about it, that reaction is actually valid as fuck.
So you gulp your coffee and work on emptying your head of any and all conscious thought.
It’s not going well.
A sudden and shrill beeping sound breaks the silence. It startles you, and you only just manage not to pour the remains of your hot coffee all down your front. You look around in alarm, fully anticipating a bomb or some shit, but Natasha just pulls out her fancy looking smartphone.
In your defense, your flip phone has different sounds.
After reading the message on the screen, she looks up at you as she slides it back into her pocket.
“We’re clear. You ready?”
Your stomach falls out of your ass. You keep thinking this can’t feel more real than it’s already gotten, but here you are. You’re leaving.
With still trembling hands, you turn toward the sink and pour out the remainder of the coffee. It isn’t helping anyway. After washing out the mug, your favorite mug, you take care of the pot next. You’re thorough; every single thing in this cabin will be left immaculate.
The soft yet insistence utterance of your real name behind you can’t even pull you from this.
It comes again, pushier this time, followed by, “We can clean up if you—”
“I’ve got it.”
Your tone is clipped and final. Natasha and Wanda take the hint, and they hang back while you do these last few menial tasks.
Once the pot is back with the coffee maker, and the mug is lovingly set back in its place in the cabinet, you turn immediately and head to the couch. You’d already slipped on your shoes awhile ago. Now you focus every ounce of brain power into slipping your hands into the sleeves of your worn jacket, trying to ignore the warmth seeping into your bloodstream.
Now is not the fucking time.
As you sling your bag across your shoulder, you fight the urge to take one last look around the space.
This needs to feel casual.
Even though your heart is breaking.
“Did you want a minute?” Wanda asks kindly.
All you can do is shake your head fiercely, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself, as you make your way across the floor as quickly as you can. Before you know it, you’re pulling the door open and stepping into the brightness of the morning, leading the way outside.
Thank god the sight of their ship and all the Avengers in the field is as jarring as it is, or you would’ve had no choice but to look at the mountains.
Everyone turns as you clomp down the creaky stairs, the silent steps of the women behind you an embarrassing contrast. Though you feel the intensity from Captain Rodgers’ stare, you choose to not acknowledge it. Instead, you focus on a new figure you didn’t get the chance to meet last night.
Despite the particular abilities he had, Dr. Banner is very slight in person. He wrings his hands together in an all-too-familiar gesture as he glances around the area. The compulsive gesture seems to talk to the stabbing warmth under your skin. You try to ignore the urge to mirror his movements.
You don’t bother him in his nervousness, you just step forward to meet Stark, the warmth in his lined face so different from the painful heat under your skin. Turning your wince into a rueful smile, you stop in front of him.
“Ready to go?”
You nod, very grateful that he’s chosen to get to the point quickly for what you imagine is the first time in his life.
“Sounds good.”
He looks around and sets his focus on Dr. Banner, who jumps a little at the attention. Somehow, though you can’t know for sure, he looks like he knew this was coming. And he hates it.
“Step right up, you supersized kale smoothie,” Stark quips as he beckons Banner forward.
You’ve seen footage of the Hulk. It’s one of the first things that come up when searching for information on the Avengers. The shuffled gait and hunched shoulders Banner adopts right now is so vastly different from his alternate persona, it’s a wonder they come from the same place.
“Kid, this is Dr. Bruce Banner,” Stark introduces as the slightly shorter man comes up to stand next to him. Then you’re introduced by your full name, something you’ve heard more in the last 24 hours than you had in a decade. You can’t help but flinch a little at the sound of it, but you’re hoping you mask it well enough.
“Nice to meet you,” you mumble politely, the rageful pinpricks rearing in terror at the syllables that make up your government name.
It really was nice to meet him. Based on his history (what you know of it anyway) and his mannerisms, he seems like someone who could understand. Maybe could even talk to eventually.
“Did you plan on using Dr. Banner’s abilities against me, Stark?” You ask your question in what you hope is a teasing manner. But you are honestly curious; how far were they willing to go?
Banner, who had looked like he was bracing for something, relaxes a little as he realizes you won’t use the name of his other persona. For as much as the world has come to accept him, it seems like he’d rather ignore it all together.
Truly a trauma twin. Besides Bucky, that is.
You chance a glance at the imposing figure standing off to the side, leather glinting in the sunlight. You feel your cheeks warm in a not unpleasant way when you find he’s already gazing at you. He lifts his mouth in a comforting smile, his eyes soft as he looks at you. The fire under your skin wanes a little, dwindling to a soft flicker that matches the heat on your cheeks.
You smile back, trying to match the softness he gives you so openly, when Stark begins talking again. The moment ends with his sharp and assertive tone, pulling your attention back to him without issue.
But you wish you could’ve stayed in that moment with Bucky.
“Nah, we never intended to unleash the Jolly Green Giant—”
“--please don’t call him that—”
“—on you. And yes Bruce I will call him that it’s my favorite nickname I’ve ever come up with.”
Stark, weirdly enough, stops speaking for a minute to take a breath. It honestly seems like he forgets to breathe sometimes, working overtime to get all his thoughts out.
“Banner here ended up coming because—”
Stark’s voice falls away, his brows furrowing as his hand goes to his earpiece. He presses it further into his ear, cocking his head as he listens.
“Vis, wanna repeat that?”
The heat becomes scalding as nervous brown eyes flit to meet yours. You clench your hands together, trying not to be reactionary, but it’s becoming harder with each millisecond.
The air around you shifts as everyone tenses for whatever threat Stark is being warned about. You find your head turning slightly to the left, finding blue eyes staring back at you. Bucky’s mouth is set in a hard line as he searches your face. You slightly toward him, feeling the need to be closer to his imposing figure, when Stark’s harsh and grating command somehow pulls your attention back.
“I don’t care that Hydra wouldn’t drive an old blue pickup, because they would if it meant they wouldn’t get caught. Engage the target or we’re fucked.”
Sheer panic fills your stomach and before you know it you’re waving to get his attention.
“Tell him to stop,” you exclaim, and he responds to the urgency in your voice.
Because maybe Hydra would drive that kind of car. But you know someone else who would too.
“I know who it is,” you explain in a rush, “they’re not Hydra.”
How could you forget? How could you not call her?
“You don’t know shit, kid—”
“It’s my boss and my landlord and she comes to get me for work every morning and I forgot.”
Stark raises his brows to the point you’re convinced they’ll disappear into his hairline. While you can still see the tension in his jaw, he also lets out a breath and allows his shoulders to fall a little. The familiar weight of guilt settles over your shoulders. Looking down at your worn shoes, you wish with your whole heart that you could fall right into the earth.
“Didn’t think we needed a warning for that?”
A cold, cutting voice slices straight through your wallowing. As much as you want to ignore him, you make yourself pick your head up and look over toward Captain Rodgers.
“I’m sorry,” you say, and you genuinely mean it, “with everything going on—”
“Vision almost attacked this woman because we weren’t warned,” he continues, biting over your explanation with ferocity.
You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You have no idea what to say to make this better, help him understand that your brain is just like this sometimes. Everyone has to have these moments, right?
But with the way his gaze cuts you down to size, you’re halfway convinced you’re the only person on the planet who’s ever forgotten something. You can’t help but shrink and look down again. Captain America is excellent at guilt tripping people.
“C’mon Steve, nothing happened,” a mellow voice you recognize as Sam Wilson’s cuts through the heavy silence.
Even with Sam’s calm reassurance, it’s like a trigger for Rogers to keep coming at you.
“Sure,” he scoffs coldly, “nothing happened this time.”
He fixes that ice cold gaze on you again, and despite the warm sun on your skin, you freeze under the weight of it. As much as you’d love to look anywhere else, you can’t. He stalks closer to you. His stance is that of a trained killer – the only thing keeping you from cowering away from him is what remains of your pride.
“If you’re coming with us,” he bites out, “you can’t be so narrow minded and selfish. You can’t just think of yourself anymore. Got that?”
Oh, this is unfair. He’s being so unfair.
You felt small before, guilt rising inside of you. Now you’re furious at Rogers’ reaction, feeling targeted and singled out.
What the fuck is his problem?
You allow your eyes to finally reflect the harsh frustration and anger you feel at him to show as you glare at him, mouth pressing into a hard line as your nostrils flair. Righteous heat prickles at your fingertips as the long buried need to fight back rears up
“How dare you,” you force out through gritted teeth, “you have no idea—”
Your aggression was all the reason that Rogers needed. He stalked up to you, standing mere inches from your face as he loomed over your shorter frame. You felt like you should be scared, but you weren’t.
You just burned.
“Really? I have ‘no idea’? You’re the one who seems in the dark here—”
Your humorless snort of laughter cuts him off, an incredulous look on his features.
“Jokes on you,” you sneer, “they never let me turn the lights off in that room. Didn’t see that in your reports?”
That finally silences him. The heaviness settles over your group again, the rumble of Debbie’s truck engine growing ever closer.
Palms white hot, you roll your shoulders back and look Captain America straight in the face, refusing the shrink under his anger. You’re proud of the glimmer of doubt that’s now appeared in that expression. The words that came from such a bad memory had the desired effect.
Hey, you hadn’t lied.
“You came to me. I might not understand how all of this works, that’s fine. Whatever. But I’ve been living second to second trying to stay hidden for years. So fuck right off with your self-righteous attitude. I stand by what I said; you have no fucking idea what it’s been like.”
As your words settle in, you fight to control the fire longing to sputter to life as it rages beneath your skin with your volatile emotions. You hate saying the truth aloud, the truth about your life from the past decade. You hate how it legitimizes it all.
But it’s the truth. For as much as Rogers’ has probably looked into your life, he hasn’t been through this. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have a fucking leg to stand on.
You won’t let him demean and judge you for what you’ve had to do to survive.
“Take a breather, Steve,” Natasha’s soothing voice cuts through the oppressive silence. It’s accompanied by the roar of the ancient engine of Debbie’s truck as it rounds the bend by the trees, finally coming into view. You turn your back to the imposing man behind you, trying to calm yourself so you can speak to your unexpected guest.
The group behind you retreats a little; you can hear them stepping away as you step forward. As you watch the truck, you see it stop for a second. You can’t help but grin a little to yourself as you imagine Debbie behind the wheel, absolutely shocked at what she’s seeing.
You’re pulled back into the confrontation behind you as the angry sound of Rogers’ muttering drifts over to you. Clenching your fists, you fight to ignore the prickling of heat stabbing into your nerve endings.
“Doin’ okay?”
A friendly voice asking a friendly question. The sound of it a soothing balm to your nerves, something you didn’t know you needed until you heard it.
Looking over to your right, you see Bucky standing next to you. He’s respecting your personal space, but he’s still close enough so that every single cell in your body is aware of it. His blue eyes, so different from Captain Rogers, look down at you. He brings his softness with him, so welcome after the confrontation you just had.
You consider his question. Are you okay? Like, actually okay?
“I don’t really know how to answer that,” you admit quietly, noticing Debbie’s truck finally moving forward again.
“Fair enough,” he admits, a wry grin pulling at his mouth as he looks away. You find yourself staring it the curl of it, fascinated in a way you can’t explain. As he turns back to you, you notice how the pain of fighting your power ebbs away.
He makes it better.
You acknowledge the realization in your head, not quite sure what to do with it. Why? Why is he so different from the others?
“How about this,” he says, “are you still functioning? Able to put one foot in front of the other?”
You tilt your head at him, considering the question. You love how he phrased it; it’s exactly what you’ve been doing for as long as you can remember.
“Yeah. Guess you could say that.”
Bucky nods, glancing away again. Even as he looks away, you notice how he shifts slightly closer to you. If he were anyone else, you’d feel threatened.
But…it’s him. You like him close.
“Listen, I’m—”
His words are cut off as you both notice the pale blue truck pulling to a stop in front of you. Debbie’s eyes are wide as saucers as she looks from you to the Bucky to the entire situation behind you. As she looks back at you, brows raised in apprehensive question, you nod to let her know it’s okay.
“I’ll give you some space,” Bucky mumbles as Debbie starts to step out of the truck, “I’ll be right back there, okay?”
Meeting his eyes once again, you give him a rare smile, hoping he can feel the gratitude there.
“Thank you.”
It’s simple, but he smiles back. As much as you’d like to stay in this moment with him, despite your confusion around him in general, you pull yourself back to the present. You turn forward and focus on Debbie, walking forward to meet her.
It’s hard, knowing you can’t be the person she knows. It’s even harder seeing the knowing look on her face as she looks at you, like she’s had a feeling about you this entire time that’s been proven correct.
“I’m guessin’ you’re not workin’ your shift this morning.”
You shake your head, smiling apologetically.
“And your name’s not really Allie?”
Damn. She doesn’t waste any time, does she.
Sighing, you take a moment before admitting, “No, it’s not.”
“Do I get to know what it really is?”
You frown, thinking about it for a minute. The frown continues to pull at your mouth as you realize the answer.
“No. Not right now, anyway. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”
Debbie comes closer to you, settling in next to you as she takes in the insanity of the scene behind you. The Avengers and their ship, just casually sitting in front of her father’s old cabin.
“Hope they’re not flattening the grass,” she mutters grumpily.
“I’ll get them moving in a minute, maybe Stark has some weird invention that can fix it,” you force a laugh.
“I got just one question for you,” she mumbles, turning to pin you with her sharp eyes, “are you safe? Are they making you go?”
“I’m safer with them than I would be alone,” you answer honestly, “so I do need to go with them. But it’s my decision to make, so don’t worry about that.”
She makes a sound of acknowledgement, but then goes quiet again. You just keep looking at her, anxious about her reaction to everything. Debbie is protective to a fault; she’s the reason you were able to find a place here. She took you under her wing, gave you a chance to remember what home meant. You can tell that she wants to know more. She wants to understand who you are, what all this is.
It makes you sadder than you can explain, knowing you can’t tell her.
“I always wondered if you were runnin’ from something,” she mutters, “you never wanted to talk about it, but I suspected.”
“You were right on that one,” you admit, “right on quite a bit of it, I imagine.”
“Well, I’m guessin’ since Iron Man himself is here that somethin’ big is after you.”
“Debbie, I wish I could—”
“Now hold on,” she interrupts, not unkindly, and continues, “I know you can’t tell me. Makes sense. As much as I wish you could, I understand.”
It’s her trademark, simple kindness that makes your eyes prickle with tears again. You should’ve known she wouldn’t push. It’s just not who she is. Even now, after months of you living here and working for her, she’s never pushed you for more information than you’re willing to give.
She looks back at you, and noticing the tears gathering in your eyes, surprises you by reaching out and taking your hands.
You normally hate when people touch you, having not let anyone do so in years. But the motherly way in which Debbie holds your hands, so gentle and soft, it releases a torrent of emotion you didn’t know you still had.
You’re just thankful your skin isn’t heating up.
“C’mon now, don’t cry,” she says gruffly, her own emotion coming into it, “you’ll be okay, these guys will keep you safe.”
Your throat closes with the effort of keeping yourself from crying. Debbie has been the only consistent, kind presence in your life that you allow yourself to acknowledge.
You’re sure the Before has some people like that. But Debbie comes from the After, where the safe memories live.
“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done,” you choke out, all the words you wish you could say getting lost before you could get them out.
But Debbie knows. She always knows.
She just pats your hands, and says, “Would it be okay if I hugged you?”
The fact that she asks, not an ounce of judgement on her lined face, makes you feel lighter than you have in a long time.
All you can do is nod, and then she’s pulling you in for the most comforting hug you can imagine. You briefly let yourself press your face into her shoulder, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and tobacco filling your nostrils.
She smells just like her dad. You wonder if she knows.
“You’re a good kid,” she murmurs, “you’re tough. You’ll be okay no matter what happens, you hear me?”
You nod again, letting yourself relax into her embrace. The feeling is familiar, causing memories to start pulling at your mind.
Where’s my goodnight hug?
A woman’s voice. A voice you feel tugging at the deepest strings of your heart, causing the tears to finally spill over your lashes.
And all at once, you’re not just hugging Debbie. You’re hugging her too, whoever she is.
As you pull away, frantically brushing away your tears, you can’t help but smile at Debbie. Then the smile fades a little, as you remember the severity of the situation.
“People might come looking for me,” you warn, “dangerous people. You need to tell them as little as possible, even nothing at all if you can help it.”
“Of course, we’ve got your back.”
You grip Debbie hands again, tighter than before, trying to impart how serious this is.
“Not for me. For you. For the town. For anyone here who I’ve ever spoken to. They will not hesitate to hurt you, or even kill you, if they think they can get a little more information.”
Debbie’s mouth hangs open as she looks at you in shock, fear finally entering her eyes.
Good. She needs to be scared.
“If they come, if anyone comes and asks questions, you have to lie. You need to tell everyone to lie. Do you understand?”
A brief moment passes as she looks at you, a newfound hesitation that you’ve never seen her wear before settling in. Guilt begins to prickle at your conscious again as you remember how it’s your fault.
Finally, she nods in understanding.
“Will they come? Do you know for sure?” She asks, her voice trembling slightly.
“I don’t know. I know Stark has people planting false trails, hopefully that helps.”
Your oh-so-casual use of Iron Man’s government last name hits her along with the rest of this insane situation, and she looks behind you to the superheroes, shaking her head in awe.
“…Stark’s laying…false trail…you gotta be shittin’ me…”
It’s then you get a glimpse of how she might look at you differently if she knew who, or what, you were. With the Allie persona practically dead and gone, things feel strangely tenuous with the woman. It could be even worse if she knew just how dangerous you could be for them.
You find yourself glancing back at the team along with Debbie. As you catch Stark’s eye, he raises an eyebrow at you and briefly lifts his watch-clad wrist, indicating that you needed to finish up.
It’s hard to begrudge the guy when goodbyes feel so foreign now. The raging emotion accompanying this one is too uncomfortable to bear, and you feel yourself needing to be done with it all.
…but Debbie, after everything she’s done for you, you have to make this count. You can’t just throw it away like every other time before.
Turning back, you find the older woman already looking at you. While there’s this undercurrent of awe that hadn’t been present before, there’s that all-knowing wisdom about her that’s always been there. Like she knows all your secrets before you do.
You both kind of just look at each other for a minute or two. She might just be enjoying the moment, but beneath your own silence, you’re frantically trying to grab at the right words to convey how much her generosity means to you.
You open and close your mouth several times, thinking you’ve thought of something just to forget it or get shy right at the last minute.
Another minute of you very clearly struggling, and Debbie’s chiming in, gruffly saying, “Kid, we don’t have to do the thing.”
“I—what?”
You’d been just about to force something out when her words settle over you. It sounded so Debbie yet so unlike Debbie all at the same time. The woman herself seems a little surprised at herself.
“Ethel’s daughter got her a boxed set of Grey’s Anatomy, and we—oh foot, we’re getting off subject here,” she rushes out gruffly. You bite back a laugh at the reference she never meant to make. It would only make her more embarrassed.
“The point is,” she continues, trying very hard to move past her little fan moment, “you don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to make this a big moment. Neither of us are big gesture kind of gals – no need to torture ourselves.”
“I just—I don’t know how—”
“I mean it,” she cuts off your stuttering again, any progress you make toward a heartfelt and eloquent goodbye monologue shut down once again by your landlord.
…your friend.
“C’mon,” you whine a little, “can’t I say—”
“Nope,” she huffs gruffly, trying to hide the faint shimmering in her eyes by turning away from you toward the peaks, “this ain’t forever, kid. I’m still expecting to see your ass here again.”
“I don’t know when that’ll be.”
You’re taken aback at how small and childlike your voice sounds. So scared. So unsure of herself. When was the last time you sounded like that?
“Good. Gives you plenty of time to plan out a better script for our next ‘see ya later’.”
She smooths over the grumpiness of her tone by giving you a small half smile, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling as she looks at you. You smile back at her, hoping beyond hope that it conveys everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say this time around.
Before you know it, Debbie’s turning quickly back toward her old pickup, and the moment is over.
“Better hurry back or that Dorito is gonna shit himself.”
Debbie’s definitely thrown some weird sentences out there in the past, but this was at a whole new level. What the fuck?
When you don’t respond right away, she adds over her should, “The tall blonde man with the constipated, pinched face. Never seen shoulders so broad with such a skinny waist. Man must think he’s a god, but he’s just a corn chip.”
Genuine laughter bubbles up from your throat. Only Debbie could somehow pick out the Avenger’s biggest asshole and deliver the most scorching of burns, all for shits and giggles.
By the time you get a hold of yourself, Debbie’s too far away for you to really say anything else to her. Not without screaming it, anyway. And the things you want to say aren’t for the entirety of Superhero Monthly. For someone who complains so often about her creaky joints, Debbie scuttles faster than any person you’d ever met.
You settle for just watching contentedly until she finally makes it to her truck, waving when she settles herself in the driver’s seat once again. Your throat seizes with emotion as she waves back.
Despite wanting to watch her drive down the winding road back toward town, you make yourself turn and walk back toward the main group. You don’t even let yourself look at the cabin again as you pass it, knowing it would just be another burst of painful emotion if you did.
If there’s one thing the past 24 hours have taught you, it’s that emotions are fucking annoying as shit.
As you shuffle to a halt in front of the waiting Avengers, Tony Stark claps his hands and says, “Did the diner accept your resignation?”
“I uh, I guess so?”
“Love it,” he says, “then let’s rock and roll.”
“It’s a good thing Parker isn’t here right now,” Sam mutters from a little ways away, “he’d be roasting your ass for that.”
“Fuck off Woodstock.”
Sam and Bucky snort with giggles, only quieting down when Stark turns around and fixes them with what you know is the coldest of Dad Stares he has in his arsenal.
“Okay, moving on,” Stark turns back to face you, “how’s that fire of yours react to small spaces?”
The small smile you’d had with Sam and Bucky’s antics falls away.
“Probably not the biggest fan in the world, if I’m being honest,” you mutter.
“Let me put it this way; is there a chance the jet turns into an open flame grill if things go wrong?”
You don’t want to admit it, but yeah, probably. Controlling it is hard even on a good day, and that’s when you don’t have to worry about walls or anything. There’s a very good chance this goes badly within the first five minutes of taking flight.
Your fingers start to heat up like the fire knows it’s being talked about. Bitch.
“Honesty is the best policy here, kid,” Stark’s addition interrupts your panicked thoughts, “not gonna toss you out over the Mississippi or anything. You gonna light it up?”
“Good chance of it, yeah,” you admit begrudgingly, stubbornly ignoring the stabbing pinpricks of heat arching over your shoulders.
“Lucky for us, I plan ahead sometimes,” he turns back toward the open ramp to the ship, calling, “You’re up, Banner.”
Dr. Banner comes forward again, his face already apologetic as you meet his gaze.
“We have two options here to keep you and everyone on board safe,” he says, his voice surprisingly authoritative compared to his demeanor.
“O-okay,” you stutter, then release a shaky breath to try and ease some tension.
“Number one, Tony and I developed some fireproof restraints that would cover your hands completely. Even if your powers start getting out of control, everything will be contained.”
The clamp of cold metal, so at odds against the white hot of your skin. Sparks sputter out intermittently, wanting to fight a battle you were barely conscious of.
“What’s the other option?” You ask, jaw clenched against the unwanted memory. The other option has to be better. There’s no way you would let someone restrain you again.
Banner gives you an understanding nod, then continues, “Working with enhanced folks over the years, we’ve been able to concoct a short-term sedative that would put you under for the duration of the flight.”
More needles. More restraints. More drugs. The options weren’t great, no matter how you slice it. You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting the endless flashes of the sensations and the terror and the cold—
“Hey, you’re safe. You’re okay.”
There’s that softness again, coming to rest over your senses. It’s different enough from the rest that you can’t help but focus on it.
Focus on him.
You manage to open your eyes again. Looking to your right, you see Bucky. He’s looking down at you with nothing but reassurance and calm.
“This isn’t like it was with them. You’re safe with us.”
“I-I ju-just—”
Your voice seems to vibrate as panic takes hold. The heat is there again, centering around your spine this time, making you want to curve in on yourself.
“Look at me, focus on me,” he murmurs.
Turning so that you face him head on, you try to hone in on the different shades of blue in his eyes. You vaguely notice that the rest of the group has stepped away, giving you a minute.
“I know neither option is great,” he says quietly, “but neither is the pressure you would put on yourself trying to keep it in.”
You nod along with what he says, the logic making sense to you even through the fog.
“Which one seems like the least amount of stress for you?”
Thinking, you try to compare the two in your mind. If you were to choose the restraints, you’d be conscious of it the entire time. Somehow, knowing you were trapped, being painfully aware of being so enclosed…the idea alone is enough to make you shatter.
“I need to be out,” you whisper, “I’m not—I just don’t think I can—”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain it,” he whispers, stepping closer. You let him, choosing to allow that softness to be your primary sensation rather than the fire burning you from the inside.
“I know this is the better option,” you choke out, “but I still hate needles. I had being drugged like this.”
“I do too.”
Looking up at him, you see nothing but genuine pain and honesty. He understands. For his sake, you wish he didn’t.
“I’ll stay right next to you the entire time,” he promises, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
All you can do is nod, every minute more overwhelming than the next since you walked back down from the mountain yesterday.
You allow Bucky to lead you back toward the ship, Dr. Banner and Stark standing outside as the rest start to file in.
“Ready to go, lava lamp?”
“Yeah,” you mumble, wringing your hands together, “could…could you guys just sedate me? I know it might be a hassle, but—”
“Not a hassle at all kiddo, promise,” Stark gently cuts you off, “and besides, as a rule we like to not be set on fire. Kind of a comfort thing.”
Banner looks at Stark in shock at his joke about the threat you pose, but you let out a little giggle. It’s nice for it to be the subject of something funny, rather than every other bad thing it is.
The two scientists lead you onto the ship, your legs trembling with every step against the metallic floor. The only thing keeping you steady is Bucky trailing behind you.
They lead you to some seats near the back of the jet, a little separate from the rest. Good; some space from the others might help.
You get your things stowed away with Bucky’s help before sitting down. Natasha’s intelligent green eyes meet yours from across the ship, and her kind smile only adds to your feeling of safety.
She’s the one who convinced you to do this. She’s what made you believe they can be trusted. You can do this.
After getting yourself strapped in, Dr. Banner steps in front of you. You can tell he’s trying to make himself as nonthreatening as possible. Even so, it’s kind of hard not to feel terrified as he holds up the glinting needle in the shadows.
Your breath catches. Hazy flashes explode from behind your eyes, erupting in a storm of pure panic as your body tries to remind you why you stay away from them.
“You’re safe, I promise.”
Bucky’s warm words break through the fear as the needle pierces your arm. You feel a prick for the briefest of seconds before it’s out again, Dr. Banner already having plunged the sedative into your veins.
“Damn, you’re good at that,” you mumble, words slurring a little as the drug starts to take effect.
“Years of practice,” he chuckles.
The last thing you hear is Bucky, murmuring something again to you, so quiet only you can hear.
“You’re safe with me.”
***
tags: @obsidianvibranium @dreamwritesimagines @valhalla-kristin
thanks for being here y'all this thing is my baby and it means so much to me
eren with an insomniac so (modern au)
UH THIS RAN AWAY FROM ME FRFR
anyways welcome to another round of "jenna's processing her shit through fics for fictional characters"
eren jaeger x fem!reader
for most of his life, eren's been a heavy fucking sleeper
not even kidding, someone could slam every door in his living space at once, and he wouldn't even twitch
but he's the kind of man who gets tunnel vision with something or someone he loves, and you definitely fit the bill
after you start your relationship, and especially once you move in together, eren's habits and patterns kind of start orbiting around you
it's not something he does consciously; he honestly just notices the things you do or how you act. he can't help but pay attention, it's just who he is
he realizes you often deal with insomnia when he spends the night for the first time
eren realizes he can't feel your comforting warmth in his arms anymore, and he blinks his eyes awake only to find your side of the bed cold
he panics for a moment (bc let's be honest this poor lad is full of abandonment issues)
then he sees the light from under your closed bedroom door, and he knows you're right outside
checking the time, eren sees that it's a little past 2am
he stumbles out of bed to get to you. even if you need to be left alone, he needs to get his eyes on you so he knows you're still here
meanwhile, you've just gotten in the shower
when your anxiety gets like this, as it often does, getting up and resetting your mind is sometimes the only thing that will work
you'd lain on the couch for awhile, but that hadn't been enough
you didn't want to wake eren. you were scared if he saw just how bad things got at night, just how much you struggled at something that should be so fucking natural, he wouldn't see you the same way
so here you were, standing under the steaming stream of water, letting your hair get wet as you try to get your mind to turn off
you hear a gentle knock on the bathroom door, making you jump a little
it scares you, but then you hear the gravelly voice of a very sleepy eren
"baby? you okay?"
you sigh a little, fully understanding that 2am showers weren't all that normal. especially with daytime responsibilities
“i’m okay. just go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
but eren doesn't leave
you hear him shuffling around as he closes the bathroom door behind him
you hear the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor
"is it okay if i come in there with you?"
"um.....yeah. i would love that actually"
because you really would
here's the thing: eren is one of the most loving, most comforting people in the world
he knows you better than anyone, and he always knows when you're having a hard time
on nights like tonight, when your mind refuses to stop and you relive every bad thing that's ever happened to you, you could use his comfort
even just being with him is enough
you're facing away from him as he climbs in with you, knowing one glimpse at your face will be enough to have him worrying over you like crazy
what you learn that first night is that eren is instinctual when it comes to you
he doesn't even need to see your face to understand that you're not okay
he can see it in the way your shoulders are hunched over your body, and the protective way you have your arms crossed over your middle as you stand under the shower
so eren just grabs your shampoo, squirts a generous amount in his hand, and starts massaging it into your hair
you've done this for him before. it was something that made him feel so loved, warm, and safe
he wants nothing more than to make you feel that right now
you feel all that and more as he applies gentle pressure to your scalp, working the shampoo into a lather as he gently washes your hair for you
eren can see that it's working
the tension slowly leaves your shoulders
your body opens a little more
you exhale, and you tilt your head back toward him
he laughs a little under his breath
"feel good, sweetheart?"
"mhm"
he turns you around after a few minutes so your back is to the shower, and he watches with a soft smile on his face as you reach up and rinse the shampoo out
opening your eyes, you find him looking at you
there's another tug of anxiety as you try to find the words to explain yourself
but eren sees the frown tug at your mouth, and he reaches forward to take your face in his hands, and he kisses it away as lovingly as he can
after he presses a kiss to your forehead, he turns you around, and he repeats the process with your conditioner
with every affection caress from his fingers, you feel yourself relaxing more and more
your mind still fights you, but eren helps to keep it from taking off again
after you rinse your hair again, you turn to ask if he wants his hair washed too
you know how much he loves it, and you want to return the favor
you might be damaged, but so is eren
he deserves all the love and kindness you have to offer
but he just smiles again as he reaches around you to turn off the water
"i'm fine, baby. let's get you dried off, yeah?"
after you both dry off and get back into your sleeping clothes, you're hanging up your towels to dry on the rack
eren comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his warm chest
he peppers kisses from your temple, down your cheeks, then finally ending at your shoulders
"you don't have to talk about it, and i don't want you to feel like you have to. but i'm here to listen if you ever do. until then, and after that, i'll do whatever you need to make you feel safer, okay?"
your breath catches in your throat
you turn in his arms, and kiss him
you try to put every single ounce of love you feel into that kiss, trying to make him feel how much that meant to you
after the kiss, you thread your fingers together and bring him back to your room
the nighttime shower, plus eren, helped get your mind to settle
he holds you even tighter somehow, murmuring endless comforting words against your skin as he fingers trace patterns over your sides and back
"i love you, eren"
it's the first time you told him you loved him
"i love you too, y/n"
he didn't even hesitate
ever since then, every night you spend together
no matter how dead to the world asleep eren always is
his body pays attention to you
within ten minutes of you extracting yourself from his arms, he comes out behind you, ready to do whatever you need to get to sleep
or at least relax. sometimes you can't get to that point, but he helps you feel more comfortable at least
a lot of times those late night showers are involved
or he has you lay on top of him on the couch as you watch something on tv
if it's especially bad, he just holds you in your shared bed
it's gotten to the point where you can talk about all your fears, worries, insecurities, and negative thoughts without worrying about what he'll think
he won't just brush them off
eren listens, truly listens
he lets you rant if that's what you need. he offers logic if you need to be reminded that your brain is running away from you
but mostly, he reminds you that he's here
he loves you. more than he's ever loved anyone
"i've got you, baby. i'm not letting anything happen to you"
over time, he helps make it easier to sleep
it'll never go away completely, and there are times when it's worse than others
but you're his life. he's never going to give up on you
let alone let you wonder how much he loves you
because it's endless, and it always will be
MY FIRST EREN HC I HOPE IT'S OKAY!!!!!
send eren requests here
OP is really over here just making eren (a man from an anime I DON'T WATCH) my comfort character-
PLS OMG YOURE SO KIND 😭😭😭😭😭😭 tbh i definitely take some liberties with his character, it’s just my interpretation of what he’d be like in a different time without all the titans and shit. but i’m so so happy you like it so much it means the world to me 🥹
hi i love your eren insomniac au so much 😭💛 may i request for a modern au eren x reader (fem/gn) - where eren stands up for the reader from being disrespected by toxic parents? more of like a comfort hc? don’t worry if you are unable to, thank you so much for reading this & putting in so much effort to ur writing <3 have a great day lovely !!
oh my gosh thank you!!!! it's one of my favorite hcs i've written so I'm so happy you like it too! and thank you the most for being here and saying such kind things, it means a lot to me
but FUCK YEAH i can do that for you!!! i'm sorry if this is a situation you have to deal with :( i have my own set of toxic parents so i know how hard it can be. i hope this helps, even just a little <3
kind of turned into a whole ass fic???? i'm so sorry about that lol i hope it's okay!
CW: anxiety, depression, slight ptsd, heavy themes of toxic parental relationships, body issues
modern!Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader
Before
Eren knows about your family. He's known, or at least suspected, from those very first few weeks of getting to know you. He has his own issues with his dad - even though everyone's situation is different, he's come to learn how to recognize those long lasting scars in other people. It hurts him beyond belief that he can see those scars in you, his favorite person.
It was even harder seeing how deep those scars go once you two began your relationship. It took awhile for Eren to help you understand that his love for you wasn't transactional. It wasn't conditional. It didn't depend on the size of clothes you wore, or how many achievements you could tack onto your resume. That you didn't have to walk on eggshells every waking moment just to make sure you didn't misstep. He just loves you. You're still learning that, and trying to show him the very same kind of deep and unyielding love for him.
Even so, Eren has his mom. Carla has been able to show him nothing but pure and unconditional love from before he can remember - a stark contrast from Grisha. He was able to start healing and separating himself from that toxicity from a young age, and hasn't really spoken to him since. Your situation is different - both parents, both different yet similar brands of harshness, both still in contact.
It's complicated. He knows it is. You've even said it yourself.
Doesn't stop him from being so, so gentle with you. From waking up every morning ready to protect you and remind you how much he loves you. It started like that from the very first minute he lay eyes on you, when he knew instantly how much he was going to love you, to now, and every moment to come.
So when your parents kept insisting they had to meet him, Eren tried to convince you that it wasn't that important. That they could try and do this over FaceTime first, test the waters a little bit.
You honestly didn't want to share him with them at all. He's such a sacred part of your life, something so good and pure and wonderful. You're scared that if he sees where you come from, just how bad it can get with them, he'll leave.
You're always terrified that you'll scare him off.
You tell him so one night, as you're wringing your hands together, panicking after yet another passive aggressive text about meeting Eren. It stresses you out more and more every time.
Eren doesn't say anything at first. Just wraps you up in his arms. Pulls you against his warmth. Cradles you against his broad chest, stroking every part of you he can reach with a featherlight touch.
"Baby," he croons, "there's nothing you could show me that could scare me off."
Your stomach swoons every time he calls you that. Can't be helped. He giggles a little at the stutter in your breathing with the pet name, but doesn't poke fun at you just now.
"You're already so goddamn patient with me," you whisper shakily, his name for you unable to sway you from anxiety, "I just don't--"
"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I will always love you. I just want you to feel safe and happy, and I'll do everything I can to make you feel that way. Got that?"
Despite the tears filling your eyes, you smile bashfully and hide your face in his neck, leaving thankful and affectionate kisses all over his warm skin.
Okay, so maybe you could do this. You have Eren.
During
After much hounding from your parents, you and Eren find yourselves standing outside the door of your parent's house. You've got a plate of brownies in one hand and Eren in the other. He runs his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically in a way that grounds you. In his other hand, he holds a bouquet of flowers for your mom, ever the gentleman. Carla raised him right.
Everyone's all smiles at first. Eren's impressed; he knows how scared you are, how nervous, but you're putting up a good front. But the more he thinks about it, the more your skill at hiding how you're feeling makes him sad. You've clearly had a lot of practice.
Your parents are showing the good parts of them. You've explained to Eren how there are good memories with them; they can be so loving, so kind. And right now, they're welcoming you home and Eren into their lives with open and loving arms. They're asking Eren all kinds of questions about his life and his interests. Asking about your relationship, how you met, things like that.
It starts to fall apart during dinner.
Eren can see that you've gotten a little more comfortable. Your shoulders aren't as tense, breaths coming a little easier. It's easy for him to understand why you're at war with yourself constantly over how you feel about them.
Then somehow everyone ends up on the subject of something you're passionate about. Eren, for one, is thrilled. Watching you talk about the things you love is one of his favorite activities. Your eyes light up in the most breathtaking way, and your smile is downright infectious. He could listen to you for hours.
"Oh boy, here we go," your mom sighs from one end of the table.
Just like that the spell is broken. Eren has a front row seat as he watches your face fall, your voice cutting off into heavy silence. Your brows knit together as you look down at your plate.
"You're obsessing again," your dad adds with a patronizing laugh.
Eren looks up and in between your parents. They laugh, looking at him as though trying to include him in whatever sick joke they think they're making.
He looks back at you. You're masking it for now, but your hands are clenched in the tightest fists he's ever seen under the table. He reaches under the table and takes the hand closest to him, and ever so gently, tries to coax your fingers open. Trying to get you to let him in.
"Sorry," you say with a self-deprecating laugh, "I know I can get carried away."
Eren's heart shatters. He doesn't know how many times you said this, mostly in the beginning of your relationship and in group settings. You're always so convinced that no one wants to hear you talk, so you end up apologizing for it.
Now he sees it. Where it comes from.
Schooling his face into a friendly expression despite his rage, he squeezes your hand, saying, "No, keep going, I love hearing you talk."
"Nah, it's okay," you shrug nonchalantly, before changing the subject.
The way you're squeezing his hand begs him to drop it. So he does.
But then it keeps going.
You reach for a second helping of something, and your mom says, "How are you still hungry?"
You don't end up getting that second helping.
You make a joke about something, wrinkling your nose in that cute little way he loves so much.
"Yeah, don't tell your coworkers that one," your dad adds in.
Eren has to watch your beautiful face fall.
You're talking about how many long hours you've worked recently, how tired you are.
Cutting you off, your mom jumps in about how hard she works. Very much indicating there's no way you can be more tired than her.
Eren sees you breaking under the weight of it all. His sweet, fiery, passionate girl, reduced to whatever palatable version of you your parents find acceptable. They've tried to make poking fun at you a bonding activity ever since he stepped into their home, and despite his stone faced reactions, they just keep going.
He has to get you out of here. His protective instincts are raging at him to just get you out.
But your mom insists on pictures. So you pose together. Full group picture first. Then one of you and Eren. Eren tries to pour every ounce of love he has into the way he holds you, but he can feel you shaking. He wants to scream, but he pastes a smile on his face instead.
Then it happens.
"TTI, sweetie."
What the fuck? What does that mean?
Then, like a soldier responding to a command, he feels you suck in your soft tummy to the point where he wonders if it's painful.
"Sorry, what does that mean?"
Eren tries to ask in what he hopes is a joking manner, but you can hear the barely suppressed anger just underneath.
"Tuck Tummy In," your mom explains with a lighthearted smile, "now smile--"
"Why would you say that to her?"
He doesn't even try to hide his outrage this time. Eren, a normally very expressive person, has spent the entire night burying his need to put the people hurting you in their place. Now he's had it.
"Eren, it's fine--"
"No, it's not," he seethes, curling his fingers around your waist in a vice grip.
Your parents are silent. No one's ever called them out like this before. You've tried to have discussions with them in the past about things like this, approaching it in a very calm, polite manner, but it always ended badly.
"There's nothing she has to fix about herself to look drop dead gorgeous for a picture. Nothing."
"It's just something we say--"
"Not anymore it's not. Not when I'm here."
You're ready for the yelling to start. You flinch, curling yourself closer into Eren's side. A kneejerk reaction cultivated by years of emotionally volatile parenting. Eren tightens his arm around you. He might be ready to go to war on your behalf, but he's gonna make sure you feel safe at the same time.
Your dad steps forward, a self righteous glare on his face as he looks at Eren.
"You don't speak to my wife that way--"
"Oh, you mean the way you've spoken to your daughter the entire night?"
Heavy silence fills the room. Eren worries that he's gone too far, but then he feels you press even closer to him. If you were upset, you'd be putting distance between you two.
Your parents look at you, expecting you to come to their defense, but you don't. You won't.
"He's r-right," you whisper shakily, "I've told you before how the kinds of things you've said tonight make me feel."
Then, like clockwork, your mom gets misty eyed. Your dad gets stern, condescending, and loud.
"I just wanted a nice night."
"Look at how you made your mother feel."
"I guess we're just the worst parents."
"We'll talk about everything soon," you murmur politely, reaching down to lace your fingers together, "but Eren and I are going home now. Thank you for dinner."
As you go to lead Eren out of there, he tugs you to a stop. You turn and look at him quizzically, wondering what else he could possibly say to them (not that you're complaining). He gives you the sweetest of smiles, the one he reserves just for you. It's the one that says, Don't worry baby. I've got you.
"Since we've already gone there, might as well add some things for the record," he says as he turns around to face them, his hand still holding yours.
"Number 1, it's a goddamn privilege to listen to her talk about anything she wants. For as long as she wants. Anyone who's in the room when she decides to share her passion should count themselves lucky."
Tears gather in your eyes. The happiest of tears.
"Number 2, there are days when I barely see her eat a thing. Those are the days she tries to make herself as small as possible, shrink in on herself. Today was a good day. You took that from her and you should be fucking ashamed."
You start to smile, so in love with this man. Even as your dad starts to raise his voice at Eren's cursing.
"Number 3," Eren says assertively, silencing him, "her belly, the one you shame her for, is one of my favorite parts about her."
Your parents are silent. They stare at Eren in shock, not daring to believe someone could call them out on behaviors they've refused to acknowledge for so long.
Eren turns back to you, green eyes shining with love, and says, "Ready to go?"
You nod. He wraps an arm around you to tug you into him, and leads you out of the warzone.
After
When you and Eren first get in the car, doors slamming shut behind you, he's instantly apologetic.
"I'm so sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me. I never should've gone that far--"
You cut his words off by kissing him, trying to pour every bit of gratitude and love into the way your lips move against his.
The kiss ends, but you stay close to him, resting your forehead against his.
"I'm gonna have a hard time tonight," you warn, your entire body trembling with the emotional aftershock of your confrontation. Once the adrenaline wears off it'll be even worse.
"I know," he whispers, kissing your nose lightly, "it's okay. I'd be more worried if it wasn't."
He goes to pull away so he can start the drive home, his protectiveness ever pushing him to get you to a safe place, but you stop him. You place both hands on his face to bring him back to you, kissing him softly again. You open your eyes, meeting the vivid green of his, and you fall even more in love with him.
"Thank you. For keeping me safe."
"I'd do anything for you."
He says it so simply. So factually. He leans forward to kiss you once more, then finally tears makes himself pull away so he can start the car.
As Eren starts the drive down the sleepy residential street, he keeps one hand on your knee, making smoothing circles on your skin. You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth, kissing his loving fingers, before setting it down again.
"I love you so much," you say.
"Love you more," he answers.
*******
And that night is bad.
The hurt sets in and pulls you under. Your self-esteem, already so fragile, seems to break apart from under you. You feel meaningless and empty.
That's what happens when the people who're supposed to love you the most reduce you to a shell of a person. When they work tirelessly to smother every part of what makes you you. When they dampen that fire that keeps you going, gives you purpose.
It's what they've been doing all your life.
But now you have Eren.
The darkness doesn't feel as all encompassing as it has before. He doesn't let you isolate yourself, knowing it's your self-destructive instinct to do so. Eren keeps you close to him, the best comfort there could possibly be.
He gets you out of the clothes you trapped yourself in to impress them, getting you into a hot shower with him so he can wash your hair for you. He holds you close under the hot stream of water, kissing every inch of your skin he can reach.
Afterwards, Eren dresses you in the most comfortable clothes he can think of. The ones he's seen you happiest in. It just so happens to be one of his t-shirts and a clean, comfortable pair of underwear.
Eren doesn't think he's ever seen you more beautiful.
He curls up with you on the couch, turning on your favorite comfort show to try and distract you. He holds you as close as he can, enveloping you in gentle touches and soft words.
You don't have the words to process everything that happens tonight. Eren doesn't expect you to. He just holds you, showing you how much he loves you. How much he values you. How he can't live without you.
As you climb into bed with him that night, Eren sees you poking at your belly, mouth twisting in distaste.
He reads you better than anyone in the world. Even in the darkness of your bedroom, he can feel how unhappy you are. He can practically hear the hurtful words you hurl at yourself in your head.
So he rolls on top of you, settling himself so you're nose to nose. You look up at him with big eyes, and Eren can't help but smile. He leans down and kisses you.
"You're so gorgeous, y'know that?"
You roll your eyes, and you open your mouth, ready to brush off his statement. But he keeps going.
"I'm so serious," he says with a laugh, "I can't even pick which part of you I love the most."
He bends down to kiss you again, his unbound brown strands acting as a curtain for both of you.
"There's this part," he murmurs as he kisses you again.
"Then there's this part," he whispers, bending down farther to kiss your neck. You sigh, reaching up to weave your fingers through his soft hair.
He presses an open mouthed kiss to your collar bone, whispering against your skin. You can't even process what he's saying anymore. The way he kisses you is enough to make every thought leave your brain.
Then somehow he's slithered down to where his face is level with your stomach. You pull it in self-consciously, trying to tug him back up to eye level, but he stubbornly stays right where he is.
"Now right here," he murmurs huskily as he lifts your shirt, "is my absolutely favorite part of you, pretty girl."
Eren's not lying. He's shown how much he loves your tummy before. He wraps his long fingers around your waist on either side, dipping his head to kiss the soft skin he loves so much.
You simply lay back and let him love you, tired of fighting it tonight. You revel in the way he adores you so honestly, so openly, so unconditionally.
Both of you know it'll never be easy, not with your histories. But Eren showed tonight that he's willing to march into battle for you to keep you safe, to prove to you how important you are.
You love him. He loves you. Even when your family makes you doubt your worth, that'll never change.
***
Writing this was like therapy. Hope it was okay <3
Request here
hi i love your eren insomniac au so much 😭💛 may i request for a modern au eren x reader (fem/gn) - where eren stands up for the reader from being disrespected by toxic parents? more of like a comfort hc? don’t worry if you are unable to, thank you so much for reading this & putting in so much effort to ur writing <3 have a great day lovely !!
oh my gosh thank you!!!! it's one of my favorite hcs i've written so I'm so happy you like it too! and thank you the most for being here and saying such kind things, it means a lot to me
but FUCK YEAH i can do that for you!!! i'm sorry if this is a situation you have to deal with :( i have my own set of toxic parents so i know how hard it can be. i hope this helps, even just a little <3
kind of turned into a whole ass fic???? i'm so sorry about that lol i hope it's okay!
CW: anxiety, depression, slight ptsd, heavy themes of toxic parental relationships, body issues
modern!Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader
Before
Eren knows about your family. He's known, or at least suspected, from those very first few weeks of getting to know you. He has his own issues with his dad - even though everyone's situation is different, he's come to learn how to recognize those long lasting scars in other people. It hurts him beyond belief that he can see those scars in you, his favorite person.
It was even harder seeing how deep those scars go once you two began your relationship. It took awhile for Eren to help you understand that his love for you wasn't transactional. It wasn't conditional. It didn't depend on the size of clothes you wore, or how many achievements you could tack onto your resume. That you didn't have to walk on eggshells every waking moment just to make sure you didn't misstep. He just loves you. You're still learning that, and trying to show him the very same kind of deep and unyielding love for him.
Even so, Eren has his mom. Carla has been able to show him nothing but pure and unconditional love from before he can remember - a stark contrast from Grisha. He was able to start healing and separating himself from that toxicity from a young age, and hasn't really spoken to him since. Your situation is different - both parents, both different yet similar brands of harshness, both still in contact.
It's complicated. He knows it is. You've even said it yourself.
Doesn't stop him from being so, so gentle with you. From waking up every morning ready to protect you and remind you how much he loves you. It started like that from the very first minute he lay eyes on you, when he knew instantly how much he was going to love you, to now, and every moment to come.
So when your parents kept insisting they had to meet him, Eren tried to convince you that it wasn't that important. That they could try and do this over FaceTime first, test the waters a little bit.
You honestly didn't want to share him with them at all. He's such a sacred part of your life, something so good and pure and wonderful. You're scared that if he sees where you come from, just how bad it can get with them, he'll leave.
You're always terrified that you'll scare him off.
You tell him so one night, as you're wringing your hands together, panicking after yet another passive aggressive text about meeting Eren. It stresses you out more and more every time.
Eren doesn't say anything at first. Just wraps you up in his arms. Pulls you against his warmth. Cradles you against his broad chest, stroking every part of you he can reach with a featherlight touch.
"Baby," he croons, "there's nothing you could show me that could scare me off."
Your stomach swoons every time he calls you that. Can't be helped. He giggles a little at the stutter in your breathing with the pet name, but doesn't poke fun at you just now.
"You're already so goddamn patient with me," you whisper shakily, his name for you unable to sway you from anxiety, "I just don't--"
"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I will always love you. I just want you to feel safe and happy, and I'll do everything I can to make you feel that way. Got that?"
Despite the tears filling your eyes, you smile bashfully and hide your face in his neck, leaving thankful and affectionate kisses all over his warm skin.
Okay, so maybe you could do this. You have Eren.
During
After much hounding from your parents, you and Eren find yourselves standing outside the door of your parent's house. You've got a plate of brownies in one hand and Eren in the other. He runs his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically in a way that grounds you. In his other hand, he holds a bouquet of flowers for your mom, ever the gentleman. Carla raised him right.
Everyone's all smiles at first. Eren's impressed; he knows how scared you are, how nervous, but you're putting up a good front. But the more he thinks about it, the more your skill at hiding how you're feeling makes him sad. You've clearly had a lot of practice.
Your parents are showing the good parts of them. You've explained to Eren how there are good memories with them; they can be so loving, so kind. And right now, they're welcoming you home and Eren into their lives with open and loving arms. They're asking Eren all kinds of questions about his life and his interests. Asking about your relationship, how you met, things like that.
It starts to fall apart during dinner.
Eren can see that you've gotten a little more comfortable. Your shoulders aren't as tense, breaths coming a little easier. It's easy for him to understand why you're at war with yourself constantly over how you feel about them.
Then somehow everyone ends up on the subject of something you're passionate about. Eren, for one, is thrilled. Watching you talk about the things you love is one of his favorite activities. Your eyes light up in the most breathtaking way, and your smile is downright infectious. He could listen to you for hours.
"Oh boy, here we go," your mom sighs from one end of the table.
Just like that the spell is broken. Eren has a front row seat as he watches your face fall, your voice cutting off into heavy silence. Your brows knit together as you look down at your plate.
"You're obsessing again," your dad adds with a patronizing laugh.
Eren looks up and in between your parents. They laugh, looking at him as though trying to include him in whatever sick joke they think they're making.
He looks back at you. You're masking it for now, but your hands are clenched in the tightest fists he's ever seen under the table. He reaches under the table and takes the hand closest to him, and ever so gently, tries to coax your fingers open. Trying to get you to let him in.
"Sorry," you say with a self-deprecating laugh, "I know I can get carried away."
Eren's heart shatters. He doesn't know how many times you said this, mostly in the beginning of your relationship and in group settings. You're always so convinced that no one wants to hear you talk, so you end up apologizing for it.
Now he sees it. Where it comes from.
Schooling his face into a friendly expression despite his rage, he squeezes your hand, saying, "No, keep going, I love hearing you talk."
"Nah, it's okay," you shrug nonchalantly, before changing the subject.
The way you're squeezing his hand begs him to drop it. So he does.
But then it keeps going.
You reach for a second helping of something, and your mom says, "How are you still hungry?"
You don't end up getting that second helping.
You make a joke about something, wrinkling your nose in that cute little way he loves so much.
"Yeah, don't tell your coworkers that one," your dad adds in.
Eren has to watch your beautiful face fall.
You're talking about how many long hours you've worked recently, how tired you are.
Cutting you off, your mom jumps in about how hard she works. Very much indicating there's no way you can be more tired than her.
Eren sees you breaking under the weight of it all. His sweet, fiery, passionate girl, reduced to whatever palatable version of you your parents find acceptable. They've tried to make poking fun at you a bonding activity ever since he stepped into their home, and despite his stone faced reactions, they just keep going.
He has to get you out of here. His protective instincts are raging at him to just get you out.
But your mom insists on pictures. So you pose together. Full group picture first. Then one of you and Eren. Eren tries to pour every ounce of love he has into the way he holds you, but he can feel you shaking. He wants to scream, but he pastes a smile on his face instead.
Then it happens.
"TTI, sweetie."
What the fuck? What does that mean?
Then, like a soldier responding to a command, he feels you suck in your soft tummy to the point where he wonders if it's painful.
"Sorry, what does that mean?"
Eren tries to ask in what he hopes is a joking manner, but you can hear the barely suppressed anger just underneath.
"Tuck Tummy In," your mom explains with a lighthearted smile, "now smile--"
"Why would you say that to her?"
He doesn't even try to hide his outrage this time. Eren, a normally very expressive person, has spent the entire night burying his need to put the people hurting you in their place. Now he's had it.
"Eren, it's fine--"
"No, it's not," he seethes, curling his fingers around your waist in a vice grip.
Your parents are silent. No one's ever called them out like this before. You've tried to have discussions with them in the past about things like this, approaching it in a very calm, polite manner, but it always ended badly.
"There's nothing she has to fix about herself to look drop dead gorgeous for a picture. Nothing."
"It's just something we say--"
"Not anymore it's not. Not when I'm here."
You're ready for the yelling to start. You flinch, curling yourself closer into Eren's side. A kneejerk reaction cultivated by years of emotionally volatile parenting. Eren tightens his arm around you. He might be ready to go to war on your behalf, but he's gonna make sure you feel safe at the same time.
Your dad steps forward, a self righteous glare on his face as he looks at Eren.
"You don't speak to my wife that way--"
"Oh, you mean the way you've spoken to your daughter the entire night?"
Heavy silence fills the room. Eren worries that he's gone too far, but then he feels you press even closer to him. If you were upset, you'd be putting distance between you two.
Your parents look at you, expecting you to come to their defense, but you don't. You won't.
"He's r-right," you whisper shakily, "I've told you before how the kinds of things you've said tonight make me feel."
Then, like clockwork, your mom gets misty eyed. Your dad gets stern, condescending, and loud.
"I just wanted a nice night."
"Look at how you made your mother feel."
"I guess we're just the worst parents."
"We'll talk about everything soon," you murmur politely, reaching down to lace your fingers together, "but Eren and I are going home now. Thank you for dinner."
As you go to lead Eren out of there, he tugs you to a stop. You turn and look at him quizzically, wondering what else he could possibly say to them (not that you're complaining). He gives you the sweetest of smiles, the one he reserves just for you. It's the one that says, Don't worry baby. I've got you.
"Since we've already gone there, might as well add some things for the record," he says as he turns around to face them, his hand still holding yours.
"Number 1, it's a goddamn privilege to listen to her talk about anything she wants. For as long as she wants. Anyone who's in the room when she decides to share her passion should count themselves lucky."
Tears gather in your eyes. The happiest of tears.
"Number 2, there are days when I barely see her eat a thing. Those are the days she tries to make herself as small as possible, shrink in on herself. Today was a good day. You took that from her and you should be fucking ashamed."
You start to smile, so in love with this man. Even as your dad starts to raise his voice at Eren's cursing.
"Number 3," Eren says assertively, silencing him, "her belly, the one you shame her for, is one of my favorite parts about her."
Your parents are silent. They stare at Eren in shock, not daring to believe someone could call them out on behaviors they've refused to acknowledge for so long.
Eren turns back to you, green eyes shining with love, and says, "Ready to go?"
You nod. He wraps an arm around you to tug you into him, and leads you out of the warzone.
After
When you and Eren first get in the car, doors slamming shut behind you, he's instantly apologetic.
"I'm so sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me. I never should've gone that far--"
You cut his words off by kissing him, trying to pour every bit of gratitude and love into the way your lips move against his.
The kiss ends, but you stay close to him, resting your forehead against his.
"I'm gonna have a hard time tonight," you warn, your entire body trembling with the emotional aftershock of your confrontation. Once the adrenaline wears off it'll be even worse.
"I know," he whispers, kissing your nose lightly, "it's okay. I'd be more worried if it wasn't."
He goes to pull away so he can start the drive home, his protectiveness ever pushing him to get you to a safe place, but you stop him. You place both hands on his face to bring him back to you, kissing him softly again. You open your eyes, meeting the vivid green of his, and you fall even more in love with him.
"Thank you. For keeping me safe."
"I'd do anything for you."
He says it so simply. So factually. He leans forward to kiss you once more, then finally tears makes himself pull away so he can start the car.
As Eren starts the drive down the sleepy residential street, he keeps one hand on your knee, making smoothing circles on your skin. You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth, kissing his loving fingers, before setting it down again.
"I love you so much," you say.
"Love you more," he answers.
*******
And that night is bad.
The hurt sets in and pulls you under. Your self-esteem, already so fragile, seems to break apart from under you. You feel meaningless and empty.
That's what happens when the people who're supposed to love you the most reduce you to a shell of a person. When they work tirelessly to smother every part of what makes you you. When they dampen that fire that keeps you going, gives you purpose.
It's what they've been doing all your life.
But now you have Eren.
The darkness doesn't feel as all encompassing as it has before. He doesn't let you isolate yourself, knowing it's your self-destructive instinct to do so. Eren keeps you close to him, the best comfort there could possibly be.
He gets you out of the clothes you trapped yourself in to impress them, getting you into a hot shower with him so he can wash your hair for you. He holds you close under the hot stream of water, kissing every inch of your skin he can reach.
Afterwards, Eren dresses you in the most comfortable clothes he can think of. The ones he's seen you happiest in. It just so happens to be one of his t-shirts and a clean, comfortable pair of underwear.
Eren doesn't think he's ever seen you more beautiful.
He curls up with you on the couch, turning on your favorite comfort show to try and distract you. He holds you as close as he can, enveloping you in gentle touches and soft words.
You don't have the words to process everything that happens tonight. Eren doesn't expect you to. He just holds you, showing you how much he loves you. How much he values you. How he can't live without you.
As you climb into bed with him that night, Eren sees you poking at your belly, mouth twisting in distaste.
He reads you better than anyone in the world. Even in the darkness of your bedroom, he can feel how unhappy you are. He can practically hear the hurtful words you hurl at yourself in your head.
So he rolls on top of you, settling himself so you're nose to nose. You look up at him with big eyes, and Eren can't help but smile. He leans down and kisses you.
"You're so gorgeous, y'know that?"
You roll your eyes, and you open your mouth, ready to brush off his statement. But he keeps going.
"I'm so serious," he says with a laugh, "I can't even pick which part of you I love the most."
He bends down to kiss you again, his unbound brown strands acting as a curtain for both of you.
"There's this part," he murmurs as he kisses you again.
"Then there's this part," he whispers, bending down farther to kiss your neck. You sigh, reaching up to weave your fingers through his soft hair.
He presses an open mouthed kiss to your collar bone, whispering against your skin. You can't even process what he's saying anymore. The way he kisses you is enough to make every thought leave your brain.
Then somehow he's slithered down to where his face is level with your stomach. You pull it in self-consciously, trying to tug him back up to eye level, but he stubbornly stays right where he is.
"Now right here," he murmurs huskily as he lifts your shirt, "is my absolutely favorite part of you, pretty girl."
Eren's not lying. He's shown how much he loves your tummy before. He wraps his long fingers around your waist on either side, dipping his head to kiss the soft skin he loves so much.
You simply lay back and let him love you, tired of fighting it tonight. You revel in the way he adores you so honestly, so openly, so unconditionally.
Both of you know it'll never be easy, not with your histories. But Eren showed tonight that he's willing to march into battle for you to keep you safe, to prove to you how important you are.
You love him. He loves you. Even when your family makes you doubt your worth, that'll never change.
***
Writing this was like therapy. Hope it was okay <3
Request here
dude this is free fucking therapy- the aot fandom writers are really making me want to join the fandom
OMG THE WAY IM SO HONORED LIKE???????????? thank you so much!!!!!! i too have a type so I GET IT LMAO
hi i love your eren insomniac au so much 😭💛 may i request for a modern au eren x reader (fem/gn) - where eren stands up for the reader from being disrespected by toxic parents? more of like a comfort hc? don’t worry if you are unable to, thank you so much for reading this & putting in so much effort to ur writing <3 have a great day lovely !!
oh my gosh thank you!!!! it's one of my favorite hcs i've written so I'm so happy you like it too! and thank you the most for being here and saying such kind things, it means a lot to me
but FUCK YEAH i can do that for you!!! i'm sorry if this is a situation you have to deal with :( i have my own set of toxic parents so i know how hard it can be. i hope this helps, even just a little <3
kind of turned into a whole ass fic???? i'm so sorry about that lol i hope it's okay!
CW: anxiety, depression, slight ptsd, heavy themes of toxic parental relationships, body issues
modern!Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader
Before
Eren knows about your family. He's known, or at least suspected, from those very first few weeks of getting to know you. He has his own issues with his dad - even though everyone's situation is different, he's come to learn how to recognize those long lasting scars in other people. It hurts him beyond belief that he can see those scars in you, his favorite person.
It was even harder seeing how deep those scars go once you two began your relationship. It took awhile for Eren to help you understand that his love for you wasn't transactional. It wasn't conditional. It didn't depend on the size of clothes you wore, or how many achievements you could tack onto your resume. That you didn't have to walk on eggshells every waking moment just to make sure you didn't misstep. He just loves you. You're still learning that, and trying to show him the very same kind of deep and unyielding love for him.
Even so, Eren has his mom. Carla has been able to show him nothing but pure and unconditional love from before he can remember - a stark contrast from Grisha. He was able to start healing and separating himself from that toxicity from a young age, and hasn't really spoken to him since. Your situation is different - both parents, both different yet similar brands of harshness, both still in contact.
It's complicated. He knows it is. You've even said it yourself.
Doesn't stop him from being so, so gentle with you. From waking up every morning ready to protect you and remind you how much he loves you. It started like that from the very first minute he lay eyes on you, when he knew instantly how much he was going to love you, to now, and every moment to come.
So when your parents kept insisting they had to meet him, Eren tried to convince you that it wasn't that important. That they could try and do this over FaceTime first, test the waters a little bit.
You honestly didn't want to share him with them at all. He's such a sacred part of your life, something so good and pure and wonderful. You're scared that if he sees where you come from, just how bad it can get with them, he'll leave.
You're always terrified that you'll scare him off.
You tell him so one night, as you're wringing your hands together, panicking after yet another passive aggressive text about meeting Eren. It stresses you out more and more every time.
Eren doesn't say anything at first. Just wraps you up in his arms. Pulls you against his warmth. Cradles you against his broad chest, stroking every part of you he can reach with a featherlight touch.
"Baby," he croons, "there's nothing you could show me that could scare me off."
Your stomach swoons every time he calls you that. Can't be helped. He giggles a little at the stutter in your breathing with the pet name, but doesn't poke fun at you just now.
"You're already so goddamn patient with me," you whisper shakily, his name for you unable to sway you from anxiety, "I just don't--"
"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I will always love you. I just want you to feel safe and happy, and I'll do everything I can to make you feel that way. Got that?"
Despite the tears filling your eyes, you smile bashfully and hide your face in his neck, leaving thankful and affectionate kisses all over his warm skin.
Okay, so maybe you could do this. You have Eren.
During
After much hounding from your parents, you and Eren find yourselves standing outside the door of your parent's house. You've got a plate of brownies in one hand and Eren in the other. He runs his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically in a way that grounds you. In his other hand, he holds a bouquet of flowers for your mom, ever the gentleman. Carla raised him right.
Everyone's all smiles at first. Eren's impressed; he knows how scared you are, how nervous, but you're putting up a good front. But the more he thinks about it, the more your skill at hiding how you're feeling makes him sad. You've clearly had a lot of practice.
Your parents are showing the good parts of them. You've explained to Eren how there are good memories with them; they can be so loving, so kind. And right now, they're welcoming you home and Eren into their lives with open and loving arms. They're asking Eren all kinds of questions about his life and his interests. Asking about your relationship, how you met, things like that.
It starts to fall apart during dinner.
Eren can see that you've gotten a little more comfortable. Your shoulders aren't as tense, breaths coming a little easier. It's easy for him to understand why you're at war with yourself constantly over how you feel about them.
Then somehow everyone ends up on the subject of something you're passionate about. Eren, for one, is thrilled. Watching you talk about the things you love is one of his favorite activities. Your eyes light up in the most breathtaking way, and your smile is downright infectious. He could listen to you for hours.
"Oh boy, here we go," your mom sighs from one end of the table.
Just like that the spell is broken. Eren has a front row seat as he watches your face fall, your voice cutting off into heavy silence. Your brows knit together as you look down at your plate.
"You're obsessing again," your dad adds with a patronizing laugh.
Eren looks up and in between your parents. They laugh, looking at him as though trying to include him in whatever sick joke they think they're making.
He looks back at you. You're masking it for now, but your hands are clenched in the tightest fists he's ever seen under the table. He reaches under the table and takes the hand closest to him, and ever so gently, tries to coax your fingers open. Trying to get you to let him in.
"Sorry," you say with a self-deprecating laugh, "I know I can get carried away."
Eren's heart shatters. He doesn't know how many times you said this, mostly in the beginning of your relationship and in group settings. You're always so convinced that no one wants to hear you talk, so you end up apologizing for it.
Now he sees it. Where it comes from.
Schooling his face into a friendly expression despite his rage, he squeezes your hand, saying, "No, keep going, I love hearing you talk."
"Nah, it's okay," you shrug nonchalantly, before changing the subject.
The way you're squeezing his hand begs him to drop it. So he does.
But then it keeps going.
You reach for a second helping of something, and your mom says, "How are you still hungry?"
You don't end up getting that second helping.
You make a joke about something, wrinkling your nose in that cute little way he loves so much.
"Yeah, don't tell your coworkers that one," your dad adds in.
Eren has to watch your beautiful face fall.
You're talking about how many long hours you've worked recently, how tired you are.
Cutting you off, your mom jumps in about how hard she works. Very much indicating there's no way you can be more tired than her.
Eren sees you breaking under the weight of it all. His sweet, fiery, passionate girl, reduced to whatever palatable version of you your parents find acceptable. They've tried to make poking fun at you a bonding activity ever since he stepped into their home, and despite his stone faced reactions, they just keep going.
He has to get you out of here. His protective instincts are raging at him to just get you out.
But your mom insists on pictures. So you pose together. Full group picture first. Then one of you and Eren. Eren tries to pour every ounce of love he has into the way he holds you, but he can feel you shaking. He wants to scream, but he pastes a smile on his face instead.
Then it happens.
"TTI, sweetie."
What the fuck? What does that mean?
Then, like a soldier responding to a command, he feels you suck in your soft tummy to the point where he wonders if it's painful.
"Sorry, what does that mean?"
Eren tries to ask in what he hopes is a joking manner, but you can hear the barely suppressed anger just underneath.
"Tuck Tummy In," your mom explains with a lighthearted smile, "now smile--"
"Why would you say that to her?"
He doesn't even try to hide his outrage this time. Eren, a normally very expressive person, has spent the entire night burying his need to put the people hurting you in their place. Now he's had it.
"Eren, it's fine--"
"No, it's not," he seethes, curling his fingers around your waist in a vice grip.
Your parents are silent. No one's ever called them out like this before. You've tried to have discussions with them in the past about things like this, approaching it in a very calm, polite manner, but it always ended badly.
"There's nothing she has to fix about herself to look drop dead gorgeous for a picture. Nothing."
"It's just something we say--"
"Not anymore it's not. Not when I'm here."
You're ready for the yelling to start. You flinch, curling yourself closer into Eren's side. A kneejerk reaction cultivated by years of emotionally volatile parenting. Eren tightens his arm around you. He might be ready to go to war on your behalf, but he's gonna make sure you feel safe at the same time.
Your dad steps forward, a self righteous glare on his face as he looks at Eren.
"You don't speak to my wife that way--"
"Oh, you mean the way you've spoken to your daughter the entire night?"
Heavy silence fills the room. Eren worries that he's gone too far, but then he feels you press even closer to him. If you were upset, you'd be putting distance between you two.
Your parents look at you, expecting you to come to their defense, but you don't. You won't.
"He's r-right," you whisper shakily, "I've told you before how the kinds of things you've said tonight make me feel."
Then, like clockwork, your mom gets misty eyed. Your dad gets stern, condescending, and loud.
"I just wanted a nice night."
"Look at how you made your mother feel."
"I guess we're just the worst parents."
"We'll talk about everything soon," you murmur politely, reaching down to lace your fingers together, "but Eren and I are going home now. Thank you for dinner."
As you go to lead Eren out of there, he tugs you to a stop. You turn and look at him quizzically, wondering what else he could possibly say to them (not that you're complaining). He gives you the sweetest of smiles, the one he reserves just for you. It's the one that says, Don't worry baby. I've got you.
"Since we've already gone there, might as well add some things for the record," he says as he turns around to face them, his hand still holding yours.
"Number 1, it's a goddamn privilege to listen to her talk about anything she wants. For as long as she wants. Anyone who's in the room when she decides to share her passion should count themselves lucky."
Tears gather in your eyes. The happiest of tears.
"Number 2, there are days when I barely see her eat a thing. Those are the days she tries to make herself as small as possible, shrink in on herself. Today was a good day. You took that from her and you should be fucking ashamed."
You start to smile, so in love with this man. Even as your dad starts to raise his voice at Eren's cursing.
"Number 3," Eren says assertively, silencing him, "her belly, the one you shame her for, is one of my favorite parts about her."
Your parents are silent. They stare at Eren in shock, not daring to believe someone could call them out on behaviors they've refused to acknowledge for so long.
Eren turns back to you, green eyes shining with love, and says, "Ready to go?"
You nod. He wraps an arm around you to tug you into him, and leads you out of the warzone.
After
When you and Eren first get in the car, doors slamming shut behind you, he's instantly apologetic.
"I'm so sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me. I never should've gone that far--"
You cut his words off by kissing him, trying to pour every bit of gratitude and love into the way your lips move against his.
The kiss ends, but you stay close to him, resting your forehead against his.
"I'm gonna have a hard time tonight," you warn, your entire body trembling with the emotional aftershock of your confrontation. Once the adrenaline wears off it'll be even worse.
"I know," he whispers, kissing your nose lightly, "it's okay. I'd be more worried if it wasn't."
He goes to pull away so he can start the drive home, his protectiveness ever pushing him to get you to a safe place, but you stop him. You place both hands on his face to bring him back to you, kissing him softly again. You open your eyes, meeting the vivid green of his, and you fall even more in love with him.
"Thank you. For keeping me safe."
"I'd do anything for you."
He says it so simply. So factually. He leans forward to kiss you once more, then finally tears makes himself pull away so he can start the car.
As Eren starts the drive down the sleepy residential street, he keeps one hand on your knee, making smoothing circles on your skin. You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth, kissing his loving fingers, before setting it down again.
"I love you so much," you say.
"Love you more," he answers.
*******
And that night is bad.
The hurt sets in and pulls you under. Your self-esteem, already so fragile, seems to break apart from under you. You feel meaningless and empty.
That's what happens when the people who're supposed to love you the most reduce you to a shell of a person. When they work tirelessly to smother every part of what makes you you. When they dampen that fire that keeps you going, gives you purpose.
It's what they've been doing all your life.
But now you have Eren.
The darkness doesn't feel as all encompassing as it has before. He doesn't let you isolate yourself, knowing it's your self-destructive instinct to do so. Eren keeps you close to him, the best comfort there could possibly be.
He gets you out of the clothes you trapped yourself in to impress them, getting you into a hot shower with him so he can wash your hair for you. He holds you close under the hot stream of water, kissing every inch of your skin he can reach.
Afterwards, Eren dresses you in the most comfortable clothes he can think of. The ones he's seen you happiest in. It just so happens to be one of his t-shirts and a clean, comfortable pair of underwear.
Eren doesn't think he's ever seen you more beautiful.
He curls up with you on the couch, turning on your favorite comfort show to try and distract you. He holds you as close as he can, enveloping you in gentle touches and soft words.
You don't have the words to process everything that happens tonight. Eren doesn't expect you to. He just holds you, showing you how much he loves you. How much he values you. How he can't live without you.
As you climb into bed with him that night, Eren sees you poking at your belly, mouth twisting in distaste.
He reads you better than anyone in the world. Even in the darkness of your bedroom, he can feel how unhappy you are. He can practically hear the hurtful words you hurl at yourself in your head.
So he rolls on top of you, settling himself so you're nose to nose. You look up at him with big eyes, and Eren can't help but smile. He leans down and kisses you.
"You're so gorgeous, y'know that?"
You roll your eyes, and you open your mouth, ready to brush off his statement. But he keeps going.
"I'm so serious," he says with a laugh, "I can't even pick which part of you I love the most."
He bends down to kiss you again, his unbound brown strands acting as a curtain for both of you.
"There's this part," he murmurs as he kisses you again.
"Then there's this part," he whispers, bending down farther to kiss your neck. You sigh, reaching up to weave your fingers through his soft hair.
He presses an open mouthed kiss to your collar bone, whispering against your skin. You can't even process what he's saying anymore. The way he kisses you is enough to make every thought leave your brain.
Then somehow he's slithered down to where his face is level with your stomach. You pull it in self-consciously, trying to tug him back up to eye level, but he stubbornly stays right where he is.
"Now right here," he murmurs huskily as he lifts your shirt, "is my absolutely favorite part of you, pretty girl."
Eren's not lying. He's shown how much he loves your tummy before. He wraps his long fingers around your waist on either side, dipping his head to kiss the soft skin he loves so much.
You simply lay back and let him love you, tired of fighting it tonight. You revel in the way he adores you so honestly, so openly, so unconditionally.
Both of you know it'll never be easy, not with your histories. But Eren showed tonight that he's willing to march into battle for you to keep you safe, to prove to you how important you are.
You love him. He loves you. Even when your family makes you doubt your worth, that'll never change.
***
Writing this was like therapy. Hope it was okay <3
Request here
This was so fucking amazing I want to cry
PLS IM 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 thank you so so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹
hi hello
send me bc requests for modern eren bc i have so much brain rot about that idiot it’s ridiculous and i wanna share
could i do it on my own? yeah probably. do i have too many ideas to narrow down? yeah that too
hi i love your eren insomniac au so much 😭💛 may i request for a modern au eren x reader (fem/gn) - where eren stands up for the reader from being disrespected by toxic parents? more of like a comfort hc? don’t worry if you are unable to, thank you so much for reading this & putting in so much effort to ur writing <3 have a great day lovely !!
oh my gosh thank you!!!! it's one of my favorite hcs i've written so I'm so happy you like it too! and thank you the most for being here and saying such kind things, it means a lot to me
but FUCK YEAH i can do that for you!!! i'm sorry if this is a situation you have to deal with :( i have my own set of toxic parents so i know how hard it can be. i hope this helps, even just a little <3
kind of turned into a whole ass fic???? i'm so sorry about that lol i hope it's okay!
modern!Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader
Before
Eren knows about your family. He's known, or at least suspected, from those very first few weeks of getting to know you. He has his own issues with his dad - even though everyone's situation is different, he's come to learn how to recognize those long lasting scars in other people. It hurts him beyond belief that he can see those scars in you, his favorite person.
It was even harder seeing how deep those scars go once you two began your relationship. It took awhile for Eren to help you understand that his love for you wasn't transactional. It wasn't conditional. It didn't depend on the size of clothes you wore, or how many achievements you could tack onto your resume. That you didn't have to walk on eggshells every waking moment just to make sure you didn't misstep. He just loves you. You're still learning that, and trying to show him the very same kind of deep and unyielding love for him.
Even so, Eren has his mom. Carla has been able to show him nothing but pure and unconditional love from before he can remember - a stark contrast from Grisha. He was able to start healing and separating himself from that toxicity from a young age, and hasn't really spoken to him since. Your situation is different - both parents, both different yet similar brands of harshness, both still in contact.
It's complicated. He knows it is. You've even said it yourself.
Doesn't stop him from being so, so gentle with you. From waking up every morning ready to protect you and remind you how much he loves you. It started like that from the very first minute he lay eyes on you, when he knew instantly how much he was going to love you, to now, and every moment to come.
So when your parents kept insisting they had to meet him, Eren tried to convince you that it wasn't that important. That they could try and do this over FaceTime first, test the waters a little bit.
You honestly didn't want to share him with them at all. He's such a sacred part of your life, something so good and pure and wonderful. You're scared that if he sees where you come from, just how bad it can get with them, he'll leave.
You're always terrified that you'll scare him off.
You tell him so one night, as you're wringing your hands together, panicking after yet another passive aggressive text about meeting Eren. It stresses you out more and more every time.
Eren doesn't say anything at first. Just wraps you up in his arms. Pulls you against his warmth. Cradles you against his broad chest, stroking every part of you he can reach with a featherlight touch.
"Baby," he croons, "there's nothing you could show me that could scare me off."
Your stomach swoons every time he calls you that. Can't be helped. He giggles a little at the stutter in your breathing with the pet name, but doesn't poke fun at you just now.
"You're already so goddamn patient with me," you whisper shakily, his name for you unable to sway you from anxiety, "I just don't--"
"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I will always love you. I just want you to feel safe and happy, and I'll do everything I can to make you feel that way. Got that?"
Despite the tears filling your eyes, you smile bashfully and hide your face in his neck, leaving thankful and affectionate kisses all over his warm skin.
Okay, so maybe you could do this. You have Eren.
During
After much hounding from your parents, you and Eren find yourselves standing outside the door of your parent's house. You've got a plate of brownies in one hand and Eren in the other. He runs his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically in a way that grounds you. In his other hand, he holds a bouquet of flowers for your mom, ever the gentleman. Carla raised him right.
Everyone's all smiles at first. Eren's impressed; he knows how scared you are, how nervous, but you're putting up a good front. But the more he thinks about it, the more your skill at hiding how you're feeling makes him sad. You've clearly had a lot of practice.
Your parents are showing the good parts of them. You've explained to Eren how there are good memories with them; they can be so loving, so kind. And right now, they're welcoming you home and Eren into their lives with open and loving arms. They're asking Eren all kinds of questions about his life and his interests. Asking about your relationship, how you met, things like that.
It starts to fall apart during dinner.
Eren can see that you've gotten a little more comfortable. Your shoulders aren't as tense, breaths coming a little easier. It's easy for him to understand why you're at war with yourself constantly over how you feel about them.
Then somehow everyone ends up on the subject of something you're passionate about. Eren, for one, is thrilled. Watching you talk about the things you love is one of his favorite activities. Your eyes light up in the most breathtaking way, and your smile is downright infectious. He could listen to you for hours.
"Oh boy, here we go," your mom sighs from one end of the table.
Just like that the spell is broken. Eren has a front row seat as he watches your face fall, your voice cutting off into heavy silence. Your brows knit together as you look down at your plate.
"You're obsessing again," your dad adds with a patronizing laugh.
Eren looks up and in between your parents. They laugh, looking at him as though trying to include him in whatever sick joke they think they're making.
He looks back at you. You're masking it for now, but your hands are clenched in the tightest fists he's ever seen under the table. He reaches under the table and takes the hand closest to him, and ever so gently, tries to coax your fingers open. Trying to get you to let him in.
"Sorry," you say with a self-deprecating laugh, "I know I can get carried away."
Eren's heart shatters. He doesn't know how many times you said this, mostly in the beginning of your relationship and in group settings. You're always so convinced that no one wants to hear you talk, so you end up apologizing for it.
Now he sees it. Where it comes from.
Schooling his face into a friendly expression despite his rage, he squeezes your hand, saying, "No, keep going, I love hearing you talk."
"Nah, it's okay," you shrug nonchalantly, before changing the subject.
The way you're squeezing his hand begs him to drop it. So he does.
But then it keeps going.
You reach for a second helping of something, and your mom says, "How are you still hungry?"
You don't end up getting that second helping.
You make a joke about something, wrinkling your nose in that cute little way he loves so much.
"Yeah, don't tell your coworkers that one," your dad adds in.
Eren has to watch your beautiful face fall.
You're talking about how many long hours you've worked recently, how tired you are.
Cutting you off, your mom jumps in about how hard she works. Very much indicating there's no way you can be more tired than her.
Eren sees you breaking under the weight of it all. His sweet, fiery, passionate girl, reduced to whatever palatable version of you your parents find acceptable. They've tried to make poking fun at you a bonding activity ever since he stepped into their home, and despite his stone faced reactions, they just keep going.
He has to get you out of here. His protective instincts are raging at him to just get you out.
But your mom insists on pictures. So you pose together. Full group picture first. Then one of you and Eren. Eren tries to pour every ounce of love he has into the way he holds you, but he can feel you shaking. He wants to scream, but he pastes a smile on his face instead.
Then it happens.
"TTI, sweetie."
What the fuck? What does that mean?
Then, like a soldier responding to a command, he feels you suck in your soft tummy to the point where he wonders if it's painful.
"Sorry, what does that mean?"
Eren tries to ask in what he hopes is a joking manner, but you can hear the barely suppressed anger just underneath.
"Tuck Tummy In," your mom explains with a lighthearted smile, "now smile--"
"Why would you say that to her?"
He doesn't even try to hide his outrage this time. Eren, a normally very expressive person, has spent the entire night burying his need to put the people hurting you in their place. Now he's had it.
"Eren, it's fine--"
"No, it's not," he seethes, curling his fingers around your waist in a vice grip.
Your parents are silent. No one's ever called them out like this before. You've tried to have discussions with them in the past about things like this, approaching it in a very calm, polite manner, but it always ended badly.
"There's nothing she has to fix about herself to look drop dead gorgeous for a picture. Nothing."
"It's just something we say--"
"Not anymore it's not. Not when I'm here."
You're ready for the yelling to start. You flinch, curling yourself closer into Eren's side. A kneejerk reaction cultivated by years of emotionally volatile parenting. Eren tightens his arm around you. He might be ready to go to war on your behalf, but he's gonna make sure you feel safe at the same time.
Your dad steps forward, a self righteous glare on his face as he looks at Eren.
"You don't speak to my wife that way--"
"Oh, you mean the way you've spoken to your daughter the entire night?"
Heavy silence fills the room. Eren worries that he's gone too far, but then he feels you press even closer to him. If you were upset, you'd be putting distance between you two.
Your parents look at you, expecting you to come to their defense, but you don't. You won't.
"He's r-right," you whisper shakily, "I've told you before how the kinds of things you've said tonight make me feel."
Then, like clockwork, your mom gets misty eyed. Your dad gets stern, condescending, and loud.
"I just wanted a nice night."
"Look at how you made your mother feel."
"I guess we're just the worst parents."
"We'll talk about everything soon," you murmur politely, reaching down to lace your fingers together, "but Eren and I are going home now. Thank you for dinner."
As you go to lead Eren out of there, he tugs you to a stop. You turn and look at him quizzically, wondering what else he could possibly say to them (not that you're complaining). He gives you the sweetest of smiles, the one he reserves just for you. It's the one that says, Don't worry baby. I've got you.
"Since we've already gone there, might as well add some things for the record," he says as he turns around to face them, his hand still holding yours.
"Number 1, it's a goddamn privilege to listen to her talk about anything she wants. For as long as she wants. Anyone who's in the room when she decides to share her passion should count themselves lucky."
Tears gather in your eyes. The happiest of tears.
"Number 2, there are days when I barely see her eat a thing. Those are the days she tries to make herself as small as possible, shrink in on herself. Today was a good day. You took that from her and you should be fucking ashamed."
You start to smile, so in love with this man. Even as your dad starts to raise his voice at Eren's cursing.
"Number 3," Eren says assertively, silencing him, "her belly, the one you shame her for, is one of my favorite parts about her."
Your parents are silent. They stare at Eren in shock, not daring to believe someone could call them out on behaviors they've refused to acknowledge for so long.
Eren turns back to you, green eyes shining with love, and says, "Ready to go?"
You nod. He wraps an arm around you to tug you into him, and leads you out of the warzone.
After
When you and Eren first get in the car, doors slamming shut behind you, he's instantly apologetic.
"I'm so sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me. I never should've gone that far--"
You cut his words off by kissing him, trying to pour every bit of gratitude and love into the way your lips move against his.
The kiss ends, but you stay close to him, resting your forehead against his.
"I'm gonna have a hard time tonight," you warn, your entire body trembling with the emotional aftershock of your confrontation. Once the adrenaline wears off it'll be even worse.
"I know," he whispers, kissing your nose lightly, "it's okay. I'd be more worried if it wasn't."
He goes to pull away so he can start the drive home, his protectiveness ever pushing him to get you to a safe place, but you stop him. You place both hands on his face to bring him back to you, kissing him softly again. You open your eyes, meeting the vivid green of his, and you fall even more in love with him.
"Thank you. For keeping me safe."
"I'd do anything for you."
He says it so simply. So factually. He leans forward to kiss you once more, then finally tears makes himself pull away so he can start the car.
As Eren starts the drive down the sleepy residential street, he keeps one hand on your knee, making smoothing circles on your skin. You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth, kissing his loving fingers, before setting it down again.
"I love you so much," you say.
"Love you more," he answers.
*******
And that night is bad.
The hurt sets in and pulls you under. Your self-esteem, already so fragile, seems to break apart from under you. You feel meaningless and empty.
That's what happens when the people who're supposed to love you the most reduce you to a shell of a person. When they work tirelessly to smother every part of what makes you you. When they dampen that fire that keeps you going, gives you purpose.
It's what they've been doing all your life.
But now you have Eren.
The darkness doesn't feel as all encompassing as it has before. He doesn't let you isolate yourself, knowing it's your self-destructive instinct to do so. Eren keeps you close to him, the best comfort there could possibly be.
He gets you out of the clothes you trapped yourself in to impress them, getting you into a hot shower with him so he can wash your hair for you. He holds you close under the hot stream of water, kissing every inch of your skin he can reach.
Afterwards, Eren dresses you in the most comfortable clothes he can think of. The ones he's seen you happiest in. It just so happens to be one of his t-shirts and a clean, comfortable pair of underwear.
Eren doesn't think he's ever seen you more beautiful.
He curls up with you on the couch, turning on your favorite comfort show to try and distract you. He holds you as close as he can, enveloping you in gentle touches and soft words.
You don't have the words to process everything that happens tonight. Eren doesn't expect you to. He just holds you, showing you how much he loves you. How much he values you. How he can't live without you.
As you climb into bed with him that night, Eren sees you poking at your belly, mouth twisting in distaste.
He reads you better than anyone in the world. Even in the darkness of your bedroom, he can feel how unhappy you are. He can practically hear the hurtful words you hurl at yourself in your head.
So he rolls on top of you, settling himself so you're nose to nose. You look up at him with big eyes, and Eren can't help but smile. He leans down and kisses you.
"You're so gorgeous, y'know that?"
You roll your eyes, and you open your mouth, ready to brush off his statement. But he keeps going.
"I'm so serious," he says with a laugh, "I can't even pick which part of you I love the most."
He bends down to kiss you again, his unbound brown strands acting as a curtain for both of you.
"There's this part," he murmurs as he kisses you again.
"Then there's this part," he whispers, bending down farther to kiss your neck. You sigh, reaching up to weave your fingers through his soft hair.
He presses an open mouthed kiss to your collar bone, whispering against your skin. You can't even process what he's saying anymore. The way he kisses you is enough to make every thought leave your brain.
Then somehow he's slithered down to where his face is level with your stomach. You pull it in self-consciously, trying to tug him back up to eye level, but he stubbornly stays right where he is.
"Now right here," he murmurs huskily as he lifts your shirt, "is my absolutely favorite part of you, pretty girl."
Eren's not lying. He's shown how much he loves your tummy before. He wraps his long fingers around your waist on either side, dipping his head to kiss the soft skin he loves so much.
You simply lay back and let him love you, tired of fighting it tonight. You revel in the way he adores you so honestly, so openly, so unconditionally.
Both of you know it'll never be easy, not with your histories. But Eren showed tonight that he's willing to march into battle for you to keep you safe, to prove to you how important you are.
You love him. He loves you. Even when your family makes you doubt your worth, that'll never change.
***
Writing this was like therapy. Hope it was okay <3
Request here
love this mf with my whole heart
hi i love your eren insomniac au so much 😭💛 may i request for a modern au eren x reader (fem/gn) - where eren stands up for the reader from being disrespected by toxic parents? more of like a comfort hc? don’t worry if you are unable to, thank you so much for reading this & putting in so much effort to ur writing <3 have a great day lovely !!
oh my gosh thank you!!!! it's one of my favorite hcs i've written so I'm so happy you like it too! and thank you the most for being here and saying such kind things, it means a lot to me
but FUCK YEAH i can do that for you!!! i'm sorry if this is a situation you have to deal with :( i have my own set of toxic parents so i know how hard it can be. i hope this helps, even just a little <3
kind of turned into a whole ass fic???? i'm so sorry about that lol i hope it's okay!
CW: anxiety, depression, slight ptsd, heavy themes of toxic parental relationships, body issues
modern!Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader
Before
Eren knows about your family. He's known, or at least suspected, from those very first few weeks of getting to know you. He has his own issues with his dad - even though everyone's situation is different, he's come to learn how to recognize those long lasting scars in other people. It hurts him beyond belief that he can see those scars in you, his favorite person.
It was even harder seeing how deep those scars go once you two began your relationship. It took awhile for Eren to help you understand that his love for you wasn't transactional. It wasn't conditional. It didn't depend on the size of clothes you wore, or how many achievements you could tack onto your resume. That you didn't have to walk on eggshells every waking moment just to make sure you didn't misstep. He just loves you. You're still learning that, and trying to show him the very same kind of deep and unyielding love for him.
Even so, Eren has his mom. Carla has been able to show him nothing but pure and unconditional love from before he can remember - a stark contrast from Grisha. He was able to start healing and separating himself from that toxicity from a young age, and hasn't really spoken to him since. Your situation is different - both parents, both different yet similar brands of harshness, both still in contact.
It's complicated. He knows it is. You've even said it yourself.
Doesn't stop him from being so, so gentle with you. From waking up every morning ready to protect you and remind you how much he loves you. It started like that from the very first minute he lay eyes on you, when he knew instantly how much he was going to love you, to now, and every moment to come.
So when your parents kept insisting they had to meet him, Eren tried to convince you that it wasn't that important. That they could try and do this over FaceTime first, test the waters a little bit.
You honestly didn't want to share him with them at all. He's such a sacred part of your life, something so good and pure and wonderful. You're scared that if he sees where you come from, just how bad it can get with them, he'll leave.
You're always terrified that you'll scare him off.
You tell him so one night, as you're wringing your hands together, panicking after yet another passive aggressive text about meeting Eren. It stresses you out more and more every time.
Eren doesn't say anything at first. Just wraps you up in his arms. Pulls you against his warmth. Cradles you against his broad chest, stroking every part of you he can reach with a featherlight touch.
"Baby," he croons, "there's nothing you could show me that could scare me off."
Your stomach swoons every time he calls you that. Can't be helped. He giggles a little at the stutter in your breathing with the pet name, but doesn't poke fun at you just now.
"You're already so goddamn patient with me," you whisper shakily, his name for you unable to sway you from anxiety, "I just don't--"
"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I will always love you. I just want you to feel safe and happy, and I'll do everything I can to make you feel that way. Got that?"
Despite the tears filling your eyes, you smile bashfully and hide your face in his neck, leaving thankful and affectionate kisses all over his warm skin.
Okay, so maybe you could do this. You have Eren.
During
After much hounding from your parents, you and Eren find yourselves standing outside the door of your parent's house. You've got a plate of brownies in one hand and Eren in the other. He runs his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically in a way that grounds you. In his other hand, he holds a bouquet of flowers for your mom, ever the gentleman. Carla raised him right.
Everyone's all smiles at first. Eren's impressed; he knows how scared you are, how nervous, but you're putting up a good front. But the more he thinks about it, the more your skill at hiding how you're feeling makes him sad. You've clearly had a lot of practice.
Your parents are showing the good parts of them. You've explained to Eren how there are good memories with them; they can be so loving, so kind. And right now, they're welcoming you home and Eren into their lives with open and loving arms. They're asking Eren all kinds of questions about his life and his interests. Asking about your relationship, how you met, things like that.
It starts to fall apart during dinner.
Eren can see that you've gotten a little more comfortable. Your shoulders aren't as tense, breaths coming a little easier. It's easy for him to understand why you're at war with yourself constantly over how you feel about them.
Then somehow everyone ends up on the subject of something you're passionate about. Eren, for one, is thrilled. Watching you talk about the things you love is one of his favorite activities. Your eyes light up in the most breathtaking way, and your smile is downright infectious. He could listen to you for hours.
"Oh boy, here we go," your mom sighs from one end of the table.
Just like that the spell is broken. Eren has a front row seat as he watches your face fall, your voice cutting off into heavy silence. Your brows knit together as you look down at your plate.
"You're obsessing again," your dad adds with a patronizing laugh.
Eren looks up and in between your parents. They laugh, looking at him as though trying to include him in whatever sick joke they think they're making.
He looks back at you. You're masking it for now, but your hands are clenched in the tightest fists he's ever seen under the table. He reaches under the table and takes the hand closest to him, and ever so gently, tries to coax your fingers open. Trying to get you to let him in.
"Sorry," you say with a self-deprecating laugh, "I know I can get carried away."
Eren's heart shatters. He doesn't know how many times you said this, mostly in the beginning of your relationship and in group settings. You're always so convinced that no one wants to hear you talk, so you end up apologizing for it.
Now he sees it. Where it comes from.
Schooling his face into a friendly expression despite his rage, he squeezes your hand, saying, "No, keep going, I love hearing you talk."
"Nah, it's okay," you shrug nonchalantly, before changing the subject.
The way you're squeezing his hand begs him to drop it. So he does.
But then it keeps going.
You reach for a second helping of something, and your mom says, "How are you still hungry?"
You don't end up getting that second helping.
You make a joke about something, wrinkling your nose in that cute little way he loves so much.
"Yeah, don't tell your coworkers that one," your dad adds in.
Eren has to watch your beautiful face fall.
You're talking about how many long hours you've worked recently, how tired you are.
Cutting you off, your mom jumps in about how hard she works. Very much indicating there's no way you can be more tired than her.
Eren sees you breaking under the weight of it all. His sweet, fiery, passionate girl, reduced to whatever palatable version of you your parents find acceptable. They've tried to make poking fun at you a bonding activity ever since he stepped into their home, and despite his stone faced reactions, they just keep going.
He has to get you out of here. His protective instincts are raging at him to just get you out.
But your mom insists on pictures. So you pose together. Full group picture first. Then one of you and Eren. Eren tries to pour every ounce of love he has into the way he holds you, but he can feel you shaking. He wants to scream, but he pastes a smile on his face instead.
Then it happens.
"TTI, sweetie."
What the fuck? What does that mean?
Then, like a soldier responding to a command, he feels you suck in your soft tummy to the point where he wonders if it's painful.
"Sorry, what does that mean?"
Eren tries to ask in what he hopes is a joking manner, but you can hear the barely suppressed anger just underneath.
"Tuck Tummy In," your mom explains with a lighthearted smile, "now smile--"
"Why would you say that to her?"
He doesn't even try to hide his outrage this time. Eren, a normally very expressive person, has spent the entire night burying his need to put the people hurting you in their place. Now he's had it.
"Eren, it's fine--"
"No, it's not," he seethes, curling his fingers around your waist in a vice grip.
Your parents are silent. No one's ever called them out like this before. You've tried to have discussions with them in the past about things like this, approaching it in a very calm, polite manner, but it always ended badly.
"There's nothing she has to fix about herself to look drop dead gorgeous for a picture. Nothing."
"It's just something we say--"
"Not anymore it's not. Not when I'm here."
You're ready for the yelling to start. You flinch, curling yourself closer into Eren's side. A kneejerk reaction cultivated by years of emotionally volatile parenting. Eren tightens his arm around you. He might be ready to go to war on your behalf, but he's gonna make sure you feel safe at the same time.
Your dad steps forward, a self righteous glare on his face as he looks at Eren.
"You don't speak to my wife that way--"
"Oh, you mean the way you've spoken to your daughter the entire night?"
Heavy silence fills the room. Eren worries that he's gone too far, but then he feels you press even closer to him. If you were upset, you'd be putting distance between you two.
Your parents look at you, expecting you to come to their defense, but you don't. You won't.
"He's r-right," you whisper shakily, "I've told you before how the kinds of things you've said tonight make me feel."
Then, like clockwork, your mom gets misty eyed. Your dad gets stern, condescending, and loud.
"I just wanted a nice night."
"Look at how you made your mother feel."
"I guess we're just the worst parents."
"We'll talk about everything soon," you murmur politely, reaching down to lace your fingers together, "but Eren and I are going home now. Thank you for dinner."
As you go to lead Eren out of there, he tugs you to a stop. You turn and look at him quizzically, wondering what else he could possibly say to them (not that you're complaining). He gives you the sweetest of smiles, the one he reserves just for you. It's the one that says, Don't worry baby. I've got you.
"Since we've already gone there, might as well add some things for the record," he says as he turns around to face them, his hand still holding yours.
"Number 1, it's a goddamn privilege to listen to her talk about anything she wants. For as long as she wants. Anyone who's in the room when she decides to share her passion should count themselves lucky."
Tears gather in your eyes. The happiest of tears.
"Number 2, there are days when I barely see her eat a thing. Those are the days she tries to make herself as small as possible, shrink in on herself. Today was a good day. You took that from her and you should be fucking ashamed."
You start to smile, so in love with this man. Even as your dad starts to raise his voice at Eren's cursing.
"Number 3," Eren says assertively, silencing him, "her belly, the one you shame her for, is one of my favorite parts about her."
Your parents are silent. They stare at Eren in shock, not daring to believe someone could call them out on behaviors they've refused to acknowledge for so long.
Eren turns back to you, green eyes shining with love, and says, "Ready to go?"
You nod. He wraps an arm around you to tug you into him, and leads you out of the warzone.
After
When you and Eren first get in the car, doors slamming shut behind you, he's instantly apologetic.
"I'm so sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me. I never should've gone that far--"
You cut his words off by kissing him, trying to pour every bit of gratitude and love into the way your lips move against his.
The kiss ends, but you stay close to him, resting your forehead against his.
"I'm gonna have a hard time tonight," you warn, your entire body trembling with the emotional aftershock of your confrontation. Once the adrenaline wears off it'll be even worse.
"I know," he whispers, kissing your nose lightly, "it's okay. I'd be more worried if it wasn't."
He goes to pull away so he can start the drive home, his protectiveness ever pushing him to get you to a safe place, but you stop him. You place both hands on his face to bring him back to you, kissing him softly again. You open your eyes, meeting the vivid green of his, and you fall even more in love with him.
"Thank you. For keeping me safe."
"I'd do anything for you."
He says it so simply. So factually. He leans forward to kiss you once more, then finally tears makes himself pull away so he can start the car.
As Eren starts the drive down the sleepy residential street, he keeps one hand on your knee, making smoothing circles on your skin. You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth, kissing his loving fingers, before setting it down again.
"I love you so much," you say.
"Love you more," he answers.
*******
And that night is bad.
The hurt sets in and pulls you under. Your self-esteem, already so fragile, seems to break apart from under you. You feel meaningless and empty.
That's what happens when the people who're supposed to love you the most reduce you to a shell of a person. When they work tirelessly to smother every part of what makes you you. When they dampen that fire that keeps you going, gives you purpose.
It's what they've been doing all your life.
But now you have Eren.
The darkness doesn't feel as all encompassing as it has before. He doesn't let you isolate yourself, knowing it's your self-destructive instinct to do so. Eren keeps you close to him, the best comfort there could possibly be.
He gets you out of the clothes you trapped yourself in to impress them, getting you into a hot shower with him so he can wash your hair for you. He holds you close under the hot stream of water, kissing every inch of your skin he can reach.
Afterwards, Eren dresses you in the most comfortable clothes he can think of. The ones he's seen you happiest in. It just so happens to be one of his t-shirts and a clean, comfortable pair of underwear.
Eren doesn't think he's ever seen you more beautiful.
He curls up with you on the couch, turning on your favorite comfort show to try and distract you. He holds you as close as he can, enveloping you in gentle touches and soft words.
You don't have the words to process everything that happens tonight. Eren doesn't expect you to. He just holds you, showing you how much he loves you. How much he values you. How he can't live without you.
As you climb into bed with him that night, Eren sees you poking at your belly, mouth twisting in distaste.
He reads you better than anyone in the world. Even in the darkness of your bedroom, he can feel how unhappy you are. He can practically hear the hurtful words you hurl at yourself in your head.
So he rolls on top of you, settling himself so you're nose to nose. You look up at him with big eyes, and Eren can't help but smile. He leans down and kisses you.
"You're so gorgeous, y'know that?"
You roll your eyes, and you open your mouth, ready to brush off his statement. But he keeps going.
"I'm so serious," he says with a laugh, "I can't even pick which part of you I love the most."
He bends down to kiss you again, his unbound brown strands acting as a curtain for both of you.
"There's this part," he murmurs as he kisses you again.
"Then there's this part," he whispers, bending down farther to kiss your neck. You sigh, reaching up to weave your fingers through his soft hair.
He presses an open mouthed kiss to your collar bone, whispering against your skin. You can't even process what he's saying anymore. The way he kisses you is enough to make every thought leave your brain.
Then somehow he's slithered down to where his face is level with your stomach. You pull it in self-consciously, trying to tug him back up to eye level, but he stubbornly stays right where he is.
"Now right here," he murmurs huskily as he lifts your shirt, "is my absolutely favorite part of you, pretty girl."
Eren's not lying. He's shown how much he loves your tummy before. He wraps his long fingers around your waist on either side, dipping his head to kiss the soft skin he loves so much.
You simply lay back and let him love you, tired of fighting it tonight. You revel in the way he adores you so honestly, so openly, so unconditionally.
Both of you know it'll never be easy, not with your histories. But Eren showed tonight that he's willing to march into battle for you to keep you safe, to prove to you how important you are.
You love him. He loves you. Even when your family makes you doubt your worth, that'll never change.
***
Writing this was like therapy. Hope it was okay <3
Request here
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OH MY GOODNESS HIIIIIII ILYSM!!!!!!!!! so grateful for you <3
oh my goodness hi it’s been a hot minute
i’m so sorry it’s been so long :( i’ve been going through some big life changes. whenever i’m like “okay phew now i can settle down and commit to writing again” it just never happens
just wanna remind y’all that my ask box is open for headcanon requests 🥰 i really wanna write and get fluffy and shit but i’m running low on inspiration. i could always use the help!
eren with an insomniac so (modern au)
UH THIS RAN AWAY FROM ME FRFR
anyways welcome to another round of "jenna's processing her shit through fics for fictional characters"
eren jaeger x fem!reader
for most of his life, eren's been a heavy fucking sleeper
not even kidding, someone could slam every door in his living space at once, and he wouldn't even twitch
but he's the kind of man who gets tunnel vision with something or someone he loves, and you definitely fit the bill
after you start your relationship, and especially once you move in together, eren's habits and patterns kind of start orbiting around you
it's not something he does consciously; he honestly just notices the things you do or how you act. he can't help but pay attention, it's just who he is
he realizes you often deal with insomnia when he spends the night for the first time
eren realizes he can't feel your comforting warmth in his arms anymore, and he blinks his eyes awake only to find your side of the bed cold
he panics for a moment (bc let's be honest this poor lad is full of abandonment issues)
then he sees the light from under your closed bedroom door, and he knows you're right outside
checking the time, eren sees that it's a little past 2am
he stumbles out of bed to get to you. even if you need to be left alone, he needs to get his eyes on you so he knows you're still here
meanwhile, you've just gotten in the shower
when your anxiety gets like this, as it often does, getting up and resetting your mind is sometimes the only thing that will work
you'd lain on the couch for awhile, but that hadn't been enough
you didn't want to wake eren. you were scared if he saw just how bad things got at night, just how much you struggled at something that should be so fucking natural, he wouldn't see you the same way
so here you were, standing under the steaming stream of water, letting your hair get wet as you try to get your mind to turn off
you hear a gentle knock on the bathroom door, making you jump a little
it scares you, but then you hear the gravelly voice of a very sleepy eren
"baby? you okay?"
you sigh a little, fully understanding that 2am showers weren't all that normal. especially with daytime responsibilities
“i’m okay. just go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
but eren doesn't leave
you hear him shuffling around as he closes the bathroom door behind him
you hear the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor
"is it okay if i come in there with you?"
"um.....yeah. i would love that actually"
because you really would
here's the thing: eren is one of the most loving, most comforting people in the world
he knows you better than anyone, and he always knows when you're having a hard time
on nights like tonight, when your mind refuses to stop and you relive every bad thing that's ever happened to you, you could use his comfort
even just being with him is enough
you're facing away from him as he climbs in with you, knowing one glimpse at your face will be enough to have him worrying over you like crazy
what you learn that first night is that eren is instinctual when it comes to you
he doesn't even need to see your face to understand that you're not okay
he can see it in the way your shoulders are hunched over your body, and the protective way you have your arms crossed over your middle as you stand under the shower
so eren just grabs your shampoo, squirts a generous amount in his hand, and starts massaging it into your hair
you've done this for him before. it was something that made him feel so loved, warm, and safe
he wants nothing more than to make you feel that right now
you feel all that and more as he applies gentle pressure to your scalp, working the shampoo into a lather as he gently washes your hair for you
eren can see that it's working
the tension slowly leaves your shoulders
your body opens a little more
you exhale, and you tilt your head back toward him
he laughs a little under his breath
"feel good, sweetheart?"
"mhm"
he turns you around after a few minutes so your back is to the shower, and he watches with a soft smile on his face as you reach up and rinse the shampoo out
opening your eyes, you find him looking at you
there's another tug of anxiety as you try to find the words to explain yourself
but eren sees the frown tug at your mouth, and he reaches forward to take your face in his hands, and he kisses it away as lovingly as he can
after he presses a kiss to your forehead, he turns you around, and he repeats the process with your conditioner
with every affection caress from his fingers, you feel yourself relaxing more and more
your mind still fights you, but eren helps to keep it from taking off again
after you rinse your hair again, you turn to ask if he wants his hair washed too
you know how much he loves it, and you want to return the favor
you might be damaged, but so is eren
he deserves all the love and kindness you have to offer
but he just smiles again as he reaches around you to turn off the water
"i'm fine, baby. let's get you dried off, yeah?"
after you both dry off and get back into your sleeping clothes, you're hanging up your towels to dry on the rack
eren comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his warm chest
he peppers kisses from your temple, down your cheeks, then finally ending at your shoulders
"you don't have to talk about it, and i don't want you to feel like you have to. but i'm here to listen if you ever do. until then, and after that, i'll do whatever you need to make you feel safer, okay?"
your breath catches in your throat
you turn in his arms, and kiss him
you try to put every single ounce of love you feel into that kiss, trying to make him feel how much that meant to you
after the kiss, you thread your fingers together and bring him back to your room
the nighttime shower, plus eren, helped get your mind to settle
he holds you even tighter somehow, murmuring endless comforting words against your skin as he fingers trace patterns over your sides and back
"i love you, eren"
it's the first time you told him you loved him
"i love you too, y/n"
he didn't even hesitate
ever since then, every night you spend together
no matter how dead to the world asleep eren always is
his body pays attention to you
within ten minutes of you extracting yourself from his arms, he comes out behind you, ready to do whatever you need to get to sleep
or at least relax. sometimes you can't get to that point, but he helps you feel more comfortable at least
a lot of times those late night showers are involved
or he has you lay on top of him on the couch as you watch something on tv
if it's especially bad, he just holds you in your shared bed
it's gotten to the point where you can talk about all your fears, worries, insecurities, and negative thoughts without worrying about what he'll think
he won't just brush them off
eren listens, truly listens
he lets you rant if that's what you need. he offers logic if you need to be reminded that your brain is running away from you
but mostly, he reminds you that he's here
he loves you. more than he's ever loved anyone
"i've got you, baby. i'm not letting anything happen to you"
over time, he helps make it easier to sleep
it'll never go away completely, and there are times when it's worse than others
but you're his life. he's never going to give up on you
let alone let you wonder how much he loves you
because it's endless, and it always will be
MY FIRST EREN HC I HOPE IT'S OKAY!!!!!
send any hc requests to my inbox!! would love to write more for him and other aot characters :)
this is my favorite eren headcanon out there, it's so amazingly written and it's so calming
This is so amazingly kind of you to say 🥺 thank you so much for reading, and even more so taking the time to comment!! this hc definitely came from a place of needing peace and comfort, and i honestly come back and read it myself from time to time. i’m so happy it did the same for you
